A/N: Thank you to those of you who are following this story! Adopate, Anonymous, Rachel Kidd and WhisperReview, I appreciate your feedback so very much and I love the enthusiasm! Your reviews have offered me some greatly-needed motivation and it makes me happy that there are a few people out there who really like what I'm doing. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations! The last one ended on a pretty dark note, so this chapter should make up for that.
There's a quote in here from the the first HP book included in this chapter. It's got asterisks around it. All credit goes to JK Rowling, as I did not come up with the quote.
Hermione was acting strangely, Harry realised as he watched her sniff her bowl of porridge and scoot it aside, taking up her tea instead. Perhaps she'd just started disliking the breakfast item, but Harry had noticed other things throughout the previous night that he'd stayed with his friends that suggested there was something bigger at play. She'd been a bit more moody than usual, she seemed to have grown more sensitive to smells, and he noticed that she would suddenly appear to be on the verge of bolting for the loo on multiple occasions.
His bushy-haired friend stood up from her seat, suddenly, and marched towards the loo, leaving Harry and Ron alone and adding to Harry's suppositions. Harry took this as his chance to figure out what was going on.
"Is she alright?" he asked. Ron looked up from the Prophet he'd been reading, a look on his face that told Harry he hadn't noticed anything or heard Harry at all. "I said, 'is she alright?'"
"Oh," Ron set the paper down and sipped his tea. "She's fine." Harry thought there was something off about the level of nonchalance in Ron's tone.
"You're sure? She's been… different, lately. Is she ill, or something?" He didn't actually suspect that Hermione was sick, but with the amount of times she looked like she was about to be, he thought that would be a good question to ask, if only just to eliminate one possibility.
"Well, sort of?" Pinching his lips together, Ron looked into his mug of tea, inspecting it too deeply for his distraction to be genuine.
"Ron," Harry said flatly. "What's going on? You know something, and you're not telling me."
"Oh, just tell him, Ronald," Hermione said as she came strutting back into the room. "He's going to find out eventually."
"B-but I thought you said we had to wait—" Hermione scoffed, promptly cutting off whatever remark Ron was about to make.
"I know what I said, but he's clearly suspicious. He knows something's going on." Harry thought he already knew what the two of them were talking about, and the reason why Hermione had been so snippy and sensitive. Still, he sat back in his chair and waited for the two of them to stop bickering and fill him in on their own, sipping away at his coffee.
"Fine, fine." Ron held up his hands in surrender and looked over to Harry. "We're having a baby. Hermione's about two and a half months along." Harry grinned, his smile stretching across what felt like his entire face. That's probably why she went mental on me over not trying to get ahold of her… That makes more sense. Hermione wasn't one to go berserk over something so trivial, even if she was hurt by someone else's actions. Harry had wondered why she'd been so hostile with him when she was typically more level-headed and he was glad to know that there was a reason behind her attitude that day.
"Congratulations!" he cried as he got up to hug the both of them. "I had a feeling… But thanks for letting me know. Sorry I ruined whatever plans you had for the reveal." Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Since when have any of our plans actually gone accordingly? If anyone was going to find out before we wanted to tell people, it was you." Harry wasn't about to ask what she meant by that, partly because he couldn't tell if she meant to complement or insult him and because she already seemed miffed. He didn't exactly want to push her further. "Just don't tell anyone else, alright? We wanted to let everyone know at once."
"Mum's the word," Harry agreed. "I'm so happy for the two of you. You'll make excellent parents. Well, you will, Hermione. Ron…" Harry hissed in a breath through his teeth. "Not so much." As soon as the wisecrack came out Ron's jaw dropped, his face turned a deep shade of read, and he was spluttering to form some sort of retort. Harry laughed, nearly spitting out the coffee he'd taken into his mouth in the process. "Only joking, mate. You'll be a great father."
Ron pursed his lips and said stiffly, "Thanks." Harry scoffed at his friend's inability to take a joke.
"Oh, come on. I mean it. You'll have just the right amount of sternness with your children that will make sure they behave themselves but you'll always have the lightheartedness that will let them know they're loved." He saw Ron's features soften and offered a loving smile. "And we all know Hermione was made to be a mother," he added. "She's only been mothering us since, what, first year?"
"Basically," Ron agreed with a chuckle.
"I did not mother you," Hermione said defensively. "I was just trying to make sure neither of you got us killed." She grinned and said, **"Or worse… expelled."** The reference to their first year in school together brought the tension down quite a bit, and all three of them laughed heartily.
"I still think your priorities were arse-backwards," Ron said as the laughter died down to giggles. "Why would being expelled be worse than dying?"
"Because," Hermione began, raising her nose slightly to peer down it at her boyfriend. "If we'd died we wouldn't have to deal with the repercussions of our actions. Being expelled would've ruined our chances at getting a proper education and we probably would've ended up separated in different schools."
"You would've loved it, being a Beauxbatons girl," Ron said. "But I guess you're right about the rest." Hermione gave a very self-satisfied shake of her curls and sipped her tea.
The three of them continued to chat about what would've happened had they been expelled and how that could've affected the outcome of the war for a long while, but eventually Harry felt he had to go home. There were chores to be done and he didn't want to eat lunch with Ron and Hermione when they'd already provided him with dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. Even though he'd been away from the Dursleys for so long and hardly had to struggle for a good meal at all since the war, he still had a stigma about eating too much of other peoples' food.
Harry stepped out of the fireplace in his sitting room and immediately his thoughts strayed back to Draco, who had been sitting on the sofa with him, discussing his feelings for Harry, only two nights before. You're losing it, he told himself as he padded to the kitchen and began grabbing ingredients from the refrigerator. There's no reason why you should have to think about him half as much as you do. And yet he couldn't stop. He wondered how Draco was fairing, now that his parents had gone to Azkaban and he didn't have their expectations looming like a sword over his blond head. Was he struggling to come to terms with what they'd done, what they'd almost had him do? Was he relieved that he no longer had to do their bidding? Was he lonely, too? Why should it matter if he is? It's not like you'll do anything to fix that. Because, really, what would Harry do? He'd already decided that it was too early in their friendship to consider anything more serious, and with Draco having the feelings he did about him, spending too much time with him could give off the wrong impression. One thing that wasn't very different between muggle and wizarding Britain was the strong desire in people to not be involved in misunderstandings that would lead to discomfort of any kind, himself included. If Harry was smart he would spend the rest of his short weekend at home cleaning and catching up on work.
The morning after Draco's breakdown he awoke feeling a multitude of things all at once; empty, as though releasing the tears he had and reliving the guilt he'd avoided for so long had left him bereft of the ability to feel much at all; sore from the constant tightening and loosening of his muscles as he'd sobbed; and incredibly hungry. He sat up in bed, still wearing the previous day's clothes, and decided to eat before taking a long shower that he hoped would wash off some of the emotional grime that was sticking to him.
As he washed himself, Draco picked up his thoughts where they'd left off the night before. He'd come to the conclusion, eventually, that he didn't believe in blood purity equalling superiority, and that he disagreed with the majority of the things his parents had fostered in him. I really do owe Granger an apology, he decided.
