Seduction With Tea
Title: Seduction With Tea
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/General
Length: 2326, oneshot
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco is infatuated with tea. Harry is infatuated with Draco
Note: Written for hpfanfic10x10 ‘Taste’ and The Seduction Challenge and hp_ficathon 21.'Strings' 19.'Hope' 15.'Persistence 8.'Weakness' 20.'Tea' 22.'Silencio' 25.'Tongue' 18.'Home sweet home.'
“That bloke in the corner -- the one that looks like he’s never ran a comb through his hair -- wants the special,” Chase told Draco. “I’m taking my break.”
Draco nodded and sighed heavily. Chase had way too many breaks. Draco would have to do something about that. After pouring the tea he grabbed a string from the container full of tea bags and eased it into the styrofoam cup.
“Here’s your special,” Draco said, setting the cup on the table. That’s when green eyes locked with his. “Potter.”
Potter smiled. “Yeah.” His eyes traveled the length of Draco’s body. Draco felt strangely self-conscious wearing the mandatory apron. He would have to change that too. “But you can call me Harry.”
Draco raised one finely tweezed eyebrow.
“Erm, I mean, it has been, er, how many years since we saw each other,” Potter stumbled. Draco was satisfied to find out he still spoke the same way.
He did have a point though, Draco relented. “Fine, Harry. Try the bloody drink so I can leave.”
With deliberate slowness, Harry picked up the string and swirled the tea bag around. Draco huffed in annoyance. The cup rose to Harry’s lips and he drank, not taking his eyes off Draco’s face. He set the cup down and blinked in confusion.
“Well, how is it?” Draco snapped.
Harry jumped. “Oh! Erm, it’s a little hot.”
Draco couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “It is tea. It’s supposed to be. So it’s fine. I can leave.” He made to go but Harry shot out a hand and grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“That’s not a nice way to speak to customers,” he said with a smile. “I could complain your manager.”
“Go ahead then,” Draco said smugly. “You’re looking at the owner.”
Harry quieted and sipped his drink, letting Draco go back to the counter. He could feel Harry’s eyes on him until he left.
Two days later Harry walked through the doors and took the same table as before. Draco had Chase, now a break short, serve him. He didn’t feel like talking to him. Potter was still annoying and stuck on himself like back in school.
Draco was wiping down the counter when Chase came back, giving Draco a look. “What?” Draco snapped, knowing Chase wouldn’t say anything unless prompted.
“Bloke over there,” he said, jerking his head in Harry’s direction. “I think he has a thing for you. Kept asking if you were coming over.” He chuckled and slid the drink in front of Draco. “Go get him, Tiger!”
Draco glared. Maybe he should just fire him. Chase seemed to come to the same conclusion because he smiled brightly and snatched the cup, rushing over to Harry.
It wasn’t until Draco had his back turned, prodding at the faulty coffee maker with a spatula and wishing he had created a purely wizard café, that Harry popped up at the counter and said, “I’d like two creamed buns.”
Draco, startled, turned to him and asked, “What?”
“Two buns, please.” He winked. Draco didn’t get it. He walked to the bakery section, reaching for two buns when Harry said, “Not food.”
Turning his head, Draco saw Harry leaning over the counter, biting his lip, and staring a little too low to be looking at Draco’s face. He tried to quell the warmth spreading through his body.
Harry blushed and Draco grinned. “Veronica,” he nodded to the door, where a girl with curly brown hair was entering, “Would willingly give you a shag.”
Harry looked at her then scrunched his nose in a way Draco tried to find not cute. “Actually, I was hoping for you…” he trailed off at the look on Draco’s face.
“Keep hoping,” Draco drawled, shaking his head and walking to the other cash register to attend to a customer. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Harry berate himself before leaving the café.
“I have this one tea recipe that’ll send customers running from the café down the street to yours,” Harry tempted, standing before Draco as he wiped down a table. Draco pretended to not hear him but he was interested. That stupid café at the corner got way too many customers and only because they had strippers. What kind of café had strippers? What was the world coming to?
