Chapter Four
When Harry woke up in the morning, Malfoy was on top of him, again. His left leg was almost sprawled across Harry and his arm was on Harry's stomach, under his shirt. How had Harry not noticed that Malfoy had attached himself to him like that?
Harry took a deep breath. This sleeping arrangement was going to kill him.
"Malfoy," Harry whispered.
"Hmm." Malfoy jerked his hips slightly into Harry.
"Malfoy!" Harry hissed.
"What?" Malfoy pressed his palm against Harry's stomach before realising what he was doing and he immediately retreated next to the wall.
"That must be some body pillow," Harry joked, struggling to sound nonchalant, and got up off the bed. He didn't wait for Malfoy to respond or give him the opportunity to notice Harry's half-hard cock. He slowly made his way toward the bathroom.
An hour later, they were ready to go. Malfoy Disapparated them to a café in Diagon Alley for breakfast and then they parted ways. The entire time, neither one discussed how they'd woken up that morning, keeping the discussion light and focused on Harry's job. Mostly Malfoy gave him tips on how to care for plants and how to channel his magic, throwing in an insult here or there. Malfoy really didn't think Harry could do it.
"So I'll see you at half five?" Harry asked, unable to hide the married-like tone from his voice. Malfoy gave him an awkward look, probably having noticed the tone, and nodded.
Malfoy took the Floo from the café, and Harry opted to Apparate. He arrived at the address given to him by Sally Berkshire, and found the woman waiting for him. She had a surprised look on her face, as if she'd expected him to not show.
Outside of the Ministry, Sally Berkshire wasn't as flustered and anxious as she'd originally seemed to Harry. "The garden is out back," she said, and Harry followed her.
For the first few hours, Harry had his nose buried in various books that ranged from Basic Plant Care, to The Complete Guide to Companion Planting: Everything You Need to Know to Make Your Garden Successful. The woman served him tea and cake as he skimmed through the chapters until he reached the one titled: Conversation and Companionship. The chapter detailed how to not just sow, but how to speak to plants.
Harry found himself laughing at the detailed descriptions of treating the garden like you'd treat a lover after intercourse. No wonder there had been an age disclaimer on the book!
After he finished reading the guidebook and took the mini quiz she'd prepared for him, Sally gave Harry a tour of the garden. Before he'd realised, it was nearing lunchtime and Sally asked him to leave for an hour and come back refreshed.
For lunch, Harry decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron and was surprised to find that Malfoy was also there with a few work-colleagues. However, Dante was nowhere to be seen, and that made Harry happy.
"How is it going so far?" Malfoy asked after he'd gestured for Harry to sit at the table with him and his associates. The other two people at the table looked like they were a couple. It wasn't until Harry sat next to Malfoy that he realised how relieved Malfoy was that Harry was there. Malfoy had been the third wheel.
That's great for my self-esteem. Harry frowned realising that Malfoy was only glad to see him because then he wouldn't be the odd one out. Not because he wanted to see Harry.
"Not terrible," Harry answered, taking a bite of his chips. He was terribly famished. "I spent most of the morning reading up as Ms Berkshire served me tea and cake."
"Only Harry Potter would be waited on hand and foot by his employer while he trained for a new job."
Harry laughed. "Please, don't be so cross just because she likes me more than she likes you. I offered to help her. You only criticised her methods."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. Harry wanted to press on, but the last thing he wanted to do was upset Malfoy. He opened his mouth to say something when the two individuals sitting across from the table started snogging.
"For heaven's sake!" Malfoy roared. "Just because I've got company at the table doesn't give the two of you the right to start that again."
The woman giggled at Malfoy's retort and the man sighed, clearly annoyed at Malfoy's comment. "Fine, we'll leave then. Since you do have company at the table," the man said and stood up to take his leave. "Mr Potter." He nodded and the woman waved, and then they were off.
"Why are you at lunch with them if—"
"I didn't know she was coming," Malfoy said, sounding annoyed still.
"Do you fancy him or—"
"What? Heaven's no!" Malfoy's scowl was frightening. "He's a nice bloke and is new at the Ministry, so I go out to lunch with him once in a while. He's got a small place in the wizarding village of Ecanus. I know he's trying to save up to buy a proper flat in the city, and she lives at home with her parents. They don't really get a lot of alone time so they're rather—"
Malfoy stopped talking when he looked at Harry and gave a confused look at Harry's own confused expression. "What is it?" he asked.
"You are annoyed at them, yet you defend them at the same time."
Malfoy shook his head in confusion, as if he didn't understand what Harry's point was.
"It's just strange, is all," Harry said, shrugging.
"That's rich coming from you," Malfoy retorted and finished the last of his sandwich. "I've got to get back to the office now."
