The Saturday that Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, he'd come to three new realizations.
The first and most obvious was that he couldn't stand to be in this house anymore. Ever since the night of his first shift, when he'd been nearly crippled by the pain and horror embedded into the bones of the manor, he'd known he wouldn't be able to live here anymore. He'd spent years trying to fix it, to connect with it. At first, it was to feel closer to his godfather, to honor Sirius' memory, but his heightened senses could smell Sirius' misery in this house even in his human form. He wasn't doing anyone a service by staying in this awful, lonely house. Perhaps he'd stay if Kreacher was still alive, not wanting to uproot the old elf from the home he'd known all his life, but Kreacher had died peacefully in his sleep several years ago. Ever since it had just been Harry, and he couldn't do it anymore.
The second realization was nearly as obvious as the first. Despite what he'd said to Hermione that day in her office, his interest in Draco was not a surface level thing, not even close. Regardless of being in his wolf form, he'd gotten to observe a great deal of Malfoy over the past week. The blond was kind, gentle, and thoughtful, even if his words were biting. He'd watched as Draco cared for Pansy, making sure she was never overworked and got ample breaks. He'd hidden behind the front desk while Draco interacted with customers, eternally patient with their occasionally foolish questions. He'd been incredibly tender with Harry while he'd been stuck in his shift, ensuring that he was comfortable and properly fed, and had even ventured into the Forbidden Forest for him when he'd realized Harry's wolf needed exercise after too many days inside.
Getting to watch Draco while he drank his tea in the morning, sun shining through his pale hair, feet bare and crossed at the ankles under the table, had been a pleasure he couldn't have imagined until he'd seen it, and now it was a need more than a want. He needed to be around the other man in whatever capacity Draco would allow him to be, romantic or not.
Which led him to the third realization. He couldn't be sure if Malfoy returned his feelings, but he now knew for certain that Draco was attracted to him. At first, Harry had been a little too embarrassed by his half asleep groping to realize, but Draco had responded to the barest of Harry's touches. The smallest breath of his on Malfoy's skin increased the scent of the blond's arousal twofold, perfuming the air around them. When Harry's fingers had grazed the delicious little hollow of Malfoy's pelvis, he'd smelled precum begin to leak in Draco's shorts, and it was all he could do to not push the fabric down and take him in his mouth. He'd wanted nothing more than to feel the weight of Draco's cock on his tongue, but the other man falling gracelessly to the floor had ceased his exploration. It was probably for the best, he hadn't even begun courting Malfoy yet, but he was regretful of losing the moment nonetheless.
Before, he may have been willing to try to let this go. To minimize his interactions with Malfoy enough so that his wolf decided he wasn't a potential mate, and perhaps one day both he and the wolf inside him would move on. The knowledge that Draco wanted him, at least physically, made that idea impossible.
He would court Malfoy in earnest now, starting with making sure the infuriating man ate. Every time Draco skipped a meal, telling Pansy he was too busy for lunch, or too tired for supper, it had made him crazy. He hadn't meant to overstep that morning, but Draco skipping breakfast had snapped something inside him. Malfoy was spending all of his time caring for those around him, both friends, clients, and wolves, and not taking care of himself. He hadn't meant to offend him with his comment, but Malfoy was too thin. Fit and attractive, sure, he could tell that Draco rarely missed his cardio. But in the few moments where he forgot Harry's wolf was there and changed his shirt in front of him, Harry could see that his collar bones were a little too prominent, the bones of his spine jutting out just a bit too much. The urge to hunt for him was nearly overwhelming. Harry could feel the tips of his fingers tingling, and when he looked down he was surprised to see his nails elongating into claws. It took several moments of focused breathing to get them to turn back.
The fact that he'd already hunted something for Draco recently was all that was keeping the feeling from completely taking over and forcing him into a shift. He popped the rabbit carcass into his freezer before striding up the winding stairs to his room. He spent a few minutes going through his wardrobe and pulling out some necessary pieces, folding them, and placing them on his bed. He pulled his luggage out of the closet and carefully placed the folded laundry inside, making plans to take the clothes to Madam Malkins to have them adjusted to his new measurements. Harry wasn't a great deal larger than he'd been before, but it was a noticeable difference. Just enough to be inconvenient.
After he finished packing, he went across the hall into his office. It was shocking how quickly a house could fall into disarray. Dust covered his bookshelves and desk, and leaves had strewn in through the open window. He walked to the window and stuck his head out, whistling. It took a moment, but he reeled back as wings flapped toward him. Beau was a plain brown barn owl, different from Hedwig in every way, which was precisely why Harry had chosen him. Beau was big and lanky where Headwig had been small and plump, and his personality was much more aggressive than hers had been. He held a small dead mouse in his beak, tipping his head back to swallow the thing whole. Harry attempted to pet his back and Beau jumped out of his reach, sulking.
