![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: An Evening in August
Author: me
Rating: R
Pairing: H/D
Summary: In the midst of Draco and Harry's first week, dinner is required. Sequel to The Arrangement.
Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me. I like to play with them, but it's like borrowing a toy from a friend: eventually you have to give it back in good condition, without your own name permanent-markered onto the plastic leg somewhere.
ETA:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flamewarrior was kind enough to do a Britpick for this a few months back. So here is the new version, after much lazing about on my part. Sorry about the wait...
Also posted on AO3 and skyehawke.
...
An Evening in August
“Merlin Almighty, finally.” Draco stalked in from the kitchen, wrapped one hand around Harry’s shirt collar and pulled him toward the hall. Harry shrugged the rest of the way out of his coat and flung it back in the general direction of the foyer, then tried to set his briefcase down as gently as he could in the hallway. Draco turned around and smacked at his hand until he dropped it. “Come on, Potter. You’re already late.”
“I was only here three hours ago, you know,” Harry said, smirking.
Draco cast him a malevolent glare and dragged him into the bedroom. “Yes, I do know. And you should know that I have different needs when we’re together, Harry. Things just don’t hold over like they used to; I’m entitled to more.”
Harry let Draco tug him fully into the room, and then fell backward with an oof under the other man’s hard shove, landing on the bed. “That a fact?”
“Don’t patronize me, Potter. You’ve no idea the crate of snakes you’re opening.” He climbed up onto the bed, yanking at Harry’s tie with more than capable hands. Harry reached for his own belt buckle and Draco slapped his hands away—and then gave a huff and pulled them back to their task. “Oh, go on then. Faster anyway.”
“Ooh, you do have needs,” Harry teased, craning his neck as Draco yanked the tie free at last.
The blond grinned down at him with a decidedly worrisome glint in his eye. “Very specific ones. Right now, for instance, I needed to be inside you an hour ago. No delivery, Harry, very disconcerting. I might have to write a complaint.”
Harry let his face go slack and dropped his hands from his belt. “And what if I don’t want to do that?”
Draco’s fingers stilled on the buttons of his shirt. Eyes the colour of smoke narrowed and darkened, and he sat back on Harry’s thighs with a barely contained sigh. “Then of course, we won’t do it, Harry,” he muttered.
Harry let Draco resign himself for only two more seconds before taking hold of his hips and flipping him over on the bed, pressing his body full-length against Draco’s. His lover’s thighs tightened convulsively around his hips. Draco shuddered.
“To tell you the truth,” Harry murmured, smiling – undulating his body very pointedly, “I think I am running a bit late tonight.”
He bent and kissed Draco tenderly on the mouth, and his lover began to chuckle halfway through it. “Dreadfully so, Potter.” He wiggled swiftly down on the bed until he fit against Harry perfectly, all curves and warmth and long limbs. “But I’m going to have to stand firm about my personal requirements. This is never going to work if they aren’t met.”
Harry rolled back over with a dramatic sigh and flung his arms up over his head, hanging onto one of his wrists with his free hand. “In the interest of making this work, then.”
Draco raised himself up and bent over him again, peering hawkishly. “Harry.”
Harry rolled his eyes. He lurched upward and grabbed Draco’s shoulder, pulling him down into a long, messy kiss. “Malfoy. Don’t think this need of yours is a one-way street.”
“Oh, regardless of how it starts, it never ends that way, Harry, I can assure you.” He swung one leg back over Harry’s waist and reclaimed his mouth, making short work of his clothes. Harry forced himself to remain as still as possible as he was stripped, and was gratified to feel Draco’s hands slide up his bare arms at last and tangle their fingers together.
“Never starts that… that way either… apparently,” Harry hissed out. Amazing how quickly Draco divested him of speech as well. Draco pressed down against him and rolled his hips slowly, agonizingly. Harry arched without planning it, and his lover nibbled at his throat with a little less control than he had before.
“Oh, do hold still, Potter,” he breathed. “Can’t exactly attend to you if you’re going to be impatient.”
Harry wormed one hand free and caught Draco’s chin in gentle fingers, raising those clear grey eyes to meet his. “You…”
He fell silent, unsure of what he’d been about to say. Draco searched his face and nodded, a tiny smile curving his mouth. “Relax. I’ll go slowly.”