It was strange, the way that he was feeling. On the one hand, he was experiencing immense relief that he was able to make the decision to disagree with his upbringing; on the other, he felt like he was at square one as far as self-discovery went. Layer by layer, he'd stripped himself of all of his perceptions of his own self and the world around him, and in the course of a few hours alone. He had to wonder if he'd ever been right about anything, in the past. There were many things he knew he'd been wrong about, such as treating Harry and his friends the way he had in school, calling Granger a mudblood, acting as though he was better than pretty much everyone else because of his House and intelligence, not trying harder to understand the people around him, and so much more. Most of his mistakes had taken place during his years at Hogwarts, but he also realised that he'd perpetually made similar mistakes even after he'd graduated and moved on with life.
With that in mind, Draco formed a new resolve. No matter how hard it may prove to be, I will listen to others' perspectives. I will keep an open mind. I will be kind, or at least civil, to others until they've proven I shouldn't be. I will help those who I have the means to help without expecting anything in return. I will accept help when I need it, and I won't be afraid to talk to people I trust when I can't be alone. His immediate thought following that one was of Harry, and how he was the only person he truly trusted anymore. I will show him that I trust him, and give him no reason not to trust me in turn, he added. I will be myself, with no fear of punishment.
Fully clean and holding his head high, Draco shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, feeling more refreshed than he had in years and more like himself than he ever had before. After wiping the fog from the bathroom mirror, he stared at himself and didn't feel distanced from the ash coloured eyes staring back at him. Those eyes were now full of strength instead of fear and repression. Somewhere near his sternum Draco could feel something akin to hope lurching. It felt pretty damn good to be hopeful for once, like there was something worth looking forward to on the horizon that was his future. Draco couldn't recall the last time he'd felt that way, and he desperately wanted to continue to, no matter how hard he had to try.
The first thing Harry noticed on Monday, when he walked into the office, was the buoyant way Draco beamed at him. He didn't think he'd ever seen Draco smile like that, in all the years he'd known him.
"Morning, Harry," Draco greeted him in just as cheerful a tone as the expression he wore. "How was your weekend?" Harry offered up a slightly confused smile in return.
"It was… interesting, to put it simply," he said as he leaned against the raised counter of Draco's desk. "I visited Ron and Hermione, which was nice."
"Yeah? How are they doing?" Reflexively, Harry's eyebrows shot up at Draco's question. Since when does he care about my friends?
"Er… they're doing really well, as far as I could tell. It was nice catching up with them… Why do you care?" he asked slowly, trying not to sound offensive. Draco's grin dimmed a bit, but not enough to make Harry regret asking.
"I did a lot of thinking this weekend," Draco clarified, lowering his volume, but keeping his pleasant demeanor intact. "I'll have to tell you about it later, when we're not at work, but that's why I care." The mystery behind Draco's meaning, and what he'd been thinking about, was too tempting for Harry to resist.
"Have dinner with me tonight," he said. "I mean… that is… you should come over and we should talk." Draco snorted at Harry's inability to form a proper sentence as heat spread up Harry's neck and cheeks. Working at the Ministry had helped him improve conversationally, but deep down he was still just as gawky as he ever was, mostly when he'd already put his foot in his mouth.
"I'll have to see if I can pencil you in," Draco quipped as he perused the unmarked calendar hanging beside his desk. "Hmm. Lucky for you, I don't seem to have any plans this evening." Harry rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh with taught lips.
"Yeah, lucky me. Though, if that calendar is accurate, it seems you don't have plans any evening for the remainder of this month, so maybe you're the lucky one, since I'm providing you with utterly transcendent company."
"Oh ho-ho! It seems you've learned some rather large words since our days in school. I'm impressed, Harry." Both wizards stared at each other, eyes glinting with mirth, before bursting out laughing. Others in the office were probably looking at the two of them as though they'd lost the plot, but neither could care any less than they did in that moment.
"You're too sassy for your own good, you know that?" Though he'd been trying very hard not to think about these sorts of things, Harry couldn't help but feel more captivated by Draco when he joked like that. Maybe it was the charming way his eyes narrowed when he knew he was being clever, or perhaps it was the wit behind his remarks, but Harry felt himself wanting to experience more of it.
"One has to be a bit sassy, when dealing with the likes of you." Draco tilted his head to the side a bit and smirked. "Can't let you get too comfortable."
"That seems to be the common theme in my life," Harry sighed. "Anyway, we'd both better get to work before we're drowning in casefiles. Oh, and—"
"Coffee," Draco supplied for Harry. "Which flavoured cream today?"
"Hazelnut, please."
"You know, Harry," said Draco as he stood up from his chair, "For a Brit you drink far too much coffee." Harry chuckled and opened his office door.
"You're not the first person to tell me that, actually," he said before grinning and shutting himself in his office.
It was stupid, really it was, but hearing Draco say practically the same thing Ron had said about his coffee drinking habit made Harry feel like he had pygmy puffs leaping around in the pit of his stomach. This could most likely be accounted for by the fact that it was Draco using a phrase that a Weasley had, but nevertheless, Harry was contented for whatever reason. It really felt like he and Draco were genuinely becoming closer friends, an outcome Harry had never anticipated would ever occur between himself and the once-contemptible Slytherin.
Harry sat down at his desk and started going through the files he hadn't got to over the weekend, making a list of people he could schedule appointments with that day. He had been anxious to get to work that morning so his concerns about Draco could hopefully be soothed, and it made him feel like a berk for worrying in the first place. He's clearly doing a lot better than I'd assumed he was. I wonder what changed… Guess I'll find out soon enough.
As Harry worked, Draco brought him his coffee and a joke, which helped him stay in a good mood as he prepared himself to Floo a particularly grumpy witch. Eudora Nethercott was in a bad mood when she answered the Floo, as though by trying to help her find in-home care Harry was doing nothing but causing her trouble.
"I apologise for interrupting your breakfast, ma'am," Harry said as he bit back a less appropriate response to her rude greeting. "Last week you'd told me you were busy—"
"I know what I told you, young man!" the old witch snapped.
"And you requested that I try again this week, earlier in the morning so as not to interrupt your afternoon nap," he finished. "Is this a bad time?"
"I'm sure you know it is. You people never have proper consideration for your elders." Nethercott sniffed and then coughed several times into a handkerchief. Harry waited for more, because with her there was always more and if he spoke too soon she would go off on a lengthy rant. Surely enough, after a stretching silence she said, "Well? Better get this over with before I die of old age." Wouldn't that be a shame?
"I'd just like to know when you're available for an appointment. Your request for in-home care has nearly expired, and if we don't meet up and get things settled before the end of the month you'll have to apply again."
"Incompetence," Nethercott grunted. "How could you people expect me to apply again? I can hardly hold a quill these days. Incompetent, inconsiderate, incorrigible, insensitive, people your lot are!" Harry wondered if she knew any insulting terms that didn't start with 'in.'
"Right you are, ma'am. Now, when are you available? I'd hate to see you be forced to wait longer than you should have to for the help you've claimed is so incalculable." Harry watched in subdued satisfaction as her eyes narrowed even further than they'd already been, causing them to look like walnut shells. "I'd hate to see your efforts go without proper… indemnity. That would be truly inadmissible of me." Again he had to quell his own laughter as her mouth turned down in a scowl that could've rivaled that of Draco's back in Hogwarts. "Seeing as you've claimed to be somewhat of an invalid, I think it's important that I investigate matters; however, if you find yourself feeling too indisposed for an appointment with me I'd be glad to Floo you again when you're feeling in better spirits."
