The List [the director's cut]
Title: The List
Author: tari_sue
Prompt Number: 155
Rating: R
Pairing(s): H/D
Summary: Draco needs to get married before he turns 30 in order to claim an inheritance. With the help of his little black book and restaurant owner, Harry Potter, Draco dates as many women as possible in order to find the one worthy of being his bride.
Warnings: None really - just a bit of swearing, sex, the usual
Word Count: 21,504
Betas: A million thanks to the amazing
crazyparakiss,
oddnari and
winnett for their fabulous beta skills; this fic is so much better now thanks to them.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: This is my entry for the 2009 hd_career_fair for
dampfnudl’s wonderful prompt.
The original, shorter, version of the fic can be found here:
http://community.livejournal.com/hd_career_fair/11116.html
This version has been improved beyond belief by the wonderful
winnett, who should probably get a co-author credit for all her hard work and invaluable help.
Part 1 |
Part 2
Name: Annie Jones
Age: 27
Occupation: Herbologist
Description: Short, mousy brown hair, nice smile.
Family: Mudblood! Potter has set me up with a bloody Mudblood!
Notes on the date: This girl is a friend of Longbottom’s, I can just tell.
Pros: Clever
Cons: Mudblood, boring, Mudblood, boring.
Score: 4/10
*
“She’s the female Longbottom.” Draco complained as he stretched himself out on Harry’s sofa and waited for Potter to refill his glass.
“What’s wrong with Nev?” Potter paused in the middle of pouring drinks, looking indignant on his friend’s behalf.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“This isn’t working, is it?” Potter sighed.
“No. Whisky?” Draco replied waving his glass in Potter’s direction.
Potter did as he was told and finished pouring two generous measures of Balblair into the glasses before moving Draco’s feet off his sofa and plonking himself down in their place. Draco huffed indignantly at this treatment and stuck his feet in Potter’s lap instead.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Potter enquired, resting his glass on Draco’s shin.
“What are we going to do about what?”
“The fact that you now have just over six months left to find a wife and get married. You seem to hate just about every woman I send your way - and they don’t think much of you either.”
“Well, they should,” Draco said distractedly, trying to ignore the feeling of Potter’s hand resting on his leg, and other parts of Potter under his feet - he really hadn’t thought that move through. “They’d be bloody lucky to land a catch like me!”
“Yeah? Why don’t you just put an advert in the paper then? ‘Wanted: gold-digger, must be intelligent, witty, brilliant and beautiful. Ability to put up with a hell of a lot an advantage’, they’ll be queuing around the block.” Potter smirked at him.
“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you, Potter?” Draco glowered back
“Yup.”
They sat drinking in a companionable silence for a while. Draco glanced around the room, it was looking better now that when he’d first come here and there were fewer boxes littering the place, although Draco couldn’t figure out where Potter had found room for all the stuff in this poky flat.
“Look, it’s Charlie’s wedding anniversary on Saturday, they’re having party, why don’t you come?” Harry said, eventually, looking at Draco’s feet rather than his face.
“I’m not going on a date with you, Potter.”
“It’s not a date, idiot. I just thought that you might stand a better chance at a party, let your hair down, and get to know women in a less intense setting.” Potter shifted self-consciously and pushed Draco’s feet off him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my hair!” Draco ran a hand over his hair to check it was immaculate.
“I never said there was, it’s a Muggle expression.” Potter sighed. “I just think you might be more yourself in a more relaxed environment. You can get to know these girls rather than practically holding job interviews.”
“I know enough about them to know whether or not they’d be any good.”
“Oh really, and what is your criteria for the perfect candidate for the job of Mrs Malfoy?” Harry joked.
“Just the usual: looks, intelligence, family, personality.” Draco ticked the points off on his fingers.
“Oh god, I bet you have some sort of a list or something, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do. How else am I supposed to grade them properly?” Draco shook his head; no wonder Potter never got anywhere if he thought making lists was silly rather than sensible.
“You grade them?” Harry sounded incredulous.
“This is a very important decision!” Draco defended. Honestly, Potter made it sound like he shouldn’t take the most important decision of his life seriously!
“Let me see.” Potter held out his hand.
“What? No! I’m not showing you, you’ll just laugh at me anyway.” He folded his arms and looked sulky.
“If I’m going to laugh anyway then it won’t hurt to show me, will it?”
“I’m not showing you the book, Potter. Fuck off.”
“Ok.” Potter shrugged and looked away. Draco was surprised that he’d given up so easily, but chalked it up as a victory and took another sip of his drink. The next thing Draco knew, Potter has his wand out and was accioing his little black book from his pocket.
“Give that back, you total bastard!” Draco leapt up, spilling whisky on his trousers.
“No, I want to know what was so very wrong with all of those girls.” Potter opened the book.
“Potter…” he made a grab for the book but Potter held it away from him.
“Too posh? Too posh? How the hell can you, Draco Malfoy, have the cheek to call someone else too posh? I’m mean; you probably have gold toilets at home!” Harry held a hand against Draco’s chest to keep him from the notebook.
“Honestly, Potter, that would be terribly crass,” Draco replied, making another grab for the book, but Potter moved out of his way again, laughing.
“I rest my case. Too fucking posh for gold loos, but apparently not as posh as,” Potter consulted the book, “Caroline Marchmont. And, Draco, that poor woman did not look like a horse!”
“Yes she fucking did! She ate like a horse too. She also laughed like one and had an arse like one.” Draco shuddered at the idea of being married to Caroline Marchmont. “Give me the sodding book back, you bastard.” Where had he left his wand, anyway? Bugger, it was sticking out of his cloak pocket, he could see it from here.
“All right then, what about Jacinta Smythe-Bryant? ‘Brain the size of a pea’, do they have to take an I.Q. test?”
“I can’t marry an imbecile, can I?” Draco scowled and sat back on the sofa with his arms folded. Let the bastard have the book, see if he cared. Maybe if he inched sideways he could reach his wand…
“Wow, you are really critical of appearance, aren’t you?” Potter was still flicking through the book.
“Not especially, no,” replied Draco defensively.
“Yeah? ‘Nose is too big’, ‘mouth is too big’, ‘too short’, ‘too tall’, ‘too thin’, ‘too fat’, ‘Tits are too big’. I mean, can tits even be too big to a straight bloke? I thought it was meant to be the bigger the better? Reading this you sound more gay than I am!” Potter was now giving him a really odd look.
“Of course tits can be too big! I am not gay, Potter, I’m a pure-blood!” Draco exclaimed, looking down his nose at Potter - an easy task because Potter was a short-arse.
“What the fuck has that got to do with anything? I assure you, there are plenty of gay pure-bloods!” Potter was now doing that annoying ‘Draco is a pillock’ head shake thing.
“No there aren’t! Homosexuality is a Muggle invention; pure-bloods are above such things!” he replied stubbornly.
“What about Charlie Weasley? Or Johnny Bulstrode? Or even Jemima Alderney for that matter!” Harry was now giving Draco his best earnest look.
“I thought you said we were going to Weasley’s wedding anniversary?”
“We are - his and his husband’s, Angelo De Vittri, also a pure-blood. Stop changing the subject.”
Draco was quiet for a moment before replying, “I remember when Johnny Bulstrode came out. It was the summer between our third and fourth year at Hogwarts, just before the Quidditch World Cup. Mrs Bulstrode brought Millie to our house so that she could cry on my mother’s shoulder. She was devastated; she said that she would never have grandchildren.” He remembered wondering why anyone would choose to be homosexual if it meant upsetting their family like that.
“She was just upset and being melodramatic! There are ways for homosexuals to have children, Charlie and Angelo are looking into adoption, for example, or there’s surrogacy. Besides, even if Johnny had been straight, he wouldn’t necessarily have had children, and what about Millie anyway?”
“Millie isn’t the prettiest of girls; I don’t think they hold out much hope of her ever getting married." She wouldn’t thank him for telling Potter any of this. When her mother had come out with that little gem she’d disappeared for ages. He finally found her out by the folly pretending to be fine.
“Really? Someone ought to tell Dean Thomas that, he thinks she’s gorgeous.” A mischievous look appeared on Harry’s face as he contemplated what seemed to be his favourite hobby - matchmaking.
“Does she know?” Draco decided to humour him; Millie could do with finding a decent bloke and Thomas hadn’t exactly been hit with the ugly stick.
“I don’t think so. I guess you could always bring her to Charlie’s party…” there was a wicked gleam in Harry’s eye that said he was about to get his own way.
“They disowned him, Harry.” Draco said quietly after a pause.
“Huh? Who?” Harry looked confused at the abrupt change of topic.
“Johnny. Pretty much as soon as they found out he was seeing a man they disowned him. So you see, he’s not a pure-blood anymore, he’s not anything. By rights, he shouldn’t even still be using the name Bulstrode. It was horrible.” Draco stared into the bottom of his glass.
“So pure-blood homosexuals should just hide who they are instead?”
“No. They should just not choose to be gay.”
“You don’t choose it. You are born gay; there is nothing you can do about it. Although to be honest, I wouldn’t change if I could - I like fucking men.” Potter looked pissed off.
“This isn’t a personal thing against you, Harry. You can choose whether to act on those feelings or not. Not everyone is the Chosen One; not everyone can get away with doing whatever they want.” Draco grabbed the whisky bottle and poured himself another.
“Right. Tell me, Draco, do you have those feelings?” Potter grabbed Draco’s wrist as he raised the glass to his lips.
