Flirt by xErised

Mona Lisa Smile

First dates are absolutely nasty, yet beautifully delicate things.

It didn't matter how confident you made yourself out to be, it didn't matter how flawlessly you would've arranged the evening because there would always be this niggling disbelief, this irritating uncertainty that someone or something would throw a spanner in the works and mess everything up. And then on top of all of that, you had to worry about whether your date would actually enjoy what you've planned. Would he deem the whole event completely boring and unworthy of his precious time? Would he simply stalk out halfway and leave you sitting there, all horrified and humiliated and scarred for life?

A first date would always consist of trips to the bathroom every five minutes to check whether you've got anything unsavory stuck between your teeth, walking on eggshells by double-checking every single thing that you were about to say to make sure that it was a) politically correct, b) not offensive in any way, and in Harry's case-

c) nothing that would point towards him being a horny sex maniac.

Yes, that included no mention at all of Draco's legs or lips or skin or that bloody delectable arse that he was so sure would fit oh-so-perfectly in his hands-

…

Ahem.

Harry knew that one wrong maneuver, however small, would put a horribly sour note on things, so he was determined to put his best foot forward. Initially he had been surprised to learn that Draco was no longer living in the Malfoy Manor, but instead in a rather simple apartment which was not too different from Harry's own home.

The brunette stood on Draco's doorstep, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet. Barbs of anxiety and doubt were zooming and crackling everywhere in his body, all the way down to the very ends of his extremities. His stomach was overflowing with bubbly, hyperventilating butterflies that simply refused to settle. All in all, Harry felt himself being reduced bit by bit to a jittery glob of jelly with every excruciating second that he had to wait for Draco.

The door finally opened, and every neuron in Harry's body seemed to immediately stand on attention.

Draco was exactly like how Harry pictured him to be; not a single strand of hair out of place, a carefully honed expression on his face which betrayed no semblance of excitement, curiosity or desire. He was clad immaculately in a black collared shirt and black pants, together with shining black shoes, and of course, that sweet, provocative scent that swamped Harry's mind and sent his system in a complete tizzy. Draco was wearing a simple silver star-shaped earring in his right earlobe.

All of a sudden, Harry's knees felt rather weak.

The blond blinked in astonishment when he opened the door and came face to face with an enormous bouquet of creamy white and raspberry-red roses, held together by a fancy French ribbon. The fragrance of exotic blooms invaded his nostrils, and his eyes widened slightly.

"I didn't realize you were going to have a bunch of flowers for a face tonight, Potter. If I knew, I would have thought twice about the arrangement," Draco drawled, ignoring the tense yet pleasant flutter in the pit of his own stomach. Harry lowered the flowers fractionally, revealing shy, bespectacled emerald eyes peering out from beneath a messy tousle of black hair.

"I'll just go and put them in the water then," Draco said, taking the flowers and turning. Harry craned his head out of innate curiosity, his eyes swiveling towards the direction of Draco's flat. However, Draco caught Harry peeking, and he quickly nudged the door close with his hip.

"You look really nice today," Harry flashed the other man a crooked grin when Draco emerged. In reply, the ex-Slytherin bestowed a reserved half-smile on Harry.

"I assume we're going somewhere... presentable?" Draco asked, gesturing to Harry's attire in an amused manner. His tie was too long for him and knotted catastrophically, the color of his belt clashed horribly with his outfit, and Harry's jacket was too tight for those maddeningly, impossibly irresistible shoulders-

Draco quickly gulped and averted his gaze, folding his arms across his chest protectively as they walked out into the cool night air.

Beside him, Harry puffed himself out appreciatively. It had been a tedious and arduous task, but he had managed to wangle a reservation for the hottest new restaurant from Fleur, who had a job as a highly acclaimed food critic in London. Sure, the food came with exorbitant prices that Harry wasn't sure he could afford in the long run, but for tonight, the both of them would wine and dine like a pair of rich princes, indulging in expensive champagne and fancy dishes that had names Harry didn't even know how to pronounce, and then Draco would be duly impressed by Harry's debonair personality and his charming good looks and his ability to hold an unbelievably intellectual conversation about stocks and money and property and it would be no time, no time at all before Draco would fall madly, deeply in love with him-

"Potter? Are you alright? You seem to be drooling a bit," Draco pointed out, breaking sharply into Harry's shameless fantasies.

Summoning up a surge of self-confidence, Harry took a deep breath and announced, injecting a suitable amount of pride in his voice, "We're going to Zizi's for dinner."

Sadly, this monumental announcement didn't have the effect that Harry hankered for. Draco raised his eyebrows in mild bewilderment, before stating simply, "The food's alright, I guess. There's nothing remarkable about it, though."