"You're a cheeky little shite," Nethercott said. Then, to Harry's immense surprise, she smiled and began chuckling. "I knew you weren't just another Ministry stiff. Come on over, we'll have some tea."
The Floo disconnected, leaving Harry flabbergast at the change in the crotchety old woman. Who would've thought that giving that old bag a dose of her own medicine would change her regard of me entirely? Harry had to wonder if that technique would've worked better with some of the other moody people he'd had to deal with, but he had a feeling it might not go over as well as it had with Nethercott.
Peeking his head out of his office, Harry let Draco know that he'd be out of the office for a meeting and asked if he could have his lunch ready for him when he returned.
"Of course," Draco said with a gleaming smile. "What sort of secretary would I be if I didn't keep you fed?"
"A miserable one," Harry replied before thanking Draco and shutting his office again. He found himself feeling excited not just for the outcome of his appointment with Nethercott, but also for his plans with Draco that evening.
"How was your meeting?" Draco asked before taking a bite of his salad. It looked like the mixture was mostly carrots, tomatoes, onion, green pepper, and had little lettuce. Harry thought it looked disgusting, but didn't say anything as he ate his own, meatier lunch.
"It went better than I thought it would," he replied with his mouth full.
"Don't talk with food in your mouth, it's making me lose my appetite."
"Okay, Hermione," Harry scoffed after swallowing his food.
Draco rolled his eyes and asked, "Why was it better than you thought it would be?"
"Well, for starters, Nethercott didn't shout at me the entire time. Actually, she was really nice." Harry thought back on how she'd hugged him tightly before he'd left, thanking him repeatedly for being such a kind and caring boy. Once she'd warmed up to him, she'd reminded him a bit of Mrs. Weasley.
"That's good, I suppose. Is she usually not nice?"
"Ha!" Harry laughed sharply. "Yeah, you could say that. Are you still planning on coming over tonight? To talk?"
"I already said I would. Why, are you scared I'll stand you up?"
"Not scared, just impatient. I want to know what you've been thinking so much about over the weekend. I'm curious about what could make you ask about my friends."
"You'll know soon enough." Draco checked the time. "I suppose we'd better hurry up with our food and get back to work." Harry nodded and they spent the rest of their lunch period eating in silence.
In the sitting room of Harry's house, Draco and Harry sat side-by-side on the comfortable sofa, both of them angled towards the other with their feet tucked beneath them. Draco was sipping on a deliciously sweet wine that Harry had offered him, which tasted as though it was elven-made. It probably shouldn't have surprised Draco that Harry could have such good tastes when it came to his alcohol, but it did. After seeing Harry happily drink butterbeer when they'd gone to the pub together he'd figured Harry hadn't explored the tastes and tones of other beverages enough to know what good wine was.
"Is this elven wine?" Draco asked, taking another sip and letting it rest on his tongue for a moment.
"It is. Expensive as hell, too, so I hope you're enjoying it."
"I am. It's been a long time since I had wine this good. Since we still lived at the manor." Harry made a concerned face and Draco waved him off. "I'm not upset by the memory, if you're wondering. I came to terms with everything this weekend."
"Right," Harry said as he set his glass down. "You were going to explain that, I think."
"Do you want the long, drawn-out version, or the short and sweet one?" Really, no version of this retelling of events was going to be sweet, but he figured he'd give Harry the choice anyway.
"Details, please," Harry said with a smirk that was far too charming for Draco's liking.
For several quiet moments Draco mentally prepared himself to rehash the revelations he'd worked through over the weekend. Harry sat patiently, taking little gulps of his wine now and then as he watched Draco collect his thoughts. Normally when people watched Draco that way he felt uncomfortable and exposed. When Harry did it, however, he had only a mild sense of vulnerability and mostly experienced wonder at how he'd come to the point in his life where it was possible for Harry to look at him that way.
"Alright," Draco said, deciding it would be best to just get it over with. "After I got home from your house on Friday I sort of had an emotional and mental breakdown. Everything I thought I was turned out to be false. Everyone I thought I loved and knew and trusted had suddenly been plucked out of my life." Aside from you, thankfully. "And I didn't know if it was okay to be thankful for that, but now I've found that it is.
"When I no longer had Mother and Father's expectations of who I'm supposed to be making most of my decisions for me I had to wonder who I really was. I had to ask myself some incredibly painful questions and then I had to answer them honestly. I don't think I could've answered them any other way…
"I realised that the beliefs I held were some of the same that a murderous madman had carried as well. I mean, I guess I always knew that, but it really struck me this weekend. I realised how fucked up it is to think that I could ever be better than anyone else because of who my parents are, whether or not they were magical. If my parents are so spectacular and imperious— no pun intended— then why would they have me kill you for money? Why would my father torture muggles and muggleborns, if they were so great? Why would my mother allow V-Vol—" Come on, tongue, we practiced this, Draco begged himself. "Vol-Voldemort," he managed, "to live with us, knowing who he was and what he planned to do to our world, if she was really a better person?
"It didn't make sense anymore, once the facts were laid bare and forced into my face. My family, myself included, did horrible things during the war and I was a royal prat in school because of these beliefs. I didn't stop being a prat once I was old enough to know better, either. I'm twenty years old and for the majority of my life I thought it was okay to… to kill someone, based on their blood purity. It's fucked up," he said, laughing without humour. "It's really fucked up, and I don't want to be that person anymore. I refuse to be that person any longer." Draco had been looking down at his hands as he'd confessed these things to Harry, not necessarily fearful of meeting his eyes, but for better ability to concentrate on his words. He looked up and saw that Harry looked reverent. "So, that's why I care how your friends are doing," he finished lamely.
"I'm proud of you, Draco," Harry said gently, the respect on his face still present.
"Don't be. It's past time I realised these things. For too long I didn't even bother wondering if what I'd been taught, what I'd been doing, was wrong." Draco paused and said, "Which reminds me. Could I have Granger's address? I'd like to write an apology to her."
"I'll write it down for you later," Harry said. "I'm more concerned about why you don't think I should be proud of you, when it takes a hell of a lot of strength to change one's mind the way you did. You took the things that were pounded into your head as a kid and analysed them one by one. You decided that they weren't the proper beliefs to have. That's incredible."
"It wasn't really a choice," Draco said sheepishly. "It kind of just… happened."
"And you let it happen. That's something to be proud of, and you can't tell me not to be, because I am proud of you." Draco searched Harry's green eyes for some sort of hint that he didn't mean what he was saying, only to find that it wasn't there. What he found instead was awe and fascination, as well as a touch of admiration.
"Thank you," Draco breathed. "I can't tell you how much it means, hearing you say that."
"I think I already know," Harry said. "I suppose I have a lot to consider now that you've told me all of this."
"Such as?"
"How I feel about you," was Harry's blunt response. "One of the things that kept me from wanting to form a real attachment to you was the blood-purist shite you believed in. I like who you are aside from that a lot, but I didn't want to get into anything serious with someone who still thought one of my best friends was a mudblood." Draco found his disbelief interrupted by a wince at the word he'd used so many time in the past.
