PART ONE
CHAPTER TWO
Draco had finally settled into the perfect routine. There were no more surprises in his life, his days becoming so predictable it lulled him into a false sense of anonymity.
Until Harry Bloody Potter. Until Harry Bloody Potter had gone to that damn coffee shop. Now everything was fucked up. And he'd acted like a idiot, no scratch that. He acted like a daft poof that had dementia. What the hell had he been thinking? He told Potter to owl him sometime. Like he was some no name asking another equal at a gay bar. Or worse yet, a friend. He shuddered at the thought.
Oh god, he is going to know. Potter was bound to think him gay after he said to owl him. He could just see him with the golden trio laughing as the already shamefully failed recluse Draco Malfoy fell another few notches. Not that he cared what they thought or anything. Bloody Potter already thought he was so much better than Draco anyway. Him being gay would just reaffirm Potters belief.
And now suspicions…
Draco shook his head. His feet had a mind of their own, pacing for hours in this living room. They followed the first line of the area rug. Back and forth, back and forth.
Maybe I should move.
No that's ridiculous. Potter would notice and think it was fishy. And think it was about him. Potter thought everything was about him.
Despite himself, he looked to the window. As if waiting to see an owl swooping toward him with a letter. He was so stupid. Even if Potter would ever write, it wouldn't be hours within seeing him...
He was just lonely. He just wanted some attention and Potter just happened to be there and it was the polite thing to do to offer to buy his coffee. Anyone would have done it.
Who was he kidding?
It wasn't his fault Potter had always triggered some weird button. From the moment he hadn't shaken his hand...
No. Before that.
Draco sighed. Remembering their real first meeting at the dress shop. Draco had wanted him to be his friend then too, without even knowing who Potter was. He had been so desperate to impress another Hogwarts student. He had acted exactly as his father had taught him, and Potter had barely given him more than monosyllables, expect for when he defended that oaf Hagrid.
Draco sighed again. His little flash back had stopped his pacing and he looked over to the kitchen. It was 6:10. He was very behind in his schedule. And he hadn't gotten any damn reading done. Like he could have read with Bloody Harry Potter staring at him like he had grown another head.
He started preparing his dinner. It was Tuesday. He would be making lemon ginger chicken with stuffed potatoes and a spinach salad. His hand stilled as he saw the harsh black of the word 'CHOICE' etched into his ivory skin. He took a deep breath. He didn't need to act this way. He didn't need to panic, or bang his head against the wall like a guilty house elf. He didn't have to feel this way about their conversation. No, he had a choice.
Draco always had a choice.
Taking another deep breath, he began preheating the oven as he chopped the ginger root desperately trying to keep his mind on task.
Harry stared at the blank parchment. His mind just as blank. What the fuck would he write to Draco Malfoy?
Hey Malfoy, hows the muggle life treating you?
What was even more puzzling was the fact that he wanted to write to Malfoy. He wanted to know what he had been up to, what was the real reason he wasn't at the manor and why did he suspiciously pick a flat less than a few blocks from Harry's?
Should he start the letter with 'dear'? No.
Malfoy—
Good, good. The dash added a lot, he thought. Much better than a comma. Like this was a rushed activity. Not like he'd been sitting here staring for an hour.
Or two.
Whatever.
I'm not sure why I'm writing this, it's not like we've ever been close.
Harry crumpled the paper and threw it the growing pile in the trash bin.
Malfoy—
I'm heading out for a bite to eat, join?
Hmm. That could work. It seemed pretty nonchalant. Like an afterthought. Ok. He folded it and tucked it to Aurora's leg, his owl looked at him as though she knew he was doing something he shouldn't. He wished he could have sent this at lunch, lunch was much better than 6:53 at night, but he couldn't let Aurora out too often in the daytime or the muggles would notice. Or at least, that's what he told himself.
"To Draco Malfoy." That felt weird to say. "And don't look at me like that Aurora"
She gave a small hoot and took off.
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty minutes passed.
And finally Aurora came flying back in. Carrying a little note with the eloquent scroll of Potter on its front. Harry opened it while patting her head.
Potter, (he used a comma, the bastard)
I have already made my Sunday dinner (rosemary braised lamb shanks and asparagus), but there is plenty for two. I eat at 7:30pm.
11b Maple Lane.
Did Malfoy have a house elf he wasn't aware of? He was inviting him over to his house? Harry been thinking of just stopping at a hot dog stand or something. But this would be the perfect opportunity to snoop. He would ask all kinds of questions and maybe ask to go see the 'bathroom' and sneak out to look in a few drawers and cabinets instead.