“What feelings?” He snatched his hand away and downed the drink in one, relishing the burn down the back of his throat.
“The ones you have to suppress. The ones you have to lie to yourself about. The ones you will presumably be lying to your future wife about.” Potter was full of righteous indignation now, and he sounded almost exactly like Granger.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I don’t have feelings; I’m not perverted like you.” Draco thumped his glass down on the coffee table and turned to glare at Potter.
“Really? So you won’t wake up in a few years’ time and wonder why you can’t get it up for your wife? Why she’s miserable, why you’re miserable, why your kids are miserable? Because if you are planning on getting married, this won’t just be about you, will it? It’ll be about her too!” Harry glared back at him.
“I’m NOT gay! How many times do I have to tell you that?” Draco rose from the sofa picked up his cloak; he didn’t need to listen to this. Finally drawing his wand, he accioed his list and stuffed it back in his pocket.
“How many times do you have to tell yourself that?” Potter rose too and walked toward him.
“I have to think about my family!”
“And their expectations are more important than your happiness?”
“Shut the fuck up, you don’t even have a family, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I don’t know what I’m talking about? You trying coming out when you are the sodding ‘Boy Who Lived’. You think I can get away with doing whatever I want? There are people I’ve never met who will never forgive me for being gay! People think I’m some sort of role model or hero or whatever other shite they want to pin on me. I can’t do whatever I want; I’m supposed to do whatever the entire Wizarding World wants! No, I might not have a family, I have no idea whether or not they would have had a problem with my sexual orientation, but I do know what it’s like to try and live up to other people’s expectations.” Potter’s eyes were bright and he was breathing heavily; Draco was not turned on in the slightest.
“Disappointing people whom you love is a bit different than disappointing people you don’t know. I love my family, Potter, and I’m not gay. I’m going home; I don’t need your help anymore. Goodbye.” He pulled his cloak on and wrenched the door open.
“You’re not gay?” Potter put a hand on the door, preventing him from leaving.
“No.”
“Not at all?” Potter was standing very close to him now and there was a strange glint in his eye.
“No.” Draco was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, he tried to back away and nearly fell over one of the damned boxes; maybe they weren’t completely gone after all. Potter reached out to steady him.
“You won’t be at all affected by me doing this then.”
Before Draco knew what was happening, Harry had leant forward and pressed his lips to Draco’s. He was too stunned to move at first but then he forcefully pushed Potter away.
“You kissed me!” he spluttered, staring at Harry, unsure of how to act.
“I know.” Harry’s big green eyes were staring at him intently through his glasses.
“Why?” Draco unconsciously raised his hand to his lips.
“Why not?” Harry feigned a casual shrug.
“But I told you I wasn’t gay!” Belatedly, Draco rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth.
“So it shouldn’t have bothered you. You can leave now, but think about that kiss, think about how it felt to be kissed by a bloke and whether or not you liked it. If the answer is yes, you might want to rethink your marriage plans.” Harry was holding the door open for Draco to leave.
“I can’t do that…” Draco stared blankly at the open door and then looked at Harry.
“Just think about it, that’s all I ask.” Harry started to raise his hand to Draco’s face but then dropped it.
Draco nodded absently and made his way to the door.
“I’ll see you at Charlie’s party on Saturday, it’s at the Burrow. Don’t forget to bring Millicent. If you’re still one hundred per cent sure that you aren’t gay then, I’ll drop it, ok?”
Draco nodded again and went home in a daze.
* * *
He couldn’t get rid of the feel and taste of Potter from his mouth.
It hadn’t even been a proper kiss, no tongues, nothing. Just a press of lips.
So why was it haunting him? It had been two days!
‘Because if you weren’t gay it wouldn’t have affected you,’ a treacherous little voice that sounded like Potter said at the back of his brain. He thumped his pillow and lay back down.
“But I’m not gay,” he said aloud to the empty room. “I’m not, I can’t be. I’ve always dated women. And now the wanker has me talking to myself.” He sighed and rolled over.
This was stupid. Potter had wanted to prove that Draco was gay; he probably thought everyone was gay. All he seemed to have done was prove that Draco was obsessed with Harry Potter.
‘Nothing new there then,’ said the voice in his head. He rolled onto his other side.
He didn’t want Potter. He was going to get married and do what was expected of him. He didn’t want Potter. He couldn’t, besides Potter was with Finnigan.
Not that that made a difference, of course. Because he didn’t fancy Potter. He pulled the pillow over his head to try and smother the voice.
* * *
“Why did you kiss me?”
“Good morning to you too, Malfoy,” Harry said with that funny little lopsided grin that was just so damned Gryffindor, glancing down from where he was kneeling on a table writing the specials on the blackboard.
“I said why did you kiss me?”
“I know, I heard you.” Harry carefully underlined the word ‘puddings’.
Draco waited a heartbeat but Harry still didn’t seem inclined to answer his question.
“Well?”
Potter shrugged halfway through the word ‘syllabub’, making it go wonky. “I wanted to. It seems to have you a tad bothered. Why is that I wonder?”
“I’m not bothered! Anyway, what about Finnigan?”
“Seamus? He’s off sourcing ingredients. So you wouldn’t object if I did it again?” Harry put down his chalk and turned to face him.
“Of course I would! I’m not gay! If I were gay it wouldn’t bother me!” He stamped his foot in frustration.
“But you just said it didn’t bother you.” Harry said as he jumped down off the table.
“It doesn’t!” Draco glanced towards the kitchen, hoping no one was in there listening.
“Which is it, Draco? Bothered or not bothered?” Potter walked towards Draco.
Draco gulped and said nothing.
“See, I think you liked it,” Harry said quietly, invading Draco’s personal space. “I think you’ve been thinking about it since last night and you liked it, which bothers you because you can’t possibly like being kissed by a man.”
“You are talking out of your arse.” For some reason, he couldn’t make his legs move away.
“Hmm, spend a lot of time thinking about my arse, do you?”
“No!”
“I bet you do. I bet you lie awake at night thinking about what you’d like to do to my arse. Or you will now, anyway. You know what? I’d probably let you.”
“You bottom?” Draco asked before he could stop himself. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Potter would willingly let him do that.
“I didn’t say that.” Potter pulled away abruptly and Draco felt a twinge of disappointment. “But since you mention it, yes,” he smirked, “so long as my partner is prepared to give up his snow-white arse on occasion too.”
Draco gulped. “I er, I have an appointment.” He turned and almost ran out of the door.
* * *
Name: Tori Greengrass
Age: 27
Occupation: Lawyer.
Description: Well, she’s Daph’s baby sister, she looks like a thinner version of Daph. Wavy blonde hair, green eyes, rosy cheeks - really pretty actually, she has improved enormously since she used to be that little pest who followed us around everywhere.
Family: The Greengrasses did quite well during the war - they kept out of it just enough that neither side had a problem with them and yet they still managed to make money.
Notes on the date: I actually had a really good evening, I wonder if Daphne would kill me for marrying her little sister? She’s intelligent and really funny and great company. Plus, she’s really pretty, so Potter was clearly wrong, how can I be attracted to him if I’m attracted to Astoria? I knew he was wrong.
Pros: Brilliant, beautiful, fun, clever, rich, good family. Gorgeous eyes.
Cons: Great-Great Grandfather was Muggleborn, but that can probably be overlooked.
Score: 9.5/10
*
“Do you remember that time my mother took us all to Hogsmeade for Daph’s tenth birthday?” Tori asked, flashing her perfect white teeth at him.
“What, when Pants, Theo and I tried to put you on the Hogwarts Express back to London?” he laughed in response as a surly waiter thumped two bowls of pasta in front of them.
“Daphne went crying to Mum and you all got such a telling off!”
“You think that was bad? You didn't hear the bollocking I got when I got home!” He was feeling decidedly guilty for the terrible Muggle restaurant he’d taken her to in an attempt to avoid Potter.
“The stupid thing was that I wasn’t upset in the slightest - I thought it was all a huge adventure, I’d never been in a train station before.” Tori laughed again and took a bite of pasta, pulling a face at it as she did so.
“Daph was always such a little snitch though; she got Pants and me into trouble more times than I can possibly remember,” Draco said before bravely sampling his own food. It was disgusting.
“Pansy usually got her own back though.” Astoria delicately pushed the plate away, reminding Draco of Narcissa. “Yet when we got older and Pansy and Daph were sneaking off to meet boys, they always expected everyone else to keep their secrets. Daph never landed us in it on purpose though; she’s just hopeless at keeping her gob shut.”
“Actually, that time at the train station I think she really thought I was going to put you on the train by yourself.”
“You were.” She playfully swatted his arm.
“I wasn’t! We were just winding you up. And Daphne.” He tried his best to look innocent.
“Whatever you say.” She took a sip of wine and shrugged. “You know, I was a bit surprised to find you were looking for a wife, I always thought you were gay.” He couldn’t figure out if she was winding him up or no.
“What?” he spluttered. “What on earth made you think that? I’m not gay!” Draco could feel the colour rising in his cheeks. “Who says I’m looking for a wife?” he added belatedly.
“Darling, I’m an associate at Diggle, Diggle and Howarth, your Uncle’s solicitors, I know everything.”
“Then you know why I’m looking for a wife.” He pushed his pasta around the bowl, not looking at her.
“Yes, your Uncle’s will said you could only inherit if you were married by the time you are thirty,” she said pointedly.