"I'm sorry. I know I was gone for too long. Can I make it up to you with some treats?" Harry opened a drawer from the desk below him, pulling out a handful of pellets. Beau was too food motivated to give Harry the cold shoulder for any period of time, and he hopped onto Harry's outstretched arm, snagging the treats from his upturned palm. He took the opportunity to stroke his other hand down Beau's back, the feathers under his fingers impossibly soft. "Mind taking a letter to Andy for me?" Beau clicked his beak at Harry but didn't turn away, and he took that as a 'fine, I guess' from the owl.
He quickly wrote a note announcing his incoming arrival and attached it to the owl's leg. "Once you get there, stay and wait for me. I'll be there soon." Beau let out a short hoot and flew back out the open window, wings beating loudly against the wind.
Harry spent some time in Grimmauld Place gathering the few effects he had that he actually cared about, and the small tote bag full of some of Sirius' old things and a photo album of his friends and family was more than a little depressing. After ten whole years in this house, Harry hadn't added anything of significant value to him. What had he been doing for the past decade? His role as godfather to Teddy and uncle to Ron and Hermione's kids were one of the few things that genuinely made him feel fulfilled, but work had given him devastatingly little time to commit to those two roles. At the end of the day, all he had was a tote bag and a suitcase. Well, and a dead rabbit. Harry shrunk the frozen rabbit carcass and tossed that into the tote bag as well for future use.
After collecting the luggage from his bed, Harry headed to his fireplace. Walking into the completely stripped living room was a jarring experience. Hermione had made quick work of it, getting a team of specialists in to dispose of the soiled furniture and rugs, and they'd done a great job removing his blood from the walls, but they'd had to take the wallpaper with it. All that was left was the naked, peeling wood of the house and the cement foundation. The bare room looked like Harry felt, empty and purposeless.
Harry stood there for a while, saying goodbye to a house he never wanted, containing years of his life he wasn't happy with. He wouldn't do this again, he decided. He wouldn't let life keep passing him by while everyone around him thrived. He would find a love like that of his best friends, and he would build something he could be proud of.
Harry stepped through the glittering green embers of the floo without looking back.
He stepped into one fireplace and out of another, finding himself in the warmly lit home of Andromeda Tonks. Andromeda had a cozy cottage-style house in the country just outside Hogsmeade, and the interior was precisely what you'd expect of an older witch. The mint green furniture was covered in decorative floral patterns, while the weathered wooden furniture held dozens of magical nicknacks. A little black cat clock meowed the time at him as he passed by it. The steep ceiling had gorgeous exposed beams, making the space feel open and inviting. It was such a stark contrast to Grimmauld Place that he started to feel a bit of vertigo.
Which was precisely when Teddy Tonks decided to pounce, landing them both on the carpeted floor.
"Harry! You're here!" Harry laughed and pushed himself to his feet, lifting Teddy with him. At twelve, Teddy was smaller than most other children his age, but nearly twice as smart in Harry's humble and unbiased opinion. The little Gryffindor was a perfect combination of his late parents, exhibiting Remus's intellect with all of Nymphandora's fire. He was a Metamorphmagus like his mother, and both his eyes and hair were currently a shocking burnt orange color.
"Of course, I'm here! Didn't you get my owl?" Harry asked as he brushed a stray dot of lint from his godson's shoulder.
"Only a bit ago! Grandma Andy is cross with you, your letter sent her into a cleaning frenzy. The house was in a state." Teddy mock whispered.
"Teddy Lupin," Andromeda scolded from the doorway connecting the living room and kitchen, "It defeats the purpose of the cleaning frenzy if you tell him what a mess the house was!" The older woman's mouth was set in a hard line, but her eyes crinkled at the sides as she looked at Harry and her grandson.
Andromeda had always been as firm as she was fair, and she'd done as wonderful a job raising her grandson as she had with her own daughter. Harry helped when he could over the years, but now that Teddy was in school, he only saw him during winter break and over the summer. Though they wrote to each other frequently, not seeing his godson often had been a huge hit, and he missed him even with Teddy standing right in front of him.
Despite not being in his wolf form, he could feel how strong their pack connection was. His bond with Teddy felt overwhelmingly like son and the force of the feeling was enough to knock the breath from his chest.
"If there's dust in the guest room, it's your fault for giving me so little notice." Andromeda reprimanded him.