He checked his watch. Then checked his kitchen. Maybe he should eat before hand? What the hell was rosemary braised lamb whatever? Seemed a bit above his normal eating habits, probably had some weird green garnish thing on top of the lamb. Who even eats lamb?
Malfoy.
He shut his refrigerator, with one a final longing look to his leftover pizza and grabbed his coat and keys and a bottle of wine on his way out. If he was going to dine with Draco Malfoy, he would need a bottle of wine.
What am I doing here?
Harry knocked on the door. He wasn't sure where his need to obsessively know where Malfoy was or what he was doing came from, but not knowing his whereabouts for the last year had really gotten to him and he wasn't going to look the other way when the world dropped him in his neighborhood.
Speaking of his neighborhood. Malfoy must have known that Harry lived on Grimmauld. The thought hadn't occurred to him until now. But then why wouldn't he have just lied to Harry? He could have just not told him he lived here?
The door swung open to Draco Malfoy clad in tailored dark denim jeans and white t-shirt that hung off him just right, his gray eyes seemed to soften in surprise. "I didn't think you'd come."
"Why did you choose to live in my neighborhood?" Harry blurted out, all pleasantries forgotten.
Malfoy revealed nothing but a slight eyebrow raise.
"I already told you, it was clean and-"
"Bullshit, you knew I lived a few blocks away. Why?"
"It was the only muggle place I had ever heard of."
"Really?" Harry said, not expecting anything. In fact, he hadn't even expected to ask that question in the first place.
"But why are you living muggle anyway—"
"Let's at least open that wine before you start interrogating me."
Harry gave a somewhat apologetic smile. "Sorry," he coughed, "um, thanks for the invite." He walked in and shook off his coat, handing it over to Malfoy with a watchful eye. The house was very warm with cozy textures of rugs and wallpapers decorating the long narrow entryway. There was a staircase that Harry itched to go up...is that where Malfoy slept?
"Once you've finished appraising," Malfoy said in a slightly irritated yet amused tone, "the dining room is right through here."
"This is a great place, Malfoy."
"I like it." Harry nodded even though Malfoy couldn't see him. The apartment smelled fantastic and suddenly Harry was happy he hadn't eaten before he came.
Malfoy lead him through a very formal dinning room, which he didn't even bothering pausing in, and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen took up the left side of the back room. It was different than the rest of the house, still warm and cozy, but more modern with lights handing down on top of a wide island. They lit up two perfectly plated dinners, despite Malfoy's earlier statement that he didn't think he would come.
"Wow, Malfoy, that looks fantastic." Harry moved towards the island, taking a seat on one of the two barstools, his neck still frantically looking around taking in his house. It was nothing like he expected. On the other side of the room, was some sort of living room filled with comfy couches and a large fireplace.
Harry put the bottle of wine he brought on the island, although Malfoy already had two glasses poured for them with probably some ridiculously priced white wine. He supposed, Malfoy had thought he would need wine to spend a dinner with Harry too.
I'm about to have dinner with Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy took his seat next to Harry, lifting the wine glass up to his lips, swirling it slightly before tilting it to Harry and saying "Cheers."
Harry lifted his up as well and took a sip, barely containing a groan at the light, perfect taste. Definitely expensive.
"Shit, that's good."
"Eloquent as always, Potter."
"Harry." Harry corrected, if he was going to sit here at Malfoy's-er, Draco's island and drink and eat and have a merry old time with him, they should at least be on first name basis.
Malfoy seemed somewhat unnerved at being asked to call his dinner campion by his first name, but tilted his head in concession. "Harry."
Harry began to pick at his new jeans, would Malfoy notice they were new? Would he think he went out and bought clothes just to keep up with him? No that's ridiculous. He was being paranoid. Plus, that's not what happened at all, anyway. He had just wanted to update his wardrobe.
Harry shook his head and cut a slice of lamb, smothered it in escaped rosemary glaze and brought it to his mouth.
It was single handedly the best thing Harry had ever tasted in his life. He made a low, guttural sound that he couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to and began to cut the next slice. No other thought process but more coursing through his brain.
They ate in silence and Harry could tell Malfoy was slightly amused by his pompous smirk. The bastard knew he could cook, that much was obvious.
Draco ate slowly and sipped his wine thoughtfully, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle Harry was making. The sounds that he made as he tore through the meal had Draco feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
If he makes this much noise as he eats...just imagine in the bedroom…
No Draco, do not imagine that. Imagining that only lead to very bad things. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He hadn't had one of those thoughts about Potter in a very long time.
Well. At least a few months.
Draco was in trouble.
"What?" Harry couldn't help but ask, wincing slightly as his mouth was still too full.