Harry nodded and stood up at the same time as Malfoy, as if they were suddenly on a date or something, and he felt like it was the cordial thing to do. Malfoy looked at him confused again and Harry chuckled nervously, running his hand through his hair.
"Do you want to get some takeaway for dinner?" Harry asked, trying to break the awkward tension he had so easily created.
"Erm…sure. What did you have in mind?"
"I don't know. Thai?"
"Alright." Malfoy nodded and walked away from Harry, exiting the Leaky Cauldron as fast as he could.
Confused, perturbed, and a bit turned on, Harry left the Leaky and Apparated to the Berkshire garden.
"How was lunch?" Sally asked as soon as Harry had entered the cottage.
"Good," he answered, confused.
"I hope you're in a good mood, because we're going to be spending time in the garden now and a good mood is most necessary!"
Harry nodded. He wasn't sure if he was in a good mood. He was most definitely in a mood of uncertainty. Sally looked a bit aggravated at whatever expression Harry had on his face and gave him a small black book.
"What is it?"
"It's a journal. For your moods."
"I don't understand."
"It's important to be in a good mood when you're going to be working in the garden. I like to play music or sing. I think about my kids, my favourite bottle of wine, etc."
Harry nodded, not really understanding where she was going with this.
"It is also important to channel your energy in a way to make sure you can put yourself in a good mood!" she added.
"Alright," Harry said. I'll bite.
"So when you are in the garden and are in a foul mood, I want you to write in this journal. I'm not going to read it. It's for you and you only. Just write out whatever's bothering you until it is out of your system and you can be happy again. While you and I are in the garden together, the positive energy will flow, because I'll make sure it does. But when you are alone, I need you to concentrate on your efforts of being happy. A happy individual produces a happy garden!"
Harry didn't understand. It was clear that Sally Berkshire knew exactly what she was doing. Whatever Malfoy had said, she was reiterating. Then why didn't the garden work the way she wanted it to? She was clearly well versed in reading the energy of the plant life around her.
"I just don't have the time," she said, almost as if she'd read Harry's mind. "I care about this garden a lot, but I just don't have the time. Do you think you can still help me?" She was nervous, and Harry couldn't help but smile to calm her.
He wanted to help Sally, but he also wanted to learn something new. Above all, Harry sort of wanted to prove to Malfoy that he could do it. Malfoy had been sceptical about the entire thing ever since Harry had discussed it with him. Harry wasn't really sure why he cared about what Malfoy thought, but evidently that had always been the case. Hadn't it?
"Mr Potter?" Sally said, bringing Harry back from his thoughts.
"Right. Sorry!" Harry said, smiling again. "I'm more than willing to help and learn and do whatever you think is best. I think writing in the journal is a great idea and it should be interesting!"
Sally released a sigh of relief and led Harry into the garden.
0-*0-*0-*0
Harry met up with Malfoy at Thai Emerald for takeaway. As he'd sat at the garden with Sally, writing in his journal, Harry wondered about the couple that were at lunch with Malfoy earlier that day. There was something about the way Malfoy had talked about the bloke that left Harry curious.
"He's Dante's cousin," Malfoy said when they were at the kitchen table, ready to dig into their dinner. "When Sebastian was hired, Dante had asked me to just keep an eye out for him, so that's what I was doing."
"Wow, that Dante bloke really likes to be in your business," Harry said, struggling to sound nonchalant.
Malfoy shrugged. "Sebastian isn't so bad. He's nothing like Dante. The first time he'd borrowed my quill, after he'd returned it, I read him. He was honest, if not a bit materialistic, but honourable nonetheless. I reckoned keeping close to Sebastian would keep Dante happy."
Harry still didn't understand the story behind Dante and Malfoy, but he got the feeling that he shouldn't push it. Instead, Harry started to talk about his day. Malfoy looked genuinely relieved that Harry had dropped the subject, and Harry was glad, too.
He told Malfoy almost everything he did at the Berkshire garden. Except for the part about the journal; Harry decided to keep that to himself.
0-*0 *0-*0
By the end of the first week, Harry woke up and found Malfoy on his own side of the bed. Harry missed the touch. When they returned home on Friday evening, the house had a set of stairs but the second level wasn't built yet.
Malfoy left Harry alone in the house as he went to his flat to get a new set of clothes. Harry sat on the steps that led nowhere. He missed Malfoy's company. He realised he didn't like being alone in the house. He didn't like being without Malfoy.
He went and lay down on the bed, and touched Malfoy's side of the bed. He remembered the first few mornings when he'd woken up and Malfoy was on top of him. Harry's erection was unavoidable as he could smell Malfoy on the bed. He nuzzled his nose into the pillow and his hand travelled under his jeans to take hold of his cock. He unbuttoned his jeans, pulled the zipper down and stroked himself.