"Please, Andy, don't put yourself out for me. I can clean my own room. Assuming you don't mind me staying for a while? I didn't wait for you to owl me back before I bullied my way in." She rolled her eyes at him.
"Harry Potter, you are very aware that you have a permanent place in this home. Go set your things down in your room and come down to help me with dinner." Andromeda demanded. Harry gave her a curt nod in affirmation, but Teddy whined next to him.
"But Grandma! I want Harry to take me flying! I'm going to try out for seeker next year." Teddy beamed up at him, and he ruffled his godson's orange hair.
"That's amazing, Teddy! I'll take you flying after dinner and show you everything I know, but I need Grandma Andy's help with something anyway. Why don't you do a bit of work on your summer homework and I'll call you when we're done?" Teddy groaned loudly at him.
"Fine, but I'm saving my Defense homework until you can help me with it." Teddy told him as he walked into his room, leaving Harry and Andromeda alone.
"So, what do you need help with, son?" Andromeda asked him, arms crossed over her sage green robes. Harry rustled around the tote bag in his arms, pulling out the tiny lifeless rabbit. He muttered an incantation and the body quickly returned to its original size in his hands.
"Do you know how to make rabbit stew?" Harry asked meekly. Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I do, but you have to clean the damned thing. Go set your things down and change into something you don't mind getting bloody."
Besides the dirty business of learning to clean his kill, Harry'd had the perfect evening. Andromeda was a patient teacher, guiding him through the process of making the stew after Harry protested that he had to do the work himself. They'd made an obscene amount of food, and even after he doled out their portions, there was plenty left for Draco. He stored the leftovers and put them in the freezer, saving it until he worked up the courage to go see the blond.
Harry had been nervous as he guided his first spoonful of the stew into his mouth, but lit up at how good it had turned out. Teddy demolished his bowl, but when he found out what the meat was, he literally turned green.
"You let me eat a bunny?! You're monsters!" His godson had exclaimed.
Harry reminded Teddy of their Quidditch lesson and the stew debacle was quickly forgotten. The little house was surrounded by forest and the skies were clear, making for a gorgeous evening of flying. Teddy was, as usual, a quick learner and took to Harry's instructions easily. A few hours later, Harry was confident that Teddy could land whichever position he tried out for if he kept practicing.
The moon was high in the sky before they finally called it a night. Teddy dragged his tired body to his room, calling out a sleepy goodnight to Harry and Andromeda. Minutes later, Andromeda returned to the sitting room with two full glasses of red wine, handing one to Harry before she sat down across from him.
"Okay, son. Spill." She gestured at him with the hand not holding a wine glass, tucking her legs underneath her on the wide mint armchair.
Sipping his wine, Harry spilled. He told her everything, starting with his attack several weeks prior. When he told her about his lycan infection, she had openly cried, and Harry's heart broke open at the sight. The crying eased somewhat as he explained the differences between his condition and Remus', but her devastation was still written across her face.
When Draco entered the story, the tears stopped completely. She didn't wipe her face, showing no shame in her emotions, and Harry loved her for her strength. He spoke of Draco fondly, describing the care he'd shown Harry since the awful night of his attack.
"You care for my nephew, then." Andromeda interrupted him. It wasn't a question.
"I do," Harry confirmed, finishing his glass. Andromeda pushed the bottle across the coffee table toward him, and he refilled his glass.
"I don't have to explain to you what that poor boy grew up in, I'm sure. The only regret I've ever had about being kicked out of the Black family was knowing I left that child without a lifeline, without a perspective besides the one Lucius and Narcissa forced down his throat," Andromeda sighed.
"I know he made bad choices, but he was a kid, and he didn't know anything else. Besides, he got there on his own in the end, and isn't that more important?" Harry wondered out loud, sliding a finger around the rim of his glass. Andromeda smiled warmly at him.
"Yes, Harry, that's the most important thing." They sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking and watching the fire. Harry broke it first.
"I hate that house, Andy." Andromeda didn't need him to specify which one.
"It's an awful place. I hated it when I was young, and I hate the memory of it now. I was hoping that in the time you spent there, maybe you could add some light to it."
"I tried. I tried for years, at first for Sirius and then for Kreacher before he passed. But without either of them, I think I just started wasting away there, like everyone who lived there before me," he admitted. "I can't keep it anymore, but I don't want to sell it either. Are you sure you don't want it? It should stay in the Black family."