"Just enjoying the show," Malfoy took another sip. His glass was almost empty. Harry finished chewing and reached over to refill their glasses.
Harry swallowed too much food at once, feeling it uncomfortably move down his throat. "Better to eat, than talk to you." Draco looked at him with an upturned eyebrow. Harry swallowed. "Sorry, didn't mean that. Force of habit."
"Understandable," Draco laughed lightly and poured another glass of wine. The white was almost empty now.
"When did you learn to cook like this? It really is amazing. Do you cook like this all the time? Or is there just a house elf lurking around here somewhere?" Harry said with still too much food in his mouth. But he had to know. He was dying with the need for answers.
"I learned when I moved out here. It's very similar to potions, I suppose. You need to follow directions, but still have some instinct...I enjoy it."
"Good bloody instincts," Harry said without a thought and then felt his face redden, "for a git like you."
It was tense for a few minutes, and then Draco rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine. "Okay, how about a question for a question? Since you seem to have so many I think it would only be fair."
Harry mulled it over as he shoved asparagus into his mouth (after devouring the lamb). "Sure, okay, that's fair."
Draco leaned in further, his leg crossed gracefully over his knee. "Why do you need to escape the Weaslette?"
Harry knew it was coming, but had hoped it wouldn't. "Pass?"
Draco smirked, "not a chance."
Harry scoffed, "well you just remember that for your next question. But uh, okay, well." Harry felt his face heating up again. "She just seems to want different things than I do from the relationship." There, that worked. That wasn't lying and it didn't give too much away.
"What is it that she wants-"
"Uh, uh, uh. My turn." Harry smiled, shoving in the last of his asparagus. Draco stood to open the bottle of wine Harry had brought, motioning for him to continue.
"Why aren't you living at the Manor anymore?"
"Because I chose not to," he smiled and poured them another glass. How many had they had now?
"Why didn't-"
"My turn," Draco walked around the island to take his seat next to Harry again, he sniffed the wine judgmentally but didn't wince when he took the first sip. Harry took that as a good sign. "What does Ginny want from the relationship?"
"Sex," Draco nearly choked on his wine. Harry didn't let him get another word in and jumped right into his question. "How do you afford this place?"
"I have a job," Harry, thankfully, hadn't been near his drink.
"You have a what?"
Draco ignored him. "Why don't you want to have sex with her?"
Harry's smile drained, "I don't know, it just doesn't hold any appeal," Stop talking Harry.
They sipped their wine for a minutes before Draco's eyes lifted to his, "Er-it's your turn."
"Oh. Right. Er, oh! Where do you work?" Harry drank more wine. How did his glass get full again?
"A little bookshop a few blocks from here. You probably don't know it-"
"The Raven?" Draco nodded, "I've been there. I've gone a couple times when I've needed to get some fresh air. I can't believe I never saw you there." Draco smiled at him and something felt weird so Harry casted his eyes down to his empty plate.
"Here, let me clear this for you." Draco stood and collected their dishes, leaving their glasses, and spelled the sink to quickly wash them.
"Thanks for dinner, Draco." Draco turned around from the counter and stared at him.
"That sounds so weird coming from your mouth."
"What? Your name?" Harry stood, bringing his glass to his lips for another sip. "Draco?" Draco turned around again quickly to face the counter and mumbled yes. Draco cleared his throat and turned to motion for them to take a seat in the living room.
"It will be more comfortable." He reached for another bottle out of the built in rack hand stilling as he grasped the bottle, "unless you need to go?"
Even though he obviously should say yes, I need to go, I need to not be here, and I need to not be here with three bottles of wine in my system because how I supposed to snoop if I'm drunk and otherwise have no business being here, he instead said, "no, I can stay."
Draco smiled at him, "excellent."
This was a bad idea. This was an extremely bad idea. Draco couldn't think of anything else as he opened the third bottle of wine. Draco had wine often enough but his head was already feeling light and giddy and his lips were getting numb which meant he was getting drunk. That's how he knew. Although he walked without leaning in any particular direction. He took a seat on one of the two couches and placed the bottle and his glass on the coffee table. He had expected Harry to sit on the other couch, as was customary (or at least would be, if he had ever invited anyone else over here), but no. Harry sat directly next to him, barely four inches apart. Draco watched as he leaned forward to place his-now empty-wine glass on the table. Draco was tempted to tell Harry that wine was supposed to be drank slowly, to savor the taste, and not gulp it down, but as the brunette slowly tilted his head towards him, smiling lazily, Draco didn't say a word. Almost like he wanted to encourage him getting drunk.