“There you go then.”
She gave him a long, considering look before shrugging and taking another mouthful of her wine and pulling a face again.
“Incidentally, why did you not take me to Potter and Finnigan’s restaurant? I was told you took all your dates there and I’d been rather looking forward to trying it; it’s supposed to be fabulous isn’t it? Unlike here.” She glanced around disdainfully at the restaurant.
“I, er, I got rather sick of the sight of Potter, if you must know.” He drained his own glass.
“Really? I always thought you couldn’t get enough of the sight of Potter. You were always following him around at school.” Astoria had always been far too shrewd for her own good.
“I’ll have you know he was the one following me around - he’s the poof, not me.” He took a bite of his food.
“You know, darling, there really is nothing wrong with being gay these days.” She was staring at him as thought she could make him spill all his secrets - she probably could.
“I never said there was did I? It’s just that I happen not to be. Look, I’ve been invited to a party on Saturday, would you like to come with me?” he said, changing the subject.
“Ooh! A second date with the great Draco Malfoy? Nobody gets asked out twice! What a lucky girl I turned out to be.” If there was a trace of sarcasm in her voice, Draco chose to ignore it. “I thought you were taking Millicent?”
“How do you know that?” He was confused, surely none of his acquaintances would know about some Weasley party?
“I work with her, durbrain.” She smirked at him.
“Durbrain? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“What can I say? There is something about you that brings out the childish insults.” She threw her napkin at him to emphasise her point.
“So you won’t come then?” He picked her napkin out of his dinner; he hadn’t wanted to finish it anyway.
“Are you planning on turning up with a girl on each arm? I suppose that’s one way to kill the ‘gay’ rumours. Either that or people will just think that you are over-compensating, but then, that’s nothing new for you, is it?”
“If you must know, Potter seems to fancy himself as a bit of a matchmaker and he wants to set Millie up with Dean Thomas.”
“I can see that working. Does this mean that you’ve been spending more time with Potter than you would have led me to believe?”
“I told you, he fancies himself as a matchmaker. He keeps setting me up with people like Loony Lovegood.”
“Luna? What did the poor girl do to deserve that? You know, it doesn’t sound as though he’s trying too hard, maybe he wants you for himself?”
“Don’t be stupid, he knows I’m straight. Anyway, he’s spoken for.”
“Not that you made a point of finding out or anything.”
“Of course not!”
“I have to go, I have a case to prepare for tomorrow.” She started to rise from the table.
“You still didn’t say if you were coming to Charlie’s with me?”
“You’re taking Millicent. Thanks for dinner.” She dropped a kiss in the general direction of his forehead and waved as she made her way to the exit.
Draco grumbled to himself as he got the bill, mentally noting that pure-blood girls always seemed to assume that he was paying, even if they earned a good salary. He silently cursed Potter for messing up his chances of a second date with Astoria - if the stupid specky git hadn’t told him to take Millicent he could have taken Astoria, ergo it was all Potter’s fault. Most things usually were.
* * *
Draco looked around the Burrow with distain. He’d always known the Weasleys lived in a hovel, but he’d never expected to actually set foot in it. To make matters worse, he was here alone. Astoria had turned him down, Millie had buggered off with Dean, and Potter had stood him up! Not that he was here as Potter’s date or anything, but still, the four-eyed git could at least have been here rather than throwing him to the lions, so to speak.
At least the punch was good, even if it had been made by George Weasley.
“Feeling abandoned?” a voice asked behind him. Turning around quickly he saw Astoria standing beside some sort of ghastly clock with too many hands.
“Tori! I thought you weren’t coming?” He threw his arms around the woman in a most un-Malfoy-like manner, desperately glad to see another Slytherin face among the sea of ginger heads. He was possibly a tiny bit pished.
“No, I said I wasn’t coming with you. Ginny invited me,” she laughed, extracting herself from him embrace.
“Oh charming, you’d rather go to a party with the Girl-Weasel than me? You’re not… you know… are you?”
“No, Draco, I’m not ‘you know’. I didn’t come here with Ginny. I should imagine she came with her fiancée. I came on my own - women can do that in the modern world you know.” She pushed a piece of cake at him but he shook his head - goodness only knew where Mother Weasley had got that from, he was fairly sure the Weasleys couldn’t afford a house-elf.
“Would you care for a drink?” he asked instead. The drinks on the other hand were probably safe - the alcohol would kill any Muggle-loving germs hanging around the place.
“Oh no, you’re not actually drinking George’s punch are you?” Astoria looked at the glass in his hand which only contained a few bits of fruit and something that George had described as a ‘jelly baby’, which seemed like a little extra pocket of alcohol swimming in a sea of alcohol.
“It’s actually surprisingly good.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “Especially the jelly babbies.”
“Riiight… Have you seen Charlie and Angelo? I wanted to give them their anniversary present.”
“I think we’re supposed to leave them on the table over there.” Draco made a vague gesture that encompassed half the room.
“Oh, ok. I’ll be back.” He watched her head over to the present table and then she started chatting with Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan. Seeing Finnigan made Draco wonder again where Potter was.
“Your luck with women is still holding up then, Malfoy? That’s two I’ve seen walk away from you as fast as possible,” an unwelcome but not unexpected person stopped in front of him.
“Oh joy, it’s my old friend Weasley.” Draco’s smile was more of a grimace, but it was the best Weasel was going to get.
“You might find quite a lot of people here called that. Not wishing to sound inhospitable or anything, but what the fuck are you doing here?” Weasel wasn’t looking as pissed off as Draco might have expected.
“Inhoshpitable? Did Granger teach you that word?” He gave a small hiccough before giving his best Hermione Granger imitation, “‘Oh honestly, Ronald! Stop being so inhoshpitable to that gorgeous, sexy Draco Malfoy!’ I’m sure she’ll be very proud of you for using it in the correct context. And if you really must know, Potter invited me.”
“If someone invites you to a party, you could at least call them by their first name.” Weasel frowned at him.
“What? You mean ‘Potter’ isn’t his first name? You know, if he invites someone to a party he could at least have the manners to show up. Where is the runty little bastard anyway?” He glanced about the room again but Potter still didn’t materialise.
“Hey! Don’t talk about Harry like that!” Weasel took Draco’s glass off him and sniffed it. “Is this George’s punch?”
“You knew who I meant though. Don’t try and tell me that Potter isn’t a short-arse. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a short-arse, there have been some very fine short-arses throughout history - look at Napoleon.”
Weasel gave him a considering look before replying, “You know, Hermione actually thought Napoleon was a Muggle? It’s one of the only times when she’s run off to the library and had to come back and admit I was right!”
“I can imagine that was quite satisfying; I spent five years trying to best Granger. I gave up trying in sixth year, lost interest for some reason. So where is Potty anyway?” Draco was getting tired of standing here, the floor in the Weasley house tilted in a most peculiar way and he wasn’t sure how they put up with it. He needed another drink.
“You seem awfully interested.” Weasel had gone back to studying him. “He’s tied up at work, if you really must know.”
“Ew, I now have unpleasant images of him and Finnigan getting kinky in the restaurant.” He really did not want the image of Finnigan’s pale arse in his head, but there it was anyway.
“Dear god, I hope not!” Weasley looked appalled.
Draco glanced over to reassure himself that Finnigan was indeed here and relaxed when he saw the sandy-haired Irishman with his arm slung around the youngest Weasley. Finnigan was standing awfully close to Ginny Weasley… it sure as hell didn’t look innocent! Then again, Seamus might be a renowned flirt but he was as camp as Gilderoy Lockheart and had probably never even thought of kissing a girl, let alone having an affair with one. Besides, how likely was it that he would cheat when he had Harry waiting at home?
They stood in silence for several minutes - it was probably the friendliest few minutes Draco and the Weasel had ever spent in each other’s company, and he wasn’t really sure why the lanky Auror was talking to him at all. Draco made a grab for another glass of punch from a nearby hovering tray.
“Look, Malfoy,” Weasley said at last, “I’m Harry’s best friend, he tells me stuff. Quite frankly it is none of my business what you two get up to, but if you mess him around or hurt him in any way, I will come after you and beat you to a bloody pulp, understand?” Weasley drew himself up to his full height, which was actually quite impressive.
“I don’t know what you think you know or what Potter has been saying, but you are quite correct, it is none of your business.” Draco swayed slightly as he drew himself up to his full height, which still wasn’t as tall as Ron. “However, I assure you there is nothing going on between Potter and I; I don’t seek for that team. Furthermore, I’m pretty sure Potter can look after himself.” Had Potter told Weasley about kissing him? He had no right to tell him stuff like that! He quickly downed his glass of punch.
“I’m serious, Malfoy. Just don’t even try it, ok?” Weasel gave him one last glare and strode off.
*
Forgetting all about Astoria and Millicent, Draco Apparated to Potter’s restaurant, determined to give the other man a piece of his mind.
He was surprised to find the door unlocked, wondering what had happened to Potter’s training in ‘constant vigilance’. He let himself in and made his way up to Potter’s flat.
“Shoddy security system you have here, I could have been anyone - a Death Eater or something, oh no, wait, I was a Death Eater!” he sneered from the doorway.
“Draco? What are you doing here?” Potter looked up in surprise. He was sitting at the desk going over some paperwork with a half-full bottle of whisky and an empty glass beside him.
“I came to find out why you’ve been talking about me to Weasley.” Draco glowered at him.