She gave him a small smile but shook her head firmly. "I said no when you asked me a decade ago, and I'm saying no now, for the very reasons you just listed. I'm not a Black anymore, Harry. I never wanted to be. I understand why you can't bring yourself to sell it, you're honorable that way, but for the love of Merlin, don't live there anymore. You can stay here as long as you like, regardless of if Teddy is in or out of school. You're family." She leaned over and squeezed his knee, and Harry set his hand on hers.
"I have no intention of stepping foot in that house again, so you're stuck with me for a while."
"I'm hardly complaining about having some help around here. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know. Now, tell me how exactly you intend to woo my nephew?" Harry sputtered into his cup. "Have you asked him out yet?"
"Er, no, but I'm going to! Soon!" He said a little too loudly. "I have to give him the soup, anyway."
She nodded at him. "It's a good courting gesture. He may have grown quite a bit in the last handful of years, but he's still a pureblood. He'll expect gifts and pampering."
"If he'll give me the opportunity, I'd like nothing more than to provide him with both those things."
As much as Harry wanted to see Draco, he knew he had to prioritize his time with his godson. He had barely seen Teddy that summer, his unfortunate accident having thrown a wrench in his typical weekly visits to Andromeda's house, and Teddy hadn't allowed him to forget it. The teen was an ever present presence at his side, asking Harry to show him a certain Quidditch move or asking for help with a spell he was working on for school. Harry did his best to remember what he'd learned in his second year when he helped Teddy with his Charms homework and was openly relieved when they moved on to his Defense Against the Dark Arts work.
They spent each evening flying together, and Harry lit up with pride the first time Teddy caught the practice snitch. In the rare moments he spent away from Teddy, Andromeda insisted on teaching him to cook, stating that if he was going to be with her nephew, one of them needed to know how to feed them both and it certainly wasn't going to be Draco. Surprisingly, Harry found he enjoyed the peaceful repetition of cooking, though he could do without the whole onions stinging his eyes thing.
On Tuesday, he resolved to resume his weekly visits at Draco's Apothecary, starting with dropping off the stew dethawing on the kitchen counter currently. Harry frowned at the handful of clothes he'd managed to bring with him. His shirts were a tighter fit, sure, but his trousers all hit him above the ankle which was utterly unacceptable. He really should have dropped off his luggage with Madam Malkin the day he arrived at Andromedas, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He changed into the least offensive pair of trousers and a plain grey jumper, feeling slightly like he was about to burst out of it if he so much as flexed.
He shrank his luggage and pocketed it, snagging the container of stew from the counter. When the black cat clock in the living room meowed 3:20 to him, he took a deep breath and apparated outside Draco's shop.
He'd done it. He had a date with Draco Malfoy this Friday. He'd nearly fumbled it, sure, but Pansy saved his arse at the end there. Harry was really growing to like that girl.
Still feeling a little high, he made his way across Diagon Alley to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The cluttered shop was busy today, filled with parents and children getting fitted for their Hogwarts robes. It was late July and there was only around a month of summer left, making this Malkin's busiest period of the year.
Harry sidled his way through the shop, muttering soft 'excuse me's' as he accidentally bumped into open mouthed strangers. One child was pointing at him and whisper yelling, "Mum! It's Harry Potter!" Harry tried to smile at the kid, but he thought it probably looked more like a grimace. Between the overwhelming smell of so many strangers and the whispers, he was instantly overstimulated. He'd hoped that once things had settled in the Wizarding World after the war ended, people would lose interest in him. Unfortunately, everyone wanted to watch The Boy Who Lived turn into The Man Who Lived and see what Harry Potter would do with his life. He wasn't sure how to tell them that he was also interested in seeing what the hell he was going to do with his life.
He finally caught sight of a small shock of pure white hair flittering around the dressing rooms and flagged Madam Malkin down. The small woman looked at him and frowned deeply.
"Mister Potter! What on earth are you doing here? You're going to over excite the customers!" She scurried over to his side, coming up to about his belly button, and started physically pushing him back toward the lobby.
"Wait, Madam-" He started, when her tiny hands suddenly stopped pushing. She looked up at him quizzically.
"Mister Potter, have you grown? I'm quite familiar with your measurements, and it certainly seems like you're closer to the clouds than you were before." Her warm hazel eyes seemed to be looking directly into his soul, and he nearly spilled all of his secrets right there on her clean marble floors. He audibly gulped.
"Er, well you see, I seem to have had a growth spurt? I've always been a bit of a late bloomer." He smiled at her sheepishly, hands in his pockets. "That's why I'm here, I need some clothes adjusted." The older woman's face was riddled with disbelief, but thankfully she seemed to have decided not to press him further.
