I Won't Let You Fall Apart [Harry/Draco - PG] - Part 1
Title: I Won’t Let You Fall Apart
Author: rubytuesday5681
Prompt: #130 Submitted by: eruditefics
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry experiences some delayed post traumatic stress and Draco helps him process it.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. It all belongs to JKR.
Warning(s): EWE
Word Count: about 16,000
Beta(s): alovelycupoftea, emansil_08
Author's Notes: The title comes from the song “The Fragile” by Nine Inch Nails, which can be heard here at YouTube:The Fragile. Special thanks to alaana_fair for handholding.
I Won't Let You Fall Apart
After ringing the bell about fifteen times, Draco finally began pounding on the door and shouting.
“Potter! Get your lazy arse out of bed!”
Nothing. Silence.
“Potter!” Draco shoved at the door, willing it to open. “It’s half past noon, you lazy fucker!” he yelled.
He waited.
And waited.
Alohamora had done nothing and Potter’s anti-Apparition wards were as strong as ever. Draco thought about what to do. His first thought was to go to the Leaky and try to Floo in, however, he had no idea if Potter had closed off his fireplace connection before going to bed or not.
He could just leave, but the truth was that he really did want to see Potter. He had said he would come by today at noon and they could have lunch. As silly as it was, he was looking forward to their lunch and he didn’t want to give up on it yet.
He sighed. He’d have to do it the Muggle way, then.
Draco walked around to the side of the house and through the miniscule alleyway between the buildings, finally reaching the very last window on this side of the house, which he knew to be Potter’s kitchen window. It was just as he remembered from his last visit. The sash window was open just a bit, enough for him to slip his fingers under and push it open all the way. Draco supposed that Potter must leave this window slightly open all the time.
Draco was relieved that he wouldn’t have to break a window to get in.
As it was, the window was too high for Draco to simply hoist himself up into. He looked around for something to stand on and saw some rubbish bins at the end of the alleyway.
He pulled the tallest one with a lid over and put it under the window. There. Now he could climb up.
As Draco gingerly heaved himself up onto the bin, trying his best not to get his new designer business robes and cloak completely filthy, he began to wonder what had happened to his sanity. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Potter that he found so compelling.
He managed to stand up on the rubbish bin and from this height, he was able to simply push the window up and climb in, onto the counter on the other side.
As he started to reach through the window, though, his foot slipped, knocking the rubbish bin sideways and he was left literally hanging halfway out of Potter’s window.
Despite having the wind knocked out of him, he was able to gain purchase on the bottom side of the counter with his hands and pull himself in. But as his knee came in through the window, it hit the tap, turning the water on full-blast. Draco’s knees slipped on the wet porcelain in the sink and the next thing he knew, he had tumbled over and was sitting on Potter’s kitchen floor, completely soaked with cold water.
“Fuck!” he shouted.
This was not how today was supposed to go. Today was supposed to go something like this: He would show up at Potter’s door where Potter would be ready and waiting and delighted to see him. He would take Potter to a lovely lunch at one of his favorite Sushi restaurants, where Potter would ooh and aah over the food. They would have fascinating conversation and Potter would mention how handsome he looked in his new robes and they would part, promising to have another date later in the week. He would go back to work feeling like an Adonis and be extra productive all afternoon.
Draco shook himself out of his reverie and slowly got up off the floor. He turned off the tap and gave himself a good scourgify all over to get the rubbish grime off and dry himself. He couldn’t believe that Potter could still be sleeping after all the racket he had just made coming in.
He wondered for a moment if maybe Potter wasn’t actually at home. This seemed unlikely, however, because rumour had it that Potter didn’t have much of a social life these days and rarely ventured out alone.
Draco looked around. The kitchen looked pretty much that same as it had when he’d been here with Potter last Thursday night. It had been a bewildering evening.
Draco had run into Harry at the Leakey Cauldron. They hadn’t seen one another in years and at first, Draco had thought that Potter was joking when he asked him if he’d like to come back to his place for a while. It had been awkward as hell when they’d arrived. Harry had looked mortified for a full five minutes, obviously not having a clue as to what to say. Draco had been about to leave when Potter finally seemed to get himself together enough to offer Draco a drink. Draco accepted and stayed.
They didn’t talk much at all, but ended up playing Muggle card games all evening. Potter taught Draco how to play Pinochle, Go Fish, War, and Bullshit. Bullshit was Draco’s favorite. By the end of the evening, they were both drunk. Draco was pretty sure that if he’d really wanted to, he could have seduced Potter right then and there and had his way with him, if he could manage to get himself excited in his inebriated state. But when Potter had looked at him at the end of that last card game, staring across the kitchen table, the blankness in his eyes was almost terrifying. It seemed as though, the second there was nothing to distract him or make him interested, Potter became just… vacant. Draco realized that seducing Potter in that state would be taking advantage of him and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
When he left, he set up a date to have lunch with Potter today, Monday. He had wondered yesterday whether he should send an owl to confirm but decided against it. He didn’t want to seem too pushy. Now he thought maybe that had been a bad idea. Although perhaps Potter had just forgotten?
Draco made his way upstairs to look for the bedroom. On the first landing, one of the doors was ajar. Through the crack, he could see a bed with a foot hanging off the end. Assuming the foot was Potter’s, Draco walked quietly toward the room.
The door squeaked terribly when Draco opened it. Potter shifted a bit in his sleep, but did not wake. Draco studied his sleeping form for a moment. The man was certainly still fit enough. His empty demeanor notwithstanding, Potter was in very good physical shape. The years had been good to him in that way, at least.
Potter’s hair was still inexplicably messy. Draco supposed some things would never change. One change he highly approved of, though, was the loss of those silly spectacles. Potter had apparently finally seen fit to have his vision repaired, rendering the frames unnecessary.
That had been the first thing that Draco had noticed when he’d run into Potter at the Leaky Cauldron the other night. Draco had just returned to London after working abroad for several years. He had sat down next to Potter at the bar before he realized who it was. He noticed Potter’s lack of glasses, but he also noticed the man’s strange lack of any expression at all. Potter had been polite enough when Draco said, “hello” but that was about it. No angry resentment. No taunts. Just… nothing.
From the moment Draco realized that Potter no longer held any bad feelings for him whatsoever, he had been hooked. Potter was like a puzzle to him now. What could take a man who used to be so full of passion and vitality and render him so apparently devoid of any feeling whatsoever? Draco had to figure it out. And for some reason, he felt compelled to somehow make it right again.
Potter, who had previously been lying on his stomach, rolled over. His eyes remained stubbornly closed and Draco wasn’t sure exactly what to do next.
He decided a direct approach was in order.
“POTTER!” he yelled.
Potter sat up abruptly, looking around in a panic. “What the hell?” he said angrily when he saw Draco standing over him.
Draco was pleased with this response, it felt right to him. “We had a date,” he said coolly.
“How did you get in here?”
“The window.”
Potter suddenly looked amused and Draco had no idea why.
“Did you come in through the bathroom window?” Potter, asked, suddenly laughing.
“No, the kitchen. What are you on about?” He had no idea what was so funny.
Draco decided he must be the crazy one in the room. He’d wasted almost all of his lunch hour and got himself filthy in an attempt to get some kind of rise out of this man, and all Potter did was sit there and laugh maniacally.
“Fine. Whatever, I’m leaving,” Draco said frustrated and turned toward the door.
“Wait no!” Potter said, his voice suddenly sober. He jumped up and grabbed at Draco’s wrist. “I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”
Draco turned back to look at Potter, unsure.
“Did you really climb through the kitchen window to get in here?” Potter asked quietly. “It’s pretty high.”
“Yes, I did.” Draco realized now that it seemed like a pretty silly thing to do. A normal person would have just assumed that they had been stood up and gone to have delicious sushi by themselves.
“Why? Why would you do that, Malfoy?” Potter asked.
“Well, I… I wanted to see you.” Draco couldn’t think of any better explanation and he hated how sappy that sounded.
“Wow.” Potter narrowed his eyes as he looked at Draco. “Huh.” Potter looked like he had something more on his mind, but he didn’t say anything else.
Potter sat back down on the bed and it only took a moment of silence before he got that look again. His eyes became very still and it looked as if he was staring at something. Draco had come to learn that Potter could hold this expression for a bewildering amount of time, usually until something or someone got his attention and brought him back to the present.
“We were supposed to have lunch,” Draco offered.
Potter looked at him, but it was a moment before his eyes shook off the glazed expression. He cocked his head to the side and looked a bit pained as he finally responded. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry about that, I… I was up quite late last night and… I suppose I thought I would wake up before you got here and… honestly wasn’t convinced that you were actually going to show up.” Potter scratched his head. “I guess I figured it better to just let myself sleep through it than to be sitting here waiting for you and feeling a fool when you didn’t come.”
“But why wouldn’t I come?” Draco was confused. “I said I wanted to see you again.”
“I know that.” Potter examined a scab on his elbow as he spoke. “I just thought… maybe you were just being polite or… I don’t know, I thought you might change your mind.” Potter was muttering now and looking down at the bed.
Draco was a bit miffed that anyone would suppose he’d go back on his word. He was about to say so when he looked at Potter again. The man was looking down at his hands where he had just let them drop onto the bed and Draco realized that they were trembling, just the tiniest bit. Draco felt himself soften. “I thought we had a nice time the other night, Potter. Didn’t we?” He asked quietly.
“I suppose so.” Potter answered but still didn’t look up.
Potter only supposed it was a nice time? Draco wondered for the hundredth time that day what on earth he was doing here. He was beginning to think this fascination he had with Potter simply wasn’t worth it.
“You suppose it was nice?” No response from Potter. “Well, maybe I will just go.”
