HDFanFair: Fascination
Title: Fascination
Author: enchanted_jae
Prompt Number: PROMPT #182
Career Choices: Milliner, Accountant
Rating: PG13
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: On a mission from his mother, Draco braves the bastion of H.P. Millinery and finds that Harry Potter is not the brash, aggravating youth from his past.
Warnings/Content Notes: UST
Word Count: 5760
Author's Notes: I'd like to thank the Academy, but I owe my beta more. Thank you, celestlyn!
Sunday afternoon, Narcissa Malfoy checked her reflection in the mirror stationed in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor. Under the stipulations of her house arrest, she was only able to visit family, but she was allowed to leave the Manor one day each month to shop for necessities. Narcissa always made certain she looked her best on those days. The mirror made the appropriate compliments, and Narcissa nodded at her reflection before turning in a swirl of skirts to head for the Floo.
Narcissa stepped inside the enlarged fireplace and took a pinch of powder. Flinging it down, she called out, "Diagon Alley!"
***
Narcissa stepped smartly from the Floo at Madame Malkin's. She knew the proprietress begrudged her presence, but Madame Malkin was not about to turn away a wealthy customer, no matter how besmirched said customer's name was. Narcissa noted that Madame Malkin was busy with another customer, so she busied herself with inspecting some of the new imported silks as she waited.
The shop's front door opened, and Narcissa glanced over to see who else had entered. She knew the woman, although they would not be considered friends. Mrs Flint was wearing the latest fashion, but what really snared Narcissa's attention was the smart little hat that was perched on the woman's head at a jaunty angle. Intrigued, Narcissa made her way over to her.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Flint," Narcissa greeted politely. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"
"Indeed, Mrs Malfoy," sniffed the other woman. It was plain to see she'd rather not be in Narcissa's company but was too polite to say so.
"That is a darling hat you're wearing," said Narcissa. "May I inquire as to where you bought it?"
"It's called a fascinator," Mrs Flint replied. "I bought it next door at H.P. Millinery."
Narcissa's eyes brightened with excitement. "Is that a new shop?" she asked. "I've not heard of it."
"Yes, it has only been open for a few weeks now," said Mrs Flint. "However, once the Weird Sisters were spotted wearing fascinators from H.P. Millinery, they've become all the rage."
"All the rage, you say?" mused Narcissa. She was determined to go next door as soon as she finished her business at Madame Malkin's. "Do you know who the proprietor is?" she asked.
"He is someone you know very well, Mrs Malfoy," the other woman said. Her eyes positively gleamed as she added, "It's Harry Potter."
***
Draco was poring over a financial report when his fireplace flared.
"Draco, darling, are you home?"
Draco stifled an irritated sigh and pasted on a pleasant smile before turning to face his mother. "Yes, mum, I'm here," he said. He crossed to the fireplace and hunkered down before it.
Narcissa Malfoy's disembodied head floated eerily in the flames. "Darling, I've a favor to ask," she began.
"If it's within my abilities," Draco cut in smoothly. His mother had once demanded he secure Lucius' release from Azkaban, then hadn't spoken to Draco for days when he was unable to comply. He would do anything for her, but some things simply weren't possible.
"It's a small favor, really," said Narcissa. "You see, today was my day to visit Diagon Alley, and I didn't get one item that I would dearly love to have."
"And, you wish me to fetch it for you?" guessed Draco. He didn't enjoy going to Diagon Alley any more than his mother did, and for the same reasons. Being given the cut direct from former acquaintances and even shop keeps was a humbling experience.
"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother," Narcissa simpered.
"No bother at all, mum," Draco said, smile fixed firmly in place.
"Excellent, darling," beamed his mother. "Now then, I need you to go to H.P. Millinery, and..."
***
Draco's feet had brought him to the pavement in front of H.P. Millinery, but he was having a difficult time convincing them to take him past the threshold. He hadn't seen Potter in years. Not since his trial, certainly. It seemed the hero had disappeared from England after testifying on behalf of Draco and his mother, and the Daily Prophet had been full of speculation as to Potter's whereabouts. Draco had been curious, as well, although not alarmed. Potter had an uncanny knack of always landing on his feet, after all. Now, it seemed the prodigal hero had returned and set up shop.
"Unbelievable," Draco snorted. As he mentally prepared himself to open the door, it opened untouched.
"Do you plan to loiter outside all day, Malfoy, or are you coming in?"
Embarrassed to have been caught waffling outside the shop, Draco lifted his chin and shouldered his way past Potter and inside. He paused to look around. Potter's shop was filled with hats, as expected. What Draco hadn't anticipated was the sheer genius of the designs, the sumptuous materials used and the superb workmanship.
Draco finally turned to look at Potter, and he felt his pulse stutter. Potter was even better looking than before, if such were possible. Draco had always been fascinated by Potter's green eyes, and now they were framed by stylish lenses, rather than the clunky, round glasses Potter had worn during his years at Hogwarts. Potter's hair was still messy, but now it appeared to have been styled that way. His locks seemed artfully mussed instead of merely atrocious.
"Do you like what you see?"
Draco frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
"My shop," said Potter, gesturing at the space around them. "Do you like it?"
"You seem to have done well for yourself, Potter," Draco said. "However, I didn't come here to admire the premises. I wish to buy a hat."
"To complement with what you're wearing now?" Potter asked politely.
"It's not for me, you tosser!" Draco exclaimed. Potter's lips twitched, and Draco knew he'd been taking the piss. "Sod off," he grumbled. Potter laughed in delight, and the pleasant sound made Draco's toes curl in his expensive shoes. His own reaction annoyed him, and he hastened to get back to the subject at hand. "The hat will be for my mother."
"Ah, how is your mum these days?"
Draco's eyes narrowed, but Potter didn't appear to be anything but genuinely interested. "Her movements are restricted, but she's doing well," he said. "She was in Diagon Alley yesterday, and she was taken by one of your creations."
Potter all but preened. "Indeed?" he drawled. "I am quite flattered that your mum likes my hats. Was there a particular style she wanted?"
"Yes, but I confess I do not know the name of the style," Draco replied. "It's a small hat, worn forward on the head."
"Fascinator."
"I suppose they are fascinating, Potter," said Draco. "At least, my mother seems quite intrigued with them."
Potter laughed. "No, Malfoy," he said. "The style is known as a fascinator."
"Why would you give it such an atrocious name?"
"I didn't invent the style," Potter told him. "I merely design them."
Draco was unaccustomed to this incarnation of Harry Potter. His boyhood rival was witty and urbane, and if Draco didn't know any better, he would swear Potter was flirting with him. He wasn't quite sure how to handle such attention. Draco cleared his throat. "It seems your designs are in great demand," he said. "How long would it take you to create a fascinator for my mother?"
"If you provide me with some idea of what your mum is looking for, it would take approximately three weeks to design and create a hat for her," Potter said.
Draco felt his shoulders tense. His mother wanted to wear a fascinator to the cocktail party that her sister Andromeda was hosting on the weekend. "I am afraid she needs it sooner than that," he said carefully.
Potter's brows rose. "How soon?" he asked.
"By Saturday," replied Draco. He hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt.