"I don't think I could ever call anyone that again," he said gravely.
"And, again, that gives me a lot to think about." Draco shook his head a bit.
"I feel like I understand what you're saying, but I don't want to assume." Harry smirked and breathed a single laugh.
"Why don't you tell me what you think I'm saying and I'll tell you if you're right or not?" He's testing me, Draco thought with narrowed eyes. Or maybe he really just wants to know…
"It sounds as though you're starting to like me more than just as a friend. It sounds as though I shouldn't get my hopes up," too late, "and that you'll contemplate something more serious forming between us."
"That's pretty spot-on, actually," Harry chuckled.
"I don't think I can prevent my hopes from raising, I'm afraid," Draco admitted. If Harry could be forthright without fear, so could he. That was one of the things he'd wanted to work on, after all.
"I'm not sure if you'll have to, though I can't promise anything at this point. I'd like to see where this change in you leads to, which would mean the two of us spending time together." Harry took a long drink from his wineglass and looked thoughtful as he slowly swallowed the red liquid. "I suppose work isn't really the best place to get to know someone, though."
"Are you asking me on a date?" Draco asked, only half-joking.
"Probably several, if things work out properly," Harry replied seriously. Draco's heart lunged in his chest and began pumping furiously.
"So… we're dating now?" Try as he might, he couldn't successfully keep all of the anticipation out of his question.
"That's one way to put it." The way Harry laughed gave Draco the impression that he wasn't as calm and collected as he'd originally thought. There was a slight edge of excitement to the sound of it, and Draco didn't think he'd misinterpreted it.
"You're excited about this, aren't you?" he accused playfully, though he felt his own excitement growing at the prospect.
"I… Yeah, I am." At first, it had seemed like he'd deny Draco's accusation. "Part of me doesn't want to tell you that I am, though, in case this doesn't work out."
"Since when have you been the type to pursue things cautiously? There's a risk involved in any sort of relationship, be it romantic or otherwise, so why don't you tell me how you really feel?" Part of Draco's request was simply intended to satiate his curiosity, but the he also wished that Harry would give him more than just hints as to how he felt about him. I did say I wouldn't expect anything in return from people, so I shouldn't be prodding him to be honest just because I've been, Draco scolded himself.
"After what you've told me tonight I suppose I owe you at least that," Harry agreed.
"You don't owe me anything. I don't want you to ever feel that you do."
"That's the sort of thing that makes me feel like I could be with you. You're making so much progress as a person and I can literally feel myself starting to want something more with you, Draco. I'm not being upfront with you because I feel I owe it to you, but because I want to be, so you can close your mouth right now," he laughed. "I like that I can joke with you and you don't get offended like I can imagine you would have when we were younger. You're not vengeful anymore, or rude for the sake of being rude. I can tell you're a kind person and that you want to do better. I'd like to see you do that, and I want to help you do that. Maybe that's a bit selfish, but that's how I feel." Draco had the strongest urge to leap across the sofa and kiss Harry, at that moment, but he held back. He didn't really know if Harry would want that, and it was probably too soon anyway. "You're staring at my lips, Draco."
Quickly averting his gaze, Draco said, "Was I? That's strange." His voice was pitched a bit higher than normally and he flushed in embarrassment.
"You want to kiss me, and that's okay," Harry said softly. "But I want to wait until I've seen more of this—" He gestured at Draco, probably referring to the differences in character he'd claimed, "— before we take things any further."
"I'll begrudgingly admit that's fair," Draco said, attempting and failing to keep his disappointment at bay. Harry was right, though, and he knew it.
"But I will tell you that I'd like to kiss you. Eventually. I just want to know who it is I'm kissing before I do." Draco wanted to point out that they'd known each other since they were eleven, but that wasn't necessarily true. He knew who I used to be… who I just recently stopped being. I can't rightfully blame him for wanting to be careful in this situation.
"What do you think Granger and Weasel— Weasley, sorry… Old habits die hard," Draco corrected. "What will they think when you tell them we're… dating?"
"Ron's going to think I've gone mad. Thanks for not using that nickname for him, by the way," Harry added with a patient grin. "Hermione… I'm not sure what she'll think."
"Maybe you'll want to wait to tell them until you know for sure what you want." Draco suggested carefully. "I mean, it's up to you who you tell and when you do it, if you do at all. I only meant that it'll probably be easier for you if you think about it more—"
"I know what you meant, Draco," Harry chuckled, then finished off the last of his wine. Draco did the same. "I'll tell them soon enough, but I think it would be wise to wait until you've apologised to Hermione. And then I'll probably space it out until she's figured out how to feel about that."
"You're a smart bloke," Draco said with an understanding nod of his head. "I guess that's part of the appeal."
"Speaking of that, one of these days you'll have to tell me why you like me. But I think that should happen another time. Maybe on our first date."
"Let me just grab a quill and a two-meter long parchment, then," Draco mumbled. Harry's responding chortling was worth the mild humiliation of what he'd just said.
"Because there's so many wonderful things about me," Harry said facetiously.
"You'd be surprised. Though, I won't go into it yet, since you want so badly to suffer in anticipation." Draco thought for a moment before asking, "Where will we go for our first date?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Somewhere inexpensive." Draco didn't feel comfortable letting Harry pay his way, mostly because he'd done so much for him already, including allowing Draco to live in his other house rent-free.
"We can always be spontaneous and choose later. Why don't we plan something for this weekend? That is, if you're not too busy to see me." Harry's tongue-in-cheek comment brought a snort up from Draco's throat.
"I'm never busy these days."
"Then it's settled. Our first date will be next Saturday…"
The rest of the evening was spent conversing, jesting, being honest, and enjoying each other's company. By the time Draco got into bed that night he wondered how in the hell he'd managed to cause Harry's opinion of him to get that high. Probably the same reason my opinion of myself is higher, he guessed. It made Draco's lungs swell with adrenaline every time he thought of the things Harry had said over the course of the evening. Part of Draco didn't want to believe that he'd really heard Harry say they were dating. He likes me… he actually likes me. That was the last thing Draco remembered thinking before he fell into a blissful sleep, filled with dreams of a green-eyed man with the most breathtaking smile.
"You have saved us, Harry Potter," said Lazareva Pavlovna in her thick Russian accent as she held back tears. "I have not been able to work since my husband passed, and I did not know who will help me. The war was not kind to our family."
The war hadn't been kind to anybody, but Ms. Pavlovna's file was one that had tugged on Harry's heart more than many he'd seen. Her house was not in the best of conditions, though it at least looked more livable than Grimmauld Place had before Draco and Kreacher fixed it up. The cupboards were nearly bare and, from the exaggerated gauntness of Ms. Pavlovna's face and figure, most of whatever food they did have was going to her daughter, Nadia. Their bills were piling up and there was no money flowing in to cover them. In fact there was so little money that, had Ms. Pavlovna's late husband not paid off their house before the war, she would most likely have lost it already.