“It’s really good. Raspberry. Delicious. Everyone who tries it likes it. And no other place sells it; it’s a secret recipe.” Harry hopped around Draco as he traveled from table to table.
“I never pegged you as a cook,” Draco said. He pushed the napkin holder into Harry’s hand and cleaned off the table.
Harry frowned. “I can cook. But I didn’t make the recipe. Look, do you want it or not? It’s the best.” He smiled widely and set the napkin holder back.
Draco faced him. “You’re very persistent.” Harry nodded. “I hate that.” Draco hid his smile at Harry chewing on his lip. “But fine. Come around after we close.”
Harry grinned. “Great! I’ll be back.”
“And the recipe better be good!” Draco called after him. The rest of the day he had to endure Chase’s teasing. When it got to be too much he threatened to fire him. After that Draco felt much better.
“Your bloke is at the door,” Chase said, pointing to said door. “You should teach him to comb his hair. And here I thought you had taste.” He chuckled. Draco scowled.
“Let him in?” Veronica questioned from the large window she was cleaning. Draco nodded and she unlocked the door. Harry thanked her then walked up to Draco, who narrowed his eyes at Veronica. She was looking at Harry appraisingly.
“Where is it?” Draco snapped, thrusting his hand out.
“Erm,” Harry started, frowning and looking blankly at Draco’s outstretched hand.
“Don’t tell me you were lying.” Draco was still looking at Veronica. She finally noticed and raised her hands in apology. Chase and her shared amused looks. Draco decided he needed to stop it. Harry wasn’t his. And it’s not like he wanted him. Not really.
“I thought you could come by my flat. I could make it for you, and then you could decide if you want it. It’s really good tea,” Harry enticed.
If Draco hadn’t wanted to get away from Chase and Veronica he probably still would have agreed to go with Harry. Tea was his weakness. Ever since he was five he had a cup of tea every day, thereby starting an addiction. It was the whole reason behind opening a café.
“Sure. Chase, you can close up. You know how.” He tossed the keys, grabbed Harry’s wrist, and pulled him out the door. He ignored Chase’s catcalls and Veronica’s looks.
Draco was seated on an old brown couch surveying the living room. It wasn’t anything special. In fact, it was downright awful looking. Everything appeared to be from flea markets and thrift shops. Nothing matched. And the couch smelled faintly of moth balls. Overall, if you wanted to get into someone’s pants it was the worst place.
Draco scowled in distaste when Harry sat on the other side of the couch, two mugs of tea in his hands.
“Raspberry,” Harry flourished, handing over a mug. Draco took it gingerly and blew the steam away before taking a sip. He had to admit, to himself, that it was delicious.
“It’ll do,” Draco replied in a superior voice to Harry’s questioning gaze. Harry bent forward and for a second Draco thought he was going to kiss him. But Harry slipped a worn paper out of his back pocket and handed it over. Draco took it, slight disappointment festering inside him.
“The recipe.” Harry set the mug on the coffee table and tucked his feet under his arse. “So, erm, what do you want to do?”
Draco took a long sip to hide his grin. After he schooled his features into a condescending look, he placed the mug next to Harry’s and stood. “I thought I just came for this.” He held the paper between his fingers and headed for the door. “I’ll send you the money for the recipe since we’ll be using it.”
His footsteps echoed across the hardwood floors. Draco reached a hand out and turned the doorknob, his stomach sinking. Harry wasn’t even going to try stopping him.
“Draco! Did you want to stay and…erm…” he trailed off and coughed.
That was all Draco wanted. “No thanks.” And he left.
After three days of Harry subtly and unsubtly (mostly the latter) asking Draco to his flat, Draco gave in. Of course, it was because Harry promised another recipe. This one was supposed to be strawberry. The raspberry was selling something wonderful.
“Come in,” Harry said, opening the door wide. “The tea’s soon done.”
Draco nodded and swept past him, making sure to graze his stomach. He couldn’t feel anything though. All he found out was that Harry’s shirt was scratchy material.
The kitchen was just as bad as the living room. The table even had chips off it. Draco couldn’t resist asking, “You have money. Why is your house shit?”