"You're asking a lot, Malfoy."
Draco quelled his pride. "Please?" he tried. "I am prepared to pay you handsomely."
Potter's lips twitched in a grin. "Money is no object," he said. "However, I am not above bribery."
"What manner of bribery?" asked Draco. He was intrigued by the idea of Potter's suggestion, yet he was suspicious of the motive behind it.
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night," said Potter.
Draco was dumbfounded. That was not what he'd been expecting at all, although he was titillated at the prospect. "Dinner?" he repeated, in case he'd heard Potter wrong.
"It's the evening meal, where one partakes of nourishment," Potter deadpanned.
Draco felt a flicker of annoyance and also a spark of unexpected humor. "Thank you, Potter," he said drily. "I am aware of what dinner is. I am simply surprised that you would suggest it."
One of Potter's shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. "It's been entirely too long since I've seen you, Malfoy," he said. "I'd like a chance to catch up."
Draco was mildly disappointed by Potter's reply. "Is that the only reason?" he pressed.
"Not quite," said Potter, flashing a grin. "I confess I find you quite attractive."
***
Draco had a day and a half, and a sleepless night in between, to ponder the implications behind Potter's request. Potter had indicated he wished to catch up with Draco, but he had also admitted that he was attracted to Draco. That tidbit of information was what had had Draco's mind awhirl ever since. Potter had cleaned up nicely from his slovenly days at Hogwarts, and if Draco was honest with himself, the attraction was entirely mutual. The question was, did Potter intend to pursue it, or was he merely becoming reacquainted with an old schoolmate?
Never one to be caught unprepared, Draco took extra care with his appearance the night he was to have dinner with Potter. After showering, he selected appropriate attire and made certain that his clothing was impeccable. Draco had chosen to wear a gray suit with a paisley print tie. He knew the color set off his eyes, because Pansy had told him so when she had gifted him with the tie.
Earlier that afternoon, an owl had arrived, bearing a portkey to Draco's dinner destination and a short note from Potter confirming the time of their meeting. Draco had no idea where the portkey would take him, and he was somewhat surprised to find himself in the middle of a large foyer.
"Ah, Malfoy, right on time, I see," said Potter, bustling in to greet him.
"Where are we?" Draco asked, looking about with interest.
Potter smiled at him. "Welcome to my home," he said.
Draco felt a flutter of excitement. "You did not tell me we were dining at your home," he said.
"Would you prefer to dine in public?" Potter questioned. "I assure you, photos of us would be gracing the cover of tomorrow's Daily Prophet, and everyone would assume we're having a torrid affair."
Another quiver of excitement danced down Draco's spine, but he kept his expression impassive. "I see your point, Potter," he said. Although Potter had invited him to dinner, it seemed he wanted to maintain a low profile. That suited Draco just fine.
Taking on the role of gracious host, Potter led the way to a small, formal dining room. Two places were set across the table from one another, and Potter gestured for Draco to have a seat. A house-elf dressed in a pretty pink frock entered and snapped her fingers. An array of dishes appeared on the table.
"Thank you, Dita," said Potter. The elf curtsied and disappeared again with a faint pop. "What are you doing these days, Malfoy?" Potter asked, indicating Draco should help himself first.
Draco selected some greens and a dish of mixed fruit. "Gringotts is expanding, and they've hired me to handle their French accounts," Draco answered. "It helps that I scored well in Arithmancy and that I speak fluent French."
Potter grimaced. "I never did well in Arithmancy," he said. "Charms was my forte."
"How did you become involved in millinery?" asked Draco. He was genuinely curious about it.
"I've always found hats interesting," replied Potter. "When I was introduced to the wizarding world, I became even more fascinated with hats. Many more witches wore them than Muggle women do, and the styles were captivating."
"Is that when you discovered you're bent?" Draco drawled.
"Toss pot," snorted Potter. "No, I believe that particular revelation didn't occur to me until Sixth year."
He didn't elaborate, and Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from prying. "So you decided you liked hats," he said. "When and where did you learn to design them?"
"There was a Muggle millinery school in Italy that I attended," said Potter. "I got to study some of the great milliners such as Elsa Schiaparelli, Frank Olive and Lilly Dache. I took inspiration from them, and I subtly used magic in my own designs. My instructors seemed excited about my original creations, and they gave me more intense, one-on-one training."
Potter stopped speaking and glanced up with a guilty grin. "I suppose I'm boring you," he said.
"Not at all," Draco assured him. "To the contrary, I find it quite fascinating." His host's smile widened, and Draco felt a familiar twitch of interest in his nethers.
"To make a lengthy story short," said Potter, "I used my Muggle millinery training as a basis, added in some magic, and now I have a thriving millinery shop of my own."
They continued to make small talk, and Draco found himself disappointed that Potter hadn't even tried to flirt with him. For some reason, Draco hadn't expected dinner to be so...tame.
"Malfoy," Potter murmured over pudding, snaring Draco's immediate attention.
"Yes?" Draco responded, hoping his voice didn't sound breathless.
"I have a special favor to ask."
Draco shifted on his chair to ease the sudden pressure in his pants. "What kind of favor?"
Potter smiled at him. "Would you bring me some white peacock feathers? I want to incorporate them into your mum's hat."
***
Returning home later that evening, Draco felt somewhat cheated. Potter had been the consummate host. He had made sure Draco was comfortable and at ease, and he had been surprisingly easy to talk to. After Potter had commented that he found Draco attractive, Draco had been expecting his host to make a pass at him. Draco had been prepared to rebuff him, which is why he was feeling out of sorts. He had not been looking forward to Potter's flirtation, no. In fact, Draco was relieved that Potter had played the role of perfect gentleman.
Now, all Draco had to do was procure some white peacock feathers and deliver them to Potter. A thrill of excitement raced through Draco at the thought of seeing Potter again.
***
Draco pushed open the door of H.P. Millinery and strode inside. He nodded to the pair of witches browsing there as he waited for Potter to finish adjusting a display.
Potter's eyes lit up upon seeing Draco. "Gorgeous," he murmured, moving forward to meet him.
Draco smiled in satisfaction until he realized that Potter's eyes were fastened on the feathers he was carrying.
"These are perfect, Malfoy," said Potter, relieving Draco of the feathers. "Once I'm finished making your mum's fascinator, is there a chance I can buy additional peacock feathers from your estate?"
"I'm sure we can work something out, Potter," Draco replied, feeling slighted.
"Splendid," said Potter, turning away from Draco and heading towards the back of his shop. He looked over his shoulder and added, "Would you care to see the design I've worked up?"
Draco voiced his assent and quickly caught up to Potter. He was curious to see what Potter had come up with, that was all.
Potter led the way to his workshop in back. There, he placed the peacock feathers carefully in a tissue-lined box on a low settee before stepping up to a drafting table and beckoning Draco closer. "You said your mum will be wearing a periwinkle gown to the cocktail party, yes?" At Draco's nod, Potter continued. "That is an excellent choice for her. The pale blue will look smashing with her eyes."
Draco shot Potter a suspicious glare, but Potter nattered on without missing a beat.