“Ah. He wasn’t supposed to mention that.” Potter looked guilty.
“No, you weren’t supposed to tell him in the first place!” Draco said, pointing his finger in Potter’s general direction.
“Well sorry! You’re not the only one confused here you know.” Potter snapped back.
“What have you got to be confused about? You’re already gay!” Draco stepped into the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
“So are you! You’re just too scared to admit it.” Potter rose from the desk and stalked over to Draco. “I’m confused because I found myself really liking a bloke I used to hate, but I believed him when he told me he was straight and now I don’t know what to believe anymore, ok?” Draco took a step back.
He gulped. “Really liking?”
“Yes!”
“Oh.” Draco looked about him for something to say. “What are you doing here today anyway? It’s meant to be your day off.”
“Oh… I’m still having trouble getting the books to balance.” The fire seemed to go out of Potter.
“What? But I showed you where you were going wrong! I thought you said you had an accountant?” Draco really couldn’t see what Potter’s problem was; Undesirable No.1 should be raking it in.
“I have got an accountant, that’s the sodding problem!” Potter walked over to the sofa and sank down onto it, resting his head in his hands. “Alan, my accountant, seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth, Gringotts hates me and has frozen my accounts. I have a massive delivery coming tomorrow and the staff wages are due.”
Unsure of what to do, Draco crossed to the sofa and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “There, there, Potter, I’m sure it can’t be this bad.”
“You’re right, I’m probably being paranoid - I know we’re making a profit, I wouldn’t have sold my house to finance the second restaurant if this one wasn’t doing well. It’s just that the goblins really do hate me because of all that stuff with the dragon and the sword of Gryffindor and so they won’t see me. My accountant’s fucked off to fuck knows where so they can’t see him either and I need to sort this out.” Harry sat back on the sofa and sighed.
“You sold your house? That’s a bit drastic!”
“Yeah, well, why did you think I’d moved in here?” He gestured at the room in general. “Gringotts wouldn’t give me a mortgage either. Stop changing the subject, anyway, we were talking about you.” Potter determinedly stared at his hands, clearly not wanting to meet Draco’s eyes.
“I’m not changing the subject, you are! You could have asked for my help you know. And I bet the whisky isn’t helping.” Draco sat down next to Harry.
“I’d say you’ve had a few yourself.” Potter shifted on the sofa so he was facing Draco. “You were changing the subject because you don’t want to admit that you are attracted to me.” He cheekily put his hand on Draco’s knee and gave one of those little wonky half-smiles of his that made Draco’s insides do that strange flip-floppy thing.
“When did you get so full of yourself, anyway? Is it completely inconceivable that someone might not be attracted to you?” Draco attempted to scoot away but the sofa really wasn’t that big.
“There are loads of people who aren’t attracted to me, I just don’t happen to think that you are one of them.” Harry moved in closer.
“And what makes you so sure of that?” Potter was very close to him now. Close enough to kiss him.
“Well, for a start, I can make you blush very easily," Harry said with a cheeky grin
“I have very pale skin; I often look like I’m blushing when I’m actually not.” Draco attempted muster his best disdainful voice but feared he actually sounded a little defensive and needy instead.
“All right then. You watch me. I catch you looking at me sometimes like you want to devour me.” Harry traced a line up Draco’s knee with the tip of his finger.
“I most certainly do not! If I watch you it’s because you are a git and I need to make sure you aren’t up to no good!” Draco slapped Harry’s hand away.
“Up to no good? Funny, that was always my excuse for watching you." Harry laughed triumphantly like he’d just seen the snitch and Draco hadn’t. "How about this one then, most straight blokes would punch me for doing this.” Potter turned his face up towards Draco’s and kissed him. Again. “See? That’s twice you’ve let me get away with that now,” Potter laughed before resuming the kiss.
Potter’s lips were soft, not as soft as a girl’s, but soft nevertheless. He hadn’t shaved today and his stubble stung Draco’s own lips in a way that should have repulsed him, but actually turned him on more than he cared to say. Potter smelt masculine, not unpleasant, just masculine - slightly musky with hints of aftershave or shower gel, peaty whisky, and just Harry, with an underlying spicy sent that no doubt came from working in a restaurant all day. Potter’s hair was unbelievably soft, and Draco knew that because his left hand had somehow found its way into the ebony locks, pulling Harry’s head closer to him. His body was firm and flat - no jiggling, bouncing breasts getting in the way, just a nice, toned chest pressing against his own, their bodies flush against each other. However, certain other noticeable bulges were trying to make themselves known - from both of them.
For the fact that any of this was happening at all, Draco decided to blame George Weasley. Whatever had been in that punch had obviously been potent stuff, designed to have him make a fool of himself and act completely out of character. For what happened next, he decided he could purely blame Potter. Potter and his lopsided grin and soft hair and luscious lips. Potter and his comments of a few days ago, ‘I bet you lie awake at night thinking about what you’d like to do to my arse.' Because he had been right, ever since that conversation Draco had lain awake at night thinking about all the things he could do to Potter’s arse, just as he was thinking about those things again right now. Potter had said he would let him. Gay or not, he couldn’t turn that down any more than he could deny the erection straining at the front of his trousers.
Draco wasn’t entirely sure what happened to their clothes, but soon he noticed other things about Harry. His skin was smooth, not as satin-smooth as a woman's but smooth nonetheless, surprisingly. He had no hair on his chest, but his chest couldn’t have been less feminine with its distinct lack of breasts, and his skin tasted saltier, less perfumed.
Harry was far better at sucking cock than any of the girls he had been with; he knew exactly where and when to apply pressure, not to suck too hard, not to let his teeth get in the way. Draco discovered he couldn’t last long with Harry down there as the other man licked his way down the underside of his cock before actually taking his balls into his mouth. When Harry deep-throated him - something Draco had previously believed only porn starts could do - he nearly came on the spot.
Potter pulled off him suddenly and smirked, before getting up and dragging Draco into his bedroom, shedding the remainder of his clothes as he went. That was when he discovered something else about Potter that might have been his favourite discovery yet - Harry was completely shaved. Draco wouldn’t have believed that he could be so turned on at the sight of a completely naked cock standing to attention like that, and yet as soon as he saw it he felt the need to return the favour.
Draco was clearly not as practised at giving a blowjob as Harry had been. He knew the basic principles and attempted to replicate Harry’s own moves, some of which caused an embarrassing choking fit. Harry simply laughed and suggested that Draco might need a little more practice before attempting that one again before kissing Draco.
He thought the most erotic thing he’d ever seen might have been Harry lying back on the bed and hastily lubing and stretching himself for Draco’s cock. Draco moved as if in a dream, positioning himself on top of the Hero of the Wizarding World so that they were face to face with Harry’s legs flung over Draco’s shoulders. The sight of Harry spread out before him like that with his head thrown back so his hair fanned across the pillow and his reddened mouth open was nearly too much for Draco and he had to close his eyes.
Now other differences came into play. Potter might be on his back, letting Draco fuck him like a girl, but he was hotter, tighter, and less wet than a girl. The little grunting sounds he made were definitely male and when Draco was finally fully inside him, there was a hard cock pointing straight at him, begging for attention. Harry’s green eyes pierced him as he leant in for another kiss.
Their coupling was fast and hard, they’d had too much to drink for it to be anything else. To Draco’s relief, Potter came first, working his own cock with his hand, coming in spurts across his chest. The sensations of Harry’s orgasm set off Draco’s and soon they were a panting heap of sweat and limbs.
“Draco? No offence, but you’re getting heavy.” Harry finally uttered the first proper words that had been spoken between them for some time.
Draco reluctantly rolled off the other man. “That was pretty intense.”
“Yeah. Still sure you’re not gay?”
“Git.”
“Stop with the compliments already! You’ll embarrass me.” Harry grinned sleepily, kissing him yet again.
“How could you possibly be embarrassed after what we just did?”
“Shut up and go to sleep.” Harry snuggled in and curled his arm around Draco’s waist.
* * *
Draco hated hangovers. Particularly hangovers where you were achy and sticky like you’d just had a really good shag. Because he’d just shagged…
Fuck!
He shagged Potter last night! How in the name of Morgana had he let that happen? Potter was, well, Potter! A BLOKE. George Weasley was going to die a long, slow, painful death for spiking his drink.
Potter was nowhere to be seen, but there was a cup of strong black coffee and a doughnut by the bed that he assumed was for him. He drank the coffee but left the doughnut before hastily dragging his clothes on and Apparating home.
He couldn’t believe he had let that happen! Ok, so he’d always had this thing for Potter and lately he’d been wanking to fantasies of the man, but that didn’t mean he had to go and act on it.
He couldn’t come out as gay - his parents would disown him and he would lose his only hope of income by not being able to meet the terms of his uncle’s will. Besides, Potter was with Finnigan. It wasn’t that Draco had any great love for Finnigan or even that he’d have any qualms about stealing his lover, but Potter and Finnigan ran that restaurant together and Draco really couldn’t see Potter jeopardising that for him. Furthermore, Potter evidently had no problem with cheating on his lovers, and Draco wouldn’t stand for that. He’d heard that monogamy wasn’t big in the gay community, but Draco hadn’t been brought up to share and he was damned if he was going to start now.
There really was only one thing for it. He would just have to carry on as if last night hadn’t happened. He could probably convince Astoria to marry him and nobody need ever know. Apart from Potter.