“No, stay!” Potter jumped up again. “I want to have lunch with you. Let me just jump in the shower.”
With that, Potter was dashing toward the bathroom and shouting, “five minutes!” over his shoulder. He slammed the door shut and Draco could hear the tap come on immediately.
Draco looked at his watch and realized that he was going to be hopelessly late getting back to the office from lunch. He supposed this was an issue that Potter simply wouldn’t think about. As far as Draco knew, Potter hadn’t worked at all since he dropped out of Auror training three years after the war had ended. It had been quite a scandal when Potter decided to leave the programme. Rita Skeeter had a field day with all of her hypotheses about his reason for leaving.
Draco had been working and living in Paris at that time on an extended foreign assignment with the Wizarding department of Christie’s Auction House. From what Draco understood of the second hand rumours that he had heard, it went something like this: Potter had broken up with Ginny Weasley, whom he had continued to date after the war. The two had a screaming row outside of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and had attracted quite a crowd of onlookers. The next day he went into the Auror Academy and submitted his resignation. He was only a month away from finishing the training program. The next thing Draco had heard was that Potter had moved away and lived on his own somewhere in Bavaria for about year. After his year in exile, he returned to London and declared to everyone that he was gay. Then he razed Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and had a new house built on the same lot where the ancient one had stood.
The new house had been completed about six months ago and from what Draco had heard, Potter had not done a single thing with himself since then.
*-*-*
Sushi Palace was Draco’s favourite place for lunch because they had a huge buffet. What hadn’t occurred to him though, was that this was not a good place for incidental conversation. There was no real down time that required talking. As soon as they found a table, they were able to get up and get food and as soon as their plates were empty, they could get up again. While they were seated, there was no need to talk because both of their mouths were busy eating.
Potter had been true to his word and had taken only five minutes to shower and brush his teeth. He hadn’t shaved, however, and Draco found that he liked the scruffy look on Potter. They were able to Floo straight into the restaurant in Diagon Alley, so there was really no chance to talk on the way over either. As Draco thought about it while he was eating, he realized that the only time he had spoken since Potter got out of the shower was to ask him if Sushi Palace was okay for lunch. He wasn’t sure if Potter had actually spoken a single word since getting out of the shower other than saying “Sushi Palace” into the Floo.
They were both finishing up their third plates and Draco was beginning to feel panicked. Soon the bill would float over and they would pay and it would be time to leave. All of the fuss of getting Potter here and Draco had not been able to make even the slightest spark of excitement appear on his face. He hadn’t even been able to think of anything to say to the other man. He felt like a failure.
Draco looked across at Potter, chewing his last California Roll. Potter didn’t look at Draco, he had hardly looked around the room at all. He had mostly kept his eyes glued to the table. As per usual, Potter’s infuriating quiet was setting Draco totally off-kilter and he couldn’t stand being made to feel that way.
“Perhaps this wasn’t the best choice for lunch.” Draco finally broke the awkward silence.
Potter looked up. “No, this is good. I like Sushi.” His expression was reassuring.
“Oh, I see that, I just meant…” Draco paused, trying to figure out what he meant. “I just mean it’s very busy in here at lunch time and noisy. It’s just hard to talk, that’s all.” There, that made sense, right?
“Right.” Potter was wiping his mouth now. He started to fidget with his other hand and looked uncomfortable, like he thought he had done something wrong. He set his napkin down on the table slowly. “Well, what was it you wanted to talk about?” He asked.
At that moment, their bill, which had been floating over while Potter was talking, gently landed in the centre of the table. Draco quickly grabbed it before Potter could.
“Actually, well, there wasn’t anything in particular. I just… Um.” Draco quickly pulled out enough Galleons to cover the meal and set them on the table with the bill. “I don’t know, just, sometimes it’s nice to talk about… anything really.” This was not going well.
“Right.” Potter said, looking down again. “Sorry about that. Did you want me to get part of the bill?” He looked up, his face as earnest and anxious as Draco had ever seen it.
“No, I’ve got it,” Draco said. He studied Potter again for a moment. He hated that he had unwittingly managed to make Potter feel anxious. He desperately wanted that pained expression off Potter’s face. “And it’s okay, you know? I mean, it’s okay to not talk. Not talking is nice too.” He tried to smile reassuringly.
Potter smiled too. Wow. Draco was blind. Potter had smirked a bit the few times that Draco had been around him in the past week, but this smile was… Wow. It only lasted a moment, but that was enough. Draco decided in that moment that if it was the last thing he did, he would make that smile a regular occurrence for Potter again.
“I really do like Sushi a lot.” Potter said, “Thank you for lunch. I suppose I’ve made you very late getting back to work.”
“It’s not a problem today. We don’t have anything big going on at work until later this week.” Draco reassured him.
“Oh, well, that’s good to know. You probably have to go though.”
“Yes, actually, I should.” Draco rose and Potter followed. They slowly walked through the maze of tables out into the small lobby where the floo was. Draco stopped awkwardly in the middle of the room. “I am actually going to walk over to Christies, since it’s such a nice day. Would you like to walk over with me?”
“Okay.” Potter looked amenable, but didn’t smile again.
It was a short walk, only a few streets away. Draco enjoyed the fresh air, even though it was cool. He chanced a look over at Potter a couple of times as they walked. The other man looked straight ahead the entire time, again showing no emotion. Far too soon, they were at the door to the auction house.
“Well, this is it.” Draco said, “Thank you for having lunch with me.”
Potter shrugged.
Draco fidgeted with his hands a moment before blurting out, “Can I come over tonight?” at the same moment that Potter said, “Will you come over tonight?”
Draco laughed. Potter looked embarrassed and backed up a few steps. Draco leaned forward a bit to cover some of the distance. “I’ll see you later then, around seven.”
Potter nodded at this and Draco finally turned to walk into the building. As he got to the door, he turned around to look back at Potter, but the other man already had his back turned and was walking back down the street.
As Draco watched Potter walk away, he realized that no one seemed to notice Potter at all. No one spoke to him or even showed any signs of recognition. Somehow, the Wizarding World had moved on to the point where its Saviour could walk down the street in the middle of the day and blend in completely.
*-*-*
Draco brought take away with him to Potter’s house that night. Falafel, because he saw some take away boxes from a Middle Eastern restaurant in one of the bins outside Potter’s place earlier. This time, when he knocked, Potter answered immediately, as if he had been waiting right inside the door.
“I brought dinner,” Draco offered.
“Okay,” Potter said and he began walking back through the house toward the kitchen.
Potter sat down at the table and Draco emptied the food containers out of the bag. He found that the restaurant had provided them with utensils for their couscous and tabbouleh, as well as napkins, so that he wouldn’t have to go rummaging around Potter’s kitchen to find the necessary items.
Draco set everything out and as he sat down, he realized that he hadn’t brought anything to drink. He looked at Potter to see that he was just sitting and staring ahead again, no longer present, lifeless. Draco hesitated, then got up to find some glasses. He seemed to remember them being in one of the cupboards by the sink, and was correct, but he couldn’t remember which cupboard had produced the Firewhisky the other night. Potter had spared no expense in his new kitchen and Draco was not up for opening each of the numerous cupboards in turn.
“Accio Firewhisky,” Draco said, and he could immediately hear some movement in the dining room, through which they had walked to get to the kitchen. When he went to look, he could see the bottle struggling to get out of a locked liquor cabinet. An alohamora did the trick and the bottle flew right into his hand.
Draco walked back to the kitchen. When he got to the doorway, Potter looked up at him. It was a moment before a look of understanding to set in. “Oh good,” Potter said, “You found the Firewhisky.”
Draco sat down again and filled both of their glasses before beginning to eat. Potter’s movements seemed stiff as he set his napkin on his lap and picked up his fork. He looked down at his plate and then up at Draco with a questioning expression, “How did you know I like Middle Eastern food?” he asked, as if he was just now noticing what cuisine Draco had brought for them to eat.
“Oh. I. Well, I had to stand on a rubbish bin to get into the window this morning and I happened to notice some old take away containers in your bins.” Draco shrugged.
“That was very observant of you,” Harry remarked and he finally began to eat.
*-*-*
Dinner was uneventful, much as lunch had been. After they were through eating, Draco poured them each another glass of Firewhisky and asked Potter where the deck of cards was that they had played with the other night. For some reason, playing cards had really seemed to help Potter relax. Of course, it could have also been the Firewhisky, but Draco was willing to try just about anything. He was determined to get Potter to talk about something, anything.
They decided to play War first.
Not much talking was required to play War.
As they played, Draco looked around the kitchen. It was clean, well stocked with everything one would need to prepare a meal. Draco had peered into the fridge on his last visit and found all of the staples of a healthy diet present; bread, cheese, milk, eggs, and everything else. Obviously, Potter either shopped regularly or had the items delivered.
He looked at Potter. He seemed healthy enough, certainly looked like he was getting enough to eat and some kind of exercise. He was clean and had found time to shave since lunch.
Whatever it was that had changed in Potter, it was all internal. Aside from a distinct lack of loquaciousness and blank facial expressions, there was really no visible proof that anything was even wrong. Perhaps that would explain why all of Potters little friends weren’t here fawning all over him and trying to get him back to normal. It wasn’t as if Potter had an affliction that was putting him in mortal peril.
Draco was running out of cards, he needed a higher card than Potter or he was going to lose.
In a split second decision, Draco threw his cards down on the table and said, “It’s quite a nice evening outside, Potter. I feel a bit like going out for some fresh air.” He rose and walked out onto the patio behind the kitchen.
It was a crisp early-spring evening, the stars had a frosty look about them. Draco leaned against the house and realized that he had not actually made an invitation for Potter to come outside with him. He shivered, and then heard the screen door slam as Potter came out holding Draco’s cloak and offering it to him.
