Flirt by xErised

From The Outside Looking In

Draco was all in a dither.

The ex-Slytherin liked to think that he could effortlessly offer an unflappable and composed exterior to the world at all times. He had succinctly established that fact by exerting absolute control over his mannerisms during the last date with Harry. He had made sure that his expression was a seamless blend of polite indifference and detachment, although his heart subversively hinted otherwise.

The landscape that greeted the blond was a dazzling display of red and yellow. The gloriously sweet scent of heady flowers bombarded Draco. Golden prisms of sunlight were flung carelessly and extravagantly over blades of freshly-cut grass. It was a breathtaking play of shadow and light, radiant enough for the devoted artist to set up canvas and easel and paint his heart out.

But it did nothing to calm Draco down.

Draco gnawed on his knuckle unwittingly as he paced the ground furiously like a caged animal. He was in front of the huge building that he was supposed to meet the brunette for their second date. The whole area was owned by Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, Harry's good friends during the days of Hogwarts. United by their passion of sports, they had pooled their hard-earned money together and started up a business venture. The whole idea was to integrate Muggle sports into the magical world, complemented with trained instructors who were able to teach the rules and practical aspects of each sport. Nobody had done anything like that before so it carried along with it high risks, but both men had shrugged off any possible concerns and leapt bravely into it with both feet.

Quidditch was the only activity that the wizarding folk were exposed to, and as the economy picked up and as the public began to open up more towards all things Muggle after the war, it appeared that the whole idea had been a stroke of genius. It had begun small, with Dean and Seamus presenting only the more popular Muggle sports. But as interest drummed up slowly but steadily, they were able to expand further, affording better facilities and more classes that catered to all ages and genders. Soon, both proud proprietors were able to shift to a prime spot near a busy wizarding town, and business jumped up by five-fold.

Draco knew all about it since The Daily Prophet had done a two-page spread about the grand opening of the sports complex. Moreover, some of Draco's business acquaintances frequented the place for the occasional relaxing game of… Draco wrinkled his nose as he cast around in his mind for the unusual name.

Golf. That was it. They did invite Draco along for one of their games, but frankly, the blond couldn't see any point in whacking a tiny ball with a metal stick and praying like hell that it fell neatly into the damn hole.

He still had an aversion to anything Muggle after a lifetime of strict Malfoy upbringing, but eventually, his curiosity had been aroused. As a result, Millicent had come in work one day armed with a small Muggle television and both of them had hesitantly tuned in to the sports channel. It had been a surprisingly furtive maneuver, with both pure-bloods pretending not to be interested, their eyes roaming around the television set shiftily. It felt… dirty, as though they were watching something taboo. Draco had been on tenterhooks the whole time, expecting Lucius to suddenly pop up from nowhere and start yelling at them until the infamous muscle at his jaw was ticking ferociously like a time bomb.

And then Draco had encountered the most horrifying, unnerving thing that he had seen ever since the war.

Wrestling.

It was an absolute eye-opener, the way both ex-Slytherins heard the merciless sound of cracking bone, accompanied with fierce, triumphant, almost animalistic roars and the brutal thump of flesh against the hard stage where both muscled men fought almost to the point of death. Repugnance and panic cut into their eyes, Millicent and Draco had gawped, slack-jawed at the… barbarity of it all.

"What do you think they're doing all of… this for?! It seems to be just a… game!"

"Fun? Money? Bragging rights? Merlin, Draco, look at him go!"

"Sweet Salazar…"

After a moment, Draco had to retreat into his office and fortify himself with a few deep, calming breaths.

This was what he was worried about. It didn't help that Draco was unaware of other Muggle sports besides golf and wrestling. He felt like a tourist in some distant country, being cajoled and wheedled into trying an entirely foreign cuisine.

Jolting himself back into the present, Draco bit his lip hard and tried to suppress the anxiety and apprehension gathering one grain at a time in him. Harry liked him, didn't he? There was no way that there was going to be any sort of… orchestrated violence, right? Draco was just being melodramatic as usual. Feeling his heart rate gradually decelerate, the blond closed his eyes briefly and let out a sigh of relief.

As if on cue, two able-bodied men strolled right in front of him, their powerfully corded arms gripping their own pair of boxing gloves.

Round grey eyes, brewing with anxiety and misplaced paranoia, latched onto them uneasily, following their progress as they stepped through the automatic glass doors. Draco's gaze slowly strayed to the two majestic lion statues that flanked both sides of the entrance of the sports center. It was probably a tribute to Seamus and Dean's Gryffindor heritage, Draco surmised.