"I began with a basic top hat in miniature," he said. "The color will match Narcissa's gown." As he spoke, he indicated the detailed drawing on the table. "I plan to affix two of the peacock feathers to the silver band, and they will sweep back and provide a high profile. There will be netting in the front, a half net, which will give your mum the mysterious look so many witches love. I'll attach rhinestones to the feathers and the netting, in the manner of Jack McConnell, to give the hat some extra pizazz."
"Jack McConnell?"
Potter finally deigned to look at Draco. "A famous Muggle milliner," he said.
Potter's eyes were sparkling with passion for his work, and Draco experienced an unwelcome surge of lust. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Potter's gaze was drawn to Draco's mouth, and his pupils dilated behind his stylish glasses. "Do you know what I'd like right now?" he asked.
"What?" Draco breathed, leaning infinitesimally closer.
"Tea," said Potter. "I'm quite peckish." He stood and turned off the lamp over the table.
Draco realized his mouth was hanging open in dismay, and he quickly closed it. "I'll just be off, then," he announced. "I don't want to intrude."
"You're welcome to join me," Potter invited. "Molly Weasley keeps me well supplied with nibbles, and I've plenty of tea."
Draco admitted to himself that he really didn't want to leave just yet. "If you're sure it will be no bother," he said.
Potter waved off Draco's concerns. "Not at all," he said. "I'll be glad for the company."
Thus, Draco found himself taking afternoon tea with Potter. His host kept up an idle stream of chatter, amusing Draco with anecdotes about the Weird Sisters and various other witches who had purchased hats from him while he was abroad.
"Unbeknownst to the bride," Potter was saying, "her mother paid me extra to include a rather lethal hat pin among the feathers and frippery. She insisted her daughter would need to defend herself against the unwanted attentions of her new husband. I politely refrained from suggesting his attentions would not be unwanted and simply added the hat pin. As far as I know, the two of them are still blissfully wed with a child on the way."
"I trust you don't intend to arm my mother with a lethal hat pin, Potter," remarked Draco.
Potter laughed. "Not unless she specifically requests it, no," he said.
Draco set his empty tea cup in its saucer. "I should be going," he announced with reluctance. Draco was surprised at how much he had enjoyed the time he'd spent with Potter this afternoon. He had hoped another dinner invitation was in the offing, but it appeared such was not to be the case.
Potter stood up. "I'll see you out, Malfoy," he said. Potter led the way through his shop, escorting Draco to the door. "Oh, and Malfoy?"
Draco's pulse jumped. He turned to face Potter again. "Yes?" he drawled.
"Don't forget to bring me some more peacock feathers."
***
Draco spent the evening brooding. Potter was sending mixed signals, and Draco found it confusing and aggravating. At times, Potter looked as if he wished to pounce, but just as Draco was anticipating a little dalliance, Potter backed off and left him hanging. It was maddening. Draco indulged in a solitary wank before bedtime, which helped relax him enough to sleep.
On Thursday morning, Draco dispatched one of the house-elves to gather additional shed peacock feathers from the Manor's grounds while he went to his office at Gringotts. After a tedious day spent monitoring investment results, Draco returned home for tea. He had just placed his serviette across his lap when the fireplace sputtered to life. Irritated, Draco turned in his chair to see who was interrupting his tea.
"Potter!" he exclaimed.
"Malfoy, may I come through?" asked the specter of Potter's disembodied head.
Draco's good manners and his attraction to Potter bade him invite Potter in, but Draco was still quite annoyed with Potter. His hesitance must have shown on his face.
"Please?" Potter requested. "It's urgent. I need to see you."
Potter's words were a balm to Draco's wounded pride. He stood and strode to the Floo. "Of course, Potter," he said smoothly. "Please do come through." As he stepped back, Draco weighed the merits of playing hard to get versus the satisfaction of indulging Potter in whatever he desired.
Potter appeared in a flash of green and exited the Floo with unexpected grace.
"I see you've finally mastered the art of travel by Floo," Draco couldn't resist taunting.
Unlike their volatile childhood, Potter simply laughed off Draco's comment. "Practice makes perfect and all that rot," he said. He saw Draco's tea service and added, "I apologize for interrupting."
"It's no bother," said Draco. "You said you wished to see me?" he prompted, leaning against the mantel in a pose he knew showcased the lines of his body.
Potter's eyes swept Draco's frame before rising to meet Draco's regard. "Yes," he replied in a distracted fashion. "Oh, yes!" Potter repeated, seeming to gather his wits about him. "You see, I was working on your mum's fascinator when I broke one of the peacock feathers," he said. "I need another one straight away. More, if you have them, in case another such disaster befalls me."
It took a long moment for Potter's words to sink in. Draco's come-hither smile froze, and he straightened from his indolent pose. "It was imperative that you see me immediately because you need more feathers?" he asked, voice stiff with affront.
Potter didn't seem to notice Draco's ire. "Yes," he nodded. "Do you have some available?"
Draco snapped his fingers. "Leeba!" he called.
A small house-elf popped into the parlor, dusting her hands on her apron. She nodded politely to Harry before saying, "You is needing more tea and nibbles, Mister Draco?"
Draco was chagrined to realize he should have made the offer himself. He looked to Potter. "Erm..."
"No, no thank you," said Potter. "I really mustn't dawdle."
Draco nodded and turned to the house-elf again. "Leeba, I need you to bring me the peacock feathers that Sari gathered at Malfoy Manor."
"I is bringing them right away, Mister Malfoy," she said, disappearing once more with a muted pop.
Draco looked back at Potter to see the other man grinning at him. "Do I have something on my face?" Draco drawled.
"I'm simply pleased to see you've freed your house-elves," Potter said.
This conversation was on familiar footing, and Draco relaxed. "It was easier than I had anticipated," he said. "I called them together and handed each of them a sock. I gave them the option to stay on or to leave as they wished. Surprisingly, only two of them chose to go. The rest have remained, insisting the Manor is their home. When I bought this house, three of the elves elected to come with me, while the rest stayed behind to help mum care for the Manor."
Leeba returned then, interrupting any further discourse. She offered the peacock feathers to Potter. He accepted them with a smile of thanks, and the house-elf curtsied before popping out of the room again.
"I must be off," Potter said to Draco. He approached Draco, who automatically held out his hand. Potter grabbed it and said, "Thank you, Malfoy. I owe you one." He then used his grip on Draco's hand to tug him close enough to press a quick kiss to Draco's lips.
Potter whirled away and stepped into the Floo. "H.P. Millinery!" he called, disappearing in a wash of green.
Stunned, Draco was left staring at his empty fireplace, lips and body tingling from the brief, intimate contact.
***
"Draco, are you home, darling?"
Draco hadn't realized he'd been wool-gathering until his mother's firecall startled him into awareness. It was evening, and he'd been thinking about Potter's kiss on and off for the remainder of the day. Such thoughts had resulted in a predictable response, and Draco made sure his lower body was blocked from view before addressing his mother's fiery visage.
"Yes, mum, I'm here," he replied.
"Have you been in contact with Mister Potter?" Narcissa asked sharply.
Draco was aghast. Did his mother have the house-elves spying on him?
Narcissa went on. "Andromeda's party is Saturday night," she said. "Will my hat be ready by then?"