"I like your place, Draco." Harry said, slowly drawing out Draco's name. As if he was testing it out on his tongue. Tracing his letter with flicks and caresses. Draco gulped at his wine. He really needed to stop saying his name. "It's your turn."
"Are we still playing?" Draco barely resisted the urge to mess with Harry's hair. It was so messy and out of place, and Draco didn't do well with things in his life that were messy and out of place. Except for Harry. Potter had always been messy and out of place and too intense and entirely too uncontrolled. Draco's hand twitched.
"Don't you want to?" Oh, yes. How Draco wanted. Harry poured himself more wine. "I think it would be good to get to know you better. Find out what you're planning. Why you are so fascinating. You're just this poncy git…" Harry shot open, almost bigger than his round-rimmed glasses. "Oh fuck, I didn't mean to say that."
"I knew you thought I was up to something. And here I thought we were having such a nice diner." Draco tried to laugh, but it was hard for him to ignore the fact that something fell very heavily in his stomach and he was having the most ridiculous urge to run up into his bedroom and never come out.
"We were!" Harry rushed to say, putting his wine glasses down, "we are!" The red started creeping into his face from his neck. "I didn't mean to drink this much." He said almost to himself, his lips pouting out as if he was confused as it how it happened.
Draco began to calm down. Ok, so Harry didn't mean it like that. It was all ok. "Nonsense. Here," Draco poured him more, "it is my turn, correct? How about you tell me why you are so fascinated by me?"
Harry's blush deepened further. Well, isn't that interesting. "I, well. I just said it, didn't I? I don't know why, you just are."
They were quiet for a while, both just listening to the sound of each others breathing. Draco didn't really know what to think or do. He hadn't felt like this...ever. He was shaking slightly, yet calm (probably from the wine, Harry poured them more, smiling crookedly at him). Some unknown emotion swelled in his chest, he was finally getting Harry to smile at him. He was finally allowed to call him Harry. The ability made him giddy, uncertain, slightly nauseous. What was he doing? Sitting here, enjoying dinner and drinks with Potter. Did Potter know he was a poof? Was he just acting and was planning on humiliating him later? Did Harry really want to be his friend? It seemed unnatural. It seemed too good to be true.
"Let dance!" Harry said, jumping to his feet, and then slightly swaying to the right and had to grab onto Draco's shoulder to balance. His hand felt like lava, seeping it's heat through Draco's thin t-shirt. He held back the startled noise that came out of his gut.
"What?"
"Lets dance, Draco! I want to dance! Do you have something to play music on? Like a record player or CD player? A radio? I mean, since you're so muggle now." Harry gave him a ridiculous wink, and while Draco realized he was being facetious his stomach still lurched.
Draco picked up Harry's hand that was still resting on his shoulder and relocated it to the back of the couch. "Uh, I think I may have something upstairs. Hold on a moment."
Draco rushed upstairs and bypassed the radio on his nightstand to instead run to the bathroom where he splashed water on his face and attempted to control his breathing that he told himself was out of breath due to the stairs (better to be unfit that completely infatuated with Harry Bloody Potter. Not that he was. Oh, who was he kidding). He looked at himself in the mirror, grateful there was nothing in his teeth or anything likewise embarrassing. He needed to get a grip. Harry was just tipsy and having a good time. And he probably just had some sort of brain damage during the war and that's why he was over and actually talking to him. Because there was really no other good reason Draco could think of-or at least, none that seemed plausible.
"Just relax." He told himself before finally drying his face and leaving the bathroom, grabbing his radio and putting more product in his hair and desperately trying not to think too hard about why he had.
Once downstairs, he almost dropped the radio at what he was seeing. Harry was dancing to nothing but the music in his head, shaking his hips while moving around the coffee table drinking from directly from the bottle. Draco noticed with a start, a different bottle. The third bottle lay empty on the table with the cork screw next to it.
"Oh good! You have a radio!" Harry said with a wide grin. He had opened a ridiculously expensive bottle of pino grigio but Draco didn't even mind. It just showed the boy wonder had good taste after all, and he never would have guessed that. "Hope you don't mind." Harry said nervously, gesturing to the open bottle dangling at his side.
Draco smiled and approached him, maybe getting a little too close, "not at all," taking the bottle and bringing it to his lips. He liked that Harry felt at home here. Maybe a little too much. Especially since Harry was smashed and probably didn't even notice that he did.
Harry grabbed the radio and turned it on, finding an alternative rock station and seemingly knowing the worlds of the song he began to wildly dance to.