“Just… been awhile,” Harry managed as Draco returned to his throat. He blinked against the insatiable heat pooling in his loins. He wanted to move. Move, or… move. His lover nodded again.
“Alright then, Harry. How long? As your payment to me for being late.”
Harry looked at him. “It was with you.”
For a moment, Draco’s eyes flickered. He closed them and opened them again, drawing a deep breath. “That long?”
Harry nodded, feeling a flush crawl up his throat. But Draco’s gaze did not waver from
his. He leaned in and soothed Harry’s panting lips with a soft kiss. Eased his tongue inside his mouth and stroked gently, lingering over every hollow and curve. At last, Harry had to turn his head for air, gasping.
“Then I’ll make it that good again,” Draco whispered, the sound tickling across the shell of his ear. Harry could only nod.
* * *
They were at the Indian Corner Café an hour later, Harry resting idly in his patio chair as his protesting muscles finally began to relax. Draco grinned at him from across the table and two mostly empty plates of vegetable samosas, and the sunset’s light beamed in over the rooftops in opals and violets, setting his hair aflame. Harry leered back, not bothering to hide it for their waitress’ peace of mind. The girl rolled her dark eyes visibly and flounced back inside with the finished plates to retrieve their entrees.
“Salazar, Potter. Now you’ll have to leave her some sort of extra tip to assuage the raging guilt that’s about to wash over you.”
Harry laughed and shifted with a contented groan. “Worth it. No one else has visual sex with me across a restaurant table like you do.”
Draco took an elegant sip from his water glass, pointing at Harry with one slender finger. “That was nothing but a mere undressing, I’ll have you know.”
“Mmm,” Harry hummed to himself. Draco’s fingers… It was almost surreal, looking at them. So perfectly kept, long and refined, and they had been all over and inside his body only thirty minutes ago. Their dinner arrived, and Harry found that he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at the waitress after all.
“Thank you,” Draco’s cultured voice intoned effortlessly. Harry lifted his own glass of water and turned toward the bustling thoroughfare beyond the railing to watch the onset of night.
“You know, Harry, I can teach you the finer details of undressing with the eyes.” Draco leaned forward, brushing Harry’s hand with his thumb. “That way you won’t always have to shag me through my expensive trousers.”
“Is that what I’ve been doing?” Harry returned glibly and Draco’s laugh spilled easily into the patio’s chatter.
“Oh, yes. Across the top of the table with all the chefs watching, no less.”
“You like a good show.”
Draco sniffed. “Of course I do. But there is an art to it, Harry.”
“You’ll have to teach me sometime,” he rallied lazily. “And make it that good again.”
Draco’s lip quirked. He looked down at his curry with a small smile. “No regrets, then?”
It might have been the light that coloured Draco’s cheeks. Harry felt his mouth slide into a faint smile of its own. “None. Just some sore muscles. I’m sure I’ll work them out in Avebury tomorrow.”
Draco frowned. “You’re going to Wiltshire tomorrow?”
“Just for the morning. Then to Yorkshire. Wensleydale.” Harry took a long drink and picked up his fork, wincing as he readjusted his seat. He halted, the first bite halfway to his mouth, and met Draco’s narrowed gaze. “Not overnight.”
Draco sat back, setting his own fork down. “Well.”
Harry watched him, then gestured with his fork. “You should eat that, you know. I’m not going out of the country, for Merlin’s sake.”
Draco leaned forward again, a canny gleam in one eye. “Oh, did I mention I’ve got to go for a conference in Aberdeen next month? Four days.”
Harry glared at him, suddenly not as hungry as he had been. “No. You did not.”
Draco’s eyebrow arched infuriatingly. “They’ve a new Ageing Potion they’d like to market throughout Britain. I’ve got to go and suffer their tripe before I sign the papers for ten years more research. Bloody thing has a habit of knocking people into early dementia.”
Harry took a steadying breath. The street outside was darkening, the breeze picking up. Tiny winking lights in the rose trellis to the right flickered on. “Four days?”
Draco nodded serenely, irking Harry with his smile. Then suddenly it slipped into a grin. “I’ve reserved a room for two, if you can get the time. It’s a damned pub. Bed will be very cozy.”
Harry felt himself thawing, and Draco’s thumb brushing over the back of his hand once more finally did him in. He grinned back and flicked Draco’s fingers away fondly. “I should plan overtime all month, just to spite you.”