Draco slumped against the back of his chair in relief. "I spoke to Potter today," he said. "He believes your hat will be ready on time. I've seen the design, in fact, and I daresay you'll be the envy of every other woman in attendance."
"Splendid!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Thank you, darling. I know it wasn't easy for you to approach Mister Potter, and I appreciate you doing so on my behalf."
"It was no bother," Draco told her. Narcissa thanked him again and closed the connection, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.
"No bother at all," he murmured.
***
By Friday afternoon, Draco was getting nervous. He hadn't heard from Potter, and his mother had firecalled twice and arrived once for a visit that was more about haranguing Draco than enjoying the pleasure of his company. When Draco realized he was pacing, he squared his shoulders and decided to call on Potter.
Draco arrived in Diagon Alley and strode rapidly towards H.P. Millinery. When he entered the shop, Potter nodded in his direction. Potter's attention quickly returned to the young witch whom he was assisting as she attempted to select a hat for an upcoming event. The woman nattered on, and Draco grew more exasperated. As if sensing Draco's irritation, Potter caught his eye and jerked his chin in the direction of the work room in back.
Relieved to escape the shop proper, Draco walked into the back room and looked around. His heart sank when he didn't see a hat that matched the drawing of his mother's design. He was going to tear a strip off of Potter. Draco had to admit he wouldn't mind tearing some of Potter's clothing off as well. Apprehension and anticipation both served to increase Draco's heart rate and send blood rushing to interesting places.
When Potter finally joined him in the work room, Draco rounded on him in a strop. He intended to demand Where is my mother's hat? but what Draco ended up blurting out was, "What are your intentions towards me?"
Surprise widened Potter's eyes before they narrowed with predatory determination. "Are you open to my intentions?" he asked, voice coming out in a rumbling growl.
Draco quelled a shiver at the implications of the word open. Nevertheless, his body thrummed with urgent need. Not willing to give in too easily, however, Draco raised his chin in a manner befitting a Malfoy. "What did you have in mind?" he challenged.
Potter crossed the room to him in two quick strides. "This," he rasped before tumbling Draco back on the low settee against the wall.
Draco made his own intentions clear by grabbing Potter's lapels and dragging Potter down with him.
***
On Saturday morning, Draco arrived at Malfoy Manor, in possession of his mother's fascinator. It was nestled securely in a stylish hat box from H.P. Millinery. The box was burgundy with gold edges and black script. Draco had declared it too Gryffindor for his liking, but Potter had argued that the addition of black kept it from advertising his former House.
Narcissa bustled into the parlor. "My hat!" she cried in delight upon spying the box Draco was carrying. Draco surrendered it with a roll of his eyes. Apparently, his mother was more excited to receive her hat than she was to see her son.
Narcissa acknowledged Draco belatedly. "Do have a seat, darling," she invited.
Draco hid a wince at the thought. He was still pleasantly sore after romping with Potter yesterday afternoon. And last night. And once this morning.
"Discretion," Draco had cautioned between kisses as he ushered his new lover through the Floo. Potter had agreed that they should remain discreet, although he had secured Draco's promise to meet again on Sunday. Draco was looking forward to it. In the meantime, however, he had to dodge his mother now and attend Aunt Andromeda's cocktail party later that evening.
"Thank you, mum," said Draco, "but I'm afraid I must be off. I have yet to decide on my own attire for this evening." That was a lie, and Draco hoped his mother wouldn't detect it the way she'd been able to in his youth. Draco needn't have worried; his mum was engrossed in opening the hat box.
Narcissa pushed the gold tissue paper aside and gasped. "It's exquisite," she breathed, removing the hat carefully.
Draco had to agree. The small hat was a marvel to behold, and the white peacock feathers were uniquely Malfoy. Sunlight coming in the windows glinted off the rhinestones that dotted the feathers and the netting, and Draco knew they would positively sparkle under the glow of Andromeda's chandelier.
"It's almost as beautiful as you are, mum," Draco said quietly. He was pleased to see his mother so happy.
Narcissa smiled up at him. "Thank you, darling," she said. "Please thank Mister Potter for me when you see him again."
***
When you see him again.
Draco was thrilled at the prospect of seeing Potter again, yet his mother's comment had left him worrying that she knew more than he thought he'd let on. She'd always had an uncanny ability to know when he was hiding something from her. He mulled it over all day, until the need to prepare for the cocktail party distracted him.
Draco chose an elegant black suit to wear over a white dress shirt. The tie he selected was burgundy with a subtle black pattern. Draco told himself it was because the tie had been a gift from his mother, not because it reminded him of Potter's atrocious hat boxes.
Once he was ready, Draco traveled via Floo to Malfoy Manor to escort his mother to the cocktail party. Of course, she was still primping, so Draco was left to cool his heels in the parlor. Draco stood when his mother finally swept into the room. Narcissa looked resplendent in her pale blue gown and matching hat. Draco offered his arm to her, and she took it with a smile.
"You look stunning, mum," he said.
"Thank you, Draco," Narcissa replied. "You look rather handsome, yourself."
They made their way to the Floo, and Draco called out the address for Andromeda's home. Andromeda herself rushed forward to greet them.
"Narcissa!" she cried, giving her sister a careful hug. They didn't wish to muss their gowns, hair or make up. "You look wonderful," Andromeda said, stepping back to look at Narcissa. "That gown matches your eyes, and is that one of Harry's hats you're wearing?"
"Mister Potter created this one exclusively for me," Narcissa beamed. "Is yours from H.P. Millinery as well?"
Andromeda nodded. "When I told Harry what color gown I'd be wearing, he said he had the perfect fascinator to match it..."
Draco left his mother chatting with his aunt and moved farther into the room in search of nibbles or a friendly face. Behind him, he heard a man ask Narcissa and Andromeda to pose for a photo for the Daily Prophet. Draco hid a smile. His mother was in her element; he only wished she could get out to socialize more. She'd been able to attend this soiree because Andromeda was family.
"I am proud to see my creations gracing such beautiful women."
Draco's shoulders stiffened slightly at the familiar voice, and he turned to see Potter grinning at him. Draco tamped down the rush of heat he felt at seeing him standing there. "Potter, what a pleasant surprise," he drawled.
Potter stepped closer, invading Draco's personal space and turning up the heat. He lowered his voice and said, "Not as pleasant as our meeting tomorrow will be."
Draco swayed minutely closer. The spell drawing him to Potter was broken when a light flashed close to him. Draco blinked and turned to see the photographer smirking at the two of them. He could only imagine how he must have appeared when he'd been focused on Potter. "So much for discretion," Draco sighed as the photographer slipped away to snap pictures of other guests.
Potter was unabashed. "Where's your sense of adventure?" he teased. The sparkle in his eyes promised all sorts of wicked adventures, and Draco rose to the challenge.
"My sense of adventure is right here," said Draco. He closed the distance between them and kissed Potter, right there in the middle of the other guests.
Potter indulged Draco for a pleasurable moment before pulling back to take a breath. "I approve of your sense of adventure," he said. "Discretion be damned."