Maybe it was all a scam, a well-thought out, elaborate scheme to get back at Draco for all the taunting over the years! Maybe Harry was about to truss Draco up exactly like a roast pig and present him to Seamus and Dean on a silver platter and take revenge right now! Merlin, they were going to beat him up and take turns doing it! He could see it oh-so-clearly in his mind's eye; it was going to be some sort of dirty free for all, with them bashing away happily at his precious and perfectly sculpted face (that they were all jealous of, naturally).

Even the girls weren't that better off; Ginny Weasley's bat-bogey hexes were practically legendary, and that Hermione Granger… Draco gulped nervously and rubbed sadly at his jaw. Ever since that punch in third year, his bone structure had never felt the same again.

Those Gryffindors were a violent, uncouth bunch, the whole sodding lot of them.

His mind was already scampering far away to nightmares of broken bones, bruised eyes and mussed-up hair, and the pain, oh God, the heart-wrenching, agonizing pain of his battered, abused, thoroughly mangled body-

Behind him, a curious Harry paused momentarily in his tracks and wondered why his date was hyperventilating in a rather alarming fashion and spitting in fury at nothing in particular. The brunette shrugged, approached Draco from the back and tapped the blond gently on the shoulder.

In reply, Draco jumped out of his skin and squawked like a demented parrot.

"Don't touch me, Potter! You're not holding any boxing gloves, are you?! I can take you on anytime you want!" Draco immediately blurted out upon seeing the ex-Gryffindor and windmilled his arms wildly, hoping to pass it off as some wonky self-defense tactic.

Harry looked at Draco like he had gone slightly mad.

"Are you all right? You seem a bit… off today," Harry pointed out and then shot the blond a quizzical look when Draco motioned warily at the picnic basket that Harry held.

"What's in there?"

"I packed some food for the both of us. Are you sure you're fine?" Harry repeated, studying Draco with a concerned gaze and lightly squeezing the top of his left arm.

Draco's lips pulled together in a somber line and he sucked in a restoring breath tightly. That was nothing short of disgraceful, Draco chided himself sternly. That wasn't the image that he wanted to project to Harry at all. With a quick clench of his fists, he managed to claw back the original vestiges of self-confidence and haughtiness. He had seen the mild distress in Harry's soft green eyes and felt the affection in Harry's tender touch, and Draco almost laughed out loud at how unfounded his fears had been.

Oh well. Mother had always said that even as a child, he had been blessed with an overactive imagination and a flair for the dramatics.

"Let's go then. What are you waiting for?" Draco sniffed loftily and trotted off, his head held high and nose in the air. Harry blinked at this sudden turn-about in Draco's character and raised an eyebrow inquisitively before hurrying after the blond.

There was a pretty good crowd for a lazy Sunday afternoon, an astute Draco noted as he swept a casual eye over the steady spate of wizards, witches and children trickling out from the specially allocated Floo room to their left. Numerous eye-catching pictures of various Muggle sports dotted the clean, sunshine yellow walls. Dangling sturdily from the ceiling was a huge screen that detailed the type and locations of the classes held hourly. Tipping his head to one side, Draco let his eyes wander around the screen, his mind registering words like Quidditch pitches, dance studios, the beach, fields and classrooms.

"Harry, mate! Here for your usual laps around the pool?" Seamus beamed and clapped his old friend jovially on the back. Beside him, Dean was touching up on a few of the advertorial posters that he had drawn up especially for the center. Upon hearing Seamus's genial greeting, Dean looked up and matched Seamus's grin.

"Still teaching football classes, Dean? How are the missus and the kids, Seamus?" Harry asked, returning their smiles.

Draco dawdled behind uncertainly, but plodded forth when Harry back-tracked and tugged him along.

"I've brought Draco along for a date," Harry said and turned to Draco. "Seamus and Dean run this place." In response, Draco formally inclined his head towards the two of them, but did not offer a proper acknowledgement.

"Oh, erm… welcome then," Seamus scratched his head and said rather lamely. Harry's announcement was a bolt out of the blue, completely throwing them off-kilter. They knew that their friend fancied blokes, but Malfoy? Dean and Seamus exchanged a meaningful look. They weren't people that judged, but Harry and Malfoy were so… mismatched. They couldn't imagine Malfoy along at the pub with them, cheering fervently when their Quidditch team scored a goal and throwing peanuts and booing in mock anger when the match didn't go their way. Malfoy didn't fit in with their type of people at all.