The color drained out of Harry's face and he stopped walking altogether. He stared desolately at Draco, words of protest forming on his lips.

"B-But it just opened! And it's supposed to have really good food!"

"I've been there three times," Draco started as he began counting it off on his fingers. "The first time was when I had to attend one of their taste testing events since the hotel was hosting a dinner party and they were catering, the second time was when they held a preview dinner right before they opened. On top of that, I went there with some business associates just two days ago," Draco finished helplessly, and with each word, Harry's shoulders sagged progressively.

…

Okay, self-esteem gone.

Harry let out a distressed sigh and ran his hand through his hair. There went his plans, gurgling pathetically down the drain. His exuberant aplomb had been unexpectedly derailed, and Harry was now riddled with self-doubt.

"It's Saturday night, it's impossible to get a table at decent restaurants now," Harry mumbled to himself, checking his watch dejectedly. "So where do you want to go now?"

"Anywhere is alright, I reckon. We don't have to have dinner, I'm not hungry. I don't… I don't eat much, anyway," Draco shrugged nonchalantly, but Harry noticed grey eyes turn evasive at the end of Draco's reply. The brunette scowled at nothing in particular, berating himself harshly for not preparing a back-up plan in case things went wrong.

Draco observed the dismay on Harry's face and pursed his lips. "It's not your fault, Potter," he said, then immediately wondered why he actually cared so much. I'm not supposed to be making it easy for him, Draco reminded himself as they slowly strolled to an unknown destination. A dry breeze sent a smattering of dry leaves pirouetting across their path and Draco gazed up at the inky night sky.

The weather was gorgeous; no hint of rain, and even slightly… romantic. The heavens were clear, relentlessly deep and painted an even shade of dark. The moon hung low, resplendent and luminous in a breathtakingly frosted white. The stars were out in full force, peppered evenly across the velvety sky. It had been ages ever since Draco had ventured out of the closeted four walls, and he felt a small brick in his outer shell dislodge and disintegrate into dust when he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Harry warily shot Draco a sideways glance, trying to gauge his mood. The blond's pointed face had its usual luster of paleness, but he also looked drawn and drained at the same time. There were signs of strain around his dim grey eyes, the lines of his face blurred by weariness. His neck was held at a slightly awkward angle, as though he had a crick from sitting behind a desk for too long. The sleek waterfall of his blond hair had been mussed slightly by the wind, and Harry bit his lip uncertainly.

"You're tired, aren't you?" Harry guessed, and his heart sank just a little bit more when Draco nodded in a faintly apologetic manner. Harry's plan was smashed to smithereens, dressed up to the nines with nowhere to go. Loosening his tie, Harry sighed and gazed at Draco, and he was perplexed when he saw Draco staring at the sky, completely enthralled.

Wrinkling his nose doubtfully, Harry lightly touched Draco's fingers and led him to a nearby bench. The air was quiet and sweet, punctuated briefly by the gentle hoot of birds and sharp chirps of crickets. However, the atmosphere felt contrived. Harry cudgeled his brain for topics, unsure of how to break the rather uncomfortable silence that pervaded.

Harry was desperate to come up with a decent conversational gambit, the absolute height of wit, something frighteningly clever yet cool and blasé, some gleaming nugget of dialogue that no one else could even think of-

"How's work?" Harry croaked out, his mouth operating independently of his brain.

Very smooth, Harry.

"Very well, thanks," Draco replied perfunctorily, the imperious set of his thin mouth twitching slightly, as though he was trying not to smile. His slim body was held as taut as a piano wire, his spine ramrod straight. He carried himself with a particular dignity and distance, complete with a well-controlled, cut-glass voice that no one else could emulate.

In contrast, Harry was plastered carelessly across his half of the bench, one arm flung out casually and his right ankle resting haphazardly on his left thigh. Upon noticing Draco's regal posture, Harry quickly cleared his throat and adjusted his own posture appropriately. A sudden strong gust of cold wind blew, and Draco shivered.

Harry instantly shrugged off his jacket and tried to drape it across Draco's shoulders, but Draco firmly rejected that gallant gesture by holding his hands up, his manners an invulnerable shield to intimacy. A spurt of righteous indignation rose in Harry and he tried not to let it show. Instead, he undid his tie and tossed it offhandedly on top of his already discarded jacket. Staggering shockwaves of seductive heat were exuding from Harry's body, drawing Draco towards him like a magnet. Draco let his breath out tightly through clenched teeth and shifted away just barely.

"I thought you'd still be living in the Manor," Harry asked, genuinely interested.