“Thank you,” Draco said, taking the cloak.
As per usual, Potter’s only response was a shrug.
Draco sighed and decided to bite the bullet.
“So tell me about Bavaria,” he said, and gave Potter his most piercing gaze.
Potter appeared startled by this and seemed to measure Draco with his eyes for a moment before responding.
“So tell me about Paris,” he said, smirking.
“You tell me something about Bavaria and I will tell you something about Paris,” Draco said, holding his ground. “I asked first.
Potter sighed, the smirk replaced by a defeated expression. He threw his arms up in an exasperated gesture and began pulling on his hair. “I don’t know Malfoy, you’ve got to be more specific than that. What do you want to know?”
Draco felt as though Potter was somehow pleading with him to make this easy for him or just let it go. He thought that “favourite thing” was probably a little too vague and he really did want to make Potter talk, even a little bit. He decided that since he had no idea how long this little game would last, he should ask what he most wanted to know first.
“How many blokes did you shag there?”
Potter made a choking noise in the back of his throat and his eyebrows shot up. When he had composed himself he answered. “A few. How many blokes did you shag in Paris, then?” His tone was congenial.
Draco laughed softly for a moment and then quieted. “A few,” he admitted. He appreciated feeling like he and Potter were on even ground.
Potter looked thoughtful, something Draco had noticed he didn’t do often.
“If we are going to continue this line of conversation, I’ll be needing my Firewhisky,” he said.
“Me too,” Draco agreed, relieved that Potter seemed to want to keep talking.
They went back into the kitchen to refill their drinks and then pulled a couple of chairs from the kitchen out on to the patio so that they could sit while they drank.
As Draco sat, he realized that though it had been almost a week since he’d found Potter again, he just now finally felt like the ice had broken. He was certain, though, that if he had asked such a question on their first meeting at the pub, Potter would not be sitting down to drink with him right now.
“I suppose it’s my turn to ask now, something about Bavaria,” Draco began.
“So, we’re really doing this, then?” Potter asked. “I’d hoped that we’d moved on.”
“We’re really doing this. But I promise to be specific,” Draco assured him.
Potter nodded his head and Draco began to think about what else he would like to know. He didn’t want to ask anything too personal now, this gentle camaraderie was too good and he wanted to hold onto it if he could.
“Where did you live? What town?”
“Wurzburg.”
“Tell me about it.”
Potter looked at him for a moment like he wanted to protest, but didn’t. “It’s a nice city,” He finally said. “There’s a very large palace there, it’s called ‘The Residenz,’ Nobles used to live there.” Potter looked up into the sky as he spoke. “Also there’s a large fortress up on a hill that overlooks the city, the Marienburg fortress, the view from up there is pretty amazing.”
Potter had leaned his head back against the back of the chair, he turned now to look at Draco.
“Is that all?” Draco asked.
“Of course not,” Potter answered flippantly.
“Tell me one more thing.” Draco said. “Please,” he added, when he saw that Potter was starting to look annoyed.
“Fine, one more thing, but then it’s my turn to ask you,” He said firmly.
“Fair enough,” Draco replied.
Potter closed his eyes for a moment. “The locks. I enjoyed watching the locks on the river. You can see the cargo ships come through and watch the locks working from the bridge. I liked that.”
Potter opened his eyes and turned to consider Draco. “Now, it’s my turn.” Potter narrowed his eyes disconcertingly before he spoke. “Why did you come back to England?” he finally asked pointedly.
Expecting to be asked about Paris, this question startled Draco. Suddenly it occurred to him that Potter was probably trying to figure him out just much as he was trying to figure out Potter.
“I was transferred,” Draco answered simply.
“Did you put in for the transfer?” Potter asked directly.
“Yes.” Draco saw no reason to lie.
“Why?”
“I finished doing what I needed to do in Paris. It was time to come home.” That was the best answer that Draco could come up without going into the fact that Paris was a lot of fun for a little while, but a bit much for him in the long run. And more to the point, he simply missed England.
Potter seemed satisfied with his abbreviated response and looked up at the sky.
Draco was fearful that if he let Potter be quiet and still for too long, he would lose him completely again. He needed to keep him engaged.
“You should get some chairs to keep out here all the time,” he blurted. “I mean, it’s a nice space. You’ve set up a nice little garden for yourself back here.” Draco was feeling awkward again. How did that happen? They had seemed to have a moment of connection and now it was… gone.
Potter scratched his head and studied his back garden.
“Yeah, I guess it did turn out nice. When I was doing the plans for the house, I had thought that I might have some potted plants out here on the patio because it gets so much sun.” Potter had a curious look on his face. “I guess I had forgotten about that,” he said softly.
“Forgotten?” Draco said quizzically. “You don’t still want that?”
“Not particularly.”
“Why not?”
Potter shrugged and closed his eyes again, leaning his head back on the chair, thus signaling that this line of conversation was done.
Draco watched Potter sitting there as still as a stone. Only his breathing gave away that he was even alive. Draco looked at his pale eye lids and short, thick lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones from the outside light. He looked at his dry lips, open just slightly and his freshly shaven jaw.
Without thinking about it, Draco had put down his glass and was leaning toward Potter now. He wanted to touch that jaw… those cheeks. He had lifted his hand, but it stilled in the air. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to ruin everything. He pulled his hand back just for a moment when Potter opened his eyes and saw him leaning toward him.
Potter lifted his head and sat forward. He saw Draco’s hand in the air and grabbed it. He held it for a moment and looked at it like he didn’t know what to do with it. Then he gently took Draco’s hand and put it on his cheek. He held it there just for a second before turning his head to plant several tiny kisses into Draco’s palm. He lifted his eyes then and looked right into Draco’s. Potter’s eyes were smoldering and Draco’s heart skipped a beat. Time stopped as Potter held perfectly still. Finally, after a second, or an hour, Draco leaned forward and touched Potter’s lips with his own.
The kiss was about as gentle as a kiss could be to begin with, but soon, Potter’s tongue was demanding entry and Draco allowed it. Potter tasted of Firewhisky and couscous.
Suddenly Draco remembered his hands. He continued to stroke Potter’s cheek gently with his right hand and tentatively placed his other on Potter’s chest. He could feel the other man’s heart beating through his shirt.
Then Potter’s hand was at the back of Draco’s head, pulling him closer. He felt Potter reaching around inside his cloak to place his other hand at the small of Draco’s back where he gently rubbed it in circles.
Draco was drowning. He needed to breathe. He broke the kiss just long enough to gasp and get more air. Potter’s lips followed his impatiently, not allowing him any time to think or consider what they were doing.
Draco found that he didn’t want to think or consider.
Not yet.
*-*-*
Draco woke to moonlight streaming in through the window and into his eyes. He knew immediately that he was not in his own bed, his house elf always closed his drapes when he went to bed so that would never happen. He rolled over and remembered exactly where he was because there was Potter.
Moonlight laid a steak of light across Potter’s torso. He was on his back with one hand up by the pillow and the other on the bed next to him. He looked like something from a dream. Ethereal.
For a moment, Draco wondered if this wasn’t just a dream. Only for a moment, though, because then he remembered it all. He remembered the kiss and Potter dragging him upstairs by the wrist. Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever become naked so quickly without a spell before. And then… Draco suddenly felt the most overwhelming sense of remorse. He had taken advantage of Potter.
Potter had been vulnerable, and most likely drunk. And Draco had taken advantage of him.
Draco looked at Potter now. His skin was so pale, it practically glowed in the moonlight, the wiry brown hairs on his chest cast tiny shadows. Draco longed to touch him again, and to never stop.
But he had to go. He didn’t feel okay at all about what he had done. He needed to go home, to be in his own bed. He had work in the morning and no clothes here and for all of those reasons, touching Potter again was out of the question.
Quietly, he got up and began searching around the room for his clothes. He dressed quickly and then sat down on the edge of the bed next to Potter. A tiny part of him wanted to run away, but in his heart, he knew that leaving Potter to wake up alone would be the worst thing he could possibly do.
“Potter,” he whispered.
Potter turned his head, but didn’t open his eyes.
“Potter, wake up,” he said a bit louder this time and gently shoved the other man’s shoulder.
Slowly, Potter opened his eyes and looked at Draco. When recognition set it, he smiled. It was sleepy, but it was that real, blinding smile.
And Draco was like a moth to a flame. He leaned down and kissed Potter. Potter reached up and put his hand on the back of Draco’s head and Draco remembered that he was leaving. He gently removed Potter’s hand and pulled away from the kiss.
Potter looked annoyed.
“I have to go home,” Draco whispered.
Potter’s eyebrows knit together and his forehead wrinkled.
Draco gently smoothed over Potter’s forehead with his fingers and ran them through his hair.
“I have to go to work in the morning and I have no clothes here. I’ll sleep better in my own bed and I need my own shower,” he explained.
Potter’s eyebrows went back to normal and he said, “okay” and yawned.
“Okay,” Draco repeated.
“Will you bring dinner again tomorrow?” Potter asked with a hopeful tone.
“Yes,” Draco answered, surprised. “Yes, I will come at seven.”
Potter smiled that damn smile again.
Draco leaned in and gave him one last kiss before he got up to leave.
He paused at the bedroom door. Potter had rolled over and was facing away from him now.
“See you later,” Draco said.
Potter didn’t respond. Draco could hear his breathing even out and see his ribs rising and falling at even intervals. He had already gone back to sleep.