Oddly enough, Harry flushed. He walked to the tea and poured it. “I give a lot of it to orphanages. Besides, I don’t mind this. It reminds me of the Weasleys,” he said quietly.
Draco rolled his eyes and took a seat. Harry filled the teapot back up and put it on the stove. He set a mug in front of Draco, looking at it nervously. Draco looked in suspicion at it. Maybe Potter had poisoned it. Or drugged it. So then he could take advantage of Draco. He took a cautious sip and spit it back out immediately.
“Oh, fuck it, Potter. What is with this? Did you poison it?” To Draco’s surprise, Harry laughed.
“No. No. I, erm, made it myself.” He ducked his head and traced the wood grain with his thumb.
“You mean you lured me here under the false pretense of a brilliant tea recipe when really all you want to do is -- is -- fuck me!” Draco tried not to feel flattered when Harry nodded and started chewing on his lip. The teapot chose that moment to scream shrilly. Draco latched onto that sound and focused on it, allowing his anger to grow. “Silencio!” The sound stopped abruptly.
Draco pushed the chair back roughly, letting it tumble to the floor with a crash. “I’ll thank you to never talk to me again,” he said tersely before striding out the door and slamming it behind him. The whole way home he had a permanent smile on his face. Now all he had to do was wait for Harry’s apology.
A week later Harry hadn’t shown up at the café. Draco was starting to think he’d been a little too hard, he’d scared him off. Which sucked because Draco wasn’t about to go hunt him down. He wasn’t that desperate.
So it was with great pleasure when a subdued Harry showed up and refused to order from anyone but Draco.
“What will you take?” Draco asked, pulling a tablet and pen to him.
“Your forgiveness,” Harry said, placing his hand over the tablet.
“It’ll cost you.”
Harry nodded and chewed his lip. That was how Draco found himself sitting on Harry’s ugly couch with a mug of raspberry tea between his palms. Harry was trying in his inelegant way to say that he didn’t just want to get into Draco’s pants; that he wanted to date. Draco simply nodded, happiness threatening to bubble up inside him and take over. That couldn’t happen. He was a Malfoy for God’s sake. Elegant, rich, mature, immune to Potters, and sophisticated.
Suddenly Harry’s tongue was in his ear.
Draco sunk into the worn cushions. Fuck it felt so good. Who would have known his ears were so sensitive. Harry slid his tongue from Draco’s ear, over his jaw line, and into his mouth. Their tongues touched and Draco about lost it. If he had known it would be this good he wouldn’t have played hard to get.
“Tea,” Harry gasped, pulling away. “I can get lots of tea. Good tea like the first one. Mrs. Weasley made that one. She has lots of tea recipes. Come out to dinner with me tomorrow?”
How could Draco refuse?
One month and thirty recipes later Draco was going to move in with Harry. First thing on his list of improvements was to get rid of the I’m-poor-furniture and decorate. The ‘Home Sweet Home’ picture Draco would have to somehow sneak in the trash without Harry noticing. Maybe he would hire an interior designer.
“I give up,” Harry announced randomly as he watched Draco put the teapot on the stove. “I quit.”
“Quit what?” Draco asked, turning to face him.
Harry swept his arms around. “Everything. I don’t have anymore tea recipes. Hell, half of them were from the internet.” He started chewing on his lip and Draco moved forward, taking it between his lips and sucking. “I want you to move in because you want to. Not because of the bloody tea,” he garbled around Draco’s mouth.
Draco let go of Harry’s lip and poked him in the stomach. “You are an idiot. I’m not moving in with you because of the tea. If this was about the tea I would have left three weeks ago, when the tea recipes became shit. I’m only saying this once, so don’t think I’m going to be all sappy.” He waited for Harry to nod. “I may have come for the tea but I stayed for you.”
Harry smiled. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and leaned against his forehead. Draco pressed their lips together fleetingly. “Now that picture is true,” Harry whispered, pointing to the ugly ‘home sweet home’ picture. Draco grimaced. Maybe he could get away with moving it to the cellar.