"No, I moved out soon after I graduated from Hogwarts. Too many… memories," Draco answered vaguely, and Harry realized that he had accidentally asked an Inappropriate Question.

At this point, Harry's stomach growled thunderously. Overcome with embarrassment, Harry quickly hugged his abdomen, as if that would prevent it from happening again. Draco raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"I think I spotted a… hot dog stand around here," Draco suggested, his lips quirking up in mild disdain.

"I'm not going to treat you to fast food when you're out with me!" Harry yelped in consternation.

"It's okay. I'm not hungry. You can grab something for yourself. No, really," Draco reassured when Harry looked like he was about to protest some more. The brunette finally acquiesced, trudging off forlornly.

Harry returned within minutes, one hand holding a salad and another one holding a wrapped burger. He sat down beside Draco and offered the salad to him.

"You have to eat something at least. I insist," Harry urged, a sliver of determination coating his words. Draco tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind his ear and hesitated, but accepted the food eventually. Harry licked his lips and unwrapped his meal eagerly.

A thick, juicy beef patty lay sandwiched between stacks of lettuce and melted cheese, and its crowning glory was a perfectly fried egg, its yolk quivering enticingly when Harry lifted it up. The titillating aroma was making Draco's taste buds tingle, and he quickly tamped that feeling down.

"I'm hungry!" Harry said rather defensively, feeling quite self-conscious when Draco kept staring at his burger. Rubbing his palms vigorously on the knees of his pants, Draco blinked rapidly and ran his tongue across dry lips.

"Why did you send me the letter?" The blond tipped his head to one side and regarded Harry inquisitively as he shifted his salad around furtively with his fork.

Because you smell really nice, Harry immediately replied in his head, but didn't say it out loud, thank God. If he really did verbalize that frank reply, he was sure that Draco would laugh him all the way into next week. "It's because you… you looked really hot that night in the ballroom," Harry hedged, and felt rather gratified when Draco batted his eyelids dramatically and shot Harry a smug glance from underneath his lashes.

"So I wasn't… hot when I was in Hogwarts?"

"What?! Are you kidding me?! You were easily one of the best-looking boys there! Bloody hell, if I had known that there was such an amazing body under your Quidditch robes I would have bumped into you so much more often during Gryffindor-Slytherin matches!" Harry exclaimed, waving his burger in agitation as he continued to ramble on heatedly.

"You were a conceited slimy little prat last time, but you were such an adorably hot conceited slimy little prat! It's completely unfair how someone can be such a pain in the arse but yet be so damn… arousing at the same time! When I saw you just last month again, I was like, 'God, I have to make that man mine because he's so bloody gorgeous,' and then I got to thinking about how things would have been if I had actually asked you out when we were still in school together 'cos we would probably be a couple by now and it's entirely possible that right now, at this very moment, we would be in bed together! Naked!" Harry finished with a flourish, touches of excited pink on his cheeks.

An alarm trilled cheerfully in the back of Harry's mind, and with increasing horror, Harry finally digested what he had just practically yelled to the skies. Did I just say in bed? Naked? Did I just call my date a pain in the arse?! Moaning with self-revulsion, Harry glared forlornly at the grass and chewed morosely on his burger. Timid green eyes hesitantly travelled up to Draco, and Harry's expression deflated just a bit more.

Draco's eyes were round islands of shock, his face frozen in astonishment as he gawked open-mouthed at Harry.

Somewhere in the distance, a cricket chirped.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment, Potter?" Draco asked rather shakily, having jolted himself out of his amazed daze. Slowly, with his face a sizzling mortified red, Harry nodded shyly. Draco stared a bit more at Harry before shaking his head and laughing a brief, contained, slightly strangled laugh as though he was afraid to let too much out.

But it was still a laugh, nonetheless.

And just like that, a tiny fragment of the ice was broken.

The cherubic angels, twinned with the background music from the heavenly choir, didn't miraculously appear. There were no clichéd, corny sparks of fireworks and explosives that burst at the back of Draco's eyes whenever he stole glances at Harry. The blond didn't suddenly go all breathless and weak when their hands accidentally brushed each other, nor did he blush an uncharacteristically brilliant bright red whenever he caught Harry staring at him rather… hungrily at times.

It was nothing like that at all. The whole date, in actual fact, had been quite plain, bordering on highly irregular. The few men that Draco had gone out with before had tried to impress him with meals at expensive restaurants, lavishing him with extravagant presents and sparkling, studious conversation about business. The date with Harry, however, had been far from the norm.

Draco couldn't help but wonder whether Harry had planned it like that on purpose to set himself apart from the other rich men. However, it really wasn't Harry's fault that Draco had unintentionally scuppered the plans for tonight.