Suddenly, a bell tinkled ahead, thankfully interrupting the awkward atmosphere that pervaded. Dean whipped out his wand and flicked it wordlessly at the board. Immediately, the words morphed and melted away, replaced effortlessly by the refreshed schedule.

"We'll be off then," Harry piped up and led Draco away. Both of them didn't need to be mind-readers to figure out the incredulity and dubiousness that Seamus and Dean made known non-verbally, but wisely, neither of them said anything.

They walked in silence for a while, trying to ignore the slight smudge of strain crystallizing in the air between them. They passed by purposeful instructors attired in uniforms, their wands stowed safely away in their pockets. Students drifted along the hallway, dressed accordingly to the nature of their classes. A group of giggly teenage witches brushed past them, primped in candy-pink ballet outfits.

"What's going on there?!" Draco exclaimed, gaping openly at the dozen or so scantily clad men and women. Merlin, they were practically naked! A few of them were doing stretching exercises and loosening up their limbs before diving into the aquamarine pool.

"Oh, it's called swimming. We strip down to swimming trunks and just swim. It's great exercise and loads of fun," Harry said, jostling an amazed Draco nearer towards the pool area.

Draco's eyes were out on stalks. In the wizarding world, everyone was generally still covered up in their robes, so this flaunting of… nudity in broad daylight seemed to be an utmost shock for his system.

"I don't… understand…" Draco raised his arms, his palms facing skywards and his eyes grey puddles of muddy confusion. And then he caught the 'we' in Harry's explanation and the opening sentence of Finnigan's greeting. "You swim too?! You get… naked in front of strangers, in public-" the blond faltered hopelessly, before he finally connected the jigsaw puzzles together. He didn't remember Harry's shoulders being so broad and dreamy last time, this… swimming lark must have made them like this!

Upon catching sight of Draco's stricken expression, Harry threw his head back and laughed heartily, this great guffaw that made him all the more attractive. "There's nothing seedy about it! We don't… touch each other in the pool or anything. It's a very popular sport for Muggles."

A flustered Draco continued hotly, gesticulating agitatedly with his hands and his cheeks daubed a disturbed pink.

"Everyone can see everything! This is nothing but indecent exposure!" Draco squeaked, his eyes widening further when a particularly fit wizard, armed with his own enviable set of expansive shoulders, exited the swimming area and whisked past them, wearing nothing but flimsy material that was cleverly passed off as swimming trunks. "I think I just saw his-" the blond whispered, partly in awe and partly in horror. The heat was rising rapidly in his cheeks and he fanned his face with widespread fingers. "What if, what if those… trunk things drop off when you're swimming halfway?!"

I don't want all of them to be seeing you like this! The intensity of the possessiveness blazing through Draco was downright troubling and he hastily banished it. He's not my boyfriend, he can choose to exhibit his… goods to anyone that he wants, we've just had one date, it doesn't make any sense for me to be this… clingy! Draco, Draco, what's the absolute matter with you?!

"Why why, Draco, I do believe that you're… jealous?" Harry gasped dramatically, his lips pulling up in a slow, teasing smile.

"Jealous? Why would I be jealous?" Draco countered, picking up his pace evasively. But Harry noticed that the blond's pale cheeks were still tinged pink, and his own green eyes smoldered like embers he is jealous!- as he caught up with Draco and steered the other man neatly to their left.

It didn't take long for them to reach Harry's destination. The whole turf was dedicated to a humongous frozen pool. Clumps of people, mainly loving couples and families, scattered the borders and the middle of the ice rink. Draco blinked quickly and moved closer to the bizarre scene, his brow furrowed questioningly. It seemed like they were… gliding on the ice, their shoes equipped with… blades that allowed them to coast smoothly from side to side. Draco felt like he had stumbled into a wrong world by accident.

"What's your shoe size?" Harry asked, breaking into Draco's thoughts. The ex-Slytherin answered Harry distractedly, his eyes never wavering from the arena. With a brisk swish of his wand, Harry easily summoned two pairs of ice skates and passed one set to Draco.

"Are they clean?" Draco demanded, his nose wrinkling in mild disdain as he pinched the laces of the skates with his thumb and forefinger as though he was forced to hold onto a dead animal.