Fascinating Feathers
Cross-posted to hd_fan_fair
Russian translation
Author: enchanted_jae
Prompt Number: PROMPT #182
Career Choices: Milliner, Accountant
Rating: PG13
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: On a mission from his mother, Draco braves the bastion of H.P. Millinery and finds that Harry Potter is not the brash, aggravating youth from his past.
Warnings/Content Notes: UST
Word Count: 5760
Author's Notes: I'd like to thank the Academy, but I owe my beta more. Thank you, celestlyn!
Sunday afternoon, Narcissa Malfoy checked her reflection in the mirror stationed in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor. Under the stipulations of her house arrest, she was only able to visit family, but she was allowed to leave the Manor one day each month to shop for necessities. Narcissa always made certain she looked her best on those days. The mirror made the appropriate compliments, and Narcissa nodded at her reflection before turning in a swirl of skirts to head for the Floo.
Narcissa stepped inside the enlarged fireplace and took a pinch of powder. Flinging it down, she called out, "Diagon Alley!"
***
Narcissa stepped smartly from the Floo at Madame Malkin's. She knew the proprietress begrudged her presence, but Madame Malkin was not about to turn away a wealthy customer, no matter how besmirched said customer's name was. Narcissa noted that Madame Malkin was busy with another customer, so she busied herself with inspecting some of the new imported silks as she waited.
The shop's front door opened, and Narcissa glanced over to see who else had entered. She knew the woman, although they would not be considered friends. Mrs Flint was wearing the latest fashion, but what really snared Narcissa's attention was the smart little hat that was perched on the woman's head at a jaunty angle. Intrigued, Narcissa made her way over to her.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Flint," Narcissa greeted politely. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"
"Indeed, Mrs Malfoy," sniffed the other woman. It was plain to see she'd rather not be in Narcissa's company but was too polite to say so.
"That is a darling hat you're wearing," said Narcissa. "May I inquire as to where you bought it?"
"It's called a fascinator," Mrs Flint replied. "I bought it next door at H.P. Millinery."
Narcissa's eyes brightened with excitement. "Is that a new shop?" she asked. "I've not heard of it."
"Yes, it has only been open for a few weeks now," said Mrs Flint. "However, once the Weird Sisters were spotted wearing fascinators from H.P. Millinery, they've become all the rage."
"All the rage, you say?" mused Narcissa. She was determined to go next door as soon as she finished her business at Madame Malkin's. "Do you know who the proprietor is?" she asked.
"He is someone you know very well, Mrs Malfoy," the other woman said. Her eyes positively gleamed as she added, "It's Harry Potter."
***
Draco was poring over a financial report when his fireplace flared.
"Draco, darling, are you home?"
Draco stifled an irritated sigh and pasted on a pleasant smile before turning to face his mother. "Yes, mum, I'm here," he said. He crossed to the fireplace and hunkered down before it.
Narcissa Malfoy's disembodied head floated eerily in the flames. "Darling, I've a favor to ask," she began.
"If it's within my abilities," Draco cut in smoothly. His mother had once demanded he secure Lucius' release from Azkaban, then hadn't spoken to Draco for days when he was unable to comply. He would do anything for her, but some things simply weren't possible.
"It's a small favor, really," said Narcissa. "You see, today was my day to visit Diagon Alley, and I didn't get one item that I would dearly love to have."
"And, you wish me to fetch it for you?" guessed Draco. He didn't enjoy going to Diagon Alley any more than his mother did, and for the same reasons. Being given the cut direct from former acquaintances and even shop keeps was a humbling experience.
"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother," Narcissa simpered.
"No bother at all, mum," Draco said, smile fixed firmly in place.
"Excellent, darling," beamed his mother. "Now then, I need you to go to H.P. Millinery, and..."
***
Draco's feet had brought him to the pavement in front of H.P. Millinery, but he was having a difficult time convincing them to take him past the threshold. He hadn't seen Potter in years. Not since his trial, certainly. It seemed the hero had disappeared from England after testifying on behalf of Draco and his mother, and the Daily Prophet had been full of speculation as to Potter's whereabouts. Draco had been curious, as well, although not alarmed. Potter had an uncanny knack of always landing on his feet, after all. Now, it seemed the prodigal hero had returned and set up shop.
"Unbelievable," Draco snorted. As he mentally prepared himself to open the door, it opened untouched.
"Do you plan to loiter outside all day, Malfoy, or are you coming in?"
Embarrassed to have been caught waffling outside the shop, Draco lifted his chin and shouldered his way past Potter and inside. He paused to look around. Potter's shop was filled with hats, as expected. What Draco hadn't anticipated was the sheer genius of the designs, the sumptuous materials used and the superb workmanship.
Draco finally turned to look at Potter, and he felt his pulse stutter. Potter was even better looking than before, if such were possible. Draco had always been fascinated by Potter's green eyes, and now they were framed by stylish lenses, rather than the clunky, round glasses Potter had worn during his years at Hogwarts. Potter's hair was still messy, but now it appeared to have been styled that way. His locks seemed artfully mussed instead of merely atrocious.
"Do you like what you see?"
Draco frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
"My shop," said Potter, gesturing at the space around them. "Do you like it?"
"You seem to have done well for yourself, Potter," Draco said. "However, I didn't come here to admire the premises. I wish to buy a hat."
"To complement with what you're wearing now?" Potter asked politely.
"It's not for me, you tosser!" Draco exclaimed. Potter's lips twitched, and Draco knew he'd been taking the piss. "Sod off," he grumbled. Potter laughed in delight, and the pleasant sound made Draco's toes curl in his expensive shoes. His own reaction annoyed him, and he hastened to get back to the subject at hand. "The hat will be for my mother."
"Ah, how is your mum these days?"
Draco's eyes narrowed, but Potter didn't appear to be anything but genuinely interested. "Her movements are restricted, but she's doing well," he said. "She was in Diagon Alley yesterday, and she was taken by one of your creations."
Potter all but preened. "Indeed?" he drawled. "I am quite flattered that your mum likes my hats. Was there a particular style she wanted?"
"Yes, but I confess I do not know the name of the style," Draco replied. "It's a small hat, worn forward on the head."
"Fascinator."
"I suppose they are fascinating, Potter," said Draco. "At least, my mother seems quite intrigued with them."
Potter laughed. "No, Malfoy," he said. "The style is known as a fascinator."
"Why would you give it such an atrocious name?"
"I didn't invent the style," Potter told him. "I merely design them."
Draco was unaccustomed to this incarnation of Harry Potter. His boyhood rival was witty and urbane, and if Draco didn't know any better, he would swear Potter was flirting with him. He wasn't quite sure how to handle such attention. Draco cleared his throat. "It seems your designs are in great demand," he said. "How long would it take you to create a fascinator for my mother?"
"If you provide me with some idea of what your mum is looking for, it would take approximately three weeks to design and create a hat for her," Potter said.
Draco felt his shoulders tense. His mother wanted to wear a fascinator to the cocktail party that her sister Andromeda was hosting on the weekend. "I am afraid she needs it sooner than that," he said carefully.
Potter's brows rose. "How soon?" he asked.
"By Saturday," replied Draco. He hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt.
"You're asking a lot, Malfoy."