*-*-*
Draco was standing on the steps of Christie’s and pondering. He was contemplating what to bring for dinner at Potter’s tonight. He had been considering this since about… oh… seven o’clock this morning when he’d woken up. By the time he’d finished his morning tea he had settled on Italian because, honestly, who doesn’t like pasta? But by lunch time, he had changed his mind. Chinese would obviously be a better choice. But then in mid-afternoon, one of his associates asked him if he had tried any of the food at the new pub in town, said it was fantastic. So Draco thought maybe that would be a nice choice for dinner.
When he left Christie’s, he had initially headed to the right, to go over to the new pub, but then stopped because he really was in the mood for Italian, so he turned and went the other way. Now he had stopped on the steps on the other side because he realized that maybe Chinese really was a better option.
But now he was paralyzed because he didn’t know if Potter liked Chinese. He had gotten two meals right already with the Sushi and the Middle Eastern and he didn’t want to ruin his track record.
He wasn’t exactly sure why this was so important to him. Perhaps because he still felt guilty over what he’d done last night. Also, though, he really wanted to get dinner right because he had this strange feeling that he wanted to take care of Potter. That was absurd though, because Potter was a grown man who could certainly take care of himself. Draco had come to that conclusion already.
So where were these feelings coming from?
*-*-*
In the end, Draco just decided to go over to Potter’s first and ask him what he wanted to eat for dinner.
Potter didn’t answer right away when he knocked this time, but that was probably because he was a little bit early. A moment after he’d knocked, he could hear Potter coming down the stairs. As he opened the door, he was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Draco smiled as he noticed a bit of toothpaste left at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t help himself as he reached up and wiped it off with his little finger.
“Oh,” Potter said, looking a bit embarrassed as he backed into the room to let Draco come in.
“Why don’t you just use a spell to clean your teeth?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.
Potter dipped his head and shrugged.
Draco reached out and grabbed Potter’s chin gently, forcing him to look up. “Hey,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss. It was unsure at first, but soon Draco’s tongue tasted Potter’s and it was bliss. As good as the night before had been, even without the alcohol, perhaps better without it.
When Draco finally came up for air he said, “Mmm, minty fresh.” He gave Potter what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
The skin around Potter’s eyes tightened the tiniest bit and something in the green orbs twinkled. Not quite a smile, but it was enough for Draco, for now.
“You didn’t bring food?” Potter remarked.
“No I… I wasn’t sure what you would want. I was thinking we could just fire-call order something from here or even go out,” Draco explained.
“Oh, well I’m not real picky,” Potter said. “I wouldn’t mind going out, though. Where would you like to go?” he asked.
“Well, there’s this new pub, I think it’s called the “Krispy Krup”. I’ve heard they have pretty good food.”
“Pub sounds good,” Potter interjected. “Let’s go there.”
He grabbed his cloak from a hook by the front door and headed out. Draco followed behind him.
The pub was only a few streets away from the Leaky Cauldron. It was a nice evening, so they decided to Apparate to the Leaky and then walk to the pub once they got inside Diagon Alley.
Draco studied Potter as they walked side by side. Potter had his hands shoved in his jeans pockets and his shoulders seemed tense and tight. Draco took a chance and put his hand up on the top of Potter’s back, just between his shoulder blades. When Potter didn’t shrug his hand off, he began to massage lightly as they walked.
Draco was tempted to ask Potter if something was wrong, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting him.
“So what did you do today?” He asked, that seemed like a nice innocuous question.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Potter mumbled.
“Really?” Draco asked.
Potter turned to look at him. “Does it matter?” he asked.
“Doesn’t it matter to you?”
Potter looked away. “I don’t know, Malfoy. Let’s just… Can we just…” Potter pulled a hand out of his pocket and grabbed several locks of hair in his fingers. He began to twirl the hair for a moment before tugging at it several times and then dropping his arm to slap against his thigh. “I didn’t do much today, Malfoy, okay? I went for a run this morning and then watched some telly. I guess I took a nap. That’s it.” Potter rolled his head around, making several ‘popping’ sounds in his neck.
Draco let his hand fall off Potter’s back.
Potter pulled his shoulders back for a few seconds and when he let them back down, they actually looked a lot less tense.
“I suppose my life is not particularly exciting right now,” he said with a sigh.
“Exciting is overrated,” Draco answered honestly.
Draco took Potter’s hand then and they walked the rest of the way to the Pub in silence.
*-*-*
True to its reputation, the Krispy Krup really did have quite delicious food. Draco had the fish and chips and Potter had the shepherd’s pie. They didn’t talk at all until after they were through eating. Draco used the lack of conversation to analyze Potter and his own strange feelings toward him.
Draco realized that he was slowly finding pieces of a puzzle somehow. For instance, he had been wondering how Potter was keeping fit and now he knew that he ran. It was a small thing, but it was something. Unfortunately, though, this made Draco realize that he was getting involved in something here, with Potter, which could take a while. He had taken on Potter, sort of as a pet project. Somehow he must have thought at first that he would just get Potter to open up, find the source of his apathy, fix the problem, and move on. It was becoming clear to him now, though, that whatever was bothering Potter, was going to take some time to uncover, and then even more time to try to remedy. Draco found, however surprisingly, that he was okay with this. Potter was like a one-thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. Such a puzzle would require a tremendous amount of patience and persistence to complete, but if the picture was lovely enough, one would not be bothered at all by the effort. He knew that Potter was a lovely picture. And Draco was nothing if not persistent. And he was working on the patient part.
Once they had finished eating and were quietly nursing their drinks, Draco’s curiosity got the better of him. “Where did you run?” he asked.
Potter looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“This morning, you said you went for a run. Where did you go?”
“Oh. Um, nowhere really. I just run. I guess I ran through a couple of parks. But that isn’t really the point, where I go, I mean. I always end up back home.”
“Don’t you notice the scenery or pay attention to what’s around you?” Draco was honestly curious.
“Ah, no, not really. I mean, I pay attention enough not to get lost. But no, I just run. Like Forest Gump.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It really isn’t important,” Potter said and took a swallow of his drink.
“You don’t ever get bored?” Draco was mystified.
“Nope,” Potter said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“How far did you run today?”
Potter scratched his head. “I don’t know, maybe four or five miles.”
“Wow. You do this every day?” Draco was impressed.
“Just about.”
“When did you start running? I don’t remember you doing it at Hogwarts,” Draco remarked.
“No, I didn’t. We had to run for Auror training and I just never stopped.” Potter cocked his head to the side now and narrowed his eyes. He was just opening his mouth to speak when-
“Harry!”
It was Granger. She had just come into the Pub and spotted Potter immediately. She made a bee-line for him and enveloped him in a massive hug the instant she was close enough to grab at him.
“Harry, it’s so wonderful to see you out and about!” she exclaimed once she let him out of the embrace.
Draco wondered if, in her obvious excitement at seeing Potter, she had failed to notice the look on his face betraying the fact that he wasn’t excited to see her at all. After a large swallow of Firewhisky, Potter sighed and managed, “It’s good to see you too Hermione.”
Granger had sat down next to Potter and finally turned to regard Draco. “Malfoy,” she said politely. “I’d heard that you were back from Paris. I’m a bit surprised to see you here, though.” She looked to Potter for an explanation.
Potter began scratching the back of his neck. “I ran into Malfoy about a week ago, at the Leaky Cauldron.” He looked at Granger with a guilty expression. “We’ve actually gotten together a few times since then.”
“Oh.” Granger was put-off by this information. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, I guess it’s been a few weeks since we’ve talked, though, right ‘Mione? That’s why it hasn’t come up,” Harry reasoned.
“Right,” Granger said shortly. “You’re right.” She turned a tentative smile toward Draco. “Anyway, if it gets you to go out, Harry, I am really glad the two of you found one another.”
Potter sighed, clearly relieved to be off the hook. “Thanks Hermione,” he said, his eyes softening.
After several seconds of awkward silence, Draco decided to attempt his escape. “Well, I’d better get going. I have to be at work early in the morning. We just got a large selection of antique brooms in and I need to set about pricing them.” Draco rose and put on his cloak. As he did, he pulled some money out of his pocket to cover his food.
Potter rose along with him. “Actually, I’d better go as well. I am starting to get pretty tired.”
Granger was disappointed by this. “Oh Harry, I just got here. Couldn’t you stay just for a little bit?” She pleaded.
“I’m sorry ‘Mione. I would, but, I am just really tired.” Potter put on his cloak and paid for his bit of the meal. He reached for Granger’s hands. “I will fire-call soon.” He held her hands in a promising gesture as he said this. “I promise. We’ll catch up.”
Granger seemed convinced because she smiled. “I think you really mean that, Harry,” She said as he let go of her hands. “Goodnight then.” She turned back toward the table and began to peruse the menu that had just appeared in front of her.
Draco shivered once they got outside. The temperature had dropped significantly while they had been eating. Potter put an arm around him and rubbed him a bit to warm him as they walked.
Draco was bursting with curiosity and had to ask, “What’s with Granger? You two are clearly not the inseparable pair you once were? And what about Weasley? Where’s he been?”
Potter stopped and turned to face Draco. “Ron is gone on an extended Auror assignment in St. Petersburg, that’s why he hasn’t been around. And Hermione…” Potter looked down at his hands for an instant and the looked up with a smirk. “Hermione talks too damn much.”
Draco was stunned, he wasn’t expecting such an easy and direct answer. He realized that Potter was staring at him intensely.
Suddenly, Potter’s arms were around him and he was being side-along-Apparated into his bedroom.
Then he was being kissed. Demandingly.
Draco put a hand on Potter’s chest and pushed him back gently. Potter sighed, exasperated when the kiss broke. He looked at Draco with an eyebrow raised and said, “yes?”
“I thought you were tired,” Draco said.
Potter rolled his eyes and began kissing Draco again as if he was suffocating and Draco was air.