Harry allowed himself the luxury of imagining being with Malfoy; his cock rubbing up against Malfoy's erection. He remembered the slight brush of their arms when they were in the kitchen together, but particularly, he remembered how Malfoy's hand felt in his own. The night Malfoy had broken the wine glass and injured himself—the way Harry had held his hand—unwilling to lose the touch.
Fuck, Harry had it bad for Malfoy. He wanted nothing more than to have Malfoy writhe under him; to kiss the back of Malfoy's neck as he plunged into him repeatedly. He wanted to hear Malfoy shout his name as Harry came inside him.
A moment later, Harry was coming in his hand, spilling over himself and the bed spread. A sudden jolt of fear came across him. What if Malfoy returned? What was Harry thinking? Wanking out in the open like that? What if someone else arrived? The Floo wasn't exactly guarded against intruders.
Harry quickly grabbed his wand, spelling himself and the bedspread clean. He thanked Merlin for the timing because it wasn't too long after that Malfoy Apparated into the room holding a set of robes. Malfoy looked flushed, his hair a bit tousled. Harry gave him a quizzical look and he returned Harry's expression with one of his own.
"Did something happen?"
Harry furrowed his brows and rubbed his hands on his thighs. "No. Why?"
"I don't know. I just got the strangest sensation—"
Their conversation was interrupted as the house made a noise. They both looked up at the top of the stairs, and it seemed as though the second level was starting to form. Just the hallway. No rooms had materialised yet.
Harry wondered what had shifted between him and Malfoy that the house was starting to change right in front of them. He looked over at Malfoy, who looked distressed. Harry reckoned the house wasn't fixing itself fast enough for Malfoy. He really must have wanted to get the hell out.
"Do you think we should throw a party?" Malfoy asked.
That came out of nowhere. Harry was taken a bit back by the randomness of the question. "A party?"
"Yes. A dinner party. Entertain guests. Maybe—"
"It'll help the house materialise faster?"
Malfoy scowled for a second then nodded. "Precisely." A smile crept up Malfoy's face and Harry couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the story, but didn't press to ask.
"Okay, next Friday?"
"Brilliant."
"Who should we invite? We don't exactly have a lot of space," Harry said, pointing towards the tiny furniture in the sitting room that had expanded, but not far enough to throw a rager.
"Well, we can invite Blaise and Pansy..."
"Then we have to invite Hermione and Ron."
"Fine."
"And Ginny and Neville too. It's only fair."
Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. "Fine. You're the one cooking." Harry squinted his eyes. He hadn't thought of that. "We'll need to Transfigure the bed into a proper sofa and unshrink some of the other furniture," Malfoy added.
Harry agreed. "Yeah. Not sure if I want to hear all the jokes about us sharing a bed together like some domestic couple."
"Yes, because that would just be so terrible," Malfoy said, turning to walk towards the cupboard to hang his robes. Harry wasn't sure if the tone was sarcastic, hurt, or just Malfoy. Harry had been living with the man for over ten days and he thought he'd figured Malfoy out, until Malfoy would do something that Harry couldn't categorise. He called that being just Malfoy.
Harry stood by the bed and watched Malfoy. His shoulders were tense and he took a very long time just staring at the inside of the cupboard. When Malfoy turned to face Harry, he looked surprised that Harry was staring at him.
"What?" he asked, looking annoyed. Harry figured that he just didn't like being caught off-guard.
"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry said, smiling.
"For what?" Malfoy asked, then schooled his expression and a smirk crept up.
Harry chuckled. "The party. It's a good idea: entertaining guests, positive vibes, all that."
"Indeed," Malfoy said and proceeded towards the kitchen. He poured himself some juice and looked around the kitchen. He was hungry but didn't want to say it. Harry knew that he'd gotten accustomed to his cooking and liked when Harry would pack him snacks for work. In the ten days they'd been living together, Harry could tell that Malfoy had gained a bit of weight—in all the right places—and unfortunately Harry had been looking.
"I was just getting started on dinner," Harry expressed, before Malfoy spoke again. "Do you want me to heat you some leftover lentil soup?"
Malfoy's eyes widened with excitement and Harry grinned. He lit the fire on the stove and turned to grab a pot as Malfoy settled himself at the table. The few times they had gone out to dinner together, Malfoy had told Harry that he didn't cook much and didn't feel right keeping a house-elf. So most of the times he'd eat out. He missed getting a good home-cooked meal and they were a cherished thing that he'd get when he visited his mother in France.
Since that night, Harry insisted upon cooking at home. He'd make up one reason or another as to why he didn't want to eat out—mainly it was that he didn't want the celebrity attention—and Malfoy didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure that they both knew that it was complete bull, but Malfoy never called him on it.
Harry served Malfoy the soup with a side of bread and returned to the counter to chop up the onions, getting the dinner started.