"Very well, Mister Potter. Take a seat and I'll be right with you."
She started to turn away, but Harry cleared his throat before whispering, "Erm, Madam Malkin, I also have… well I have a date. Coming up. That I'd like a new outfit for." The small woman whipped back to face him, excitement glimmering in her eyes.
"Susan! Take over with the kids! I'm busy for the next hour!" She called over her shoulder to her similarly ancient co-worker. Harry wondered how someone so old could be so quick as she ushered him into an empty dressing room. "Disrobe, Mister Potter, we have work to do. Where is the date?"
"It's a Parisian restaurant in Muggle London, so I'll need muggle clothes." He explained. Madam Malkin was visibly disheartened, and he briefly felt guilty for disappointing her.
"Damn. I was going to make you the finest robes to ever grace a wizard's body, but I suppose I can make you a similarly dashing suit." She conceded. "If you marry this boy, though, I expect you to come to me to design the wedding attire!"
"How do you know it's a boy?" He asked her, one eyebrow cocked as he shucked off his clothes. She indicated for him to turn towards the large mirror in the purple dressing room, very politely making no comments about the new jagged scars on his chest and arm.
"I may be old but my eyes still work, Mister Potter. I do possess the ability to read." She quipped as she pressed the tape measurer against his legs. "The Daily Prophet caught a very flattering photo of you and that fellow."
"I could be bisexual!"
"Are you bisexual?" She challenged, having him raise his hands so she could measure his torso.
"Well… no." He admitted.
"Precisely. Who is the boy?" When Harry remained tight lipped, she poked him with the pointy end of her fabric scissors. "Come now, you know you can trust my discretion. Unless you're embarrassed?"
He winced and rubbed the spot she'd poked. "Of course, I'm not embarrassed, he's amazing. It's just, I think people will be… surprised. Assuming it goes well." When he failed to elaborate, she poked him again in the same spot.
"Out with it boy!"
"Circe's tits, fine! It's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." After the pain she'd inflicted, he took a little pleasure in watching her eyes widen with shock.
"Well, you never do take the easy way out, do you, Mister Potter?" She went quiet for a while after that, only speaking to murmur his measurements to the floating notepad and self writing quill behind her head.
"He's changed a lot, don't you think?" He asked her, uncomfortable with her silence.
She was quiet for a moment longer before nodding. "He's changed, anyone who has been in his shop knows he's different. But, Mister Potter… the public won't accept this. Not for a long time, if ever. The Wizarding World's golden boy with an ex-Death Eater? No, they won't take this well at all. Once the papers find out, they won't leave either of you alone." It's not like Harry didn't know all this, but hearing it put so bluntly made his heart sink. The last thing he wanted to do was put Draco in a position to receive undeserved negative attention.
"I can keep it quiet," he told himself as much as he told the little woman looking up at him.
"For a while, I'm sure, but they always find out, don't they Mister Potter? If this is what you want, then I want it for you, but make sure you know what you're choosing. It will be a hard path, for both of you."
Harry did know, and he knew he could handle it. He'd been dealing with the press since he was a child. But when given the same choice, would Draco choose him and everything he came with? He supposed he'd have to find out.
Draco was going to hurl. His week seemed like it had gone at a snails pace, his normally interesting work dragging on for eons, but now that Friday was here, he realized it had gone by much too quickly.
"I'm going to be sick," he said.
"You are not going to be sick, you'll never attract a man smelling like vomit." Pansy was watching him pace from his sofa. "Can you please sit down? You're making me dizzy."
"I don't know, I find the repetition kind of soothing," Blaise said from his chaise by the window.
"I should change," Draco declared to no one, willfully ignoring both of his irritating friends.
"You are most certainly not changing! It took blood, sweat, and tears to get you in the outfit you're in now!" Pansy cried.
"You really do look quite fuckable, Draco. The black against your pasty white skin is lovely," Blaise said as he took a sip of his brandy, legs crossed priggishly.
Draco looked down at himself. He was in a tight fitting cashmere black sweater with black slacks and, if one couldn't guess, black dress shoes. Pansy had done his hair, cutting the sides close while keeping the top long, and he could feel strands falling naturally against his forehead. He knew he looked good, but good enough for a date with Potter? The feeling in his stomach brought him back to when he was a kid, hand extended to a small dark haired boy with glasses, feeling rejection for the first time.
"I can't do this. It's just a damned pity date anyway!" Draco tantrumed.
"Then be pityable! Whatever gets Potter's attention. We're way past having standards, Draco. You need to get shagged more than you need air, and I'm not willing to do it," Blaise said from his corner.