"C'mon Draco! Dance with me!" He yanked Draco's hand and laughed as they both toppled forward until they could jump around and dance quite ridiculously. Draco was never taught to dance like this. His parents made sure he knew all the proper ones, even some muggle proper ones, but never dancing like this. Never dancing for fun, never dancing with freedom and feeling and nothing at all. He liked it. "It's called Dorky Dancing. I'm shite at actual dancing, so the only rule of Dorky Dancing is that you have to look as dorky as possible, okay?" And he promptly began start shaking his hips with his hair and somehow manage to keep his glasses on.
They kept dancing and drinking and then drinking and dancing, never letting the bottle touch the table again until it was gone from being passed back and forth bottle to mouth too many times.
Finally, a commercial break came on and Harry flopped down onto the couch going for the radio to, assumably, find a station without a commercial, but when he realized it was too far away he gave up and let his head rest against the cushions and smiled, yet again, at Draco. Draco smiled back from his spot next to him. They both tried to calm their breathing, harsh from exertion and wine. Draco felt dizzy.
They didn't talk until another song came on, but it was a slow one. And neither of them went to get up, instead Draco turned his face to gaze at Harry. He started at his feet and traveled slowly upwards, noting that he looked much more presentable than their meeting at Insomniacs. The jeans almost looked new, he'd surely never seen him wear them at Hogwarts but it had been so long since he knew every article of his wardrobe, since he knew how he liked his tea, and if he would go for strawberry or raspberry jam. He used to know so much about Harry. His eyes then moved to the flat pane of his stomach, hidden behind clothes but still toned and tanner than Draco could ever hope to be. His shirt had ridden slightly up in their dancing, leaving an inch of skin showing above his jeans that made Draco want to lean forward and lick it. Shaking his head slightly, he watched Harry's chest rise and fall slower but still rapidly as when they had first sat down. And his eyes greedily took in his exposed arms, tan and strong, with lithe muscle under the skin that made him itch to touch him. He wanted to touch him so badly. And what harm would it do really? Just skim his forearm, maybe even pass it off as an accident...He lifted his eyes to Harry's face and started with his realized Harry was staring at him. He couldn't look away. Neither of them could. Those sodding green eyes that seemed to know fucking everything about him and he didn't want Harry to know all those things...not yet...
Draco jumped when Harry's hand came up to his wrist, his eyes darting down to watch as Harry slowly stroked the word etched into his skin forever, his hand pressing so gently against him he could barely feel it. But the heat, the heat, from Harry's hand seeped into him, warming him from the inside out. It was worse than his hand being on his shoulder. Setting him on fire. There were no barrier. It was skin to skin contact and at first Draco couldn't breathe. But then his breathing sped up, his chest now heaving. The slide of Harry's palm against the back of his hand kept slightly moving with every stroke of his thumb. It felt so good to be touched. He realized that Harry had said something, he asked for him to repeat it.
"What does this mean to you?" Draco finally took his eyes off the movement of Harry's thumb, the sight of Harry's hand purposefully cradling Draco's hand, almost as if he were holding it, Draco had to save the image to his memory forever since this was likely was never to happen again. The perfect storm of alcohol and emotions and Draco could barely bring his eyes to Harry's because he knew he would be ruined. It took him a minute to realize that Harry meant his tattoo, not their hands touching.
"It means," Draco had to clear his throat, he watched as Harry's eyes drifted down to Draco Adams Apple -or was it his lips?- "it means, I always have a choice. No matter what. That I'm in control. That I can choose how I want to live." Harry's hand stilled and Draco braced himself for the inevitable draw of Harry's hand back and to never feel it again...but Harry didn't pull away. He wrapped his fingers around Draco's wrist and pulled. Draco made a surprised yelp before the sound was chased away by Harry's lips.
Draco tensed up for one tenth of a second, before fully throwing himself into the kiss. Harry made a low noise in the back of his throat as Draco's other hand, unattached to Harry, laced threw the black mess of hair that he had always desperately wanted to touch. He angled his body to get any inch of him he could to touch the other. Harry's lips were moving with him, fighting against him, clinging to him until finally it wasn't enough and Harry's tongue lapped at the bottom of his lips frantically seeking permission to have more of Draco.
Draco gladly opened his mouth, melting down against Harry as their tongues finally made contact. It was everything Draco had always wanted, and nothing he had prepared for. His hands couldn't stop shaking. And when Harry's other hand came up to rake his fingers against Draco's chest, pulling at him through the fabric, Draco was fairly sure he had lost his mind.
Harry pulled away, breathing heavily as he let his hand rest against Draco's chest, his other hand going to intertwine their fingers. He tilted his head slightly to the left and smiled drunkenly at Draco. His glasses were skewed and his lips were dark red, just making Draco want to kiss him again. But before he got the chance, Harry's head came to rest on his shoulder and he promptly fell asleep.