“Oh, you should. But you won’t.”
“No, I won’t.” Harry leaned back and let the cool evening air wash over his face. “Though I don’t know if four days will work.”
Draco gave a pained sighed and picked up his fork again. “Three, then. Or two, and Apparate. This isn’t a request, Potter.”
Harry smiled as sweetly as he could. “And this isn’t a refusal.”
Draco’s smirk would have dumped sarcasm all over Harry’ plate had he been close enough. Harry chuckled and took a bite. The taste of cardamom and garlic burst against his tongue and he sighed happily. “Here, have a bite. It’s—Draco.”
His lover’s fork was poised over his food, dropping neglected curried chicken onto his mango chutney. Draco was staring over the patio railing with a decidedly sour expression. As Harry watched, the blond closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Godric’s shriveled balls…”
Harry craned his neck over his shoulder, but there were too many people passing by on the street to see which had caught his lover’s ire… until one young man turned with a slightly furrowed brow and made for the patio. Harry glanced back to find Draco looking even more discontent. “Who is he?”
“A Muggle. Old acquaintance,” Draco muttered.
Harry appraised him, concentrating on the slight twitch of Draco’s fingers. “Old lover, you mean.”
The blond rolled his eyes, moving restlessly in his chair. “Well, I have had quite a few. They’re bound to pop up out of the ground every so often. Can’t really be helped, but it can be avoided. Let’s get these for take away.”
“Little late for that.” Harry watched the man approach. He was tall, fairly well-muscled, with a deep tan and soft-looking chestnut hair curling around his face. He would have been incredibly attractive, if not for the confused frown marring his forehead.
Harry fought a smirk. Hell, even with the frown. The man edged his way gracefully past two closely packed tables, laying an appeasing hand on the shoulder of a disturbed patron. “Well, I can see why you liked him. How long ago was this?”
Draco was stretched in his chair, feigning laziness with an expression carved out of solid stone. The faint sneer, the narrowed eyes, the lifted chin. He swirled his water glass in one hand. “Two long years ago, Harry, if you must know. And it ended two long years ago as well. I don’t really see why he’s here.”
Harry smiled at his lover, darting his eyes over the refined, aloof figure the tall blond cut in the grasp of his chair. “I do.”
“Draco,” the newcomer said, coming to a halt at their table. He glanced at Harry for a moment, and then turned a still-amazed look in Draco’s direction. The man’s eyes drank in Draco’s sprawled form. “I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been… well, it’s been ages.”
But the man’s initial caution couldn’t hold past the careful greeting and he smiled at last, a dazzlingly childlike grin. Harry caught fondness there that he recognized. Draco returned the smile stiffly.
“Yes, hello.”
The man’s face smoothed into passivity, and he blinked. “I was just going for milk and there you were. I’d no idea you liked this restaurant. I used to come all the time.”
Draco’s eyes dropped slightly, and when they swung up again, they had lost a little of their annoyance. A very little. Harry raised an eyebrow that only his lover would see. Draco’s lips thinned. “We’re just out for dinner,” he volleyed.
The man seemed to remember Harry’s presence. This time, a vague but definite wariness stole over his face. He turned toward Harry uncertainly, and Harry felt himself being sized up. “Hello. And… and you are?”
Draco nudged Harry before he could answer and lifted his drink toward the man. “This is Jonathan Hereford. Jonathan, I’d introduce you, but I’m afraid my friend and I were about to leave, and I’ve got a very important appointment to keep.”
“Draco, stop it.” Harry turned toward the man and held out his hand gamely. “Harry Potter. Nice to meet you.”
The man blanched, and then colored again immediately. His nostrils flared. Harry blinked and dropped his hand.
“Harry Potter,” Jonathan Hereford stated in a flat voice. “Potter, then. Isn’t that wonderful.”
He turned an icy glare Draco’s way, and then actually growled at Harry before whipping around and striding away. Harry felt his own jaw drop.
“Bloody… Well. That’s certainly a new one. Thought you said he was a Muggle.”
“He is,” Draco muttered.
“How’d he know who I was then?”
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “He… happens to know your first name.”
“How would he know that?” Harry said blankly.
“Yes, well. He might know it because... I called it out while he was in the midst of shagging me once.”