"Each pair is equipped with a Cleaning Charm," Harry stated and jammed his feet into his own pair of skates. Draco eyed the offensive-looking footwear narrowly and made a dismissive sound under his breath, but he eventually put them on. It felt alien on his feet. Draco flexed his toes experimentally in the skates and tried to stand up, but ended up wobbling precariously on his knees.

The air echoed with joyous giggles, high-pitched yelps and muffled thumps. Draco inwardly cringed as a couple crashed unceremoniously into the perimeter of the rink. After a short moment, they laughed good-naturedly and picked themselves up unsteadily before continuing their rounds.

"And Muggles do this for leisure? Merlin, do they have a death wish or something?" Draco exclaimed while he stubbornly waved away Harry's hand of support. Determinedly, the blond bumbled and fumbled his way from the benches to the ice rink. Harry dexterously tagged along beside him, controlling his skates like a pro.

"We should take it slow," Harry encouraged.

"It doesn't look too difficult, in fact. It's just… ice," Draco scoffed. If Muggles can do it, why can't I? I'm a Malfoy, for heaven's sake! And before Harry could stop him, Draco was off like a shot. His heartbeat quickening in anticipation, Draco piloted himself, albeit a bit clumsily, towards the side of the rink without incident. In spite of himself, Draco's face split into a vibrant grin and he chalked it up to natural Malfoy poise and grace.

Ooh, maybe he could learn how to do those pretty looking figure eights!

His fingers curling into the banisters and his tongue held in deep concentration between his teeth, Draco launched himself further and faster. His eyes were nothing but a glittery grey blaze, his sights ruthlessly set on the very middle of the rink.

Sadly, he noticed the little boy a moment too late and thanks to his agile Seeker reflexes, Draco wrenched his lithe body out of the way to narrowly avoid colliding into him. But his balance was unfortunately thrown off-course, causing Draco to careen and catapult out of control, his terrified eyes bulging, his arms spinning feverishly as he squealed away like an angry piglet before cannoning to a stop by smashing inelegantly into the barricades.

"Holy mother of Salazar, Potter, are you trying to kill me?!" Draco hollered, nursing his aching bum. Harry, bristling with worry, was hot on his heels, skidding precisely to a perfect stop. Upon ascertaining that Draco wasn't injured, and taking in the adorable pout that hung on Draco's lips, the brunette erupted into deep chuckles and bent down, helping his date up. Draco immediately hugged the wall for dear life, a thoroughly frazzled expression plastered all over his face. Harry's grinning eyes were turning Draco's body into a pool of useless embarrassment.

"I said to take it slow. Well, if you think it'll make you feel better, I'll rub your arse for you," Harry suggested mischievously, a devilish tilt poised on his eyebrows.

In reply, Draco blasted Harry with a daggered look. His pride and his bum were unexpectedly bruised, and Draco squirmed uncomfortably when Harry pulled him closer and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

"Come on. We'll do it properly this time," Harry murmured. As if by reflex, Draco's spine stiffened and his heart jerked in alarm, before picking up pace and beating in double quick time. The air was suddenly electrified with energy, and Draco gulped. Harry's touch was jangling sensitive nerves, his warm skin pressed thrillingly against alabaster arms. Harry's scent, simmering with masculine virility exactly like male nectar- hit Draco like a ton of bricks. This was too close, too fast, and Draco shrank away, ignoring the sliver of disappointment that gashed across Harry's features.

"I won't let you fall," Harry said earnestly, his eyes glittering like sun on frost.

"Promise?" Draco whispered back, already missing how Harry held him, the astonishing way Harry's fingertips left a trail of goosebumps prickling on his skin, how he felt so oddly comforted in Harry's protective embrace.

Harry nodded with the enthusiasm of a puppy about to be taken out for a walk.

Both men linked eyes for an instant, and even though Draco's head was full of contradictory thoughts, he felt the heat, fizzing with sweet yearning, gnawing away at his hesitance.

Draco paused, before regally offering Harry his hand, like how a king would present himself superciliously to his subjects.

Scraps of orange-pink cloud embellished the skies and the sun shone down gaily on them, drenching both men in gentle light and heat. Salty sea air breathed lazily over the foamy surf. The calming rhythm of the slow, rolling motion of undulating waves serenaded them, and Draco buried his toes deeper into the warm and gritty sand.

The scenery was a perfect backdrop to the spectacle that welcomed him.