Read Part 2...
Author: rubytuesday5681
Prompt: #130 Submitted by: eruditefics
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry experiences some delayed post traumatic stress and Draco helps him process it.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. It all belongs to JKR.
Warning(s): EWE
Word Count: about 16,000
Beta(s): alovelycupoftea, emansil_08
Author's Notes: The title comes from the song “The Fragile” by Nine Inch Nails, which can be heard here at YouTube:The Fragile. Special thanks to alaana_fair for handholding.
I Won't Let You Fall Apart
After ringing the bell about fifteen times, Draco finally began pounding on the door and shouting.
“Potter! Get your lazy arse out of bed!”
Nothing. Silence.
“Potter!” Draco shoved at the door, willing it to open. “It’s half past noon, you lazy fucker!” he yelled.
He waited.
And waited.
Alohamora had done nothing and Potter’s anti-Apparition wards were as strong as ever. Draco thought about what to do. His first thought was to go to the Leaky and try to Floo in, however, he had no idea if Potter had closed off his fireplace connection before going to bed or not.
He could just leave, but the truth was that he really did want to see Potter. He had said he would come by today at noon and they could have lunch. As silly as it was, he was looking forward to their lunch and he didn’t want to give up on it yet.
He sighed. He’d have to do it the Muggle way, then.
Draco walked around to the side of the house and through the miniscule alleyway between the buildings, finally reaching the very last window on this side of the house, which he knew to be Potter’s kitchen window. It was just as he remembered from his last visit. The sash window was open just a bit, enough for him to slip his fingers under and push it open all the way. Draco supposed that Potter must leave this window slightly open all the time.
Draco was relieved that he wouldn’t have to break a window to get in.
As it was, the window was too high for Draco to simply hoist himself up into. He looked around for something to stand on and saw some rubbish bins at the end of the alleyway.
He pulled the tallest one with a lid over and put it under the window. There. Now he could climb up.
As Draco gingerly heaved himself up onto the bin, trying his best not to get his new designer business robes and cloak completely filthy, he began to wonder what had happened to his sanity. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Potter that he found so compelling.
He managed to stand up on the rubbish bin and from this height, he was able to simply push the window up and climb in, onto the counter on the other side.
As he started to reach through the window, though, his foot slipped, knocking the rubbish bin sideways and he was left literally hanging halfway out of Potter’s window.
Despite having the wind knocked out of him, he was able to gain purchase on the bottom side of the counter with his hands and pull himself in. But as his knee came in through the window, it hit the tap, turning the water on full-blast. Draco’s knees slipped on the wet porcelain in the sink and the next thing he knew, he had tumbled over and was sitting on Potter’s kitchen floor, completely soaked with cold water.
“Fuck!” he shouted.
This was not how today was supposed to go. Today was supposed to go something like this: He would show up at Potter’s door where Potter would be ready and waiting and delighted to see him. He would take Potter to a lovely lunch at one of his favorite Sushi restaurants, where Potter would ooh and aah over the food. They would have fascinating conversation and Potter would mention how handsome he looked in his new robes and they would part, promising to have another date later in the week. He would go back to work feeling like an Adonis and be extra productive all afternoon.
Draco shook himself out of his reverie and slowly got up off the floor. He turned off the tap and gave himself a good scourgify all over to get the rubbish grime off and dry himself. He couldn’t believe that Potter could still be sleeping after all the racket he had just made coming in.
He wondered for a moment if maybe Potter wasn’t actually at home. This seemed unlikely, however, because rumour had it that Potter didn’t have much of a social life these days and rarely ventured out alone.
Draco looked around. The kitchen looked pretty much that same as it had when he’d been here with Potter last Thursday night. It had been a bewildering evening.
Draco had run into Harry at the Leakey Cauldron. They hadn’t seen one another in years and at first, Draco had thought that Potter was joking when he asked him if he’d like to come back to his place for a while. It had been awkward as hell when they’d arrived. Harry had looked mortified for a full five minutes, obviously not having a clue as to what to say. Draco had been about to leave when Potter finally seemed to get himself together enough to offer Draco a drink. Draco accepted and stayed.
They didn’t talk much at all, but ended up playing Muggle card games all evening. Potter taught Draco how to play Pinochle, Go Fish, War, and Bullshit. Bullshit was Draco’s favorite. By the end of the evening, they were both drunk. Draco was pretty sure that if he’d really wanted to, he could have seduced Potter right then and there and had his way with him, if he could manage to get himself excited in his inebriated state. But when Potter had looked at him at the end of that last card game, staring across the kitchen table, the blankness in his eyes was almost terrifying. It seemed as though, the second there was nothing to distract him or make him interested, Potter became just… vacant. Draco realized that seducing Potter in that state would be taking advantage of him and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
When he left, he set up a date to have lunch with Potter today, Monday. He had wondered yesterday whether he should send an owl to confirm but decided against it. He didn’t want to seem too pushy. Now he thought maybe that had been a bad idea. Although perhaps Potter had just forgotten?
Draco made his way upstairs to look for the bedroom. On the first landing, one of the doors was ajar. Through the crack, he could see a bed with a foot hanging off the end. Assuming the foot was Potter’s, Draco walked quietly toward the room.
The door squeaked terribly when Draco opened it. Potter shifted a bit in his sleep, but did not wake. Draco studied his sleeping form for a moment. The man was certainly still fit enough. His empty demeanor notwithstanding, Potter was in very good physical shape. The years had been good to him in that way, at least.
Potter’s hair was still inexplicably messy. Draco supposed some things would never change. One change he highly approved of, though, was the loss of those silly spectacles. Potter had apparently finally seen fit to have his vision repaired, rendering the frames unnecessary.
That had been the first thing that Draco had noticed when he’d run into Potter at the Leaky Cauldron the other night. Draco had just returned to London after working abroad for several years. He had sat down next to Potter at the bar before he realized who it was. He noticed Potter’s lack of glasses, but he also noticed the man’s strange lack of any expression at all. Potter had been polite enough when Draco said, “hello” but that was about it. No angry resentment. No taunts. Just… nothing.
From the moment Draco realized that Potter no longer held any bad feelings for him whatsoever, he had been hooked. Potter was like a puzzle to him now. What could take a man who used to be so full of passion and vitality and render him so apparently devoid of any feeling whatsoever? Draco had to figure it out. And for some reason, he felt compelled to somehow make it right again.
Potter, who had previously been lying on his stomach, rolled over. His eyes remained stubbornly closed and Draco wasn’t sure exactly what to do next.
He decided a direct approach was in order.
“POTTER!” he yelled.
Potter sat up abruptly, looking around in a panic. “What the hell?” he said angrily when he saw Draco standing over him.
Draco was pleased with this response, it felt right to him. “We had a date,” he said coolly.
“How did you get in here?”
“The window.”
Potter suddenly looked amused and Draco had no idea why.
“Did you come in through the bathroom window?” Potter, asked, suddenly laughing.
“No, the kitchen. What are you on about?” He had no idea what was so funny.
Draco decided he must be the crazy one in the room. He’d wasted almost all of his lunch hour and got himself filthy in an attempt to get some kind of rise out of this man, and all Potter did was sit there and laugh maniacally.
“Fine. Whatever, I’m leaving,” Draco said frustrated and turned toward the door.
“Wait no!” Potter said, his voice suddenly sober. He jumped up and grabbed at Draco’s wrist. “I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”
Draco turned back to look at Potter, unsure.
“Did you really climb through the kitchen window to get in here?” Potter asked quietly. “It’s pretty high.”
“Yes, I did.” Draco realized now that it seemed like a pretty silly thing to do. A normal person would have just assumed that they had been stood up and gone to have delicious sushi by themselves.
“Why? Why would you do that, Malfoy?” Potter asked.
“Well, I… I wanted to see you.” Draco couldn’t think of any better explanation and he hated how sappy that sounded.
“Wow.” Potter narrowed his eyes as he looked at Draco. “Huh.” Potter looked like he had something more on his mind, but he didn’t say anything else.
Potter sat back down on the bed and it only took a moment of silence before he got that look again. His eyes became very still and it looked as if he was staring at something. Draco had come to learn that Potter could hold this expression for a bewildering amount of time, usually until something or someone got his attention and brought him back to the present.
“We were supposed to have lunch,” Draco offered.
Potter looked at him, but it was a moment before his eyes shook off the glazed expression. He cocked his head to the side and looked a bit pained as he finally responded. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry about that, I… I was up quite late last night and… I suppose I thought I would wake up before you got here and… honestly wasn’t convinced that you were actually going to show up.” Potter scratched his head. “I guess I figured it better to just let myself sleep through it than to be sitting here waiting for you and feeling a fool when you didn’t come.”
“But why wouldn’t I come?” Draco was confused. “I said I wanted to see you again.”
“I know that.” Potter examined a scab on his elbow as he spoke. “I just thought… maybe you were just being polite or… I don’t know, I thought you might change your mind.” Potter was muttering now and looking down at the bed.
Draco was a bit miffed that anyone would suppose he’d go back on his word. He was about to say so when he looked at Potter again. The man was looking down at his hands where he had just let them drop onto the bed and Draco realized that they were trembling, just the tiniest bit. Draco felt himself soften. “I thought we had a nice time the other night, Potter. Didn’t we?” He asked quietly.
“I suppose so.” Potter answered but still didn’t look up.
Potter only supposed it was a nice time? Draco wondered for the hundredth time that day what on earth he was doing here. He was beginning to think this fascination he had with Potter simply wasn’t worth it.
“You suppose it was nice?” No response from Potter. “Well, maybe I will just go.”