The last was spoken so quickly it took Harry nearly a full five seconds to register the reality of the situation. He stared at Draco incredulously. It was the hot flush creeping up Draco’s throat, and the disparaging frown that finally did him in. Harry began to laugh. “Oh, Merlin… oh my lord…”
Draco threw his napkin at Harry with a grimace, then turned his glare on the man’s retreating back. “Don’t know how I ever made the mistake either. He’s an amateur in comparison.”
“Well.” Harry wiped his eyes. “That explains the simmering hatred then, I expect. He must have liked you a lot.”
“He did,” Draco said simply. His eyes caught Harry’s for a moment. “Wanted an emotional commitment. Sadly, I couldn’t return the favor.”
“Why’s that?”
This time, Draco’s flickering gaze held. He reached across the table and took Harry’s hand in a hesitant grip. “My emotions were already committed, Harry.”
Two years ago. Harry looked down at their hands, and then slowly turned his own hand over until it was palm to palm with Draco’s. Pale fingers quivered against his skin and Harry squeezed gently. When he looked up, Draco’s eyes were soft, and wider than usual.
“Let’s go home, shall we?” Harry said. “Stop for ice cream on the way.”
Draco sniffed and drew his hand out of his grasp to signal the waitress. “I don’t indulge in such childish pastimes, Harry.”
“The hell you don’t,” Harry snorted. Draco glowered at him and then turned to the waitress.
“Our bill, please. And the rest of this to take away.”
When she’d come and gone again, Draco grabbed the takeaway bag, and Harry fished out his wallet and counted out the exact amount, then dropped an extra Muggle bill onto the table. Draco’s affectionate grin was visible under the soft lights from the trellis. Harry shrugged and picked up the two boxes, winding around to the back of Draco’s chair. He leaned over and brushed a quick kiss against the other man’s jaw.
“Come on, then. You’re just dying for mint chip.”
Draco rolled his eyes and shoved his chair back with exaggerated duress. “Fine. We’ll get you your damned ice cream. This time.”
“Of course we will,” Harry said loftily. “Good news is, this time you’re paying for what you’ll end up eating.”
~fin~
...
Part three: Perfect Potter
...
...
...
Thanks for reading!
Author: me
Rating: R
Pairing: H/D
Summary: In the midst of Draco and Harry's first week, dinner is required. Sequel to The Arrangement.
Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me. I like to play with them, but it's like borrowing a toy from a friend: eventually you have to give it back in good condition, without your own name permanent-markered onto the plastic leg somewhere.
ETA:
flamewarrior was kind enough to do a Britpick for this a few months back. So here is the new version, after much lazing about on my part. Sorry about the wait...Also posted on AO3 and skyehawke.
...
An Evening in August
“Merlin Almighty, finally.” Draco stalked in from the kitchen, wrapped one hand around Harry’s shirt collar and pulled him toward the hall. Harry shrugged the rest of the way out of his coat and flung it back in the general direction of the foyer, then tried to set his briefcase down as gently as he could in the hallway. Draco turned around and smacked at his hand until he dropped it. “Come on, Potter. You’re already late.”
“I was only here three hours ago, you know,” Harry said, smirking.
Draco cast him a malevolent glare and dragged him into the bedroom. “Yes, I do know. And you should know that I have different needs when we’re together, Harry. Things just don’t hold over like they used to; I’m entitled to more.”
Harry let Draco tug him fully into the room, and then fell backward with an oof under the other man’s hard shove, landing on the bed. “That a fact?”
“Don’t patronize me, Potter. You’ve no idea the crate of snakes you’re opening.” He climbed up onto the bed, yanking at Harry’s tie with more than capable hands. Harry reached for his own belt buckle and Draco slapped his hands away—and then gave a huff and pulled them back to their task. “Oh, go on then. Faster anyway.”
“Ooh, you do have needs,” Harry teased, craning his neck as Draco yanked the tie free at last.
The blond grinned down at him with a decidedly worrisome glint in his eye. “Very specific ones. Right now, for instance, I needed to be inside you an hour ago. No delivery, Harry, very disconcerting. I might have to write a complaint.”
Harry let his face go slack and dropped his hands from his belt. “And what if I don’t want to do that?”
Draco’s fingers stilled on the buttons of his shirt. Eyes the colour of smoke narrowed and darkened, and he sat back on Harry’s thighs with a barely contained sigh. “Then of course, we won’t do it, Harry,” he muttered.