Draco rolled his eyes, though Blaise missed it due to his continued pacing, making the gesture less effective. "As if I'd let you shag me after that lackluster display in fifth year."
"Hey! I was young, I would rock your world now-" Blaise's defense was cut off by Draco's fireplace coming to life behind him.
Harry Potter stepped into Draco's living room looking mind meltingly attractive. He was in a fitted two piece charcoal suit that looked like it was more expensive than all of Draco's belongings combined. His hair was in a tight bun at the back of his head with face framing pieces left out. It seemed to have been a few days since he'd shaved, the beginnings of a beard forming on Potter's face. Even the deadly expression Potter was currently wearing had Draco's trousers ready to drop.
"Zabini. It's been a while." Potter deadpanned. Draco looked between the two men, confused. Blaise, for his part, seemed unbothered by the malice in Potter's voice. He took another sip of his brandy and gave Potter a lazy smile.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Auror Potter. I hope you don't mind, Pansy and I were keeping Draco company while he waited for you." Blaise had taken on a taunting tone that Draco was intimately familiar with, and he glared at his friend.
"Ah, I expected to see Pansy, but I didn't know you and Draco were still close. He hasn't mentioned you," Potter said, rather pointedly.
"Now, boys, if you keep swinging those things around you might take out an eye. What's that behind your back, Potter?" Pansy asked curiously. Draco hadn't even noticed that Harry was hiding one of his hands, too distracted by the weird interaction he'd just witnessed.
"Oh, yeah, these are for you Malfoy." Potter unceremoniously thrust his hand at Draco, a bouquet of white lilies suddenly in his face. Draco sneezed.
Sniffling, he took the flowers, feeling a blush rising up his neck. Damn his blasted complexion.
"Thank you, they're beautiful," Draco said.
"They reminded me of you," Harry said with a bright smile. The blush rose further up Draco's face, and he broke eye contact nervously.
"I'll find a vase for those. You two get going or you'll miss your reservation," Pansy said, rising from the couch and taking his flowers. Draco had to prevent himself from batting her away from the gift, but taking the bouquet to dinner would have looked rather silly.
"Have him home by midnight, Potter," Blaise said with mock seriousness. Potter simply glared at him and pressed a hand firmly to the small of Draco's back, pushing him towards the door.
Once they were outside in the cool night air, Draco confronted him, eyes narrowed. "Is there some tension between you and Blaise that I'm not aware of?"
"That depends. Are you seeing him?" Harry asked back, face still looking a little deadly. Draco scoffed.
"Seeing Blaise? Gods no, he's just a friend. What gave you that idea?" Draco stepped away from Potter so that they were no longer touching, genuinely taken aback by the question.
"When I came in. You two were talking about sleeping together," Harry outright growled.
"First of all, Potter, if I was seeing Blaise it would be absolutely none of your business. Secondly, you walked into a joke. Blaise and I have never slept together," He explained.
"Then what happened in fifth year?" Potter challenged him, his eyes seeming unnaturally bright in the relative darkness. Draco took another step back, temper officially starting to boil.
"Potter, would you like me to list every single sexual experience I've had in my life before you decide if you'd like to carry out this obligation date or not? I'm sure if you explain to the restaurant that your would be date experimented with his friend in school and is therefore impure, they'll forgive your cancellation." Draco was moments away from storming right back into his house.
His hostility seemed to have snapped Harry out of whatever had taken over him. "Wait," he said, taking a step closer and lightly grabbing Draco's elbow, seeming to sense that he was about to bolt, "I'm sorry. I'm not being fair. It's like I could hear myself being a prick, but I couldn't stop being one. I'm still getting used to all of these wolfy feelings. Seeing Blaise there and him being so… him, it felt like there was a threat to my territory."
Draco was still peeved, but he could understand that. "I get it, you were at my place for a good amount of time. It makes sense you'd feel you have a claim on it." Harry blinked at him, then jerkily nodded.
"Sure, yeah, your place. That's what it is." Potter cleared his throat. "Anyway, are you ready to go on this, what did you call it? Obligation date with me?"
Draco flushed. "Erm, yes, I'm ready to go."
"Great, there's an apparition point up here." Harry kept hold of Draco's elbow, walking in time with him. Once they reached the streetlight apparition point, Harry pulled him into his side and side alonged them to an alleyway across from the restaurant. They walked across the cobblestone street, the ornate sign of "Petit Trois" swung above the entrance, casting a warm glow.
Potter took the lead, opening the French doors for him.