Draco quelled his pride. "Please?" he tried. "I am prepared to pay you handsomely."
Potter's lips twitched in a grin. "Money is no object," he said. "However, I am not above bribery."
"What manner of bribery?" asked Draco. He was intrigued by the idea of Potter's suggestion, yet he was suspicious of the motive behind it.
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night," said Potter.
Draco was dumbfounded. That was not what he'd been expecting at all, although he was titillated at the prospect. "Dinner?" he repeated, in case he'd heard Potter wrong.
"It's the evening meal, where one partakes of nourishment," Potter deadpanned.
Draco felt a flicker of annoyance and also a spark of unexpected humor. "Thank you, Potter," he said drily. "I am aware of what dinner is. I am simply surprised that you would suggest it."
One of Potter's shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. "It's been entirely too long since I've seen you, Malfoy," he said. "I'd like a chance to catch up."
Draco was mildly disappointed by Potter's reply. "Is that the only reason?" he pressed.
"Not quite," said Potter, flashing a grin. "I confess I find you quite attractive."
***
Draco had a day and a half, and a sleepless night in between, to ponder the implications behind Potter's request. Potter had indicated he wished to catch up with Draco, but he had also admitted that he was attracted to Draco. That tidbit of information was what had had Draco's mind awhirl ever since. Potter had cleaned up nicely from his slovenly days at Hogwarts, and if Draco was honest with himself, the attraction was entirely mutual. The question was, did Potter intend to pursue it, or was he merely becoming reacquainted with an old schoolmate?
Never one to be caught unprepared, Draco took extra care with his appearance the night he was to have dinner with Potter. After showering, he selected appropriate attire and made certain that his clothing was impeccable. Draco had chosen to wear a gray suit with a paisley print tie. He knew the color set off his eyes, because Pansy had told him so when she had gifted him with the tie.
Earlier that afternoon, an owl had arrived, bearing a portkey to Draco's dinner destination and a short note from Potter confirming the time of their meeting. Draco had no idea where the portkey would take him, and he was somewhat surprised to find himself in the middle of a large foyer.
"Ah, Malfoy, right on time, I see," said Potter, bustling in to greet him.
"Where are we?" Draco asked, looking about with interest.
Potter smiled at him. "Welcome to my home," he said.
Draco felt a flutter of excitement. "You did not tell me we were dining at your home," he said.
"Would you prefer to dine in public?" Potter questioned. "I assure you, photos of us would be gracing the cover of tomorrow's Daily Prophet, and everyone would assume we're having a torrid affair."
Another quiver of excitement danced down Draco's spine, but he kept his expression impassive. "I see your point, Potter," he said. Although Potter had invited him to dinner, it seemed he wanted to maintain a low profile. That suited Draco just fine.
Taking on the role of gracious host, Potter led the way to a small, formal dining room. Two places were set across the table from one another, and Potter gestured for Draco to have a seat. A house-elf dressed in a pretty pink frock entered and snapped her fingers. An array of dishes appeared on the table.
"Thank you, Dita," said Potter. The elf curtsied and disappeared again with a faint pop. "What are you doing these days, Malfoy?" Potter asked, indicating Draco should help himself first.
Draco selected some greens and a dish of mixed fruit. "Gringotts is expanding, and they've hired me to handle their French accounts," Draco answered. "It helps that I scored well in Arithmancy and that I speak fluent French."
Potter grimaced. "I never did well in Arithmancy," he said. "Charms was my forte."
"How did you become involved in millinery?" asked Draco. He was genuinely curious about it.
"I've always found hats interesting," replied Potter. "When I was introduced to the wizarding world, I became even more fascinated with hats. Many more witches wore them than Muggle women do, and the styles were captivating."
"Is that when you discovered you're bent?" Draco drawled.
"Toss pot," snorted Potter. "No, I believe that particular revelation didn't occur to me until Sixth year."
He didn't elaborate, and Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from prying. "So you decided you liked hats," he said. "When and where did you learn to design them?"
"There was a Muggle millinery school in Italy that I attended," said Potter. "I got to study some of the great milliners such as Elsa Schiaparelli, Frank Olive and Lilly Dache. I took inspiration from them, and I subtly used magic in my own designs. My instructors seemed excited about my original creations, and they gave me more intense, one-on-one training."
Potter stopped speaking and glanced up with a guilty grin. "I suppose I'm boring you," he said.
"Not at all," Draco assured him. "To the contrary, I find it quite fascinating." His host's smile widened, and Draco felt a familiar twitch of interest in his nethers.
"To make a lengthy story short," said Potter, "I used my Muggle millinery training as a basis, added in some magic, and now I have a thriving millinery shop of my own."
They continued to make small talk, and Draco found himself disappointed that Potter hadn't even tried to flirt with him. For some reason, Draco hadn't expected dinner to be so...tame.
"Malfoy," Potter murmured over pudding, snaring Draco's immediate attention.
"Yes?" Draco responded, hoping his voice didn't sound breathless.
"I have a special favor to ask."
Draco shifted on his chair to ease the sudden pressure in his pants. "What kind of favor?"
Potter smiled at him. "Would you bring me some white peacock feathers? I want to incorporate them into your mum's hat."
***
Returning home later that evening, Draco felt somewhat cheated. Potter had been the consummate host. He had made sure Draco was comfortable and at ease, and he had been surprisingly easy to talk to. After Potter had commented that he found Draco attractive, Draco had been expecting his host to make a pass at him. Draco had been prepared to rebuff him, which is why he was feeling out of sorts. He had not been looking forward to Potter's flirtation, no. In fact, Draco was relieved that Potter had played the role of perfect gentleman.
Now, all Draco had to do was procure some white peacock feathers and deliver them to Potter. A thrill of excitement raced through Draco at the thought of seeing Potter again.
***
Draco pushed open the door of H.P. Millinery and strode inside. He nodded to the pair of witches browsing there as he waited for Potter to finish adjusting a display.
Potter's eyes lit up upon seeing Draco. "Gorgeous," he murmured, moving forward to meet him.
Draco smiled in satisfaction until he realized that Potter's eyes were fastened on the feathers he was carrying.
"These are perfect, Malfoy," said Potter, relieving Draco of the feathers. "Once I'm finished making your mum's fascinator, is there a chance I can buy additional peacock feathers from your estate?"
"I'm sure we can work something out, Potter," Draco replied, feeling slighted.
"Splendid," said Potter, turning away from Draco and heading towards the back of his shop. He looked over his shoulder and added, "Would you care to see the design I've worked up?"
Draco voiced his assent and quickly caught up to Potter. He was curious to see what Potter had come up with, that was all.
Potter led the way to his workshop in back. There, he placed the peacock feathers carefully in a tissue-lined box on a low settee before stepping up to a drafting table and beckoning Draco closer. "You said your mum will be wearing a periwinkle gown to the cocktail party, yes?" At Draco's nod, Potter continued. "That is an excellent choice for her. The pale blue will look smashing with her eyes."
Draco shot Potter a suspicious glare, but Potter nattered on without missing a beat.