0-*0-*0-*0
Another week passed and the dreaded Friday arrived; it was dreaded Friday because, Harry was a nervous wreck. It was one thing to cook for the Weasleys with Molly, and another thing to just cook for Malfoy, his only true critic. But to cook for a dinner party—to have real guests over and have appetizers, and courses, and dessert? His heart was racing a thousand beats per second and he had already told Sally Berkshire that he was not going to be coming in that day.
Now if Malfoy left for work, and Harry went to the market, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get back to the house. He still hadn't tried to take the Floo or Apparate back to Grimmauld Place on his own, even though Malfoy had insisted on it time and time again.
"Will you relax?" Malfoy said. "Merlin, everything you touch has a nervous energy exuding out of it. I can practically feel your edginess in the air I breathe."
Harry chose to ignore Malfoy's comment.
"I have to go to the market. I have to make a list of everything we need. I don't have time to relax!" Harry was genuinely freaking out.
"Here," Malfoy said, as he walked around the corner to stand next to Harry. Harry was trying to boil water for tea and that, too, was seeming rather problematic. Malfoy placed a hand on the small of Harry's back and began to move it in a circular motion. "Just breathe in and think of something that makes you happy," he all but whispered in Harry's ear, and Harry shuddered from feeling Malfoy's warm breath.
Harry clutched the edge of the counter tighter. He most certainly could not relax with Malfoy doing what he was doing. "I—"
"Shh…close your eyes," Malfoy demanded and Harry followed suit. "Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't think for a second; just concentrate on your breathing."
"I thought you told me to think about something happy…"
"Evidently, you can't think right now," Malfoy said. "Just clear your mind until you feel at ease then think happy thoughts. Don't focus on trying to find a happy thought. Focus on just not thinking."
Harry nodded. His grip on the counter eased up and he just breathed in. The only thing he focused on was Malfoy's hand on his back. It had stopped moving, but it was still there and Harry liked it. He dropped his head low and concentrated.
"What are you thinking about?" Malfoy whispered. His voice quivered just a bit, but Harry didn't dare look up and meet his gaze.
Harry kept his eyes shut. "The garden."
"The garden?" Malfoy asked, sounding surprised. "Sally Berkshire's garden?"
"Yeah," Harry said, smiling. He still kept his eyes closed. "It's peaceful there and I get a lot of writ—thinking done and I like that. I like being alone there."
"And the cooking?"
"Yeah. I get ideas about what to make when I'm there. I write out my thou—recipes and things. It's remarkably tranquil."
"Sounds perfect," Malfoy said, clearing his throat and he removed his hand away from Harry's back.
Harry opened his eyes and immediately looked at Malfoy's hand that was now resting by his side. "Oh, you didn't have—" Harry stopped himself before uttering something ridiculously foolish like touch me again, Malfoy.
His gaze moved up from Malfoy's hand to his eyes, when he realised that Malfoy was staring at Harry's lips. Harry did his best to not lick his own lips, when Malfoy did it, causing Harry to open his mouth and release a soundless gasp.
Harry took a small step forward and Malfoy didn't move. His eyes moved from his lips to Harry's eyes, and it was as if they were searching for something. "You're good at that," Harry said, unsure of what he was doing, but he needed to do something.
"Good at what?"
"Knowing what is needed."
Malfoy nodded with a smile and Harry saw a blush creep up on his neck. Malfoy was about to take a step back when Harry grabbed the man's wrist and said, "No."
"What?"
"You're afraid of getting too close."
Malfoy gave a quizzical scowl and Harry couldn't help himself. He leaned in as he pulled Malfoy towards him. He was going to kiss Malfoy. This was happening.
"Harry?"
Hermione's voice from the other room made Harry jerk back, and Malfoy yanked his hand away.
"In the kitchen," Harry announced, his eyes pouring over at Malfoy. He looked flustered and was glancing around the kitchen like he'd misplaced something.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt," she said. How did she know she'd interrupted something? "I just wanted to drop this off for tonight before I headed off to work."
"What is it?" Harry asked as Malfoy nodded at Hermione and left the room.
"Just some baked goods from Molly. She only hinted so many times at how glad she was that you'd invited Ron and me over to your new home for dinner."
"Did you tell her that it isn't exactly a home yet? That we're still working on it—"
"You think that would have stopped her?" Hermione asked laughingly. "Anyway, she just wanted me to bring you a little something. Maybe it would speed up the process or something."
Harry thanked her and placed the gift basket under a preservation charm.
"So, did I interrupt something?"
Harry gulped nervously thinking of what to say. "I—What do you mean?"
"I know what it looks like when you're about to give someone a kiss and someone walks into the room. His shifty eyes, your unsteady voice. I don't have to be a Reader to—"
"It's nothing," Harry said hurriedly. "I was just having a bit of panic attack and Malfoy was helping me just…" Harry sighed, "…breathe."
"Okay…" she said, looking unconvinced. "I'll see you later, then?"