The air was brought to life by excited exclamations and typical hubbub stemming from the various people that occupied the beach. A large group of teenagers had set up a net and were busily engaged in a competitive game of volleyball. Children clambered and giggled boisterously; some swinging noisily from the playground, others bouncing all over the place with their exuberant energy.

"What's the point? Everything will be washed away eventually when the tide comes in," Draco asked, indicating a band of chattering children building a majestic-looking sandcastle, complete with tiny, delicate pink seashells that festooned the very peaks of the towers.

"They're having fun," Harry answered, grinning. Draco snorted derisively, his attention already ambling away to a couple who were flying a kite. Interest bloomed up within the blond as he cocked his head, curious grey eyes tracking their progress. Harry caught the curiosity in Draco's expression and smiled.

"Ron and Hermione's kids, Rose and Hugo, love to fly kites. We always save some time to fly kites whenever I bring them here," Harry mentioned, beaming happily at the thought of the two Weasley kids.

"Wanna play? I can always rent one," he offered, flicking a thumb in the direction of a shack behind them which sold numerous beach paraphernalia. Draco blinked and lifted his chin off his knee before shaking his head like a small part of him was wary of happiness-, nudging away the tiny rebel cell in him that desperately wanted to be like that carefree couple, their hands entwined together as they shrieked joyously and steered that strange-looking toy.

"I know you want to. Come on, let's get one," Harry enticed, but immediately fell silent when Draco's sharp features stiffened, his eyebrows slamming together in displeasure as a heavy curtain of inhibition slowly descended on the blond.

"I'll bring you back when you're officially my boyfriend then," Harry relented, choosing his words carefully to defuse the situation.

"Awfully confident, aren't you?" Draco remarked, a corner of his lips hiking up in a reluctant smile. Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Harry had been apprehensive and nervous about the whole thing, his head suddenly sprouting second thoughts. Bringing Draco here could have gone horrendously bad or wonderfully brilliant. Draco could have violently objected to the ice-skating, dismissing it as plebeian and 'not his style', but he didn't. In the end, they had actually spent around one hour at the rink, much to Harry's delight. But this time, Harry had a back-up plan. If Draco didn't take to the ice-skating at all, well, there were two enormous Quidditch pitches available, and a whole collection of the fastest brooms in the market available for renting.

He had gleaned onto this idea simply because the only similarity that the both of them had shared during Hogwarts was their passion and competitiveness of flying, and hopefully sports, so Harry was hoping that this could diminish the rift between them.

And it seemed to have worked, except for one very very minor detail:

Draco didn't eat.

Lifting up a hand to peer at the remains of their meal that was packed away neatly in the basket, Harry sighed when he noticed that Draco's portion had mainly gone uneaten. The blond had nibbled and picked at his food like a bird. A dismayed Harry wondered if the food was not up to par with Draco's standards, but after the first mouthful, Harry was assured the sandwiches were perfectly scrumptious.

But no matter, the brunette knew that the other man had enjoyed today's date as much as he did. Draco's grins and laughs were dispensed more freely now, and Harry could his standoffishness slowly thawing into animation. There were revolving sides how he would blow hot and cold- to Draco's personality, as though he wasn't sure which aspect of his character to present to Harry.

Sometimes he would catch Draco smiling widely to himself, but quickly hiding it whenever he turned his head back towards Harry. At other times, he could feel the ghost of the old Draco, the sarcastic and arrogant Draco that would struggle to make himself known. It was disconcerting to say the least, but Harry liked to think that today was a major coup, compared to their disastrous first date.

The orange behind Draco's lightly closed eyes was soothing and warm, and he let the sun play on his eyelids by tilting his head slightly from side to side. Shards of golden sunlight flickered teasingly through the shade of the branches above him, lulling him into cozy relaxation. He yawned and shifted his limbs, his arms splayed out carelessly like a lounging starfish.

Draco felt himself wafting into a realm of surreal pleasure, but before he could unwind further, he felt butterfly-soft touches graze over his fingers. Draco frowned, but didn't move a muscle. But it wasn't long before the same exact feeling spread over his knuckles, caused by light, devious touches.

He cracked a bleary eye open, then jerked upright in aristocratic alarm when he saw Harry's hand tip-toeing slyly onto his own. His lips pursed into a moue of disapproval, a visibly incensed Draco yanked his hand away and skewered Harry with a blatant glare, a glare that dimmed when Harry's eyes flashed predatorily, a feral, downright naughty grin hovering on his lips. Dark lashes batted lazily as Harry stretched languidly, causing the hem of his shirt to lift, revealing a tempting strip of taut, tan skin.