“No, stay!” Potter jumped up again. “I want to have lunch with you. Let me just jump in the shower.”
With that, Potter was dashing toward the bathroom and shouting, “five minutes!” over his shoulder. He slammed the door shut and Draco could hear the tap come on immediately.
Draco looked at his watch and realized that he was going to be hopelessly late getting back to the office from lunch. He supposed this was an issue that Potter simply wouldn’t think about. As far as Draco knew, Potter hadn’t worked at all since he dropped out of Auror training three years after the war had ended. It had been quite a scandal when Potter decided to leave the programme. Rita Skeeter had a field day with all of her hypotheses about his reason for leaving.
Draco had been working and living in Paris at that time on an extended foreign assignment with the Wizarding department of Christie’s Auction House. From what Draco understood of the second hand rumours that he had heard, it went something like this: Potter had broken up with Ginny Weasley, whom he had continued to date after the war. The two had a screaming row outside of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and had attracted quite a crowd of onlookers. The next day he went into the Auror Academy and submitted his resignation. He was only a month away from finishing the training program. The next thing Draco had heard was that Potter had moved away and lived on his own somewhere in Bavaria for about year. After his year in exile, he returned to London and declared to everyone that he was gay. Then he razed Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and had a new house built on the same lot where the ancient one had stood.
The new house had been completed about six months ago and from what Draco had heard, Potter had not done a single thing with himself since then.
*-*-*
Sushi Palace was Draco’s favourite place for lunch because they had a huge buffet. What hadn’t occurred to him though, was that this was not a good place for incidental conversation. There was no real down time that required talking. As soon as they found a table, they were able to get up and get food and as soon as their plates were empty, they could get up again. While they were seated, there was no need to talk because both of their mouths were busy eating.
Potter had been true to his word and had taken only five minutes to shower and brush his teeth. He hadn’t shaved, however, and Draco found that he liked the scruffy look on Potter. They were able to Floo straight into the restaurant in Diagon Alley, so there was really no chance to talk on the way over either. As Draco thought about it while he was eating, he realized that the only time he had spoken since Potter got out of the shower was to ask him if Sushi Palace was okay for lunch. He wasn’t sure if Potter had actually spoken a single word since getting out of the shower other than saying “Sushi Palace” into the Floo.
They were both finishing up their third plates and Draco was beginning to feel panicked. Soon the bill would float over and they would pay and it would be time to leave. All of the fuss of getting Potter here and Draco had not been able to make even the slightest spark of excitement appear on his face. He hadn’t even been able to think of anything to say to the other man. He felt like a failure.
Draco looked across at Potter, chewing his last California Roll. Potter didn’t look at Draco, he had hardly looked around the room at all. He had mostly kept his eyes glued to the table. As per usual, Potter’s infuriating quiet was setting Draco totally off-kilter and he couldn’t stand being made to feel that way.
“Perhaps this wasn’t the best choice for lunch.” Draco finally broke the awkward silence.
Potter looked up. “No, this is good. I like Sushi.” His expression was reassuring.
“Oh, I see that, I just meant…” Draco paused, trying to figure out what he meant. “I just mean it’s very busy in here at lunch time and noisy. It’s just hard to talk, that’s all.” There, that made sense, right?
“Right.” Potter was wiping his mouth now. He started to fidget with his other hand and looked uncomfortable, like he thought he had done something wrong. He set his napkin down on the table slowly. “Well, what was it you wanted to talk about?” He asked.
At that moment, their bill, which had been floating over while Potter was talking, gently landed in the centre of the table. Draco quickly grabbed it before Potter could.
“Actually, well, there wasn’t anything in particular. I just… Um.” Draco quickly pulled out enough Galleons to cover the meal and set them on the table with the bill. “I don’t know, just, sometimes it’s nice to talk about… anything really.” This was not going well.
“Right.” Potter said, looking down again. “Sorry about that. Did you want me to get part of the bill?” He looked up, his face as earnest and anxious as Draco had ever seen it.
“No, I’ve got it,” Draco said. He studied Potter again for a moment. He hated that he had unwittingly managed to make Potter feel anxious. He desperately wanted that pained expression off Potter’s face. “And it’s okay, you know? I mean, it’s okay to not talk. Not talking is nice too.” He tried to smile reassuringly.
Potter smiled too. Wow. Draco was blind. Potter had smirked a bit the few times that Draco had been around him in the past week, but this smile was… Wow. It only lasted a moment, but that was enough. Draco decided in that moment that if it was the last thing he did, he would make that smile a regular occurrence for Potter again.
“I really do like Sushi a lot.” Potter said, “Thank you for lunch. I suppose I’ve made you very late getting back to work.”
“It’s not a problem today. We don’t have anything big going on at work until later this week.” Draco reassured him.
“Oh, well, that’s good to know. You probably have to go though.”
“Yes, actually, I should.” Draco rose and Potter followed. They slowly walked through the maze of tables out into the small lobby where the floo was. Draco stopped awkwardly in the middle of the room. “I am actually going to walk over to Christies, since it’s such a nice day. Would you like to walk over with me?”
“Okay.” Potter looked amenable, but didn’t smile again.
It was a short walk, only a few streets away. Draco enjoyed the fresh air, even though it was cool. He chanced a look over at Potter a couple of times as they walked. The other man looked straight ahead the entire time, again showing no emotion. Far too soon, they were at the door to the auction house.
“Well, this is it.” Draco said, “Thank you for having lunch with me.”
Potter shrugged.
Draco fidgeted with his hands a moment before blurting out, “Can I come over tonight?” at the same moment that Potter said, “Will you come over tonight?”
Draco laughed. Potter looked embarrassed and backed up a few steps. Draco leaned forward a bit to cover some of the distance. “I’ll see you later then, around seven.”
Potter nodded at this and Draco finally turned to walk into the building. As he got to the door, he turned around to look back at Potter, but the other man already had his back turned and was walking back down the street.
As Draco watched Potter walk away, he realized that no one seemed to notice Potter at all. No one spoke to him or even showed any signs of recognition. Somehow, the Wizarding World had moved on to the point where its Saviour could walk down the street in the middle of the day and blend in completely.
*-*-*
Draco brought take away with him to Potter’s house that night. Falafel, because he saw some take away boxes from a Middle Eastern restaurant in one of the bins outside Potter’s place earlier. This time, when he knocked, Potter answered immediately, as if he had been waiting right inside the door.
“I brought dinner,” Draco offered.
“Okay,” Potter said and he began walking back through the house toward the kitchen.
Potter sat down at the table and Draco emptied the food containers out of the bag. He found that the restaurant had provided them with utensils for their couscous and tabbouleh, as well as napkins, so that he wouldn’t have to go rummaging around Potter’s kitchen to find the necessary items.
Draco set everything out and as he sat down, he realized that he hadn’t brought anything to drink. He looked at Potter to see that he was just sitting and staring ahead again, no longer present, lifeless. Draco hesitated, then got up to find some glasses. He seemed to remember them being in one of the cupboards by the sink, and was correct, but he couldn’t remember which cupboard had produced the Firewhisky the other night. Potter had spared no expense in his new kitchen and Draco was not up for opening each of the numerous cupboards in turn.
“Accio Firewhisky,” Draco said, and he could immediately hear some movement in the dining room, through which they had walked to get to the kitchen. When he went to look, he could see the bottle struggling to get out of a locked liquor cabinet. An alohamora did the trick and the bottle flew right into his hand.
Draco walked back to the kitchen. When he got to the doorway, Potter looked up at him. It was a moment before a look of understanding to set in. “Oh good,” Potter said, “You found the Firewhisky.”
Draco sat down again and filled both of their glasses before beginning to eat. Potter’s movements seemed stiff as he set his napkin on his lap and picked up his fork. He looked down at his plate and then up at Draco with a questioning expression, “How did you know I like Middle Eastern food?” he asked, as if he was just now noticing what cuisine Draco had brought for them to eat.
“Oh. I. Well, I had to stand on a rubbish bin to get into the window this morning and I happened to notice some old take away containers in your bins.” Draco shrugged.
“That was very observant of you,” Harry remarked and he finally began to eat.
*-*-*
Dinner was uneventful, much as lunch had been. After they were through eating, Draco poured them each another glass of Firewhisky and asked Potter where the deck of cards was that they had played with the other night. For some reason, playing cards had really seemed to help Potter relax. Of course, it could have also been the Firewhisky, but Draco was willing to try just about anything. He was determined to get Potter to talk about something, anything.
They decided to play War first.
Not much talking was required to play War.
As they played, Draco looked around the kitchen. It was clean, well stocked with everything one would need to prepare a meal. Draco had peered into the fridge on his last visit and found all of the staples of a healthy diet present; bread, cheese, milk, eggs, and everything else. Obviously, Potter either shopped regularly or had the items delivered.
He looked at Potter. He seemed healthy enough, certainly looked like he was getting enough to eat and some kind of exercise. He was clean and had found time to shave since lunch.
Whatever it was that had changed in Potter, it was all internal. Aside from a distinct lack of loquaciousness and blank facial expressions, there was really no visible proof that anything was even wrong. Perhaps that would explain why all of Potters little friends weren’t here fawning all over him and trying to get him back to normal. It wasn’t as if Potter had an affliction that was putting him in mortal peril.
Draco was running out of cards, he needed a higher card than Potter or he was going to lose.
In a split second decision, Draco threw his cards down on the table and said, “It’s quite a nice evening outside, Potter. I feel a bit like going out for some fresh air.” He rose and walked out onto the patio behind the kitchen.
It was a crisp early-spring evening, the stars had a frosty look about them. Draco leaned against the house and realized that he had not actually made an invitation for Potter to come outside with him. He shivered, and then heard the screen door slam as Potter came out holding Draco’s cloak and offering it to him.