* * *
| Part 3
*
Author: tari_sue
Prompt Number: 155
Rating: R
Pairing(s): H/D
Summary: Draco needs to get married before he turns 30 in order to claim an inheritance. With the help of his little black book and restaurant owner, Harry Potter, Draco dates as many women as possible in order to find the one worthy of being his bride.
Warnings: None really - just a bit of swearing, sex, the usual
Word Count: 21,504
Betas: A million thanks to the amazing
crazyparakiss,
oddnari and
winnett for their fabulous beta skills; this fic is so much better now thanks to them.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: This is my entry for the 2009 hd_career_fair for
dampfnudl’s wonderful prompt.
The original, shorter, version of the fic can be found here:
http://community.livejournal.com/hd_career_fair/11116.html
This version has been improved beyond belief by the wonderful
winnett, who should probably get a co-author credit for all her hard work and invaluable help.
Part 1 |
Part 2
Name: Annie Jones
Age: 27
Occupation: Herbologist
Description: Short, mousy brown hair, nice smile.
Family: Mudblood! Potter has set me up with a bloody Mudblood!
Notes on the date: This girl is a friend of Longbottom’s, I can just tell.
Pros: Clever
Cons: Mudblood, boring, Mudblood, boring.
Score: 4/10
*
“She’s the female Longbottom.” Draco complained as he stretched himself out on Harry’s sofa and waited for Potter to refill his glass.
“What’s wrong with Nev?” Potter paused in the middle of pouring drinks, looking indignant on his friend’s behalf.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“This isn’t working, is it?” Potter sighed.
“No. Whisky?” Draco replied waving his glass in Potter’s direction.
Potter did as he was told and finished pouring two generous measures of Balblair into the glasses before moving Draco’s feet off his sofa and plonking himself down in their place. Draco huffed indignantly at this treatment and stuck his feet in Potter’s lap instead.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Potter enquired, resting his glass on Draco’s shin.
“What are we going to do about what?”
“The fact that you now have just over six months left to find a wife and get married. You seem to hate just about every woman I send your way - and they don’t think much of you either.”
“Well, they should,” Draco said distractedly, trying to ignore the feeling of Potter’s hand resting on his leg, and other parts of Potter under his feet - he really hadn’t thought that move through. “They’d be bloody lucky to land a catch like me!”
“Yeah? Why don’t you just put an advert in the paper then? ‘Wanted: gold-digger, must be intelligent, witty, brilliant and beautiful. Ability to put up with a hell of a lot an advantage’, they’ll be queuing around the block.” Potter smirked at him.
“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you, Potter?” Draco glowered back
“Yup.”
They sat drinking in a companionable silence for a while. Draco glanced around the room, it was looking better now that when he’d first come here and there were fewer boxes littering the place, although Draco couldn’t figure out where Potter had found room for all the stuff in this poky flat.
“Look, it’s Charlie’s wedding anniversary on Saturday, they’re having party, why don’t you come?” Harry said, eventually, looking at Draco’s feet rather than his face.
“I’m not going on a date with you, Potter.”
“It’s not a date, idiot. I just thought that you might stand a better chance at a party, let your hair down, and get to know women in a less intense setting.” Potter shifted self-consciously and pushed Draco’s feet off him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my hair!” Draco ran a hand over his hair to check it was immaculate.
“I never said there was, it’s a Muggle expression.” Potter sighed. “I just think you might be more yourself in a more relaxed environment. You can get to know these girls rather than practically holding job interviews.”
“I know enough about them to know whether or not they’d be any good.”
“Oh really, and what is your criteria for the perfect candidate for the job of Mrs Malfoy?” Harry joked.
“Just the usual: looks, intelligence, family, personality.” Draco ticked the points off on his fingers.
“Oh god, I bet you have some sort of a list or something, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do. How else am I supposed to grade them properly?” Draco shook his head; no wonder Potter never got anywhere if he thought making lists was silly rather than sensible.
“You grade them?” Harry sounded incredulous.
“This is a very important decision!” Draco defended. Honestly, Potter made it sound like he shouldn’t take the most important decision of his life seriously!
“Let me see.” Potter held out his hand.
“What? No! I’m not showing you, you’ll just laugh at me anyway.” He folded his arms and looked sulky.
“If I’m going to laugh anyway then it won’t hurt to show me, will it?”
“I’m not showing you the book, Potter. Fuck off.”
“Ok.” Potter shrugged and looked away. Draco was surprised that he’d given up so easily, but chalked it up as a victory and took another sip of his drink. The next thing Draco knew, Potter has his wand out and was accioing his little black book from his pocket.
“Give that back, you total bastard!” Draco leapt up, spilling whisky on his trousers.
“No, I want to know what was so very wrong with all of those girls.” Potter opened the book.
“Potter…” he made a grab for the book but Potter held it away from him.
“Too posh? Too posh? How the hell can you, Draco Malfoy, have the cheek to call someone else too posh? I’m mean; you probably have gold toilets at home!” Harry held a hand against Draco’s chest to keep him from the notebook.
“Honestly, Potter, that would be terribly crass,” Draco replied, making another grab for the book, but Potter moved out of his way again, laughing.
“I rest my case. Too fucking posh for gold loos, but apparently not as posh as,” Potter consulted the book, “Caroline Marchmont. And, Draco, that poor woman did not look like a horse!”
“Yes she fucking did! She ate like a horse too. She also laughed like one and had an arse like one.” Draco shuddered at the idea of being married to Caroline Marchmont. “Give me the sodding book back, you bastard.” Where had he left his wand, anyway? Bugger, it was sticking out of his cloak pocket, he could see it from here.
“All right then, what about Jacinta Smythe-Bryant? ‘Brain the size of a pea’, do they have to take an I.Q. test?”
“I can’t marry an imbecile, can I?” Draco scowled and sat back on the sofa with his arms folded. Let the bastard have the book, see if he cared. Maybe if he inched sideways he could reach his wand…
“Wow, you are really critical of appearance, aren’t you?” Potter was still flicking through the book.
“Not especially, no,” replied Draco defensively.
“Yeah? ‘Nose is too big’, ‘mouth is too big’, ‘too short’, ‘too tall’, ‘too thin’, ‘too fat’, ‘Tits are too big’. I mean, can tits even be too big to a straight bloke? I thought it was meant to be the bigger the better? Reading this you sound more gay than I am!” Potter was now giving him a really odd look.
“Of course tits can be too big! I am not gay, Potter, I’m a pure-blood!” Draco exclaimed, looking down his nose at Potter - an easy task because Potter was a short-arse.
“What the fuck has that got to do with anything? I assure you, there are plenty of gay pure-bloods!” Potter was now doing that annoying ‘Draco is a pillock’ head shake thing.
“No there aren’t! Homosexuality is a Muggle invention; pure-bloods are above such things!” he replied stubbornly.
“What about Charlie Weasley? Or Johnny Bulstrode? Or even Jemima Alderney for that matter!” Harry was now giving Draco his best earnest look.
“I thought you said we were going to Weasley’s wedding anniversary?”
“We are - his and his husband’s, Angelo De Vittri, also a pure-blood. Stop changing the subject.”
Draco was quiet for a moment before replying, “I remember when Johnny Bulstrode came out. It was the summer between our third and fourth year at Hogwarts, just before the Quidditch World Cup. Mrs Bulstrode brought Millie to our house so that she could cry on my mother’s shoulder. She was devastated; she said that she would never have grandchildren.” He remembered wondering why anyone would choose to be homosexual if it meant upsetting their family like that.
“She was just upset and being melodramatic! There are ways for homosexuals to have children, Charlie and Angelo are looking into adoption, for example, or there’s surrogacy. Besides, even if Johnny had been straight, he wouldn’t necessarily have had children, and what about Millie anyway?”
“Millie isn’t the prettiest of girls; I don’t think they hold out much hope of her ever getting married." She wouldn’t thank him for telling Potter any of this. When her mother had come out with that little gem she’d disappeared for ages. He finally found her out by the folly pretending to be fine.
“Really? Someone ought to tell Dean Thomas that, he thinks she’s gorgeous.” A mischievous look appeared on Harry’s face as he contemplated what seemed to be his favourite hobby - matchmaking.
“Does she know?” Draco decided to humour him; Millie could do with finding a decent bloke and Thomas hadn’t exactly been hit with the ugly stick.
“I don’t think so. I guess you could always bring her to Charlie’s party…” there was a wicked gleam in Harry’s eye that said he was about to get his own way.
“They disowned him, Harry.” Draco said quietly after a pause.
“Huh? Who?” Harry looked confused at the abrupt change of topic.
“Johnny. Pretty much as soon as they found out he was seeing a man they disowned him. So you see, he’s not a pure-blood anymore, he’s not anything. By rights, he shouldn’t even still be using the name Bulstrode. It was horrible.” Draco stared into the bottom of his glass.
“So pure-blood homosexuals should just hide who they are instead?”
“No. They should just not choose to be gay.”
“You don’t choose it. You are born gay; there is nothing you can do about it. Although to be honest, I wouldn’t change if I could - I like fucking men.” Potter looked pissed off.
“This isn’t a personal thing against you, Harry. You can choose whether to act on those feelings or not. Not everyone is the Chosen One; not everyone can get away with doing whatever they want.” Draco grabbed the whisky bottle and poured himself another.
“Right. Tell me, Draco, do you have those feelings?” Potter grabbed Draco’s wrist as he raised the glass to his lips.