"I began with a basic top hat in miniature," he said. "The color will match Narcissa's gown." As he spoke, he indicated the detailed drawing on the table. "I plan to affix two of the peacock feathers to the silver band, and they will sweep back and provide a high profile. There will be netting in the front, a half net, which will give your mum the mysterious look so many witches love. I'll attach rhinestones to the feathers and the netting, in the manner of Jack McConnell, to give the hat some extra pizazz."
"Jack McConnell?"
Potter finally deigned to look at Draco. "A famous Muggle milliner," he said.
Potter's eyes were sparkling with passion for his work, and Draco experienced an unwelcome surge of lust. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Potter's gaze was drawn to Draco's mouth, and his pupils dilated behind his stylish glasses. "Do you know what I'd like right now?" he asked.
"What?" Draco breathed, leaning infinitesimally closer.
"Tea," said Potter. "I'm quite peckish." He stood and turned off the lamp over the table.
Draco realized his mouth was hanging open in dismay, and he quickly closed it. "I'll just be off, then," he announced. "I don't want to intrude."
"You're welcome to join me," Potter invited. "Molly Weasley keeps me well supplied with nibbles, and I've plenty of tea."
Draco admitted to himself that he really didn't want to leave just yet. "If you're sure it will be no bother," he said.
Potter waved off Draco's concerns. "Not at all," he said. "I'll be glad for the company."
Thus, Draco found himself taking afternoon tea with Potter. His host kept up an idle stream of chatter, amusing Draco with anecdotes about the Weird Sisters and various other witches who had purchased hats from him while he was abroad.
"Unbeknownst to the bride," Potter was saying, "her mother paid me extra to include a rather lethal hat pin among the feathers and frippery. She insisted her daughter would need to defend herself against the unwanted attentions of her new husband. I politely refrained from suggesting his attentions would not be unwanted and simply added the hat pin. As far as I know, the two of them are still blissfully wed with a child on the way."
"I trust you don't intend to arm my mother with a lethal hat pin, Potter," remarked Draco.
Potter laughed. "Not unless she specifically requests it, no," he said.
Draco set his empty tea cup in its saucer. "I should be going," he announced with reluctance. Draco was surprised at how much he had enjoyed the time he'd spent with Potter this afternoon. He had hoped another dinner invitation was in the offing, but it appeared such was not to be the case.
Potter stood up. "I'll see you out, Malfoy," he said. Potter led the way through his shop, escorting Draco to the door. "Oh, and Malfoy?"
Draco's pulse jumped. He turned to face Potter again. "Yes?" he drawled.
"Don't forget to bring me some more peacock feathers."
***
Draco spent the evening brooding. Potter was sending mixed signals, and Draco found it confusing and aggravating. At times, Potter looked as if he wished to pounce, but just as Draco was anticipating a little dalliance, Potter backed off and left him hanging. It was maddening. Draco indulged in a solitary wank before bedtime, which helped relax him enough to sleep.
On Thursday morning, Draco dispatched one of the house-elves to gather additional shed peacock feathers from the Manor's grounds while he went to his office at Gringotts. After a tedious day spent monitoring investment results, Draco returned home for tea. He had just placed his serviette across his lap when the fireplace sputtered to life. Irritated, Draco turned in his chair to see who was interrupting his tea.
"Potter!" he exclaimed.
"Malfoy, may I come through?" asked the specter of Potter's disembodied head.
Draco's good manners and his attraction to Potter bade him invite Potter in, but Draco was still quite annoyed with Potter. His hesitance must have shown on his face.
"Please?" Potter requested. "It's urgent. I need to see you."
Potter's words were a balm to Draco's wounded pride. He stood and strode to the Floo. "Of course, Potter," he said smoothly. "Please do come through." As he stepped back, Draco weighed the merits of playing hard to get versus the satisfaction of indulging Potter in whatever he desired.
Potter appeared in a flash of green and exited the Floo with unexpected grace.
"I see you've finally mastered the art of travel by Floo," Draco couldn't resist taunting.
Unlike their volatile childhood, Potter simply laughed off Draco's comment. "Practice makes perfect and all that rot," he said. He saw Draco's tea service and added, "I apologize for interrupting."
"It's no bother," said Draco. "You said you wished to see me?" he prompted, leaning against the mantel in a pose he knew showcased the lines of his body.
Potter's eyes swept Draco's frame before rising to meet Draco's regard. "Yes," he replied in a distracted fashion. "Oh, yes!" Potter repeated, seeming to gather his wits about him. "You see, I was working on your mum's fascinator when I broke one of the peacock feathers," he said. "I need another one straight away. More, if you have them, in case another such disaster befalls me."
It took a long moment for Potter's words to sink in. Draco's come-hither smile froze, and he straightened from his indolent pose. "It was imperative that you see me immediately because you need more feathers?" he asked, voice stiff with affront.
Potter didn't seem to notice Draco's ire. "Yes," he nodded. "Do you have some available?"
Draco snapped his fingers. "Leeba!" he called.
A small house-elf popped into the parlor, dusting her hands on her apron. She nodded politely to Harry before saying, "You is needing more tea and nibbles, Mister Draco?"
Draco was chagrined to realize he should have made the offer himself. He looked to Potter. "Erm..."
"No, no thank you," said Potter. "I really mustn't dawdle."
Draco nodded and turned to the house-elf again. "Leeba, I need you to bring me the peacock feathers that Sari gathered at Malfoy Manor."
"I is bringing them right away, Mister Malfoy," she said, disappearing once more with a muted pop.
Draco looked back at Potter to see the other man grinning at him. "Do I have something on my face?" Draco drawled.
"I'm simply pleased to see you've freed your house-elves," Potter said.
This conversation was on familiar footing, and Draco relaxed. "It was easier than I had anticipated," he said. "I called them together and handed each of them a sock. I gave them the option to stay on or to leave as they wished. Surprisingly, only two of them chose to go. The rest have remained, insisting the Manor is their home. When I bought this house, three of the elves elected to come with me, while the rest stayed behind to help mum care for the Manor."
Leeba returned then, interrupting any further discourse. She offered the peacock feathers to Potter. He accepted them with a smile of thanks, and the house-elf curtsied before popping out of the room again.
"I must be off," Potter said to Draco. He approached Draco, who automatically held out his hand. Potter grabbed it and said, "Thank you, Malfoy. I owe you one." He then used his grip on Draco's hand to tug him close enough to press a quick kiss to Draco's lips.
Potter whirled away and stepped into the Floo. "H.P. Millinery!" he called, disappearing in a wash of green.
Stunned, Draco was left staring at his empty fireplace, lips and body tingling from the brief, intimate contact.
***
"Draco, are you home, darling?"
Draco hadn't realized he'd been wool-gathering until his mother's firecall startled him into awareness. It was evening, and he'd been thinking about Potter's kiss on and off for the remainder of the day. Such thoughts had resulted in a predictable response, and Draco made sure his lower body was blocked from view before addressing his mother's fiery visage.
"Yes, mum, I'm here," he replied.
"Have you been in contact with Mister Potter?" Narcissa asked sharply.
Draco was aghast. Did his mother have the house-elves spying on him?
Narcissa went on. "Andromeda's party is Saturday night," she said. "Will my hat be ready by then?"