Harry let Draco resign himself for only two more seconds before taking hold of his hips and flipping him over on the bed, pressing his body full-length against Draco’s. His lover’s thighs tightened convulsively around his hips. Draco shuddered.
“To tell you the truth,” Harry murmured, smiling – undulating his body very pointedly, “I think I am running a bit late tonight.”
He bent and kissed Draco tenderly on the mouth, and his lover began to chuckle halfway through it. “Dreadfully so, Potter.” He wiggled swiftly down on the bed until he fit against Harry perfectly, all curves and warmth and long limbs. “But I’m going to have to stand firm about my personal requirements. This is never going to work if they aren’t met.”
Harry rolled back over with a dramatic sigh and flung his arms up over his head, hanging onto one of his wrists with his free hand. “In the interest of making this work, then.”
Draco raised himself up and bent over him again, peering hawkishly. “Harry.”
Harry rolled his eyes. He lurched upward and grabbed Draco’s shoulder, pulling him down into a long, messy kiss. “Malfoy. Don’t think this need of yours is a one-way street.”
“Oh, regardless of how it starts, it never ends that way, Harry, I can assure you.” He swung one leg back over Harry’s waist and reclaimed his mouth, making short work of his clothes. Harry forced himself to remain as still as possible as he was stripped, and was gratified to feel Draco’s hands slide up his bare arms at last and tangle their fingers together.
“Never starts that… that way either… apparently,” Harry hissed out. Amazing how quickly Draco divested him of speech as well. Draco pressed down against him and rolled his hips slowly, agonizingly. Harry arched without planning it, and his lover nibbled at his throat with a little less control than he had before.
“Oh, do hold still, Potter,” he breathed. “Can’t exactly attend to you if you’re going to be impatient.”
Harry wormed one hand free and caught Draco’s chin in gentle fingers, raising those clear grey eyes to meet his. “You…”
He fell silent, unsure of what he’d been about to say. Draco searched his face and nodded, a tiny smile curving his mouth. “Relax. I’ll go slowly.”
“Just… been awhile,” Harry managed as Draco returned to his throat. He blinked against the insatiable heat pooling in his loins. He wanted to move. Move, or… move. His lover nodded again.
“Alright then, Harry. How long? As your payment to me for being late.”
Harry looked at him. “It was with you.”
For a moment, Draco’s eyes flickered. He closed them and opened them again, drawing a deep breath. “That long?”
Harry nodded, feeling a flush crawl up his throat. But Draco’s gaze did not waver from
his. He leaned in and soothed Harry’s panting lips with a soft kiss. Eased his tongue inside his mouth and stroked gently, lingering over every hollow and curve. At last, Harry had to turn his head for air, gasping.
“Then I’ll make it that good again,” Draco whispered, the sound tickling across the shell of his ear. Harry could only nod.
* * *
They were at the Indian Corner Café an hour later, Harry resting idly in his patio chair as his protesting muscles finally began to relax. Draco grinned at him from across the table and two mostly empty plates of vegetable samosas, and the sunset’s light beamed in over the rooftops in opals and violets, setting his hair aflame. Harry leered back, not bothering to hide it for their waitress’ peace of mind. The girl rolled her dark eyes visibly and flounced back inside with the finished plates to retrieve their entrees.
“Salazar, Potter. Now you’ll have to leave her some sort of extra tip to assuage the raging guilt that’s about to wash over you.”
Harry laughed and shifted with a contented groan. “Worth it. No one else has visual sex with me across a restaurant table like you do.”
Draco took an elegant sip from his water glass, pointing at Harry with one slender finger. “That was nothing but a mere undressing, I’ll have you know.”
“Mmm,” Harry hummed to himself. Draco’s fingers… It was almost surreal, looking at them. So perfectly kept, long and refined, and they had been all over and inside his body only thirty minutes ago. Their dinner arrived, and Harry found that he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at the waitress after all.
“Thank you,” Draco’s cultured voice intoned effortlessly. Harry lifted his own glass of water and turned toward the bustling thoroughfare beyond the railing to watch the onset of night.
“You know, Harry, I can teach you the finer details of undressing with the eyes.” Draco leaned forward, brushing Harry’s hand with his thumb. “That way you won’t always have to shag me through my expensive trousers.”
“Is that what I’ve been doing?” Harry returned glibly and Draco’s laugh spilled easily into the patio’s chatter.