"I've probably ruined it, haven't I?" Harry muttered worriedly when the both of them were back at Draco's doorstep after the date. "If I was you, I wouldn't go out with myself," he continued, the well-developed laugh lines at the sides of his eyes deepening as Harry dredged up a self-deprecating grin.

Yes, things really had gotten to a rocky start. The uneasy silence had been interrupted by ambiguous, stilted conversation that didn't really get them anywhere. But as both men slowly warmed up to each other, the atmosphere had revved up considerably, up to a point where they were able to keep up a steady stream of light chit-chat. With every friendly laugh and every shy smile that Harry generously conveyed, Draco felt the brunette's energy lift and buoy him.

They talked mainly about Hogwarts, both of their minds and voices weaving tapestries of sweet nostalgia, the conversation sprinkled with teasing excerpts of their past childish enmity. They skimmed cursorily over their individual careers, since Draco had a feeling that Harry would end up getting bored out of his skull if they turned the topic towards his career. Moreover, Harry was an Unspeakable, which strictly meant no divulging of sensitive information.

Draco lived in a manic, frenzied world that was hopelessly thrown off its feet and operated solely to its own schedule. Many a time Draco had to wake up in the dead of the night, force himself to be wide awake before Flooing over to a conference that involved witches and wizards of different nationalities. The inconvenient truth was that Draco was a die-hard workaholic. He had nothing else to devote to, actually. When he wasn't out dining with clients, he would be holed up in the sanctuary of his study at home or in the office, going madly through a never-ending flurry of letters and proposals that made his brain ache and eyes go a bit woozy after a long while of non-stop reading and planning.

With a dawning surprise, Draco actually realized that he had rather… liked spending time with Harry. Being with him was like a little slice of calm oasis after being swept up in a thunderous hurricane that was his work. Harry managed to slow things down to a carefree, easygoing pace.

"So… this is incredibly awkward," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck wryly. Snapping out of his reverie, Draco immediately figured out the controversial question that bugged the end of every first date:

To Kiss or not to Kiss Good-night?

Curious to see what Harry would do, Draco simply folded his arms playfully and flashed Harry a cryptic half-grin. He was waiting to see whether Harry would simply scrunch his eyes up and plant a small, virginal kiss on Draco's cheek, or sweep Draco up in a passionate embrace and equally passionate kiss maybe with tongue ooh- or simply stand there, wringing his hands in a flabbergasted fashion.

What he did not expect was Harry's demeanor to suddenly shift from demure and coy to rather lustful and suggestive.

"You think there's… something we can do about it?" Harry purred cheekily and unleashed one of his heartbreaker smiles that were guaranteed to send the knees of any living, hormonal male a-knocking. A lascivious tongue traced the outline of Harry's upper lip, and the brunette raised an eyebrow, a wanton smile toying on his rosebud-pink lips. His allure and charisma was at full wattage, and Harry had a feeling that it wouldn't be long before he'd have a swooning Draco in his hands.

Unfortunately, Draco turned out to be rather immune to the extraordinary sunbeam of Harry's charm. Fixing Harry with his own patented turn-me-down-if-you-dare smoulder in his twinkling grey eyes that had broken its own share of hearts, Draco tilted his head to one side and brought his body closer towards Harry's. Delivering a ruthless double whammy of spellbinding smile and hot, haunting eye contact, Draco licked his own lips and replied, his voice a mere provocative whisper.

"Yeah, you could just kiss me and get it over and done with."

"Really?" Harry murmured back disbelievingly and shuffled nearer to Draco.

"Actually, no," Draco grinned impishly and immediately retreated further before Harry could touch him, enjoying how the smitten look on Harry's face suddenly mutated into one of disappointment. Harry pouted and ruffled the dark hair on the nape of his neck.

your goodnight kiss felt like a ghost-

"Here's your score," Draco said abruptly. He fished out a neatly folded piece of parchment and placed it in Harry's palm. Harry's face brightened, but when he was about to unfold it, Draco quickly covered the back of the brunette's hand with his own.

"Not now, Potter."

"I'm Harry. Not Potter anymore," Harry corrected gently, his thumb reaching up to Draco's wrist and stroking pale, smooth skin tenderly. As though his touch had broken some sort of sweet enchantment, a startled Draco swiftly snatched his hand away. Blatantly ignoring the hurt that zipped as fast as quicksilver across jade green eyes, the blond fastened an impersonal smile on his features and clasped his hands tightly behind his back.

"I'll see you next week then," Harry said quickly, ironing tactfully over the brusque change in atmosphere. But as the brunette turned to go, he heard Draco's voice pipe up smugly behind him.