"After you," he said politely. Draco walked past him into the bustling restaurant, a symphony of clinking glasses and murmured conversations meeting his ears. The interior consisted of mostly neutral tones with splashes of red, tasteful art adorning the walls. The hostess was a pretty Asian woman with long black hair and a smart tailored blue suit, and she beamed at them as they entered.
"Mr. Potter, we've been waiting for you!" She ushered them in, and Draco looked at Harry suspiciously.
"What did you do?" He asked, looking up at his date. He wasn't used to Potter being taller than him yet. Height was the one thing he had on the other man, and losing that advantage was a hit to his ego.
"I may have come in earlier to make sure we get their best table tonight. Allegedly." Harry grinned down at him. The pretty hostess led them up a winding staircase Draco hadn't been up before, leading them to a more intimate area with only a few full tables. She set them up at a table for two overlooking the rest of the rest of the gorgeously lit restaurant.
"Your waiter will be right out with your wine," She said before turning and heading back down the stairs.
He cocked an eyebrow at Potter. "What wine? We haven't ordered. We don't even have menus yet."
"I may have already ordered for us," Harry explained through a crooked smile. The ambiance was undeniably romantic, and Potter's attention to detail had him reeling.
"You really went all out," Draco stated the obvious.
"Yes, well, I have an obligation date to impress," Harry teased him and Draco blushed anew.
"I shouldn't have said that. I was annoyed. I'm sure this is a very genuine… whatever it is." Draco looked down at the people enjoying their meals below them.
"Draco," Harry's voice was demanding, forcing him to meet the other man's eyes again. "I just want to spend time with you. Is that so hard to believe?"
"Well, a little? I mean, I know we've been seeing more of each other, but a lot of that was due to circumstance. I didn't know if you, uhm." Draco stopped, embarrassed.
"I, what?" Potter pressed him. Draco wrung his hands underneath the table.
"Liked me? Gods, I sound like a teenager," Draco scoffed at himself. Harry just laughed at him fondly, making him squirm a little.
"Malfoy, I like you. I think you're talented at what you do, deceptively kind, and a thoughtful and considerate person. I think you're a great friend, and clearly a generous friend if you willingly keep Zabini around. What's not to like?" Draco's face was flaming now. He didn't take compliments well in general, and the barrage of kind words coming out of Potter's mouth had him sinking in his chair.
Draco was saved by the waiter arriving with their wine. The older man presented the bottle of wine to Harry, and Harry swished, sniffed, and tasted before nodding his assent. Draco brought the wine to his lips, taking a small sip before lighting up. It was full-bodied but not too fruity, easily one of the finer wines he'd ever tried.
"This is incredible, Potter. How much was this?" He asked, looking up from his glass to see Potter watching him with rapt attention. Harry swallowed before responding.
"Telling you would defeat the purpose of me trying to seem effortless and suave."
Draco pouted but gave in, letting Potter keep his secrets. "Fine, I'll not look a gift horse in the mouth," he took another sip, groaning a little as the flavor hit his tongue. Potter's gaze was fixated on his mouth. If he kept doing that, Draco was going to be beat red all night. "Erm, so what have you been doing with yourself since you went back home?" He asked, trying to distract him. Harry met his gaze again, pupils a little blown out.
"I didn't go home, actually," Harry said.
"What do you mean?" He asked, curiosity peaked.
"I just can't stand that house, if I'm being honest. I never liked it, but Sirius left it to me, and I wanted to like it, you know? I spent years trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, but ever since my… condition, it's felt even more lonely and terrible." Potter's expression was morose and Draco hated it. He pivoted the conversation.
"Where have you been staying instead?"
They were briefly interrupted when the waiter dropped off a baguette with olive oil and balsamic vinegar to their table. Draco tore at it ravenously. "Merlin, name a better invention than bread." Harry chuckled.
"I'm staying with Andromeda and Teddy until I find my own place," he replied, watching Draco continue to attack the bread.
"Oh, are you close with them then? All I know of Andromeda is the little Mother has told me. I've never met her." He said through a mouthful, hand covering his face until he managed to swallow.
"I'm very close to them. I helped as much as I could when Teddy was a baby. Did you know he's my godson?" When Draco shook his head, Harry continued. "I wanted to be for him what Sirius was for me, or what he wanted to be for me if we'd had more time."
"Teddy is lucky to have you," Draco said confidently. Harry gave him a small smile.
"I've done my best, but managing visits to him was difficult with work. It was hard enough to see Ron and Hermione, and they both work at the Ministry with me. I want to do better, be more present."
"How is that going, by the way? Has Hermione made headway with Kingsley?" Draco asked.