"It's no problem at all, Miss." Harry had never gotten over his inability to take praise from people he helped, even after the Prophet's commendations had died down. "This is all part of my job. Mrs. Bankshire is highly trusted in the Child Care And Wellbeing Department and she'll make sure that Nadia is safe and happy while you find work." And fed, so you can eat more, Harry added silently.
"I cannot thank you enough." Pavlovna dipped her head in a solemn bow.
"Knowing that this will enable you to provide better for yourself and your daughter is more than enough thanks for me. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to Floo my office, alright?"
"I will."
Harry left the office that day in an uplifted mood. He'd approved Ms. Pavlovna for childcare and financial aid, the Billburges with specialised in-home care for their autistic daughter so that Mrs. Billburges could work again, and the Halfmoons with financial aid that would allow them to keep their flat. He'd accomplished a lot that day, thanks to Draco's help with paperwork while Harry was out of the office for meetings, and they'd managed to catch up completely on work they'd fallen behind on after the trial. Days like this are what make my job worth doing, he thought as he began cooking himself dinner.
Sitting at the small writing desk in his bedroom, Draco stared at a blank sheet of parchment. The quill he'd been about to use was hanging over an inkpot, dripping black ink from its tip. What he needed to do was write an apology to Granger. What he was failing to do was come up with the words that would make up that apology. When he'd first sat down he'd had at least a vague idea of what he wanted to write, but as soon as he'd dipped his quill the idea was gone, replaced with apprehension and doubt. What if she doesn't want an apology from me? he wondered. What if she's moved on, and me trying to make amends only brings back the hurt I caused? Draco wasn't worried about being forgiven; that was up to Granger to do or not. Realising he had no control over that, and knowing that he still had to apologise, at least made it a bit easier to confront the intimidating expanse of creamy parchment before him. Deciding he could simply use this one as a rough draft, Draco forced himself to begin writing.
Granger,
You may not want to hear from me at all, but I can't know for certain that you don't. You may not ever open this letter and read the words inside, once you know who it's from. I can't blame you for that, but I at least have to attempt to make right of all the wrong I've done you.
In school I treated you badly, and I had no good reason to. I didn't know you, what you were like, or… anything, really, about you. And I still called you mudblood. I wish I could say that I didn't mean it, but I did at the time. Now, though, I can't tell you how much I also wish I could take all of those times back.
You already know this, and I'm sure you have since you first heard about magic, but being a pureblood makes me no better or worse than you, or any other muggleborn. I've just realised, recently, how wrong I was to ever think the otherwise, and it was quite painful to go through the process of finding that out. I probably deserve it, after the times I caused you pain.
I want you to know that, even when we were in school and I was horrible, I always thought you were incredibly bright. I've thought of you as one of the most intelligent witches of our time, in fact, and in school it caused me to be rather jealous. That's another reason I treated you so poorly.
There is no excuse for the way I treated you. There is no way for me to express fully how much I regret the way I behaved towards you. I know this, and I know that I am not owed your forgiveness, even though I've written this.
Hermione Granger, I am so sorry.
-Draco Malfoy
As Draco finished the letter he realised that he had silent tears falling down his cheeks and wiped them with his sleeve. He wondered why he'd been crying so much lately, but he knew that it was probably due to the fact that he hadn't been allowed to cry in years. Even when he had cried, he hadn't really been allowed to. In the course of a week or so, Draco had shed more tears than he had since he was a child. Normally he would've thought of himself as weak for showing such emotion, but now he merely felt relieved. Crying, as Draco was beginning to understand, was actually healing. Being able to feel the sadness and regret inside him enabled him to work through the emotions and come to terms with them.
If Father could see me now… Thankfully he can't. Not for ten years. That should be enough time for him and Mother to come to terms with who I am. If it's not, then there's really nothing I can do but keep a distance from them and hope they'll change, too, in their own time.
Harry was in the middle of cooking dinner when his fireplace burst to life in the adjacent room. Placing a stasis charm on the eggs he was cooking so they wouldn't burn and went to see who was trying to reach him.
"Ron, are you alright?" Harry kneeled down before the hearth and absorbed the aggravation present on Ron's pale face.
"I'm fine, but Hermione's not."
"What happened? Is it the baby? What's going on?" Panic rushed into Harry's veins as he thought of all the horrible things that could be happening to her.
"It's not the baby, the baby's fine. She's really upset, though, and she said she needs to talk to you. Malfoy sent her a letter, but she won't let me read it. I swear, if that twat-brained arsehole said something to her—"
"I think I know what's wrong," Harry said as his frayed nerves settled. "Let me take my food off the stove and I'll be right over."
He did just that, not wasting any time. Apparently Draco had sent his letter of apology. Harry sort of wished that Draco had told him beforehand, if only to give him a bit of warning, but he would deal with the surprise the only way he knew how: step by step.
Upon stepping out of Ron and Hermione's fireplace Harry gathered that Ron had overreacted this time, instead of Hermione. Ron was pacing back and forth, absolutely seething from the looks of it, while Hermione sat at the small kitchen table holding a folded piece of parchment, her eyes only slightly dampened with tears. Harry doubted that Hermione's attitude had changed much since Ron had told him what was happening, so 'really upset' had probably been an overstatement.
"You okay?" Harry asked as he sat down next to Hermione at the table.
"Sort of," she replied in a level tone. "Draco sent me this." Hermione handed Harry the letter and Ron marched up to the table.
"So he's allowed to read it, but I'm not?" he complained.
"You can read it later, Ronald," was Hermione's stern reply. Ron scoffed and walked away, leaving the Harry alone with her.
As he read through Draco's letter, Harry felt his chest tightening with a combination of sympathy and respect. Draco had truly poured his heart out in his efforts to make amends, something he hadn't anticipated. When he reached the end of the letter Harry felt his own eyes watering and could understand why Hermione had cried after reading it.
"I know you've been talking to Draco," Hermione said after taking the letter from Harry's proffered hand. "More than just at work, if the rumours circulating at the Ministry are true. I wanted to know what you think about this." Of course the other Ministry employees are talking about us, Harry thought as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling.
"I think he's really sorry, and I think he meant it when he told me he was trying to be a different man than the person his parents wanted him to be," Harry said. "What do you think about it?"
"I think that… I think—" Hermione exhaled sharply. "I don't really know what to think, Harry. Part of me wants to forgive him, because I can tell that this was sincere. On the other hand, I don't know if I can forgive years of torment with one single letter. I appreciate that he's trying to better himself, and that he's considering me in that process, but… I just don't know."
"That's all understandable. He said he doesn't feel that you owe him forgiveness, though, so I don't think you should force yourself to feel one way or the other, if that's not what you want to do."
"But he took the time to send me this. He said I was intelligent, that he'd always thought so. I know that most of what he did in school to us was inspired by conscious decisions on his part, but I have to wonder how much of it was done in the name of making his parents proud." Hermione rubbed her left eye with the back of her hand and hunched her shoulders as she sighed heavily. "I think about who Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy are and I think about who my parents are, and I pity him. I can't imagine what it must have been like for him, growing up with such cold people. He probably didn't feel very loved, and that likely caused him to feel the need to act out.
"It's not that I don't understand the psychology behind his actions, it's just that I don't know if I'm ready to let everything go," she finished, sounding dejected and forlorn. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it gently before simply holding it.
