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“Harry…” Hermione paused, searching for the right words. “You should just tell him.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. In fact, if anyone was keeping count, this was the 43rd official conversation about Harry’s unrequited feelings for a blonde ferret and could also count towards the 113th oblique reference to the same obnoxious pure blood.
Harry shot Hermione a glare. One which his oldest female friend ignored. She went on, “I know you like to pretend that you’re still emotionally stunted but I’ve seen your therapy notes and they indicate that you’re doing much better these days.” Harry was affronted. “What happened to patient/healer confidentiality? HIPAA?” He demanded. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry.” Her voice turned patronizing. “It’s me you’re talking to,” she reminded. He blushed. In retrospect...it was a stupid question.
“Fine,” he was resigned. “You’ve nagged me into it.” A look of annoyance flashed across Hermione’s face. “I just want to make you happy,” she said stiffly. “But if that’s how you’re going to be about it then I’ll just go.” She began gathering her things. Harry sighed. If he let her leave like this she’ll be stroppy for days. “Hermione,” he groaned. “There’s no need to be so sensitive.” She sniffed and pulled on her coat ignoring him completely. “Fine! I’ll go. If it means that much to you, go ahead and set up drinks on Friday. I’ll show. I promise.” And make a complete fool of myself, he added silently.
Hermione gave him a small smile. “That’s all I ask,” Ruffling his hair, she shot him a fond look. “I only want your happiness and well being Harry. You ARE my last remaining family. And especially after...well, Ginny and the rest. I really want to see you settled. You deserve a family of your own. And I wouldn’t suggest giving him a chance if I thought it would blow up in your face.” Hermione picked up his hand and held it tightly between the both of hers. “I wish you would trust me Harry,” she added a bit sadly. He hurriedly reassured her that he did. She dropped his hands and stood up quickly, “good. I am the brightest witch of my age you know.” With a quick wink, and a promise to owl him the details, she was gone.
Harry ducked into the muggle pub feeling as though he were still mid-apparation: skin tight and with his stomach somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. His “date” was seated towards the back of the room slowly twisting a half drank pint between slender pale fingers. His expression was one of boredom. Harry fought the urge to bolt. He was a Gryffindor, he reminded himself. Gryffindors charge ahead. A small inner voice that sounded suspiciously of Ron reminded him that the hat suggested Slytherin and Slytherins were about self-preservation. Swallowing down his nerves, he slowly wound his way through the tables and slid into a seat on the other side of the blond. He wiped suddenly sweaty hands on his trousers. Bright grey eyes looked up and regarded him warily. “You lost, Potter?” Harry scoffed. “Why? Are you going to tell me I’m a long way from heaven?”
Draco let out a startled laugh. “What on earth are you talking about?” Harry reddened. He mumbled something about pick-up lines and tried to get up. Only, he fumbled the dismount and crashed onto the floor. When he found the courage to look up: every eye in the pub was on him. Draco rolled his eyes and shouted out that he was okay. Soon the others turned back to their own drinks and left the two idiots in the corner alone. Standing gracefully, Draco helped Harry to his feet and then pulled out his wallet. Sliding out a couple of notes, he dropped the money on the table and pulled the erstwhile savior out of the pub.
Once outside he dropped Harry’s hand and turned to him concerned, “You okay?” Harry grimaced. “Everything’s alright except my pride.” he admitted. “Good,” Draco stated firmly. I won’t feel so badly about doing this then.” The blond began to chuckle and soon was out and out laughing at the brunet. Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you done?” He demanded. The blond held up a hand and just chortled at his companion’s disgruntled expression. Harry decided to shut him up the best way he knew how. He grabbed him by the pullover that he wore, pulled him in close and kissed him. Harry’s warm chapped lips met Draco’s smooth thin ones once, twice, then slotted into place.
Kissing Draco was an experience. Harry wasn’t a novice to kissing but as the blond eagerly opened up and let him in he couldn’t remember why he’d ever kissed anyone else. He was made to kiss Draco. Pulling the blond man closer he gasped into his mouth when he felt Draco’s hand press into his arousal. Rocking his hips up into the pressure he grew more and more insistent in the snog. A loud whistle broke them apart. “OI! Get a room!” A distant voice called out to them, irritated. “This street’s PG only!”
Draco merely rolled his eyes and swept Harry into a side along position. “I know the perfect place,” he purred. Harry gulped. The Slytherin pounced on him again as he turned him into their destination. Draco bit at Harry’s bottom lip. There may have been moaning involved. Harry would never tell. Lost in the scent and taste of Draco it took a couple of minutes to register the quiet but continual throat clearing trying to gain their attention. Tearing his mouth from Draco’s neck he looked up only to see Lucius Malfoy on a comfortable looking settee clutching a half-naked Hermione on his lap.
“Draco...son,” his father drawled. “Why did you purchase a flat in the middle of London if you. Were. Not. Going. To. Use. It?” He raised one aristocratic brow as if to punctuate his inquiry. Hermione giggled. Harry flushed.
“Really Draco, Narcissa tsked, walking over from the other side of the room. Harry’s eyes widened at the sight of her in nothing but a slinky negligee. He swung his gaze back to Hermione but she had her head buried in Lucius’...never mind. The less said (and thought) about that the better. Narcissa continued, “if you are coming to call, then you need to owl first.” She settled onto the settee next to her husband and ran a pale hand over Hermione’s bronzed leg. Harry flinched. He never wanted to hear his sister from another mister moan like that. Ever. “We could be having a...private party.” Narcissa finished. Draco blanched. “My apologies, Mother. Father…” he hesitated, “Granger.” And with that the boys popped away. Meeting Draco’s abashed gaze, it was Harry’s turn to laugh.