"Well, Harry, you've got some... egg yolk on your chin."

Upon seeing the flustered expression on Harry's face, Draco snickered and realized that Harry's name sounded rather nice on his tongue, actually.

Maybe if he stayed like that for a while more it would turn out to be just a dream in which he was actually just preparing for tonight's date right now and not regretting how things went… With that cheerfully delusional thought, an aghast Harry burrowed deeper under the covers of his bed and pushed the pillow harder onto the back of his head. And the bloody egg!

Horrified, Harry scrunched his eyes shut and let out a miserable groan.

Sighing deeply, the brunette hooked his toes around the pair of pants that he had worn that night, jerked his leg up and dug down in his back pocket for the score that Draco had presented him.

The whole evening had been rather anti-climactic, Harry thought. Only one and a half hours had passed before they had unfortunately ran out of things to talk about. But things will get better, Harry promised himself gravely before he unfolded the parchment and stared at the score. His eyes widened incredulously, and he could feel his emotions chugging up like a toy train.

The result wasn't as good as he'd wanted it to be, but it wasn't that terrible, taking into account the events that had transpired that evening. Harry's blood began to do some sort of strange happy dance, a goofy grin splattered all over his face as he flopped back to bed again. Crossing his ankles, Harry placed his hands behind his head, a speculative expression on his face.

The date had passed by in a blur with only succinct snapshots of clarity that stayed in Harry's mind. Draco had a… guardedness, an irritating characteristic trait to safeguard personal information. They were doing some sort of mating dance; every time Harry took one step forward, Draco would immediately recoil into politeness and shy away two steps backwards. Every question was skillfully parried, every offer firmly rebuffed. Draco Malfoy was an enigma, a secret that was hidden cunningly between the gilded pages of an elaborately bound book crafted in a hieroglyphic language that was indecipherable to Harry.

Every facial muscle on that beautiful pale face was rigorously controlled. Draco had never boasted a proper, full-fledged smile, the sort of friendly smile that made the corners of his eyes crease and made his whole face open up. The most that Harry was able to evoke was a mere quick flash of pearly white teeth, a lightning-fast twitch of his lips, garnished with a fresh glaze of typical Malfoy cynicism.

All Harry had was a very rough sketch of the blond that only managed to brush the surface, and like a desperate artist with passion and recklessness lacing his every vein, Harry wanted, no, needed to know more about the other man. He longed to destroy Draco's aloof demeanor, to gently coax him out of his impeccably varnished carapace. Draco illuminated a languid, almost bored sexuality with legs of a dancer, poise of a queen and the grace of a swan- which turned Harry on to no end.

"Harry? Harry! What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing much, just wondering where to take Draco next week…"

"Well, you could always take him to a nice restaurant for dinner to make up for the *giggle* salad that you got him."

"… Hermione, it is not funny."

"Oh alright, I'll stop teasing you about that, or at least for the next two hours. Perhaps you could bring him to a musical? I do remember reading about a handful of nice performances going on this weekend."

"I don't know about that… I mean, every other bloke who has dated him would probably have done the same thing, and I don't want him to sit through two hours of a show that he's already watched. I want to do something that'll make him relax when he's with me."

"Okay, why don't you do something that both of you have in common?"

"I did think of that, but the both of us move in completely different social circles, and we have absolutely nothing to talk about except when we were in school together- oh! I think I've got it! How does this sound? *whisper whisper*"

"Are you sure, Harry? If he doesn't like it all then it's going to be completely disastrous!"

"I'm just going to risk it, Hermione. But I have a… feeling that he'll really like it."

Emerging out from the bath, a pink-cheeked Draco toweled his wet blond hair dry and yawned widely. Draco ran his tongue inside his mouth thoughtfully when he saw a splash of red and white which turned out to be the flowers that Harry had given to him four nights ago.

He paused, as if conducting some sort of inner debate within his mind. After a moment, he walked towards the petals, picked the vase up and carried it carefully to his room before depositing it on the small table beside his bed.

Flopping down slovenly onto his bed, his stomach pressed against the bed and his elbows planted on his pillow, he randomly selected two roses and plucked them out. They were still as beautiful and fresh as before. He ran a practiced eye over the flowers, from the graceful, thin stem, to the lush viridian of the leaves and lastly all the way up to the delicate folds and ruffles of the petals. Their thorns had been considerately snipped away, and Draco twirled the flowers by their stems, the end of his finger tracing the swirl and whorl of exquisite blooms.

And then, very slowly, as if he didn't dare to, Draco let a smile grace his lips, a sweet, true and unrestrained smile that crept all the way up to his crinkling eyes.

/tbc