"Later, then," Harry echoed, and a few minutes later, she was gone.
"Ready?" Malfoy said, immediately entering the kitchen after Hermione's departure.
"Yeah. Just have to head to the market and it should be a couple of hours of shopping…"
"Do you want me to take a half-day?" Malfoy asked, sounding concerned.
"What for?" Harry immediately cursed himself for asking. Of course, he wanted Malfoy to take a half day. He wanted to be back alone in the kitchen with him, see where that kiss would have led to. Maybe they would cancel the dinner after all and just spend the night in bed.
Our bed.
"To make sure your agitation and anxiety doesn't burn the house down."
"Why would you care? You've got your own flat, anyway."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow and scowled.
"Sorry, I don't know where that came from," Harry said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to push Malfoy away.
"That's alright. Just come meet me at the Ministry when you're ready to come home," Malfoy said and left the room again.
Home.
It was the first time Malfoy had called it that. It was their home.
Moments later, Malfoy Apparated them to the wizarding market. "I have an idea," he said as soon as they'd arrived.
"What?"
"After you're done here, instead of coming to the Ministry, why don't you just try to take the Floo home?" There's that word again.
"What if it doesn't work?"
"You have to believe it will."
Harry shrugged, still unconvinced of the fact.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and Harry could tell that he was trying to not to look annoyed at him. "If it doesn't work then just come and get me at the Ministry. You'll have to speak to my secretary about where I am. I'm supposed to do some work for Dante and I was hoping—"
Harry immediately, inadvertently, released a groan.
This time Malfoy didn't hide his annoyance with Harry. "Just try. For me?" Malfoy said it in a way that Harry couldn't help but smile. What was Malfoy doing to him? "Just go to the Floo network. Try to take the Floo to Grimmauld Place. If nothing happens—actually, most likely the Floo will take you to the Ministry—problem solved. Make sure you try it, though. Alright?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'll intend to take the Floo home."
"Brilliant," was all Malfoy said before he Disapparated away.
Harry couldn't shake the thought of Malfoy calling it home. He tried to think if Malfoy had ever done it before, and couldn't remember. Just try to take the Floo home. The words kept ringing in Harry's ears over and over again. As he strolled through the market, Harry remembered their almost kiss. Would it have been a kiss? He thought about how Malfoy would taste. He already knew what his skin felt like, what it felt like to have his body pressed against his.
Harry tried to shake the thought off. He didn't want to get an erection in the middle of the market. An erection he could do nothing about. Something he couldn't even take care of by going home. If he couldn't take the Floo or Apparate into Grimmauld Place, he'd have to go and get Malfoy. Harry did not want to go and get Malfoy, groceries in hand, hard and aching for a release.
After an hour of contemplative self-doubt and shopping for what felt like a dinner for twenty, when he really was just cooking for eight, Harry went to find the closest Floo network.
"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"
Harry couldn't believe it. He stepped out of the fireplace half-sceptical, but was shocked to find himself in the room where he belonged. He smiled to himself and his jaw nearly hit the ground when he looked up and realised that the second level had expanded. His delight was short-lived when he realised that a completed second level meant more rooms. It meant bedrooms. Plural. He could have his own room and he wouldn't need to sleep next to Malfoy anymore.
Harry's heart sank.
He was saddened by the fact more than he thought possible. No longer sleeping next to Malfoy actually made him ache for the man. He knew that his life with Malfoy was temporary, and he really hadn't expected to become so dependent on the man. When Malfoy was happy, Harry was happy, and when he was cross for any reason, Harry too seemed to find himself in a foul mood.
Now he was no longer going to have that.
They were going to get rid of their bed as it was, for the sake of the guests, and then what? What would happen at the end of the night? Would they sleep in separate rooms?
Harry was lost in his thoughts, the bags of groceries still in his hands, when the Floo roared. Harry got out of the way to see Malfoy step out.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, his tone more surprised than he'd intended it to be.
"I just— I felt like the house beckoned me." Malfoy looked around the room and then towards the second level and realised the same thing Harry had. Harry tried really hard to read Malfoy's expression, but then Malfoy had such a stoic face that Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"The house speaks to you," Harry observed.
"And you speak to the house." Malfoy smiled and grabbed the bag from Harry's hands. "What's the matter? I thought you'd be excited that you can come here on your own now. It recognises you as part owner."
"I'm excited. Just...overwhelmed. You know?"
Malfoy nodded. "Do you..." Malfoy hesitated.
"I don't need you. You can go back to work. I'll see you at half five." Harry smiled and started to put the groceries away. He felt like if he didn't just walk away from Malfoy, he'd feel the need to lean over and kiss Malfoy on the cheek like a good little husband.
"Right," Malfoy said, clearing his throat. "Any request on what kind of wine you want?"
"The kind with alcohol?" Harry said, unable to suppress his laughter.