“What feelings?” He snatched his hand away and downed the drink in one, relishing the burn down the back of his throat.
“The ones you have to suppress. The ones you have to lie to yourself about. The ones you will presumably be lying to your future wife about.” Potter was full of righteous indignation now, and he sounded almost exactly like Granger.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I don’t have feelings; I’m not perverted like you.” Draco thumped his glass down on the coffee table and turned to glare at Potter.
“Really? So you won’t wake up in a few years’ time and wonder why you can’t get it up for your wife? Why she’s miserable, why you’re miserable, why your kids are miserable? Because if you are planning on getting married, this won’t just be about you, will it? It’ll be about her too!” Harry glared back at him.
“I’m NOT gay! How many times do I have to tell you that?” Draco rose from the sofa picked up his cloak; he didn’t need to listen to this. Finally drawing his wand, he accioed his list and stuffed it back in his pocket.
“How many times do you have to tell yourself that?” Potter rose too and walked toward him.
“I have to think about my family!”
“And their expectations are more important than your happiness?”
“Shut the fuck up, you don’t even have a family, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I don’t know what I’m talking about? You trying coming out when you are the sodding ‘Boy Who Lived’. You think I can get away with doing whatever I want? There are people I’ve never met who will never forgive me for being gay! People think I’m some sort of role model or hero or whatever other shite they want to pin on me. I can’t do whatever I want; I’m supposed to do whatever the entire Wizarding World wants! No, I might not have a family, I have no idea whether or not they would have had a problem with my sexual orientation, but I do know what it’s like to try and live up to other people’s expectations.” Potter’s eyes were bright and he was breathing heavily; Draco was not turned on in the slightest.
“Disappointing people whom you love is a bit different than disappointing people you don’t know. I love my family, Potter, and I’m not gay. I’m going home; I don’t need your help anymore. Goodbye.” He pulled his cloak on and wrenched the door open.
“You’re not gay?” Potter put a hand on the door, preventing him from leaving.
“No.”
“Not at all?” Potter was standing very close to him now and there was a strange glint in his eye.
“No.” Draco was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, he tried to back away and nearly fell over one of the damned boxes; maybe they weren’t completely gone after all. Potter reached out to steady him.
“You won’t be at all affected by me doing this then.”
Before Draco knew what was happening, Harry had leant forward and pressed his lips to Draco’s. He was too stunned to move at first but then he forcefully pushed Potter away.
“You kissed me!” he spluttered, staring at Harry, unsure of how to act.
“I know.” Harry’s big green eyes were staring at him intently through his glasses.
“Why?” Draco unconsciously raised his hand to his lips.
“Why not?” Harry feigned a casual shrug.
“But I told you I wasn’t gay!” Belatedly, Draco rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth.
“So it shouldn’t have bothered you. You can leave now, but think about that kiss, think about how it felt to be kissed by a bloke and whether or not you liked it. If the answer is yes, you might want to rethink your marriage plans.” Harry was holding the door open for Draco to leave.
“I can’t do that…” Draco stared blankly at the open door and then looked at Harry.
“Just think about it, that’s all I ask.” Harry started to raise his hand to Draco’s face but then dropped it.
Draco nodded absently and made his way to the door.
“I’ll see you at Charlie’s party on Saturday, it’s at the Burrow. Don’t forget to bring Millicent. If you’re still one hundred per cent sure that you aren’t gay then, I’ll drop it, ok?”
Draco nodded again and went home in a daze.
* * *
He couldn’t get rid of the feel and taste of Potter from his mouth.
It hadn’t even been a proper kiss, no tongues, nothing. Just a press of lips.
So why was it haunting him? It had been two days!
‘Because if you weren’t gay it wouldn’t have affected you,’ a treacherous little voice that sounded like Potter said at the back of his brain. He thumped his pillow and lay back down.
“But I’m not gay,” he said aloud to the empty room. “I’m not, I can’t be. I’ve always dated women. And now the wanker has me talking to myself.” He sighed and rolled over.
This was stupid. Potter had wanted to prove that Draco was gay; he probably thought everyone was gay. All he seemed to have done was prove that Draco was obsessed with Harry Potter.
‘Nothing new there then,’ said the voice in his head. He rolled onto his other side.
He didn’t want Potter. He was going to get married and do what was expected of him. He didn’t want Potter. He couldn’t, besides Potter was with Finnigan.
Not that that made a difference, of course. Because he didn’t fancy Potter. He pulled the pillow over his head to try and smother the voice.
* * *
“Why did you kiss me?”
“Good morning to you too, Malfoy,” Harry said with that funny little lopsided grin that was just so damned Gryffindor, glancing down from where he was kneeling on a table writing the specials on the blackboard.
“I said why did you kiss me?”
“I know, I heard you.” Harry carefully underlined the word ‘puddings’.
Draco waited a heartbeat but Harry still didn’t seem inclined to answer his question.
“Well?”
Potter shrugged halfway through the word ‘syllabub’, making it go wonky. “I wanted to. It seems to have you a tad bothered. Why is that I wonder?”
“I’m not bothered! Anyway, what about Finnigan?”
“Seamus? He’s off sourcing ingredients. So you wouldn’t object if I did it again?” Harry put down his chalk and turned to face him.
“Of course I would! I’m not gay! If I were gay it wouldn’t bother me!” He stamped his foot in frustration.
“But you just said it didn’t bother you.” Harry said as he jumped down off the table.
“It doesn’t!” Draco glanced towards the kitchen, hoping no one was in there listening.
“Which is it, Draco? Bothered or not bothered?” Potter walked towards Draco.
Draco gulped and said nothing.
“See, I think you liked it,” Harry said quietly, invading Draco’s personal space. “I think you’ve been thinking about it since last night and you liked it, which bothers you because you can’t possibly like being kissed by a man.”
“You are talking out of your arse.” For some reason, he couldn’t make his legs move away.
“Hmm, spend a lot of time thinking about my arse, do you?”
“No!”
“I bet you do. I bet you lie awake at night thinking about what you’d like to do to my arse. Or you will now, anyway. You know what? I’d probably let you.”
“You bottom?” Draco asked before he could stop himself. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Potter would willingly let him do that.
“I didn’t say that.” Potter pulled away abruptly and Draco felt a twinge of disappointment. “But since you mention it, yes,” he smirked, “so long as my partner is prepared to give up his snow-white arse on occasion too.”
Draco gulped. “I er, I have an appointment.” He turned and almost ran out of the door.
* * *
Name: Tori Greengrass
Age: 27
Occupation: Lawyer.
Description: Well, she’s Daph’s baby sister, she looks like a thinner version of Daph. Wavy blonde hair, green eyes, rosy cheeks - really pretty actually, she has improved enormously since she used to be that little pest who followed us around everywhere.
Family: The Greengrasses did quite well during the war - they kept out of it just enough that neither side had a problem with them and yet they still managed to make money.
Notes on the date: I actually had a really good evening, I wonder if Daphne would kill me for marrying her little sister? She’s intelligent and really funny and great company. Plus, she’s really pretty, so Potter was clearly wrong, how can I be attracted to him if I’m attracted to Astoria? I knew he was wrong.
Pros: Brilliant, beautiful, fun, clever, rich, good family. Gorgeous eyes.
Cons: Great-Great Grandfather was Muggleborn, but that can probably be overlooked.
Score: 9.5/10
*
“Do you remember that time my mother took us all to Hogsmeade for Daph’s tenth birthday?” Tori asked, flashing her perfect white teeth at him.
“What, when Pants, Theo and I tried to put you on the Hogwarts Express back to London?” he laughed in response as a surly waiter thumped two bowls of pasta in front of them.
“Daphne went crying to Mum and you all got such a telling off!”
“You think that was bad? You didn't hear the bollocking I got when I got home!” He was feeling decidedly guilty for the terrible Muggle restaurant he’d taken her to in an attempt to avoid Potter.
“The stupid thing was that I wasn’t upset in the slightest - I thought it was all a huge adventure, I’d never been in a train station before.” Tori laughed again and took a bite of pasta, pulling a face at it as she did so.
“Daph was always such a little snitch though; she got Pants and me into trouble more times than I can possibly remember,” Draco said before bravely sampling his own food. It was disgusting.
“Pansy usually got her own back though.” Astoria delicately pushed the plate away, reminding Draco of Narcissa. “Yet when we got older and Pansy and Daph were sneaking off to meet boys, they always expected everyone else to keep their secrets. Daph never landed us in it on purpose though; she’s just hopeless at keeping her gob shut.”
“Actually, that time at the train station I think she really thought I was going to put you on the train by yourself.”
“You were.” She playfully swatted his arm.
“I wasn’t! We were just winding you up. And Daphne.” He tried his best to look innocent.
“Whatever you say.” She took a sip of wine and shrugged. “You know, I was a bit surprised to find you were looking for a wife, I always thought you were gay.” He couldn’t figure out if she was winding him up or no.
“What?” he spluttered. “What on earth made you think that? I’m not gay!” Draco could feel the colour rising in his cheeks. “Who says I’m looking for a wife?” he added belatedly.
“Darling, I’m an associate at Diggle, Diggle and Howarth, your Uncle’s solicitors, I know everything.”
“Then you know why I’m looking for a wife.” He pushed his pasta around the bowl, not looking at her.
“Yes, your Uncle’s will said you could only inherit if you were married by the time you are thirty,” she said pointedly.