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/General
Length: 2326, oneshot
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco is infatuated with tea. Harry is infatuated with Draco
Note: Written for hpfanfic10x10 ‘Taste’ and The Seduction Challenge and hp_ficathon 21.'Strings' 19.'Hope' 15.'Persistence 8.'Weakness' 20.'Tea' 22.'Silencio' 25.'Tongue' 18.'Home sweet home.'
“That bloke in the corner -- the one that looks like he’s never ran a comb through his hair -- wants the special,” Chase told Draco. “I’m taking my break.”
Draco nodded and sighed heavily. Chase had way too many breaks. Draco would have to do something about that. After pouring the tea he grabbed a string from the container full of tea bags and eased it into the styrofoam cup.
“Here’s your special,” Draco said, setting the cup on the table. That’s when green eyes locked with his. “Potter.”
Potter smiled. “Yeah.” His eyes traveled the length of Draco’s body. Draco felt strangely self-conscious wearing the mandatory apron. He would have to change that too. “But you can call me Harry.”
Draco raised one finely tweezed eyebrow.
“Erm, I mean, it has been, er, how many years since we saw each other,” Potter stumbled. Draco was satisfied to find out he still spoke the same way.
He did have a point though, Draco relented. “Fine, Harry. Try the bloody drink so I can leave.”
With deliberate slowness, Harry picked up the string and swirled the tea bag around. Draco huffed in annoyance. The cup rose to Harry’s lips and he drank, not taking his eyes off Draco’s face. He set the cup down and blinked in confusion.
“Well, how is it?” Draco snapped.
Harry jumped. “Oh! Erm, it’s a little hot.”
Draco couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “It is tea. It’s supposed to be. So it’s fine. I can leave.” He made to go but Harry shot out a hand and grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“That’s not a nice way to speak to customers,” he said with a smile. “I could complain your manager.”
“Go ahead then,” Draco said smugly. “You’re looking at the owner.”
Harry quieted and sipped his drink, letting Draco go back to the counter. He could feel Harry’s eyes on him until he left.
Two days later Harry walked through the doors and took the same table as before. Draco had Chase, now a break short, serve him. He didn’t feel like talking to him. Potter was still annoying and stuck on himself like back in school.
Draco was wiping down the counter when Chase came back, giving Draco a look. “What?” Draco snapped, knowing Chase wouldn’t say anything unless prompted.
“Bloke over there,” he said, jerking his head in Harry’s direction. “I think he has a thing for you. Kept asking if you were coming over.” He chuckled and slid the drink in front of Draco. “Go get him, Tiger!”
Draco glared. Maybe he should just fire him. Chase seemed to come to the same conclusion because he smiled brightly and snatched the cup, rushing over to Harry.
It wasn’t until Draco had his back turned, prodding at the faulty coffee maker with a spatula and wishing he had created a purely wizard café, that Harry popped up at the counter and said, “I’d like two creamed buns.”
Draco, startled, turned to him and asked, “What?”
“Two buns, please.” He winked. Draco didn’t get it. He walked to the bakery section, reaching for two buns when Harry said, “Not food.”
Turning his head, Draco saw Harry leaning over the counter, biting his lip, and staring a little too low to be looking at Draco’s face. He tried to quell the warmth spreading through his body.
Harry blushed and Draco grinned. “Veronica,” he nodded to the door, where a girl with curly brown hair was entering, “Would willingly give you a shag.”
Harry looked at her then scrunched his nose in a way Draco tried to find not cute. “Actually, I was hoping for you…” he trailed off at the look on Draco’s face.
“Keep hoping,” Draco drawled, shaking his head and walking to the other cash register to attend to a customer. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Harry berate himself before leaving the café.
“I have this one tea recipe that’ll send customers running from the café down the street to yours,” Harry tempted, standing before Draco as he wiped down a table. Draco pretended to not hear him but he was interested. That stupid café at the corner got way too many customers and only because they had strippers. What kind of café had strippers? What was the world coming to?