Malfoy laughed with him. Harry felt his laugh vibrate through the house. "I'll look into indestructible wine tumblers as well," Malfoy said.
"I didn't realise it was going to be that kind of a night," Harry said.
"We're willingly inviting Slytherins and Gryffindors over for dinner where they'll be forced to socialise against their own will and drinking is involved—"
"Say no more..." Harry laughed nervously. "Why are we doing this again?"
Malfoy bit his lower lip and Harry nearly well lost it at that moment. He was glad that he wasn't holding anything sharp or breakable as he grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter for dear life.
"Because we're trying to make this house into a home?"
"Sounds like it might turn into a war zone."
Malfoy ran his hand through his hair and Harry wondered if he was nervous. "Well, see you later, Potter."
"Bye..." Harry's voice trailed after Malfoy Disapparated. He wished that they had kissed goodbye. That he had walked up to Malfoy, ran his hand under Malfoy's shirt and pulled him in for a kiss as he pushed them against the wall. His hips bucking into Malfoy's, as they rubbed their groin together.
Get a hold of yourself!
Harry shook his head and snapped himself out of his fantasy. Malfoy didn't want him. Consciously or unconsciously. Harry no longer woke up feeling Malfoy pressed against him. Malfoy had started to wake up before Harry now, and even if there was an off chance that they brushed up against each other while they slept, Harry wouldn't know.
Harry pouted to himself and returned to the task at hand, and not the one in his pants. No matter how much he wanted to wank, he needed to make sure that the dinner was all set first. He'd consider pleasuring himself in the shower before the guests arrived.
0-*0-*0
"Where did the time go?" Harry found himself asking Malfoy as it was nearing seven o'clock and neither he nor Malfoy had sat down for a breather.
Harry had cooked nonstop until Malfoy arrived, then Malfoy had showered first, as Harry set everything up. After Harry had showered, he returned to see that Malfoy had rearranged everything, including the place settings where Harry was first going to sit next to Ginny, and now was sitting next to Parkinson and Ginny was sitting across from him.
"I don't think they're going to like that we have assigned seating—"
"It's only proper to designate seating, Potter," Malfoy said. "Then we can all have a balanced conversation and side conversations would be at a minimum."
"Side conversations? This isn't the Great Hall and there are no professors giving speeches, Malfoy," Harry mocked him slightly, and earned himself a glare from Malfoy that he hadn't seen in almost a week.
Harry laughed at Malfoy's expression and walked away. He didn't really care for the place settings and he knew that Ron wouldn't either. He'd sit where he felt like it and Malfoy would only have to deal with it when the time came. He was not going to ruin his perfectly decent mood arguing with Malfoy.
His goal was to not look like a married couple to his friends.
Parkinson and Zabini arrived a half-hour before the time Harry had told his friends. He wondered if Malfoy had planned it but didn't give it much thought. He was far too busy making sure that the spinach puffs, the canapés, and the mini quiches didn't burn in the oven.
Zabini and Malfoy retired to the sitting room for Firewhisky and Parkinson decided to hang around with Harry. More like badger around. She wouldn't let up with her questions about what he had been doing for two years. Constantly probing him about his choice of ingredients. Seriously, she was more tenacious and annoying than Hermione could ever be.
Harry looked out of the kitchen door and into the sitting room where he locked eyes with Malfoy. Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy was able to read his expression that was screaming for help. Malfoy immediately strode into the kitchen and asked Parkinson for something banal and handed Harry a shot of Firewhisky that he gratefully gulped down without hesitation.
"Why did you leave me alone with her?" Harry gave Malfoy the look of death, something he'd mastered very well having lived with him.
"She said she wanted to talk to you. Get to know you," Malfoy whispered in return, scared to have the guests hear him.
Harry rolled his eyes. "She's bloody sitting next to me for the entire dinner. We couldn't talk then?" Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but Harry stopped him. "Right, can't have side conversations. Wait until I have Ron sit next to you instead."
"Potter, you wouldn't dare!"
"I would!"
They were both glaring at each other standing on one side of the counter; faces inches apart. Harry stared up at Malfoy's grey eyes, his bottom lip was quivering. Harry wanted desperately to run his thumb over Malfoy's lower lip, pull him in for a kiss, when the Floo whooshed and more guests arrived.
"Oh, you missed quite the show!" Parkinson announced as Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville entered the kitchen. "I wasn't sure if Draco and Potter were going to hex each other or snog. Either way, I would have enjoyed watching," she said.
Ron coughed immediately and turned to go back to the sitting room. "I need a drink."
"We should all head over," Harry said. "I'll bring the hors d'oeuvres."
Harry did his best to avoid looking at Malfoy while he was speaking with his friends. Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini were huddled over in one corner while Harry was speaking with Neville and Hermione. Ginny and Ron were the only ones enjoying the hors d'oeuvres and refilling everyone's drinks.