“There you go then.”
She gave him a long, considering look before shrugging and taking another mouthful of her wine and pulling a face again.
“Incidentally, why did you not take me to Potter and Finnigan’s restaurant? I was told you took all your dates there and I’d been rather looking forward to trying it; it’s supposed to be fabulous isn’t it? Unlike here.” She glanced around disdainfully at the restaurant.
“I, er, I got rather sick of the sight of Potter, if you must know.” He drained his own glass.
“Really? I always thought you couldn’t get enough of the sight of Potter. You were always following him around at school.” Astoria had always been far too shrewd for her own good.
“I’ll have you know he was the one following me around - he’s the poof, not me.” He took a bite of his food.
“You know, darling, there really is nothing wrong with being gay these days.” She was staring at him as thought she could make him spill all his secrets - she probably could.
“I never said there was did I? It’s just that I happen not to be. Look, I’ve been invited to a party on Saturday, would you like to come with me?” he said, changing the subject.
“Ooh! A second date with the great Draco Malfoy? Nobody gets asked out twice! What a lucky girl I turned out to be.” If there was a trace of sarcasm in her voice, Draco chose to ignore it. “I thought you were taking Millicent?”
“How do you know that?” He was confused, surely none of his acquaintances would know about some Weasley party?
“I work with her, durbrain.” She smirked at him.
“Durbrain? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“What can I say? There is something about you that brings out the childish insults.” She threw her napkin at him to emphasise her point.
“So you won’t come then?” He picked her napkin out of his dinner; he hadn’t wanted to finish it anyway.
“Are you planning on turning up with a girl on each arm? I suppose that’s one way to kill the ‘gay’ rumours. Either that or people will just think that you are over-compensating, but then, that’s nothing new for you, is it?”
“If you must know, Potter seems to fancy himself as a bit of a matchmaker and he wants to set Millie up with Dean Thomas.”
“I can see that working. Does this mean that you’ve been spending more time with Potter than you would have led me to believe?”
“I told you, he fancies himself as a matchmaker. He keeps setting me up with people like Loony Lovegood.”
“Luna? What did the poor girl do to deserve that? You know, it doesn’t sound as though he’s trying too hard, maybe he wants you for himself?”
“Don’t be stupid, he knows I’m straight. Anyway, he’s spoken for.”
“Not that you made a point of finding out or anything.”
“Of course not!”
“I have to go, I have a case to prepare for tomorrow.” She started to rise from the table.
“You still didn’t say if you were coming to Charlie’s with me?”
“You’re taking Millicent. Thanks for dinner.” She dropped a kiss in the general direction of his forehead and waved as she made her way to the exit.
Draco grumbled to himself as he got the bill, mentally noting that pure-blood girls always seemed to assume that he was paying, even if they earned a good salary. He silently cursed Potter for messing up his chances of a second date with Astoria - if the stupid specky git hadn’t told him to take Millicent he could have taken Astoria, ergo it was all Potter’s fault. Most things usually were.
* * *
Draco looked around the Burrow with distain. He’d always known the Weasleys lived in a hovel, but he’d never expected to actually set foot in it. To make matters worse, he was here alone. Astoria had turned him down, Millie had buggered off with Dean, and Potter had stood him up! Not that he was here as Potter’s date or anything, but still, the four-eyed git could at least have been here rather than throwing him to the lions, so to speak.
At least the punch was good, even if it had been made by George Weasley.
“Feeling abandoned?” a voice asked behind him. Turning around quickly he saw Astoria standing beside some sort of ghastly clock with too many hands.
“Tori! I thought you weren’t coming?” He threw his arms around the woman in a most un-Malfoy-like manner, desperately glad to see another Slytherin face among the sea of ginger heads. He was possibly a tiny bit pished.
“No, I said I wasn’t coming with you. Ginny invited me,” she laughed, extracting herself from him embrace.
“Oh charming, you’d rather go to a party with the Girl-Weasel than me? You’re not… you know… are you?”
“No, Draco, I’m not ‘you know’. I didn’t come here with Ginny. I should imagine she came with her fiancée. I came on my own - women can do that in the modern world you know.” She pushed a piece of cake at him but he shook his head - goodness only knew where Mother Weasley had got that from, he was fairly sure the Weasleys couldn’t afford a house-elf.
“Would you care for a drink?” he asked instead. The drinks on the other hand were probably safe - the alcohol would kill any Muggle-loving germs hanging around the place.
“Oh no, you’re not actually drinking George’s punch are you?” Astoria looked at the glass in his hand which only contained a few bits of fruit and something that George had described as a ‘jelly baby’, which seemed like a little extra pocket of alcohol swimming in a sea of alcohol.
“It’s actually surprisingly good.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “Especially the jelly babbies.”
“Riiight… Have you seen Charlie and Angelo? I wanted to give them their anniversary present.”
“I think we’re supposed to leave them on the table over there.” Draco made a vague gesture that encompassed half the room.
“Oh, ok. I’ll be back.” He watched her head over to the present table and then she started chatting with Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan. Seeing Finnigan made Draco wonder again where Potter was.
“Your luck with women is still holding up then, Malfoy? That’s two I’ve seen walk away from you as fast as possible,” an unwelcome but not unexpected person stopped in front of him.
“Oh joy, it’s my old friend Weasley.” Draco’s smile was more of a grimace, but it was the best Weasel was going to get.
“You might find quite a lot of people here called that. Not wishing to sound inhospitable or anything, but what the fuck are you doing here?” Weasel wasn’t looking as pissed off as Draco might have expected.
“Inhoshpitable? Did Granger teach you that word?” He gave a small hiccough before giving his best Hermione Granger imitation, “‘Oh honestly, Ronald! Stop being so inhoshpitable to that gorgeous, sexy Draco Malfoy!’ I’m sure she’ll be very proud of you for using it in the correct context. And if you really must know, Potter invited me.”
“If someone invites you to a party, you could at least call them by their first name.” Weasel frowned at him.
“What? You mean ‘Potter’ isn’t his first name? You know, if he invites someone to a party he could at least have the manners to show up. Where is the runty little bastard anyway?” He glanced about the room again but Potter still didn’t materialise.
“Hey! Don’t talk about Harry like that!” Weasel took Draco’s glass off him and sniffed it. “Is this George’s punch?”
“You knew who I meant though. Don’t try and tell me that Potter isn’t a short-arse. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a short-arse, there have been some very fine short-arses throughout history - look at Napoleon.”
Weasel gave him a considering look before replying, “You know, Hermione actually thought Napoleon was a Muggle? It’s one of the only times when she’s run off to the library and had to come back and admit I was right!”
“I can imagine that was quite satisfying; I spent five years trying to best Granger. I gave up trying in sixth year, lost interest for some reason. So where is Potty anyway?” Draco was getting tired of standing here, the floor in the Weasley house tilted in a most peculiar way and he wasn’t sure how they put up with it. He needed another drink.
“You seem awfully interested.” Weasel had gone back to studying him. “He’s tied up at work, if you really must know.”
“Ew, I now have unpleasant images of him and Finnigan getting kinky in the restaurant.” He really did not want the image of Finnigan’s pale arse in his head, but there it was anyway.
“Dear god, I hope not!” Weasley looked appalled.
Draco glanced over to reassure himself that Finnigan was indeed here and relaxed when he saw the sandy-haired Irishman with his arm slung around the youngest Weasley. Finnigan was standing awfully close to Ginny Weasley… it sure as hell didn’t look innocent! Then again, Seamus might be a renowned flirt but he was as camp as Gilderoy Lockheart and had probably never even thought of kissing a girl, let alone having an affair with one. Besides, how likely was it that he would cheat when he had Harry waiting at home?
They stood in silence for several minutes - it was probably the friendliest few minutes Draco and the Weasel had ever spent in each other’s company, and he wasn’t really sure why the lanky Auror was talking to him at all. Draco made a grab for another glass of punch from a nearby hovering tray.
“Look, Malfoy,” Weasley said at last, “I’m Harry’s best friend, he tells me stuff. Quite frankly it is none of my business what you two get up to, but if you mess him around or hurt him in any way, I will come after you and beat you to a bloody pulp, understand?” Weasley drew himself up to his full height, which was actually quite impressive.
“I don’t know what you think you know or what Potter has been saying, but you are quite correct, it is none of your business.” Draco swayed slightly as he drew himself up to his full height, which still wasn’t as tall as Ron. “However, I assure you there is nothing going on between Potter and I; I don’t seek for that team. Furthermore, I’m pretty sure Potter can look after himself.” Had Potter told Weasley about kissing him? He had no right to tell him stuff like that! He quickly downed his glass of punch.
“I’m serious, Malfoy. Just don’t even try it, ok?” Weasel gave him one last glare and strode off.
*
Forgetting all about Astoria and Millicent, Draco Apparated to Potter’s restaurant, determined to give the other man a piece of his mind.
He was surprised to find the door unlocked, wondering what had happened to Potter’s training in ‘constant vigilance’. He let himself in and made his way up to Potter’s flat.
“Shoddy security system you have here, I could have been anyone - a Death Eater or something, oh no, wait, I was a Death Eater!” he sneered from the doorway.
“Draco? What are you doing here?” Potter looked up in surprise. He was sitting at the desk going over some paperwork with a half-full bottle of whisky and an empty glass beside him.
“I came to find out why you’ve been talking about me to Weasley.” Draco glowered at him.
