Title: The Well 19/?
Author: eidheann
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~700 (~14,500 total)
Summary: Where there is a wish...
Warnings: angst.
A/N: Many thanks for the comments and support.

Draco wasn't surprised the next morning when he awoke to see Lippy bringing a just-this-side of garishly large rose, sweetbrier and narcissus bouquet into his bedroom with his normal breakfast. It didn't contain a note, which also didn't surprise him. Harry seemed fairly paranoid of Draco's privacy, and delivery instructions without a name attached would protect that. What did surprise him was the Prophet, specifically that no mention was made on the front page or otherwise of Harry's purchase. Harry must have leaned fairly heavily on the florist, the Prophet or both to keep such a juicy tidbit out of the public eye. He was uncertain what impressed him more, the very expensive apology or the likely ruthless squashing of the rumor mill before it even had a chance to get started. Either way, a note was called for, so he set aside his toast and called for the elf to bring him parchment and a quill.

Harry,
Apparently the florist thought you were quite sorry indeed and "I'm an ass" necessitates a bouquet the size of a small house. Either way, thank you. It is lovely, which it should be as I picked it out myself. (Has anyone ever told you it's poor form to make someone choose their own gift? If they have, ignore them, I have much better taste than you.)

I'm also impressed that there was no peep in today's Prophet. Are they biding their time or did you manage to get the story squashed? On the whole, very Slytherin of you.

Draco
P.S. There was something I wanted to discuss with you, if you have the opportunity. Could we meet again for lunch sometime?

Draco quickly sealed the parchment and gave it to Lippy before he lost his nerve and vanished the post script. Pansy had told him to bring yesterday's lunch companion to the wedding after all.

Harry was apparently in Romania for the weekend, and with Draco's apprenticeship, it was the next Friday before they managed to find time to have lunch. In their owls back and forth, Draco had been tempted to just move to dinner instead, but felt that might imply something he wasn't ready for. He didn't want to give the impression to Pansy or Harry that this was the start, or restart of a relationship. He kept his dinnertime free to spend with Pansy, ignoring her complaints that he should be shagging this mystery bloke and providing her with gossip fodder, and evaded her questions with reminders that she was an old pregnant woman getting married in just over a week. That was usually enough to send her into a panic of list-making and if it involved him bearing the brunt of her frenzy, it was still easier than answering her questions.

But Friday arrived, and Pansy sent him on his way by ten o'clock saying his nerves were driving her mad. He found himself with nothing to do for two hours besides pace his flat and question whether or not he was wanting to do this. For all he had avoided thinking about Harry, about rekindling their relationship, he now had nothing to do but think of it. And, in truth he didn't know what he wanted. He loved Harry, and he believed Harry loved him... But he had believed that a year ago and Harry had still left. If what Harry said was true, he'd loved Draco even then, but he had still done that anyway, what assurance did he have that this time was truly different?

He needed to make a decision. He needed to either end things entirely, in hopes that he'd eventually be able to move on, or let Harry off the hook. Avoiding the question was not fair to either of them. He'd written to Harry originally planning to simply invite him to Pansy's wedding, but he knew he couldn't do that if he wasn't going to give him the chance he'd asked for. And now he had less than thirty minutes to make a decision before he met Harry at the Leaky. He was afraid, and wished his mother was here to tell him what to do.