"So how is it going?" Hermione asked quietly. Harry was sure she could feel the tension in the room, especially if Malfoy was involved.
"It was going okay so far..."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. We have been cordial with each other. I try to stay out of his way and he tries to stay out of mine. But something happened today. We've been arguing a lot and he's getting really snappy with me."
"The house is looking nice though," Neville said, looking up. "Isn't it moving along faster than you'd anticipated?" he asked, and Harry nodded. "So things aren't that bad. It's probably just the pressure of throwing this dinner party. Remember the first time Ginny and I tried to entertain guests over at my place?"
"But you're a real couple, Neville," Harry said, trying not to sound annoyed. It was more of a reminder to himself than it was to Neville, really. Harry liked Malfoy, more than he'd wanted to, and the fact that they lived together, and slept in the same bed, still didn't mean they were together.
"Right. You and Malfoy are not a couple," Neville said, his tone a bit sarcastic.
Hermione giggled at Neville's comment and when Harry glared at her, she excused herself to the loo.
Harry was trying not to think about it, but it was becoming more and more painfully obvious to him. Everyone at the dinner party was part of a couple except for Malfoy and him. They were all engaged, starting a new life together, and even though he and Malfoy did things that were rather spousal—minus the sex—they weren't a couple. Not a real one. And that fact was breaking Harry's heart.
Eventually, it was time to serve dinner and Harry was relieved. Suddenly, he just wanted the evening to be over. He didn't know nor did he care if the house felt his energy, his hostility, towards the dinner. He didn't care about throwing a fake dinner party with his fake partner. He just wanted it to end so he wouldn't be reminded constantly that it was all a façade —that it would be over, and in the end, he'd be alone in this house.
"What's the matter?" Malfoy asked, placing a hand on Harry's wrist. Harry thought that maybe Malfoy felt his anxiety.
He straightened his face. "Just tired," Harry lied.
"Oh." Malfoy grimaced. "You worked so hard to throw this dinner together and you're not even enjoying it." Malfoy was seated on Harry's left and he'd leaned in to Harry to speak with him.
Harry smiled softly and shook his head. Malfoy looked genuinely concerned about Harry's comfort. He heard a snicker from the right side of the table and they both turned to look. Pansy, Blaise, and Neville were smiling at them. Neville nodded and whispered something that Harry didn't quite hear, but was sure was something along the lines of not a real couple.
0-*0-*0-*0
"Everything was really delicious, Potter," Parkinson said as the evening was coming to an end.
Despite his reservations and frustration, Harry had actually enjoyed himself after all. He walked his guests to the fireplace as they started to leave, couple by couple. Parkinson and Zabini were the last ones to go.
"Try not to sound so surprised," Harry answered as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
"Hey, that's enough," Zabini said, cutting in with a fake jealous scowl and shook Malfoy's hand, then Harry's.
Harry was about to respond when they heard a strange sound from upstairs. Everyone turned to look, and Harry noticed that there were now doors on what had been just bare walls on the second level.
"Oh, you've got extra rooms!" Zabini commented.
"Maybe we should spend the night," Parkinson said.
"We don't exactly have the furniture, even if we have the rooms," Malfoy jumped in, much to Harry's relief. He wouldn't have known how to diffuse that situation. He was exhausted and all he really wanted was the bed back where he could just crash. Crash on Malfoy's bed, next to Malfoy, and be the couple they certainly weren't.
"Perhaps next time, then. As soon as you lot get some furniture!" she said, making a face.
She made it sound like Harry and Malfoy were going to live together forever. Harry quickly glanced over at Malfoy for his reaction and saw him grimace. Great, he's disgusted by the idea.
Harry didn't say anything and Zabini took their silence as their cue to leave. He all but picked her up as they entered the fireplace, and a moment later, they were gone.
Harry turned to face Malfoy, unsure of what to say. What he wanted to say was Do you want to bring the bed back so I can sleep next to you and feel your warmth? Instead, he ended up saying, "Do you want to go upstairs to—"
"Look at the rooms?" Malfoy continued. Harry nodded, and Malfoy smiled. "Yeah, if you want. It's your house."
"It's more yours than mine at the moment," Harry answered and headed towards the stairs. Malfoy quietly followed him.
Harry opened the door to the first bedroom they came across. "Ron and I stayed in this room," he whispered, unsure if Malfoy would be interested in that bit of detail.
"When?" Malfoy asked, walking in. He looked around with Harry and the room was dark, no windows had formed yet, and it was completely empty.
"About five years ago," Harry answered and walked down the hall to look at the other room. He noticed that the bathroom had also been established. "Look, now you don't have to wait for me to shower in the morning. We can get ready at the same time." Harry made sure he didn't sound as disappointed as he felt. Watching Malfoy walk about in his towel was sometimes the highlight of his day.