“Oh, yes. Across the top of the table with all the chefs watching, no less.”
“You like a good show.”
Draco sniffed. “Of course I do. But there is an art to it, Harry.”
“You’ll have to teach me sometime,” he rallied lazily. “And make it that good again.”
Draco’s lip quirked. He looked down at his curry with a small smile. “No regrets, then?”
It might have been the light that coloured Draco’s cheeks. Harry felt his mouth slide into a faint smile of its own. “None. Just some sore muscles. I’m sure I’ll work them out in Avebury tomorrow.”
Draco frowned. “You’re going to Wiltshire tomorrow?”
“Just for the morning. Then to Yorkshire. Wensleydale.” Harry took a long drink and picked up his fork, wincing as he readjusted his seat. He halted, the first bite halfway to his mouth, and met Draco’s narrowed gaze. “Not overnight.”
Draco sat back, setting his own fork down. “Well.”
Harry watched him, then gestured with his fork. “You should eat that, you know. I’m not going out of the country, for Merlin’s sake.”
Draco leaned forward again, a canny gleam in one eye. “Oh, did I mention I’ve got to go for a conference in Aberdeen next month? Four days.”
Harry glared at him, suddenly not as hungry as he had been. “No. You did not.”
Draco’s eyebrow arched infuriatingly. “They’ve a new Ageing Potion they’d like to market throughout Britain. I’ve got to go and suffer their tripe before I sign the papers for ten years more research. Bloody thing has a habit of knocking people into early dementia.”
Harry took a steadying breath. The street outside was darkening, the breeze picking up. Tiny winking lights in the rose trellis to the right flickered on. “Four days?”
Draco nodded serenely, irking Harry with his smile. Then suddenly it slipped into a grin. “I’ve reserved a room for two, if you can get the time. It’s a damned pub. Bed will be very cozy.”
Harry felt himself thawing, and Draco’s thumb brushing over the back of his hand once more finally did him in. He grinned back and flicked Draco’s fingers away fondly. “I should plan overtime all month, just to spite you.”
“Oh, you should. But you won’t.”
“No, I won’t.” Harry leaned back and let the cool evening air wash over his face. “Though I don’t know if four days will work.”
Draco gave a pained sighed and picked up his fork again. “Three, then. Or two, and Apparate. This isn’t a request, Potter.”
Harry smiled as sweetly as he could. “And this isn’t a refusal.”
Draco’s smirk would have dumped sarcasm all over Harry’ plate had he been close enough. Harry chuckled and took a bite. The taste of cardamom and garlic burst against his tongue and he sighed happily. “Here, have a bite. It’s—Draco.”
His lover’s fork was poised over his food, dropping neglected curried chicken onto his mango chutney. Draco was staring over the patio railing with a decidedly sour expression. As Harry watched, the blond closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Godric’s shriveled balls…”
Harry craned his neck over his shoulder, but there were too many people passing by on the street to see which had caught his lover’s ire… until one young man turned with a slightly furrowed brow and made for the patio. Harry glanced back to find Draco looking even more discontent. “Who is he?”
“A Muggle. Old acquaintance,” Draco muttered.
Harry appraised him, concentrating on the slight twitch of Draco’s fingers. “Old lover, you mean.”
The blond rolled his eyes, moving restlessly in his chair. “Well, I have had quite a few. They’re bound to pop up out of the ground every so often. Can’t really be helped, but it can be avoided. Let’s get these for take away.”
“Little late for that.” Harry watched the man approach. He was tall, fairly well-muscled, with a deep tan and soft-looking chestnut hair curling around his face. He would have been incredibly attractive, if not for the confused frown marring his forehead.
Harry fought a smirk. Hell, even with the frown. The man edged his way gracefully past two closely packed tables, laying an appeasing hand on the shoulder of a disturbed patron. “Well, I can see why you liked him. How long ago was this?”
Draco was stretched in his chair, feigning laziness with an expression carved out of solid stone. The faint sneer, the narrowed eyes, the lifted chin. He swirled his water glass in one hand. “Two long years ago, Harry, if you must know. And it ended two long years ago as well. I don’t really see why he’s here.”
Harry smiled at his lover, darting his eyes over the refined, aloof figure the tall blond cut in the grasp of his chair. “I do.”