"She's building my case but…" Harry trailed off. Draco quirked an eyebrow at him, taking another bite of bread. "I don't know if I want my job back. At first, the lack of things to do drove me insane, but these past few days flying with Teddy and learning to cook from Andromeda, have been the best I've felt in I don't know how long. I know I can't spend the rest of my life idling like this, and people expect me to go back to work, but I'm enjoying it while I can."
"Why not?" Draco challenged him. Harry looked taken aback by the question, and they paused briefly again when the wait set two plates of tuna tartar in front of them.
"What do you mean, why not?"
"Potter, haven't you done enough? You gave up your childhood fighting for us," Draco said, gesturing to everyone around them, "You've spent the past decade continuing to sacrifice your time and your safety to help others, which ended in your body being permanently altered. Who says you can't spend the rest of your days flying and cooking? The stew was great, by the way."
Harry looked like if he had the ability to blush, he would be. He took a bite of his tartar instead, chewing while he thought about what Draco said.
"I don't want to sacrifice more of myself," he said finally. "I want to start doing things for me, not for other people."
"Very good, Potter," Draco mused. "The first step is admitting these things out loud." He reached across the table and squeezed Harry's hand. "I wondered when you'd kick your self sacrificing addiction."
Harry squeezed back. "Maybe I need someone to help keep me accountable?" He asked a little hopefully.
"I'd like nothing more than to pressure you into being selfish, Potter."
"I think I'd like that too, Malfoy."
The conversation continued to flow as the courses came out, and Draco wolfed down a gorgeous fennel and apple salad, a medium rare steak frites, and ended dinner by sharing a deliciously creamy chocolate mousse. Draco used the term sharing generously, considering Potter had taken a single bite before encouraging Draco to finish it.
Harry was squaring away the bill, and lifted the check high above his head when Draco tried to peek, laughing. Draco was already mourning the end of their evening, and he gathered his courage to ask Potter home for a nightcap.
"Would you perhaps like to-"
"Draco? Is that you?" Draco's head snapped toward the voice, his heart sinking when he saw who it was attached to.
"Oh! Kyran, it's been… a while. What are you doing here?," Draco stuttered. Kyran was a tall, handsome Indian man, and Draco had ghosted him after they'd given each other handjobs in a bar bathroom six months ago. Harry watched the interaction, seemingly bewildered by the interruption. Draco tried to give him what he thought was a reassuring smile, but Harry's frown deepened.
"I'm meeting a client, he should be here any minute. Look, since you're here I'm just going to shoot my shot. I enjoyed our time together, and I'd like to see you again. I can forgive being ghosted by someone as pretty as you. Call me, okay?" Kyran threw him a wink, completely ignoring the fact that Draco was obviously with someone. That same arrogance was part of the reason Draco had stopped reaching out to him.
"Ah, sure," he muttered, and Kyran turned back to the hostess awkwardly waiting on him, satisfied with Draco's response. He let out a breath, glad the torturous conversation was over. His relief was short-lived. He'd thought Potter looked murderous earlier with Blaise, but it hadn't compared to the look Harry was giving him now.
"Let's go," Harry said, tossing his napkin on the table. Draco scurried out of his chair, trying to keep up as Harry stomped out.
"Potter, if you would just give me a damned second," he said as they stepped out of the restaurant.
"I should get you home," he said, not meeting Draco's eyes. He followed Harry back into the dark alleyway they'd apparated into earlier, and he felt how stiff the other man was when he was pulled into Harry to be side-alonged. One loud crack later, and they were at the street light down the street from his flat.
Potter was silent as he started down the street toward his place, and Draco was starting to feel properly panicked. This evening was hard to misinterpret. If this was an obligation date, then Harry must feel really indebted to him, because he'd gone through every effort to make sure Draco'd had a lovely evening.
They made it to his door miserably quickly. "Potter, please", Draco begged.
"You should get upstairs. You have a call to make," Potter said, expression thunderous. Before he could say another word, Potter apparated, leaving him on the street alone.
He felt numb as he unlocked the door to his store, making his way up to his flat. He hoped Pansy and Blaise weren't still there, so of course they were.
Pansy frowned at him. "You're back early. How'd it go?" Draco's bottom lip trembled, and he was sure if he tried to speak, his voice would wobble, so he didn't.
"Alright Pansy, we have some bucking up to do. Grab the scotch," Blaise ordered, pulling Draco into a tight hug. "It's alright, brother. Who needs him?" Draco's shoulders started to shake as Blaise rubbed tight circles on his back.
He did, he wanted to say. He needed Harry, and he might have just lost him before he even had him.