"Dumbledore once said that it's someone's choices that show what they truly are," he said in the most comforting way he could. "Draco didn't make very many good choices up until recently, but he is choosing to change now. I don't think he had the ability to change, before. That doesn't mean you have to forgive him, it doesn't mean that you have to be his friend. It's something to think about, though. I know I've been thinking a lot about it. Maybe now that Draco's apologised you can begin to heal from the mental scars he left behind."
"I certainly hope so," Hermione breathed.
"Can I come back in, now?" Ron said from down the corridor. "Or am I interrupting?" Hermione groaned in response to Ron's sarcasm.
"Really, Ron, you need to settle down," she insisted. Ron came back into the kitchen and sat beside Harry. "I'm not upset. Here, take it." Hermione slid the letter from Draco across the table to her sulking boyfriend and shook her head irritably.
"How can I, when you've been attacked by Malfoy yet again? I thought he'd grown up a bit, with what people at the Ministry said, but obviously I was wrong."
"He didn't attack me. Quite the opposite, actually," Hermione said with a note of lingering confusion. "Just read it already."
Ron shot Hermione a dubious look, but did as she said and read through the letter. Harry struggled not to laugh at the changes of expression coming from the redhead; first indignant, then befuddled, then awestruck. That was the final emotion present on his face as he set the letter down and met the two pairs of eyes watching him.
"I'll just come right out and say it," Ron said, sounding much calmer than he had a few moments before. "I may have overreacted. Sorry, love." He gave Hermione a look of contrition. "I can't believe he actually said he was sorry."
"You're forgiven," Hermione returned sweetly. "Now do you see why I had to talk to Harry first?"
"I s'pose so. I still think you should've talked to me about it, though." Ron sulked a bit, then perked up and faced Harry with a skeptical squint of his eyes. "You knew he was going to do this."
"Er, yeah, I said as much when you Floo'd me," Harry said with a restricted smile. "When he came to my house the other night we talked about all the changes he's gone through and he asked for your address so he could send Hermione a letter of apology. Draco had somewhat of an identity crisis, from the sounds of it, but it looks like it's done him some good."
"I'll bloody say," Ron agreed with a fervent nod. "It's overdue, though, if I'm being honest."
"At least he's done this at all," Hermione defended lightly. "I never thought I'd live to see the day that Malfoy apologised."
"Better late than never," Harry said with a shrug. "I'm proud of him."
"I am too," Hermione decided. "It must have taken a great effort to write something like this."
"I'm going to wait and see if he means what he says before I agree with you two," Ron said carefully. Harry had a feeling he was holding back the part where he said he didn't think Draco would prove that he'd changed, but that only meant that Ron was trying. That mattered more to Harry than he could say.
"Fair enough." Harry stood up tp leave. "My breakfast has probably gone cold, so I'm going to head home and make something else. If you need me just let me know."
"Thank you, Harry," said Hermione as Harry leaned down to hug her. "The same goes for you, I hope you know."
"Appreciate it, mate." Ron stood up to receive a hug from Harry as well.
As Draco got ready for his and Harry's date, he realised he didn't have much clothing anymore. At least, not much nice clothing. Then again, Harry probably wouldn't care. Figuring it wouldn't make much difference, Draco decided on a fancier set of navy blue robes. They weren't as fashionable as he'd like them to be, but with a bit of Transfiguration he'd fixed the hems and added what he hoped was tasteful embroidery over his shoulders and around to the back. Paisley patterns were never out of style, as far as Draco was concerned.
His nerves were getting the better of him, he realised, as he inspected the dress shoes he'd planned to wear. They simply weren't shiny enough. More Transfiguration was required to shine his shoes, as he didn't possess anything else to do it with. Looking over his ensemble in the mirror he'd enlarged to be full length, he groaned in dissatisfaction. Not only was the outfit not up to par, by his standards, but his hair was too shaggy and he noticed a blemish forming near his hairline, so he couldn't brush his hair back like he wanted to.
"Of course I'd break out right before our first date," he grumbled to his reflection. It's useless, I'm just going to have to go like this. Draco huffed and left his bedroom to Floo to Harry's house, where they'd decided they'd meet before heading out for the evening.
After scooping up a handful of Floo powder, Draco paused in trepidation. Since he and Harry had decided to date Draco hadn't thought much about this evening, but now that it was upon him Draco was suddenly very tense and anxious. What if everything went wrong? What if he said the wrong thing and Harry decided that he didn't want to continue dating? What if he spilled his food or drink all over, like a fool? There were so many fears flooding Draco's mind that he had half a mind to cancel the date entirely. I can't do that, or he'll think I don't want to see him. He knows I have no plans this evening, so there's no way out of this. Really, Draco did want to go, but his composure was crumbling and he couldn't stop himself from thinking this would be a disaster.
"Come off it," he ordered himself. "You're making a huge deal out of nothing. It's a date. That's all it is. It's just a date." His pep talk didn't do much, but he managed to toss the powder into the hearth and leave anyway.
"You're early," Harry said as he stood up from the sofa. "And you look really nice. I think you out-dressed me, actually." Draco took in Harry's simple outfit; a forest green cardigan over a black T-shirt and a pair of denim trousers. See? He doesn't care how you're dressed, he told himself.
"I didn't mean to be early." Draco hoped his voice didn't come out strangely because of his nerves. "Probably should've checked the time before I left."
"It's alright, I was just waiting for you anyway. Why don't we head out? Have you thought of anywhere in particular you'd like to go?"
"Not really, no, but I am hungry." Harry led the way to his front door, not seeming anxious in the slightest, and the two of them left together.
"Why don't we go out to eat and then I'll surprise you with something after that?" Draco nearly asked what the surprise would be, but it would defeat the purpose of being a surprise if Harry told him. For all he knew, Harry was referring to the kiss they'd discussed earlier that week.
"That sounds good to me," he said, attempting to keep his emotions from seeping too much into his words. Harry seemed to notice anyway, and he slowed his pace to walk beside Draco and took his hand. This was a change of pace that Draco had only hoped for. He hadn't actually expected Harry to make the first move, in reality, but it was comforting enough to allow Draco a bit of needed tranquility.
"There's no pressure, alright? I don't want you to feel as though you've got to impress me, or anything. We're going on a date, which isn't much different from the time we went to the pub together, only this time the intentions are a bit different." Harry's calmness was catching, and Draco found himself leaving his worries behind. He was right, after all, and there was no real reason to be afraid. That was something the Draco he was trying to stray from would do, fearing something that he knew would ultimately bring him happiness in the end. Whether or not this date led to anything more, he had the feeling he and Harry would continue to be friends.
"I needed to hear that," Draco said with a sigh. "Thank you. I guess I built this up in my mind, like I always do. It's not necessary."
"No, it's not. How about we Apparate to the Tilted Eclipse? Maybe getting some food in you will help you relax better."
Draco agreed with a sheepish grin and and the two side-along Apparated to their destination. In the years since the Tilted Eclipse had been opened, Draco had never eaten there, though he'd heard nothing but excellent reviews about the service and food. If he'd been the one to pick where they ate he doubted he would've thought of it. That was another thing about Harry that Draco liked: he was good at switching things up from the norm. Draco just hoped that the restaurant wasn't too expensive, as he'd only brought ten galleons along with him for the evening.