Taking advantage of Draco's misplaced attentions, Harry pounced, covering Draco's hand brazenly with his own.

"Potter!" Draco spluttered and exclaimed sternly, but any subsequent words wilted on his lips when Draco dropped his gaze down to their still-entangled hands.

"That's what most people do on dates. They hold hands," the brunette added before wriggling closer towards Draco.

"Do we fall under the category of 'most people'?" Draco retaliated.

"Do we?" Harry parried and traced a fingertip calmly around the pale quarter-moons of Draco's neatly-kept cuticles.

"I-" Draco started, but stopped short when Harry turned his hand over and began to caress the faint criss-crossings that streaked Draco's palm. Instead, Draco looked away and harrumphed under his breath, but he didn't move his hand away, nor did he react to Harry's skilful ministrations.

The blond stared steadfastly into the distance, but he couldn't help the rare, unguarded smile that leaked out messily from his lips that simply refused to go away. Draco's heart flipped over like a pancake and he gulped. A thousand silvery sheen-like words darted coquettishly behind that single hand-holding gesture, and Draco blushed slightly when Harry gave his hand an affectionate squeeze.

But Draco didn't reciprocate his squeeze.

"Can I meet you at Ron and Hermione's place next week?" Harry suddenly said, withdrawing his hand slightly.

"What? Are we having a… double date?" Draco said, his brows furrowing in a show of indignation. He realized that he luxuriated in spending time with Harry alone, and he didn't want anyone butting in on his little slice of heaven what heaven, Draco, it's only the second date!-, even though Ron and Hermione were Harry's oldest and closest friends.

"No, they won't be around, don't worry," Harry reassured.

"I just don't want to think that we're inconveniencing them, that's all," Draco added, extending a finger and drawing squiggly lines in the sand that glistened and sparkled like fine demerara sugar underneath the sun's rays.

"I'll give you today's score when I get home. I don't have any parchment on me now," Draco said, inching his legs nearer to Harry.

"Look, about the score thing, is it okay if we just ditch the whole idea? I just don't like the feeling of having to… pass every date. It reminds me a bit too much of school," Harry tried, and wasn't surprised when Draco regarded him with a level stare and slitted eyes. Draco twisted his hand back coldly and placed it on his lap.

"I hardly think that you're in any position to bargain with me about the rules, Potter," Draco pointed out in frighteningly crisp tones, his words drizzling forward in a lazy drawl. By doing this, he was letting Harry know once and for all that the blond had the upper hand at all times, and that he could call off this arrangement oh-so-easily with a mere snap of his fingers.

But upon glimpsing Harry's slightly distressed expression, Draco tactfully bit back another retort. "If you must know, I did have fun today," he murmured quietly and casually let his hand relax and slip down from his thigh to the blanket beneath them.

"I know," Harry grinned cheekily before going on, "Would you watch the sunset with me?"

"I would like to, but-"

"It won't take long. Three hours for a date, isn't it? It seems like we've got roughly another… one hour to go," Harry revealed, a sweet yet insolent smile playing on his lips.

Draco squinted skywards at the rippling clouds that floated along together with the mellow glow of the sinking sun, which dipped significantly towards the horizon. The leaves above were a mosaic of dusky auburns and yellows as the evening took on an amber, incandescent-like hue and conferring a dreamy, spun sugar-like quality. No matter how hard he tried to, Draco couldn't turn his back on this scene, and it was as though the gods themselves were giving Draco the go-ahead to acquiesce to Harry's request.

Harry's presence was like a warm Caribbean breeze to him, his adoration and underlying passion like a gentle wave lapping at an inert rock, steadily and patiently wearing Draco down. And slowly, with Draco's hesitancy slipping away like shadows at dawn, he reached over and wrapped his fingers tentatively around Harry's wrist.

Beside him, Harry edged a glance in Draco's direction and cleared his throat. He longed to wrap Draco up in his arms and cuddle him, but he knew that that won't do for now. He nonchalantly shifted a bit closer, loving the way Draco met his eyes with a shy sideways peek. Harry interlaced their fingers together, giving Draco's pale hand a subdued squeeze.

And this time, Draco squeezed back.

/tbc

Updates will now be on every Friday, since I'll be graduating from school soon, leaving me loads of time to write.

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