“Thank you,” Draco said, taking the cloak.
As per usual, Potter’s only response was a shrug.
Draco sighed and decided to bite the bullet.
“So tell me about Bavaria,” he said, and gave Potter his most piercing gaze.
Potter appeared startled by this and seemed to measure Draco with his eyes for a moment before responding.
“So tell me about Paris,” he said, smirking.
“You tell me something about Bavaria and I will tell you something about Paris,” Draco said, holding his ground. “I asked first.
Potter sighed, the smirk replaced by a defeated expression. He threw his arms up in an exasperated gesture and began pulling on his hair. “I don’t know Malfoy, you’ve got to be more specific than that. What do you want to know?”
Draco felt as though Potter was somehow pleading with him to make this easy for him or just let it go. He thought that “favourite thing” was probably a little too vague and he really did want to make Potter talk, even a little bit. He decided that since he had no idea how long this little game would last, he should ask what he most wanted to know first.
“How many blokes did you shag there?”
Potter made a choking noise in the back of his throat and his eyebrows shot up. When he had composed himself he answered. “A few. How many blokes did you shag in Paris, then?” His tone was congenial.
Draco laughed softly for a moment and then quieted. “A few,” he admitted. He appreciated feeling like he and Potter were on even ground.
Potter looked thoughtful, something Draco had noticed he didn’t do often.
“If we are going to continue this line of conversation, I’ll be needing my Firewhisky,” he said.
“Me too,” Draco agreed, relieved that Potter seemed to want to keep talking.
They went back into the kitchen to refill their drinks and then pulled a couple of chairs from the kitchen out on to the patio so that they could sit while they drank.
As Draco sat, he realized that though it had been almost a week since he’d found Potter again, he just now finally felt like the ice had broken. He was certain, though, that if he had asked such a question on their first meeting at the pub, Potter would not be sitting down to drink with him right now.
“I suppose it’s my turn to ask now, something about Bavaria,” Draco began.
“So, we’re really doing this, then?” Potter asked. “I’d hoped that we’d moved on.”
“We’re really doing this. But I promise to be specific,” Draco assured him.
Potter nodded his head and Draco began to think about what else he would like to know. He didn’t want to ask anything too personal now, this gentle camaraderie was too good and he wanted to hold onto it if he could.
“Where did you live? What town?”
“Wurzburg.”
“Tell me about it.”
Potter looked at him for a moment like he wanted to protest, but didn’t. “It’s a nice city,” He finally said. “There’s a very large palace there, it’s called ‘The Residenz,’ Nobles used to live there.” Potter looked up into the sky as he spoke. “Also there’s a large fortress up on a hill that overlooks the city, the Marienburg fortress, the view from up there is pretty amazing.”
Potter had leaned his head back against the back of the chair, he turned now to look at Draco.
“Is that all?” Draco asked.
“Of course not,” Potter answered flippantly.
“Tell me one more thing.” Draco said. “Please,” he added, when he saw that Potter was starting to look annoyed.
“Fine, one more thing, but then it’s my turn to ask you,” He said firmly.
“Fair enough,” Draco replied.
Potter closed his eyes for a moment. “The locks. I enjoyed watching the locks on the river. You can see the cargo ships come through and watch the locks working from the bridge. I liked that.”
Potter opened his eyes and turned to consider Draco. “Now, it’s my turn.” Potter narrowed his eyes disconcertingly before he spoke. “Why did you come back to England?” he finally asked pointedly.
Expecting to be asked about Paris, this question startled Draco. Suddenly it occurred to him that Potter was probably trying to figure him out just much as he was trying to figure out Potter.
“I was transferred,” Draco answered simply.
“Did you put in for the transfer?” Potter asked directly.
“Yes.” Draco saw no reason to lie.
“Why?”
“I finished doing what I needed to do in Paris. It was time to come home.” That was the best answer that Draco could come up without going into the fact that Paris was a lot of fun for a little while, but a bit much for him in the long run. And more to the point, he simply missed England.
Potter seemed satisfied with his abbreviated response and looked up at the sky.
Draco was fearful that if he let Potter be quiet and still for too long, he would lose him completely again. He needed to keep him engaged.
“You should get some chairs to keep out here all the time,” he blurted. “I mean, it’s a nice space. You’ve set up a nice little garden for yourself back here.” Draco was feeling awkward again. How did that happen? They had seemed to have a moment of connection and now it was… gone.
Potter scratched his head and studied his back garden.
“Yeah, I guess it did turn out nice. When I was doing the plans for the house, I had thought that I might have some potted plants out here on the patio because it gets so much sun.” Potter had a curious look on his face. “I guess I had forgotten about that,” he said softly.
“Forgotten?” Draco said quizzically. “You don’t still want that?”
“Not particularly.”
“Why not?”
Potter shrugged and closed his eyes again, leaning his head back on the chair, thus signaling that this line of conversation was done.
Draco watched Potter sitting there as still as a stone. Only his breathing gave away that he was even alive. Draco looked at his pale eye lids and short, thick lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones from the outside light. He looked at his dry lips, open just slightly and his freshly shaven jaw.
Without thinking about it, Draco had put down his glass and was leaning toward Potter now. He wanted to touch that jaw… those cheeks. He had lifted his hand, but it stilled in the air. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to ruin everything. He pulled his hand back just for a moment when Potter opened his eyes and saw him leaning toward him.
Potter lifted his head and sat forward. He saw Draco’s hand in the air and grabbed it. He held it for a moment and looked at it like he didn’t know what to do with it. Then he gently took Draco’s hand and put it on his cheek. He held it there just for a second before turning his head to plant several tiny kisses into Draco’s palm. He lifted his eyes then and looked right into Draco’s. Potter’s eyes were smoldering and Draco’s heart skipped a beat. Time stopped as Potter held perfectly still. Finally, after a second, or an hour, Draco leaned forward and touched Potter’s lips with his own.
The kiss was about as gentle as a kiss could be to begin with, but soon, Potter’s tongue was demanding entry and Draco allowed it. Potter tasted of Firewhisky and couscous.
Suddenly Draco remembered his hands. He continued to stroke Potter’s cheek gently with his right hand and tentatively placed his other on Potter’s chest. He could feel the other man’s heart beating through his shirt.
Then Potter’s hand was at the back of Draco’s head, pulling him closer. He felt Potter reaching around inside his cloak to place his other hand at the small of Draco’s back where he gently rubbed it in circles.
Draco was drowning. He needed to breathe. He broke the kiss just long enough to gasp and get more air. Potter’s lips followed his impatiently, not allowing him any time to think or consider what they were doing.
Draco found that he didn’t want to think or consider.
Not yet.
*-*-*
Draco woke to moonlight streaming in through the window and into his eyes. He knew immediately that he was not in his own bed, his house elf always closed his drapes when he went to bed so that would never happen. He rolled over and remembered exactly where he was because there was Potter.
Moonlight laid a steak of light across Potter’s torso. He was on his back with one hand up by the pillow and the other on the bed next to him. He looked like something from a dream. Ethereal.
For a moment, Draco wondered if this wasn’t just a dream. Only for a moment, though, because then he remembered it all. He remembered the kiss and Potter dragging him upstairs by the wrist. Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever become naked so quickly without a spell before. And then… Draco suddenly felt the most overwhelming sense of remorse. He had taken advantage of Potter.
Potter had been vulnerable, and most likely drunk. And Draco had taken advantage of him.
Draco looked at Potter now. His skin was so pale, it practically glowed in the moonlight, the wiry brown hairs on his chest cast tiny shadows. Draco longed to touch him again, and to never stop.
But he had to go. He didn’t feel okay at all about what he had done. He needed to go home, to be in his own bed. He had work in the morning and no clothes here and for all of those reasons, touching Potter again was out of the question.
Quietly, he got up and began searching around the room for his clothes. He dressed quickly and then sat down on the edge of the bed next to Potter. A tiny part of him wanted to run away, but in his heart, he knew that leaving Potter to wake up alone would be the worst thing he could possibly do.
“Potter,” he whispered.
Potter turned his head, but didn’t open his eyes.
“Potter, wake up,” he said a bit louder this time and gently shoved the other man’s shoulder.
Slowly, Potter opened his eyes and looked at Draco. When recognition set it, he smiled. It was sleepy, but it was that real, blinding smile.
And Draco was like a moth to a flame. He leaned down and kissed Potter. Potter reached up and put his hand on the back of Draco’s head and Draco remembered that he was leaving. He gently removed Potter’s hand and pulled away from the kiss.
Potter looked annoyed.
“I have to go home,” Draco whispered.
Potter’s eyebrows knit together and his forehead wrinkled.
Draco gently smoothed over Potter’s forehead with his fingers and ran them through his hair.
“I have to go to work in the morning and I have no clothes here. I’ll sleep better in my own bed and I need my own shower,” he explained.
Potter’s eyebrows went back to normal and he said, “okay” and yawned.
“Okay,” Draco repeated.
“Will you bring dinner again tomorrow?” Potter asked with a hopeful tone.
“Yes,” Draco answered, surprised. “Yes, I will come at seven.”
Potter smiled that damn smile again.
Draco leaned in and gave him one last kiss before he got up to leave.
He paused at the bedroom door. Potter had rolled over and was facing away from him now.
“See you later,” Draco said.
Potter didn’t respond. Draco could hear his breathing even out and see his ribs rising and falling at even intervals. He had already gone back to sleep.