Draco slumped against the back of his chair in relief. "I spoke to Potter today," he said. "He believes your hat will be ready on time. I've seen the design, in fact, and I daresay you'll be the envy of every other woman in attendance."
"Splendid!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Thank you, darling. I know it wasn't easy for you to approach Mister Potter, and I appreciate you doing so on my behalf."
"It was no bother," Draco told her. Narcissa thanked him again and closed the connection, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.
"No bother at all," he murmured.
***
By Friday afternoon, Draco was getting nervous. He hadn't heard from Potter, and his mother had firecalled twice and arrived once for a visit that was more about haranguing Draco than enjoying the pleasure of his company. When Draco realized he was pacing, he squared his shoulders and decided to call on Potter.
Draco arrived in Diagon Alley and strode rapidly towards H.P. Millinery. When he entered the shop, Potter nodded in his direction. Potter's attention quickly returned to the young witch whom he was assisting as she attempted to select a hat for an upcoming event. The woman nattered on, and Draco grew more exasperated. As if sensing Draco's irritation, Potter caught his eye and jerked his chin in the direction of the work room in back.
Relieved to escape the shop proper, Draco walked into the back room and looked around. His heart sank when he didn't see a hat that matched the drawing of his mother's design. He was going to tear a strip off of Potter. Draco had to admit he wouldn't mind tearing some of Potter's clothing off as well. Apprehension and anticipation both served to increase Draco's heart rate and send blood rushing to interesting places.
When Potter finally joined him in the work room, Draco rounded on him in a strop. He intended to demand Where is my mother's hat? but what Draco ended up blurting out was, "What are your intentions towards me?"
Surprise widened Potter's eyes before they narrowed with predatory determination. "Are you open to my intentions?" he asked, voice coming out in a rumbling growl.
Draco quelled a shiver at the implications of the word open. Nevertheless, his body thrummed with urgent need. Not willing to give in too easily, however, Draco raised his chin in a manner befitting a Malfoy. "What did you have in mind?" he challenged.
Potter crossed the room to him in two quick strides. "This," he rasped before tumbling Draco back on the low settee against the wall.
Draco made his own intentions clear by grabbing Potter's lapels and dragging Potter down with him.
***
On Saturday morning, Draco arrived at Malfoy Manor, in possession of his mother's fascinator. It was nestled securely in a stylish hat box from H.P. Millinery. The box was burgundy with gold edges and black script. Draco had declared it too Gryffindor for his liking, but Potter had argued that the addition of black kept it from advertising his former House.
Narcissa bustled into the parlor. "My hat!" she cried in delight upon spying the box Draco was carrying. Draco surrendered it with a roll of his eyes. Apparently, his mother was more excited to receive her hat than she was to see her son.
Narcissa acknowledged Draco belatedly. "Do have a seat, darling," she invited.
Draco hid a wince at the thought. He was still pleasantly sore after romping with Potter yesterday afternoon. And last night. And once this morning.
"Discretion," Draco had cautioned between kisses as he ushered his new lover through the Floo. Potter had agreed that they should remain discreet, although he had secured Draco's promise to meet again on Sunday. Draco was looking forward to it. In the meantime, however, he had to dodge his mother now and attend Aunt Andromeda's cocktail party later that evening.
"Thank you, mum," said Draco, "but I'm afraid I must be off. I have yet to decide on my own attire for this evening." That was a lie, and Draco hoped his mother wouldn't detect it the way she'd been able to in his youth. Draco needn't have worried; his mum was engrossed in opening the hat box.
Narcissa pushed the gold tissue paper aside and gasped. "It's exquisite," she breathed, removing the hat carefully.
Draco had to agree. The small hat was a marvel to behold, and the white peacock feathers were uniquely Malfoy. Sunlight coming in the windows glinted off the rhinestones that dotted the feathers and the netting, and Draco knew they would positively sparkle under the glow of Andromeda's chandelier.
"It's almost as beautiful as you are, mum," Draco said quietly. He was pleased to see his mother so happy.
Narcissa smiled up at him. "Thank you, darling," she said. "Please thank Mister Potter for me when you see him again."
***
When you see him again.
Draco was thrilled at the prospect of seeing Potter again, yet his mother's comment had left him worrying that she knew more than he thought he'd let on. She'd always had an uncanny ability to know when he was hiding something from her. He mulled it over all day, until the need to prepare for the cocktail party distracted him.
Draco chose an elegant black suit to wear over a white dress shirt. The tie he selected was burgundy with a subtle black pattern. Draco told himself it was because the tie had been a gift from his mother, not because it reminded him of Potter's atrocious hat boxes.
Once he was ready, Draco traveled via Floo to Malfoy Manor to escort his mother to the cocktail party. Of course, she was still primping, so Draco was left to cool his heels in the parlor. Draco stood when his mother finally swept into the room. Narcissa looked resplendent in her pale blue gown and matching hat. Draco offered his arm to her, and she took it with a smile.
"You look stunning, mum," he said.
"Thank you, Draco," Narcissa replied. "You look rather handsome, yourself."
They made their way to the Floo, and Draco called out the address for Andromeda's home. Andromeda herself rushed forward to greet them.
"Narcissa!" she cried, giving her sister a careful hug. They didn't wish to muss their gowns, hair or make up. "You look wonderful," Andromeda said, stepping back to look at Narcissa. "That gown matches your eyes, and is that one of Harry's hats you're wearing?"
"Mister Potter created this one exclusively for me," Narcissa beamed. "Is yours from H.P. Millinery as well?"
Andromeda nodded. "When I told Harry what color gown I'd be wearing, he said he had the perfect fascinator to match it..."
Draco left his mother chatting with his aunt and moved farther into the room in search of nibbles or a friendly face. Behind him, he heard a man ask Narcissa and Andromeda to pose for a photo for the Daily Prophet. Draco hid a smile. His mother was in her element; he only wished she could get out to socialize more. She'd been able to attend this soiree because Andromeda was family.
"I am proud to see my creations gracing such beautiful women."
Draco's shoulders stiffened slightly at the familiar voice, and he turned to see Potter grinning at him. Draco tamped down the rush of heat he felt at seeing him standing there. "Potter, what a pleasant surprise," he drawled.
Potter stepped closer, invading Draco's personal space and turning up the heat. He lowered his voice and said, "Not as pleasant as our meeting tomorrow will be."
Draco swayed minutely closer. The spell drawing him to Potter was broken when a light flashed close to him. Draco blinked and turned to see the photographer smirking at the two of them. He could only imagine how he must have appeared when he'd been focused on Potter. "So much for discretion," Draco sighed as the photographer slipped away to snap pictures of other guests.
Potter was unabashed. "Where's your sense of adventure?" he teased. The sparkle in his eyes promised all sorts of wicked adventures, and Draco rose to the challenge.
"My sense of adventure is right here," said Draco. He closed the distance between them and kissed Potter, right there in the middle of the other guests.
Potter indulged Draco for a pleasurable moment before pulling back to take a breath. "I approve of your sense of adventure," he said. "Discretion be damned."
Fascinating Feathers
Cross-posted to hd_fan_fair
Russian translation