The interior of the restaurant was reminiscent of his classmate's descriptions of Trelawney's classroom, but without the sickeningly overpowering smell of incense people always spoke of. The walls were draped with storytelling tapestries, silky fabrics with intricately dyed designs, and there were piles of cushions in some of the corners of the place, where witches and wizards alike sat together, laughing, drinking, and chatting amicably. It could've been the atmosphere of the place, or maybe the way Harry's hand squeezed his before he went to talk to the hostess, but Draco felt his muscles slacken and his jaw unclench as his confidence grew.
"Right this way, gentlemen," the hostess said as he led them to an empty table near the back of the restaurant. As they walked through the place Draco noticed that there was some bewitching music playing softly. It sounded as though it could be Dhrupad, which was strange as that was the oldest genre of Hindustani classical music and wasn't popular in this region in the slightest. "Here you are. Can I get you anything to drink before you start?"
"Merlot, for me," Harry said as he took up his menu.
"Sauvignon Blanc, please," Draco requested.
"Shall I bring the bottles over for you, then?" Harry looked to Draco for his opinion, and Draco shook his head. He didn't intend to get drunk on their first date.
"No, thanks. Just one glass each."
"Of course. Your server will be with you shortly."
"There's something I wanted to talk to you about," said Harry as he looked over his menu with eyes narrowed in contemplation.
"What's that?"
"Your letter to Hermione. She received it this morning." Draco felt his neck tighten as he remembered what he'd said in the letter. In the end, he'd sent the first draft he wrote, deciding that it wouldn't be as genuine if he were to rewrite it over and over. Even so, he hadn't been satisfied with what the letter entailed, but he didn't think he ever would be, with how much he wanted to say and how much he could fit into a reasonable message.
"How did she take it?"
"Really well, I think. Ron was being a git, at first, but that was before he read the letter, too. I think you did a really good thing, Draco, and I think it shows that you're truly growing as a person. Hermione was really touched, but she's confused about how to feel. She's not sure she can forgive you, but I could tell it meant a lot to her just to read your words and know that you regret the things you've done." She'll never know how much I do, Draco thought.
"If the only result of my sending that letter is that she's able to heal, that's enough for me," Draco said as he opened his own menu.
"I enjoy hearing you say things like that," Harry chuckled. "It's a nice change from the boy I used to know."
Draco wasn't really sure how to respond from that, other than blushing against his will. The hostess brought their drinks around and the two men decided on the meals they'd order. The roasted duck sounded delectable, but he didn't want to eat too heavy of a meal, in case Harry's surprise included a lot of walking around. Instead he settled on the ravioli dish they offered.
"Good afternoon, you two, my name is Hildi," said a petite brunette who'd approached, as she pulled a notepad from her apron. "I'll be your server today, so if you need anything just give a shout and I'll come 'round. Have you decided on what you'd like to order?"
"Yes," Draco said after Harry's glance his way. "I'd like the Basil Chicken Ravioli Carbonara."
"Alright," she said slowly as she wrote on her paper. "And you?"
"I'll have the Roasted Sherry Duck," Harry supplied.
"Perfect. I'll have your meals shortly. Is there anything else I can get you while you're waiting? Bread sticks? Onion rings?"
"I'm fine, thanks," Harry and Draco said in unison, causing them to pause and then chuckle.
"Again, if you need anything, just call." The waitress left them alone, then, to wait for their food.
"I've never eaten here before," Draco said, giving them something to talk about. "I hope the food is as good as people have said it is."
"Oh, it is," Harry insisted. "I've eaten here a few times and I've never been disappointed. I don't normally eat duck, but they make it so well that I've ordered it the last two times I've come here."
"Oddly enough, I was going to order that before I decided on the ravioli. You'll have to let me try it. I actually do love duck, so I'll be the judge of whether it's good or not," he said with a smirk. "Have you told your friends about us yet, or are you still waiting?" Perhaps that was too forward… Too late now, I suppose.
"I'm going to wait a bit longer. Although, they might wind up hearing about it through the grapevine, if the glances we're getting are anything to go by." Draco took a moment to look around them and noticed that, yes, people were pretending not to stare at them and failing miserably.
"Would that upset you?" he had to wonder.
"It would upset Ron if he found out before I'd told him; he'd think I was keeping things from him. Merlin forbid I keep anything to myself," he complained. "But if that does happen I'll explain why I didn't tell him. He'll understand. I think after reading your letter he's starting to come around to you— as much as he possibly can without spending time with you enough to see who you are, now."
"That's good to hear," Draco said with a grin he couldn't hold back. "I mean, that's… understandable. I don't need him to like me, but it feels nice knowing that he may not hate me as much as he used to. Maybe one day he won't hate me at all— not that I'm hoping for that, or anything." Think before you speak, idiot.
"If things go well between us then I'm sure he'll have the chance to make that decision. I can't say for sure that he will, but chances are he'll at least have to put up with being around you from time to time."
"That's wonderful," Draco sneered a bit. "I don't want to force your friends to be around me if it's that unbearable."
"They'll get over it." Harry sounded uncaring, but his eyes had hardened a bit.
"What's wrong?" His instincts were telling him that something had upset Harry, but he didn't know what.
"I just think it would be sad if Ron was too stubborn to let go of the past. I'd like it if my friends could just be happy for me, and I think that Hermione would try to be, but I have a feeling Ron will be more difficult to reason with."
"That would be sad, but I think we'll live." Really, Draco would prefer that, if things did go well, Harry's friends accept him, but there was no way to enforce that. It was pointless to worry about; no matter how much Draco changed or how much he tried to appeal to them, ultimately it was their decision to befriend him or not.
"Here comes our food now," Harry said as he looked off towards the other end of the restaurant. Their waitress was levitating two heaping plates of food towards them, a trail of steam following their wake.
"Good, I'm starving."
"Here's your order," Hildi said cheerfully as she set their plates down. "Do you need anything else while I'm here?"
"No, we're fine. Thank you, it looks delicious." Harry offered her a smile and she walked off. "Here," he said as he sliced off a piece of his duck and handed the fork to Draco. "You try it first."
In his attempt to take the fork from Harry, Draco realised that he didn't intent to let him eat it himself. Harry kept the fork moving towards his mouth and Draco opened it, feeling tingles coming up his spine at the gesture.
"Oh my," Draco said with his mouth full, forgetting that he found it unappealing when others did it. The duck was too good for him to care, the flavour too distracting.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Harry asked, looking satisfied that he'd proved his tastes worthy of Draco's commendation.
"Mhm!" He swallowed the last of the bite and moaned softly as the lingering tastes stayed with him. "I should've ordered that. Do you want to try mine?" Without waiting for Harry's response, Draco spooned up a ravioli and brought it to the other man's lips.
"Wow," Harry said, also not bothering to swallow before speaking. "Maybe we should switch plates," he joked.
"I wouldn't be upset with that," Draco agreed. And so they did switch plates— after Draco tried his own dish and decided Harry's was indeed better— something that Draco had only seen couples doing in restaurants and had never done himself. For some reason it seemed like such a simple thing when he watched someone else doing it, but when he and Harry did it he felt like it was a milestone in their new relationship. I'm probably overthinking it, he told himself. Not that it matters; I get a melt-in-your-mouth duck. That's the important part.