“It’s really good. Raspberry. Delicious. Everyone who tries it likes it. And no other place sells it; it’s a secret recipe.” Harry hopped around Draco as he traveled from table to table.
“I never pegged you as a cook,” Draco said. He pushed the napkin holder into Harry’s hand and cleaned off the table.
Harry frowned. “I can cook. But I didn’t make the recipe. Look, do you want it or not? It’s the best.” He smiled widely and set the napkin holder back.
Draco faced him. “You’re very persistent.” Harry nodded. “I hate that.” Draco hid his smile at Harry chewing on his lip. “But fine. Come around after we close.”
Harry grinned. “Great! I’ll be back.”
“And the recipe better be good!” Draco called after him. The rest of the day he had to endure Chase’s teasing. When it got to be too much he threatened to fire him. After that Draco felt much better.
“Your bloke is at the door,” Chase said, pointing to said door. “You should teach him to comb his hair. And here I thought you had taste.” He chuckled. Draco scowled.
“Let him in?” Veronica questioned from the large window she was cleaning. Draco nodded and she unlocked the door. Harry thanked her then walked up to Draco, who narrowed his eyes at Veronica. She was looking at Harry appraisingly.
“Where is it?” Draco snapped, thrusting his hand out.
“Erm,” Harry started, frowning and looking blankly at Draco’s outstretched hand.
“Don’t tell me you were lying.” Draco was still looking at Veronica. She finally noticed and raised her hands in apology. Chase and her shared amused looks. Draco decided he needed to stop it. Harry wasn’t his. And it’s not like he wanted him. Not really.
“I thought you could come by my flat. I could make it for you, and then you could decide if you want it. It’s really good tea,” Harry enticed.
If Draco hadn’t wanted to get away from Chase and Veronica he probably still would have agreed to go with Harry. Tea was his weakness. Ever since he was five he had a cup of tea every day, thereby starting an addiction. It was the whole reason behind opening a café.
“Sure. Chase, you can close up. You know how.” He tossed the keys, grabbed Harry’s wrist, and pulled him out the door. He ignored Chase’s catcalls and Veronica’s looks.
Draco was seated on an old brown couch surveying the living room. It wasn’t anything special. In fact, it was downright awful looking. Everything appeared to be from flea markets and thrift shops. Nothing matched. And the couch smelled faintly of moth balls. Overall, if you wanted to get into someone’s pants it was the worst place.
Draco scowled in distaste when Harry sat on the other side of the couch, two mugs of tea in his hands.
“Raspberry,” Harry flourished, handing over a mug. Draco took it gingerly and blew the steam away before taking a sip. He had to admit, to himself, that it was delicious.
“It’ll do,” Draco replied in a superior voice to Harry’s questioning gaze. Harry bent forward and for a second Draco thought he was going to kiss him. But Harry slipped a worn paper out of his back pocket and handed it over. Draco took it, slight disappointment festering inside him.
“The recipe.” Harry set the mug on the coffee table and tucked his feet under his arse. “So, erm, what do you want to do?”
Draco took a long sip to hide his grin. After he schooled his features into a condescending look, he placed the mug next to Harry’s and stood. “I thought I just came for this.” He held the paper between his fingers and headed for the door. “I’ll send you the money for the recipe since we’ll be using it.”
His footsteps echoed across the hardwood floors. Draco reached a hand out and turned the doorknob, his stomach sinking. Harry wasn’t even going to try stopping him.
“Draco! Did you want to stay and…erm…” he trailed off and coughed.
That was all Draco wanted. “No thanks.” And he left.
After three days of Harry subtly and unsubtly (mostly the latter) asking Draco to his flat, Draco gave in. Of course, it was because Harry promised another recipe. This one was supposed to be strawberry. The raspberry was selling something wonderful.
“Come in,” Harry said, opening the door wide. “The tea’s soon done.”
Draco nodded and swept past him, making sure to graze his stomach. He couldn’t feel anything though. All he found out was that Harry’s shirt was scratchy material.
The kitchen was just as bad as the living room. The table even had chips off it. Draco couldn’t resist asking, “You have money. Why is your house shit?”