They went into the second bedroom and it was just like the first one. No windows, bare walls, slightly gloomy. Malfoy touched the empty wall as though he was trying to imagine what used to be there and if any of that influence was left behind.
Harry didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he couldn't help himself. He walked right up next to Malfoy and gently placed his hand on the small of Malfoy's back. "Feel anything?" he asked.
Harry was sure he'd imagined it, but he thought that Malfoy almost—almost—leaned into the touch. He shook his head.
"Do you want to move up here?" Malfoy asked, looking uncertain.
"Do you?" Harry questioned in response, and Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "We only have one bed still—"
"I like the open space," Malfoy answered.
"Me too. And there aren't even any windows. Besides..." Harry paused.
"Besides what?"
"I wanted to live in Sirius' room. It's all I thought about; it was going to be my room. So I don't want to settle into a makeshift bedroom just to uproot myself again. I already have a makeshift bedroom." It was partially the truth, and the other part was that Harry wasn't ready to not sleep in the same bed as Malfoy. He reckoned it'd be a while until two more floors materialised in the house, and then he'd think about ways to get Malfoy to move his bed into Sirius's room.
Malfoy nodded and walked away from Harry. Harry immediately missed the touch. He'd almost forgotten that Malfoy was leaned into him until he was no longer there.
"Let's just clean up tomorrow," Harry said when they were back in their sleeping area and he headed towards the cupboard to grab a pair of pyjamas. He took off his shirt and threw it in the hamper next to the cupboard.
He and Malfoy had gotten comfortable enough around each other to no longer go in the bathroom to change clothes. He turned to gaze at Malfoy, who was busy setting up their bed, and waited for a response. Malfoy turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. He reluctantly agreed to clean up the next day.
Harry crashed on the bed. Hard. It was his turn to sleep on the outside, but he didn't even care at that moment. He just wanted to stay where he was. Not move for hours. He heard Malfoy chuckle, but didn't say anything else.
When he knew that Malfoy was far enough away from the bed, Harry opened his eyes slowly to catch a glimpse of Malfoy changing. It was his favourite sneaky thing to do and Malfoy never said anything, so Harry assumed that Malfoy didn't notice. It wasn't the smartest thing to do because seeing Malfoy change out of his clothes would only turn Harry on, and then he'd sleep next to the man without being able to touch him. There wasn't a bigger form of torture, and Harry was a complete masochist for it.
Harry kept his eyes closed and evened his breathing when he felt Malfoy dip down on the bed next to him. Malfoy mumbled a good night, but Harry didn't respond; he stayed very still. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but Malfoy always waited for Harry to fall asleep first, and for some reason Harry didn't want to sleep. The night, as crazy as it had been, was still kind of perfect. He'd had a great time hosting a dinner party with his friends and somehow Harry didn't want to fall asleep to only wake up the next day and have it all be a dream.
A dream that was dwindling away so fast—the house was reconstructing itself, and before he'd know, Malfoy would be moving out.
He heard a faint snore, realising that Malfoy was just as exhausted, and turned to face him, unable to stop his grinning. He lay on his side, looking at Malfoy in the dark, for what he figured was at least an hour. Then, much to Harry's surprise, Malfoy scooted close to him. Harry stopped breathing for a moment as he watched Malfoy; he was still asleep. Malfoy released a low groan and wrapped his arm around Harry, pulling him in.
Harry kept his body stiff. He needed to make sure that Malfoy was really sleeping. When he determined that to be the case, he released a sigh of relief. He edged himself closer to Malfoy, who in turn tightened his grip around Harry.
Over the course of the last few days, Harry thought that he'd been dreaming that Malfoy was wrapped around him, because when he'd wake up in the morning, Malfoy was nowhere to be found. Now he knew. Malfoy still cuddled with him in his sleep; perhaps that was why he waited for Harry to fall asleep first. Then he'd wake up before him to save himself the embarrassment of using him as his body pillow.
Malfoy let out a low groan and fuck did that make Harry hard. His body was all but pressed against Malfoy's and getting an erection at that moment was not a good idea. Malfoy must have thought he was dreaming, too, because in midst of cuddling with Harry, his hand travelled down and wrapped itself around Harry's cock above his trousers.
Harry was going to die!
"Malfoy..." Harry whispered faintly. He was so turned on and all he wanted was to wake Malfoy up and get rid of their clothes and writhe their bodies together.
When he felt Malfoy wake up, Harry immediately closed his eyes and evened his breathing again. Malfoy gasped in shock. He then felt Malfoy pull himself away. Harry inadvertently whined and when he realised what he'd done, he turned himself around and edged himself away from Malfoy. He continued to pretend to be asleep and Malfoy didn't make any sudden movements.
Eventually, Harry truly fell asleep, and when he woke up the next morning, Malfoy was in the shower.
TBC