There was little conversation as they ate their food. Both men were completely focused on the meals before them. Draco had never tasted duck so palatable and he savoured every bite. Now and then one or the other would make a sound that translated to something like, 'bloody hell this is good,' probably. It didn't go past Draco's notice that every time Harry did it his eyes rolled back in food-inspired ecstacy, and he couldn't stop himself from wondering if he made a similar expression during other moments of ecstasy. Get your mind out of the gutter before you make a fool of yourself, yet again.
To Harry's surprise, Draco paid for the entire meal. Harry had insisted upon leaving the tip because of that, but he had to admit that it was nice to be spoiled for a change. During his relationship with Ginny he was the one to pay for most of their outings. Not that he really minded, but again, being in the opposite position was refreshing.
"Alright, now that you're fed, why don't we have some fun?" Harry suggested.
"I thought we already were." Draco sounded genuinely confused, which made Harry laugh.
"We were, but I had something more fun in mind. Do you like dancing?" At the top of the list he'd made in his mind of the things he wanted to experience with Draco was dancing, even though Harry wasn't particularly fond of it himself. He knew of a few nightclubs in muggle London that he really enjoyed going to, however, and he thought Draco might, too.
"I don't mind dancing," Draco said with a frown. "It's not really fun, though. It's too measured and boring."
"I'm not talking about the sort of dancing you probably did during your pureblood parties," Harry explained. "I'm talking about a different kind of dancing altogether."
"I don't know how to do any other kind of dancing aside from traditional, but I'll try it." The smile Draco offered him was one Harry intended to see more often, if he had his way.
"Good."
Taking Draco's arm, he side-along Apparated them to his favourite nightclub, Indigo Jive. The outside of the club was nothing special, sort of dingy looking in fact, but after Harry had paid their cover charge and they'd gone in he watched in amusement as Draco's jar dropped.
"What is this place?" he asked, having to shout above the booming techno that was playing. Harry watched as Draco's pale skin was tinted by the many different coloured laser lights, his grey eyes turning only a slightly darker shade.
"It's a nightclub," Harry said loudly into Draco's ear.
"Why is everyone bouncing? It seems repetitive."
"That's the sort of dancing muggles do in places like this. We don't have to do the same thing, though. Watch."
Harry dragged Draco out into the thick of the dance floor. When he stopped them he turned around to see that Draco had a look of terror on his face. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, after all… No matter, I'll try and see if I can't get him to loosen up.
"Dance with me," he shouted to Draco, and began moving his body to the beat that could be felt vibrating through the rubber soles of his shoes. Draco's lips moved, but Harry couldn't hear him very well because at that same moment, the bass in whatever song was playing got twice as loud. He took Draco's hands in his and moved his hips and arms in rhythm to the music, hoping he could get his stiff dance partner to join in.
After a moment of what looked like pure torture for Draco, he seemed to give in and started hesitantly swaying to the beat of the electronic song. The muscles in Draco's multicoloured face began relaxing as he moved in time with Harry, copying his movements with more grace than he could ever conjure up in himself. Harry began smiling hugely and was rewarded with just as big a grin.
Then the crowd moved in, suddenly, and he and Draco were pressed together between so many bodies that it would be impossible to get out without causing harm to people they would push out of the way. But Harry didn't want to leave; he was quite content to dance like this, pressed against Draco's body— and the bodies of lots of other people, which was less pleasant than the former, but still manageable. Harry's hands moved to Draco's hips, then, and he blamed it on the adrenaline that was always produced in him at clubs like this, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that it was also something he wanted to do. Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders, probably not knowing what else to do with them, judging by the flash of confusion he expressed. That look was gone in a heartbeat, though, and was replaced by an elated smile. That smile, thought Harry. I don't think he really knows just how gorgeous he is.
Draco's eyes were on Harry's lips again, and this time Harry thought he was ready for the kiss he clearly wanted. He leaned up just a bit, thanks to the fact that Draco stood several inches taller than him, and kissed him. It wasn't hard to feel the way Draco froze, not when they were pressed so closely together, but a split second later Draco's arms were wrapping tightly around Harry, pulling him even closer than they were already. Harry returned the gesture happily and was sucked in mentally by the sweet sensation of Draco's mouth against his, opening and closing as they snogged.
The music took a break, and Harry ended the kiss, though he was taken aback at how much he was loath to do so. Even spending the last couple minutes of their dance floor experience snogging, Harry was parched and sweaty and wanted to take a moment to cool down at the bar.
"This way," he said as he took Draco's hand again and brought him to the bar. "Two Juniper Slings," Harry called to the bartender, who nodded and took his money before getting their drinks.
"What's a Juniper Sling?" Draco asked, scooting his barstool closer to Harry's.
"Fucking delicious," he answered. "Don't worry, you'll like it. If you like gin, that is."
"I've never had gin before, so I'm not sure if I do or not."
"If you don't like it, I'll drink yours and you can get something else." The bartender set their drinks down in front of them and Harry took a long sip from his glass. "It's been too long since I had one of these."
"This is really good." Draco drank half of his glass in one or two gulps and Harry's eyes widened.
"You may not want to drink it so fast, the alcohol content is really high in these." Draco waved him off.
"I've had firewhiskey stronger than this. I'll be fine. This is really, really good," he said before taking another deep swig. "Plus, this is the only one I'm having tonight, so I'm going to enjoy it." That was fair enough, Harry thought as he downed the rest of his drink as well.
The next portion of the night was spent back on the dance floor, and this time Draco had fully relaxed into the atmosphere of the club. As Harry watched his dance partner shake and gyrate his hips to the music he felt more connected to him than he had before. The carefree aura around him was intoxicating, it a way, and Harry could hardly keep more than a foot away from him at the best of times. They danced for hours, stopping every now and then for an ice water or two, only to get right back onto the dance floor again. By the end of the evening, both men were utterly knackered. They left the club leaning on each other and giggling as they caught their breath.
"I don't know if I've ever had that much fun in my life," Draco said, half laughing, half gasping in the fresh night air.
"Then you've been missing out," Harry chuckled and bumped his hip into Draco's. "I'm sad the night has to end so soon."
"So soon? It's nearly two!"
"True, but I had such a great time with you. We'll have to do this again soon." Draco agreed with a fervent nod of his sweaty head as the two of them ducked into an empty alley.
"One last kiss before we go?" Draco asked softly, sounding a bit timid. Harry smiled and offered a kiss as soft as Draco's words, but with none of the timidness. The feeling of Draco sagging slightly against him and cupping the nape of his neck was better than the adrenaline of the nightclub, any day. When they pulled apart, Draco had a dopey glaze to his eyes.
"You really are adorable," Harry chuckled. Stepping away further, he said, "Well, see you Monday. Don't get splinched on your way home," and was gone with the twisting blur of Disapperation.
A/N#2: My apologies for this chapter taking longer than it normally would; my world is a bit hectic currently. Not to worry, though, as I do intend to continue posting as regularly as I have been (give or take) and to write this story to completion. I hope that everyone likes this new installment! Feel free to review :)