Oddly enough, Harry flushed. He walked to the tea and poured it. “I give a lot of it to orphanages. Besides, I don’t mind this. It reminds me of the Weasleys,” he said quietly.
Draco rolled his eyes and took a seat. Harry filled the teapot back up and put it on the stove. He set a mug in front of Draco, looking at it nervously. Draco looked in suspicion at it. Maybe Potter had poisoned it. Or drugged it. So then he could take advantage of Draco. He took a cautious sip and spit it back out immediately.
“Oh, fuck it, Potter. What is with this? Did you poison it?” To Draco’s surprise, Harry laughed.
“No. No. I, erm, made it myself.” He ducked his head and traced the wood grain with his thumb.
“You mean you lured me here under the false pretense of a brilliant tea recipe when really all you want to do is -- is -- fuck me!” Draco tried not to feel flattered when Harry nodded and started chewing on his lip. The teapot chose that moment to scream shrilly. Draco latched onto that sound and focused on it, allowing his anger to grow. “Silencio!” The sound stopped abruptly.
Draco pushed the chair back roughly, letting it tumble to the floor with a crash. “I’ll thank you to never talk to me again,” he said tersely before striding out the door and slamming it behind him. The whole way home he had a permanent smile on his face. Now all he had to do was wait for Harry’s apology.
A week later Harry hadn’t shown up at the café. Draco was starting to think he’d been a little too hard, he’d scared him off. Which sucked because Draco wasn’t about to go hunt him down. He wasn’t that desperate.
So it was with great pleasure when a subdued Harry showed up and refused to order from anyone but Draco.
“What will you take?” Draco asked, pulling a tablet and pen to him.
“Your forgiveness,” Harry said, placing his hand over the tablet.
“It’ll cost you.”
Harry nodded and chewed his lip. That was how Draco found himself sitting on Harry’s ugly couch with a mug of raspberry tea between his palms. Harry was trying in his inelegant way to say that he didn’t just want to get into Draco’s pants; that he wanted to date. Draco simply nodded, happiness threatening to bubble up inside him and take over. That couldn’t happen. He was a Malfoy for God’s sake. Elegant, rich, mature, immune to Potters, and sophisticated.
Suddenly Harry’s tongue was in his ear.
Draco sunk into the worn cushions. Fuck it felt so good. Who would have known his ears were so sensitive. Harry slid his tongue from Draco’s ear, over his jaw line, and into his mouth. Their tongues touched and Draco about lost it. If he had known it would be this good he wouldn’t have played hard to get.
“Tea,” Harry gasped, pulling away. “I can get lots of tea. Good tea like the first one. Mrs. Weasley made that one. She has lots of tea recipes. Come out to dinner with me tomorrow?”
How could Draco refuse?
One month and thirty recipes later Draco was going to move in with Harry. First thing on his list of improvements was to get rid of the I’m-poor-furniture and decorate. The ‘Home Sweet Home’ picture Draco would have to somehow sneak in the trash without Harry noticing. Maybe he would hire an interior designer.
“I give up,” Harry announced randomly as he watched Draco put the teapot on the stove. “I quit.”
“Quit what?” Draco asked, turning to face him.
Harry swept his arms around. “Everything. I don’t have anymore tea recipes. Hell, half of them were from the internet.” He started chewing on his lip and Draco moved forward, taking it between his lips and sucking. “I want you to move in because you want to. Not because of the bloody tea,” he garbled around Draco’s mouth.
Draco let go of Harry’s lip and poked him in the stomach. “You are an idiot. I’m not moving in with you because of the tea. If this was about the tea I would have left three weeks ago, when the tea recipes became shit. I’m only saying this once, so don’t think I’m going to be all sappy.” He waited for Harry to nod. “I may have come for the tea but I stayed for you.”
Harry smiled. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and leaned against his forehead. Draco pressed their lips together fleetingly. “Now that picture is true,” Harry whispered, pointing to the ugly ‘home sweet home’ picture. Draco grimaced. Maybe he could get away with moving it to the cellar.