*-*-*
Draco was standing on the steps of Christie’s and pondering. He was contemplating what to bring for dinner at Potter’s tonight. He had been considering this since about… oh… seven o’clock this morning when he’d woken up. By the time he’d finished his morning tea he had settled on Italian because, honestly, who doesn’t like pasta? But by lunch time, he had changed his mind. Chinese would obviously be a better choice. But then in mid-afternoon, one of his associates asked him if he had tried any of the food at the new pub in town, said it was fantastic. So Draco thought maybe that would be a nice choice for dinner.
When he left Christie’s, he had initially headed to the right, to go over to the new pub, but then stopped because he really was in the mood for Italian, so he turned and went the other way. Now he had stopped on the steps on the other side because he realized that maybe Chinese really was a better option.
But now he was paralyzed because he didn’t know if Potter liked Chinese. He had gotten two meals right already with the Sushi and the Middle Eastern and he didn’t want to ruin his track record.
He wasn’t exactly sure why this was so important to him. Perhaps because he still felt guilty over what he’d done last night. Also, though, he really wanted to get dinner right because he had this strange feeling that he wanted to take care of Potter. That was absurd though, because Potter was a grown man who could certainly take care of himself. Draco had come to that conclusion already.
So where were these feelings coming from?
*-*-*
In the end, Draco just decided to go over to Potter’s first and ask him what he wanted to eat for dinner.
Potter didn’t answer right away when he knocked this time, but that was probably because he was a little bit early. A moment after he’d knocked, he could hear Potter coming down the stairs. As he opened the door, he was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Draco smiled as he noticed a bit of toothpaste left at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t help himself as he reached up and wiped it off with his little finger.
“Oh,” Potter said, looking a bit embarrassed as he backed into the room to let Draco come in.
“Why don’t you just use a spell to clean your teeth?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.
Potter dipped his head and shrugged.
Draco reached out and grabbed Potter’s chin gently, forcing him to look up. “Hey,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss. It was unsure at first, but soon Draco’s tongue tasted Potter’s and it was bliss. As good as the night before had been, even without the alcohol, perhaps better without it.
When Draco finally came up for air he said, “Mmm, minty fresh.” He gave Potter what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
The skin around Potter’s eyes tightened the tiniest bit and something in the green orbs twinkled. Not quite a smile, but it was enough for Draco, for now.
“You didn’t bring food?” Potter remarked.
“No I… I wasn’t sure what you would want. I was thinking we could just fire-call order something from here or even go out,” Draco explained.
“Oh, well I’m not real picky,” Potter said. “I wouldn’t mind going out, though. Where would you like to go?” he asked.
“Well, there’s this new pub, I think it’s called the “Krispy Krup”. I’ve heard they have pretty good food.”
“Pub sounds good,” Potter interjected. “Let’s go there.”
He grabbed his cloak from a hook by the front door and headed out. Draco followed behind him.
The pub was only a few streets away from the Leaky Cauldron. It was a nice evening, so they decided to Apparate to the Leaky and then walk to the pub once they got inside Diagon Alley.
Draco studied Potter as they walked side by side. Potter had his hands shoved in his jeans pockets and his shoulders seemed tense and tight. Draco took a chance and put his hand up on the top of Potter’s back, just between his shoulder blades. When Potter didn’t shrug his hand off, he began to massage lightly as they walked.
Draco was tempted to ask Potter if something was wrong, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting him.
“So what did you do today?” He asked, that seemed like a nice innocuous question.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Potter mumbled.
“Really?” Draco asked.
Potter turned to look at him. “Does it matter?” he asked.
“Doesn’t it matter to you?”
Potter looked away. “I don’t know, Malfoy. Let’s just… Can we just…” Potter pulled a hand out of his pocket and grabbed several locks of hair in his fingers. He began to twirl the hair for a moment before tugging at it several times and then dropping his arm to slap against his thigh. “I didn’t do much today, Malfoy, okay? I went for a run this morning and then watched some telly. I guess I took a nap. That’s it.” Potter rolled his head around, making several ‘popping’ sounds in his neck.
Draco let his hand fall off Potter’s back.
Potter pulled his shoulders back for a few seconds and when he let them back down, they actually looked a lot less tense.
“I suppose my life is not particularly exciting right now,” he said with a sigh.
“Exciting is overrated,” Draco answered honestly.
Draco took Potter’s hand then and they walked the rest of the way to the Pub in silence.
*-*-*
True to its reputation, the Krispy Krup really did have quite delicious food. Draco had the fish and chips and Potter had the shepherd’s pie. They didn’t talk at all until after they were through eating. Draco used the lack of conversation to analyze Potter and his own strange feelings toward him.
Draco realized that he was slowly finding pieces of a puzzle somehow. For instance, he had been wondering how Potter was keeping fit and now he knew that he ran. It was a small thing, but it was something. Unfortunately, though, this made Draco realize that he was getting involved in something here, with Potter, which could take a while. He had taken on Potter, sort of as a pet project. Somehow he must have thought at first that he would just get Potter to open up, find the source of his apathy, fix the problem, and move on. It was becoming clear to him now, though, that whatever was bothering Potter, was going to take some time to uncover, and then even more time to try to remedy. Draco found, however surprisingly, that he was okay with this. Potter was like a one-thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. Such a puzzle would require a tremendous amount of patience and persistence to complete, but if the picture was lovely enough, one would not be bothered at all by the effort. He knew that Potter was a lovely picture. And Draco was nothing if not persistent. And he was working on the patient part.
Once they had finished eating and were quietly nursing their drinks, Draco’s curiosity got the better of him. “Where did you run?” he asked.
Potter looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“This morning, you said you went for a run. Where did you go?”
“Oh. Um, nowhere really. I just run. I guess I ran through a couple of parks. But that isn’t really the point, where I go, I mean. I always end up back home.”
“Don’t you notice the scenery or pay attention to what’s around you?” Draco was honestly curious.
“Ah, no, not really. I mean, I pay attention enough not to get lost. But no, I just run. Like Forest Gump.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It really isn’t important,” Potter said and took a swallow of his drink.
“You don’t ever get bored?” Draco was mystified.
“Nope,” Potter said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“How far did you run today?”
Potter scratched his head. “I don’t know, maybe four or five miles.”
“Wow. You do this every day?” Draco was impressed.
“Just about.”
“When did you start running? I don’t remember you doing it at Hogwarts,” Draco remarked.
“No, I didn’t. We had to run for Auror training and I just never stopped.” Potter cocked his head to the side now and narrowed his eyes. He was just opening his mouth to speak when-
“Harry!”
It was Granger. She had just come into the Pub and spotted Potter immediately. She made a bee-line for him and enveloped him in a massive hug the instant she was close enough to grab at him.
“Harry, it’s so wonderful to see you out and about!” she exclaimed once she let him out of the embrace.
Draco wondered if, in her obvious excitement at seeing Potter, she had failed to notice the look on his face betraying the fact that he wasn’t excited to see her at all. After a large swallow of Firewhisky, Potter sighed and managed, “It’s good to see you too Hermione.”
Granger had sat down next to Potter and finally turned to regard Draco. “Malfoy,” she said politely. “I’d heard that you were back from Paris. I’m a bit surprised to see you here, though.” She looked to Potter for an explanation.
Potter began scratching the back of his neck. “I ran into Malfoy about a week ago, at the Leaky Cauldron.” He looked at Granger with a guilty expression. “We’ve actually gotten together a few times since then.”
“Oh.” Granger was put-off by this information. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, I guess it’s been a few weeks since we’ve talked, though, right ‘Mione? That’s why it hasn’t come up,” Harry reasoned.
“Right,” Granger said shortly. “You’re right.” She turned a tentative smile toward Draco. “Anyway, if it gets you to go out, Harry, I am really glad the two of you found one another.”
Potter sighed, clearly relieved to be off the hook. “Thanks Hermione,” he said, his eyes softening.
After several seconds of awkward silence, Draco decided to attempt his escape. “Well, I’d better get going. I have to be at work early in the morning. We just got a large selection of antique brooms in and I need to set about pricing them.” Draco rose and put on his cloak. As he did, he pulled some money out of his pocket to cover his food.
Potter rose along with him. “Actually, I’d better go as well. I am starting to get pretty tired.”
Granger was disappointed by this. “Oh Harry, I just got here. Couldn’t you stay just for a little bit?” She pleaded.
“I’m sorry ‘Mione. I would, but, I am just really tired.” Potter put on his cloak and paid for his bit of the meal. He reached for Granger’s hands. “I will fire-call soon.” He held her hands in a promising gesture as he said this. “I promise. We’ll catch up.”
Granger seemed convinced because she smiled. “I think you really mean that, Harry,” She said as he let go of her hands. “Goodnight then.” She turned back toward the table and began to peruse the menu that had just appeared in front of her.
Draco shivered once they got outside. The temperature had dropped significantly while they had been eating. Potter put an arm around him and rubbed him a bit to warm him as they walked.
Draco was bursting with curiosity and had to ask, “What’s with Granger? You two are clearly not the inseparable pair you once were? And what about Weasley? Where’s he been?”
Potter stopped and turned to face Draco. “Ron is gone on an extended Auror assignment in St. Petersburg, that’s why he hasn’t been around. And Hermione…” Potter looked down at his hands for an instant and the looked up with a smirk. “Hermione talks too damn much.”
Draco was stunned, he wasn’t expecting such an easy and direct answer. He realized that Potter was staring at him intensely.
Suddenly, Potter’s arms were around him and he was being side-along-Apparated into his bedroom.
Then he was being kissed. Demandingly.
Draco put a hand on Potter’s chest and pushed him back gently. Potter sighed, exasperated when the kiss broke. He looked at Draco with an eyebrow raised and said, “yes?”
“I thought you were tired,” Draco said.
Potter rolled his eyes and began kissing Draco again as if he was suffocating and Draco was air.
Read Part 2...