“Ah. He wasn’t supposed to mention that.” Potter looked guilty.
“No, you weren’t supposed to tell him in the first place!” Draco said, pointing his finger in Potter’s general direction.
“Well sorry! You’re not the only one confused here you know.” Potter snapped back.
“What have you got to be confused about? You’re already gay!” Draco stepped into the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
“So are you! You’re just too scared to admit it.” Potter rose from the desk and stalked over to Draco. “I’m confused because I found myself really liking a bloke I used to hate, but I believed him when he told me he was straight and now I don’t know what to believe anymore, ok?” Draco took a step back.
He gulped. “Really liking?”
“Yes!”
“Oh.” Draco looked about him for something to say. “What are you doing here today anyway? It’s meant to be your day off.”
“Oh… I’m still having trouble getting the books to balance.” The fire seemed to go out of Potter.
“What? But I showed you where you were going wrong! I thought you said you had an accountant?” Draco really couldn’t see what Potter’s problem was; Undesirable No.1 should be raking it in.
“I have got an accountant, that’s the sodding problem!” Potter walked over to the sofa and sank down onto it, resting his head in his hands. “Alan, my accountant, seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth, Gringotts hates me and has frozen my accounts. I have a massive delivery coming tomorrow and the staff wages are due.”
Unsure of what to do, Draco crossed to the sofa and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “There, there, Potter, I’m sure it can’t be this bad.”
“You’re right, I’m probably being paranoid - I know we’re making a profit, I wouldn’t have sold my house to finance the second restaurant if this one wasn’t doing well. It’s just that the goblins really do hate me because of all that stuff with the dragon and the sword of Gryffindor and so they won’t see me. My accountant’s fucked off to fuck knows where so they can’t see him either and I need to sort this out.” Harry sat back on the sofa and sighed.
“You sold your house? That’s a bit drastic!”
“Yeah, well, why did you think I’d moved in here?” He gestured at the room in general. “Gringotts wouldn’t give me a mortgage either. Stop changing the subject, anyway, we were talking about you.” Potter determinedly stared at his hands, clearly not wanting to meet Draco’s eyes.
“I’m not changing the subject, you are! You could have asked for my help you know. And I bet the whisky isn’t helping.” Draco sat down next to Harry.
“I’d say you’ve had a few yourself.” Potter shifted on the sofa so he was facing Draco. “You were changing the subject because you don’t want to admit that you are attracted to me.” He cheekily put his hand on Draco’s knee and gave one of those little wonky half-smiles of his that made Draco’s insides do that strange flip-floppy thing.
“When did you get so full of yourself, anyway? Is it completely inconceivable that someone might not be attracted to you?” Draco attempted to scoot away but the sofa really wasn’t that big.
“There are loads of people who aren’t attracted to me, I just don’t happen to think that you are one of them.” Harry moved in closer.
“And what makes you so sure of that?” Potter was very close to him now. Close enough to kiss him.
“Well, for a start, I can make you blush very easily," Harry said with a cheeky grin
“I have very pale skin; I often look like I’m blushing when I’m actually not.” Draco attempted muster his best disdainful voice but feared he actually sounded a little defensive and needy instead.
“All right then. You watch me. I catch you looking at me sometimes like you want to devour me.” Harry traced a line up Draco’s knee with the tip of his finger.
“I most certainly do not! If I watch you it’s because you are a git and I need to make sure you aren’t up to no good!” Draco slapped Harry’s hand away.
“Up to no good? Funny, that was always my excuse for watching you." Harry laughed triumphantly like he’d just seen the snitch and Draco hadn’t. "How about this one then, most straight blokes would punch me for doing this.” Potter turned his face up towards Draco’s and kissed him. Again. “See? That’s twice you’ve let me get away with that now,” Potter laughed before resuming the kiss.
Potter’s lips were soft, not as soft as a girl’s, but soft nevertheless. He hadn’t shaved today and his stubble stung Draco’s own lips in a way that should have repulsed him, but actually turned him on more than he cared to say. Potter smelt masculine, not unpleasant, just masculine - slightly musky with hints of aftershave or shower gel, peaty whisky, and just Harry, with an underlying spicy sent that no doubt came from working in a restaurant all day. Potter’s hair was unbelievably soft, and Draco knew that because his left hand had somehow found its way into the ebony locks, pulling Harry’s head closer to him. His body was firm and flat - no jiggling, bouncing breasts getting in the way, just a nice, toned chest pressing against his own, their bodies flush against each other. However, certain other noticeable bulges were trying to make themselves known - from both of them.
For the fact that any of this was happening at all, Draco decided to blame George Weasley. Whatever had been in that punch had obviously been potent stuff, designed to have him make a fool of himself and act completely out of character. For what happened next, he decided he could purely blame Potter. Potter and his lopsided grin and soft hair and luscious lips. Potter and his comments of a few days ago, ‘I bet you lie awake at night thinking about what you’d like to do to my arse.' Because he had been right, ever since that conversation Draco had lain awake at night thinking about all the things he could do to Potter’s arse, just as he was thinking about those things again right now. Potter had said he would let him. Gay or not, he couldn’t turn that down any more than he could deny the erection straining at the front of his trousers.
Draco wasn’t entirely sure what happened to their clothes, but soon he noticed other things about Harry. His skin was smooth, not as satin-smooth as a woman's but smooth nonetheless, surprisingly. He had no hair on his chest, but his chest couldn’t have been less feminine with its distinct lack of breasts, and his skin tasted saltier, less perfumed.
Harry was far better at sucking cock than any of the girls he had been with; he knew exactly where and when to apply pressure, not to suck too hard, not to let his teeth get in the way. Draco discovered he couldn’t last long with Harry down there as the other man licked his way down the underside of his cock before actually taking his balls into his mouth. When Harry deep-throated him - something Draco had previously believed only porn starts could do - he nearly came on the spot.
Potter pulled off him suddenly and smirked, before getting up and dragging Draco into his bedroom, shedding the remainder of his clothes as he went. That was when he discovered something else about Potter that might have been his favourite discovery yet - Harry was completely shaved. Draco wouldn’t have believed that he could be so turned on at the sight of a completely naked cock standing to attention like that, and yet as soon as he saw it he felt the need to return the favour.
Draco was clearly not as practised at giving a blowjob as Harry had been. He knew the basic principles and attempted to replicate Harry’s own moves, some of which caused an embarrassing choking fit. Harry simply laughed and suggested that Draco might need a little more practice before attempting that one again before kissing Draco.
He thought the most erotic thing he’d ever seen might have been Harry lying back on the bed and hastily lubing and stretching himself for Draco’s cock. Draco moved as if in a dream, positioning himself on top of the Hero of the Wizarding World so that they were face to face with Harry’s legs flung over Draco’s shoulders. The sight of Harry spread out before him like that with his head thrown back so his hair fanned across the pillow and his reddened mouth open was nearly too much for Draco and he had to close his eyes.
Now other differences came into play. Potter might be on his back, letting Draco fuck him like a girl, but he was hotter, tighter, and less wet than a girl. The little grunting sounds he made were definitely male and when Draco was finally fully inside him, there was a hard cock pointing straight at him, begging for attention. Harry’s green eyes pierced him as he leant in for another kiss.
Their coupling was fast and hard, they’d had too much to drink for it to be anything else. To Draco’s relief, Potter came first, working his own cock with his hand, coming in spurts across his chest. The sensations of Harry’s orgasm set off Draco’s and soon they were a panting heap of sweat and limbs.
“Draco? No offence, but you’re getting heavy.” Harry finally uttered the first proper words that had been spoken between them for some time.
Draco reluctantly rolled off the other man. “That was pretty intense.”
“Yeah. Still sure you’re not gay?”
“Git.”
“Stop with the compliments already! You’ll embarrass me.” Harry grinned sleepily, kissing him yet again.
“How could you possibly be embarrassed after what we just did?”
“Shut up and go to sleep.” Harry snuggled in and curled his arm around Draco’s waist.
* * *
Draco hated hangovers. Particularly hangovers where you were achy and sticky like you’d just had a really good shag. Because he’d just shagged…
Fuck!
He shagged Potter last night! How in the name of Morgana had he let that happen? Potter was, well, Potter! A BLOKE. George Weasley was going to die a long, slow, painful death for spiking his drink.
Potter was nowhere to be seen, but there was a cup of strong black coffee and a doughnut by the bed that he assumed was for him. He drank the coffee but left the doughnut before hastily dragging his clothes on and Apparating home.
He couldn’t believe he had let that happen! Ok, so he’d always had this thing for Potter and lately he’d been wanking to fantasies of the man, but that didn’t mean he had to go and act on it.
He couldn’t come out as gay - his parents would disown him and he would lose his only hope of income by not being able to meet the terms of his uncle’s will. Besides, Potter was with Finnigan. It wasn’t that Draco had any great love for Finnigan or even that he’d have any qualms about stealing his lover, but Potter and Finnigan ran that restaurant together and Draco really couldn’t see Potter jeopardising that for him. Furthermore, Potter evidently had no problem with cheating on his lovers, and Draco wouldn’t stand for that. He’d heard that monogamy wasn’t big in the gay community, but Draco hadn’t been brought up to share and he was damned if he was going to start now.
There really was only one thing for it. He would just have to carry on as if last night hadn’t happened. He could probably convince Astoria to marry him and nobody need ever know. Apart from Potter.
* * *
| Part 3
*