“Draco,” the newcomer said, coming to a halt at their table. He glanced at Harry for a moment, and then turned a still-amazed look in Draco’s direction. The man’s eyes drank in Draco’s sprawled form. “I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been… well, it’s been ages.”
But the man’s initial caution couldn’t hold past the careful greeting and he smiled at last, a dazzlingly childlike grin. Harry caught fondness there that he recognized. Draco returned the smile stiffly.
“Yes, hello.”
The man’s face smoothed into passivity, and he blinked. “I was just going for milk and there you were. I’d no idea you liked this restaurant. I used to come all the time.”
Draco’s eyes dropped slightly, and when they swung up again, they had lost a little of their annoyance. A very little. Harry raised an eyebrow that only his lover would see. Draco’s lips thinned. “We’re just out for dinner,” he volleyed.
The man seemed to remember Harry’s presence. This time, a vague but definite wariness stole over his face. He turned toward Harry uncertainly, and Harry felt himself being sized up. “Hello. And… and you are?”
Draco nudged Harry before he could answer and lifted his drink toward the man. “This is Jonathan Hereford. Jonathan, I’d introduce you, but I’m afraid my friend and I were about to leave, and I’ve got a very important appointment to keep.”
“Draco, stop it.” Harry turned toward the man and held out his hand gamely. “Harry Potter. Nice to meet you.”
The man blanched, and then colored again immediately. His nostrils flared. Harry blinked and dropped his hand.
“Harry Potter,” Jonathan Hereford stated in a flat voice. “Potter, then. Isn’t that wonderful.”
He turned an icy glare Draco’s way, and then actually growled at Harry before whipping around and striding away. Harry felt his own jaw drop.
“Bloody… Well. That’s certainly a new one. Thought you said he was a Muggle.”
“He is,” Draco muttered.
“How’d he know who I was then?”
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “He… happens to know your first name.”
“How would he know that?” Harry said blankly.
“Yes, well. He might know it because... I called it out while he was in the midst of shagging me once.”
The last was spoken so quickly it took Harry nearly a full five seconds to register the reality of the situation. He stared at Draco incredulously. It was the hot flush creeping up Draco’s throat, and the disparaging frown that finally did him in. Harry began to laugh. “Oh, Merlin… oh my lord…”
Draco threw his napkin at Harry with a grimace, then turned his glare on the man’s retreating back. “Don’t know how I ever made the mistake either. He’s an amateur in comparison.”
“Well.” Harry wiped his eyes. “That explains the simmering hatred then, I expect. He must have liked you a lot.”
“He did,” Draco said simply. His eyes caught Harry’s for a moment. “Wanted an emotional commitment. Sadly, I couldn’t return the favor.”
“Why’s that?”
This time, Draco’s flickering gaze held. He reached across the table and took Harry’s hand in a hesitant grip. “My emotions were already committed, Harry.”
Two years ago. Harry looked down at their hands, and then slowly turned his own hand over until it was palm to palm with Draco’s. Pale fingers quivered against his skin and Harry squeezed gently. When he looked up, Draco’s eyes were soft, and wider than usual.
“Let’s go home, shall we?” Harry said. “Stop for ice cream on the way.”
Draco sniffed and drew his hand out of his grasp to signal the waitress. “I don’t indulge in such childish pastimes, Harry.”
“The hell you don’t,” Harry snorted. Draco glowered at him and then turned to the waitress.
“Our bill, please. And the rest of this to take away.”
When she’d come and gone again, Draco grabbed the takeaway bag, and Harry fished out his wallet and counted out the exact amount, then dropped an extra Muggle bill onto the table. Draco’s affectionate grin was visible under the soft lights from the trellis. Harry shrugged and picked up the two boxes, winding around to the back of Draco’s chair. He leaned over and brushed a quick kiss against the other man’s jaw.
“Come on, then. You’re just dying for mint chip.”
Draco rolled his eyes and shoved his chair back with exaggerated duress. “Fine. We’ll get you your damned ice cream. This time.”
“Of course we will,” Harry said loftily. “Good news is, this time you’re paying for what you’ll end up eating.”
~fin~
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Part three: Perfect Potter
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Thanks for reading!
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no subject
Date: 2006-08-15 05:21 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-08-17 06:14 am (UTC)From:How are you doing, my friend?
no subject
Date: 2006-08-18 06:15 pm (UTC)From:I wish you luck on your test in TKD. That's a difficult martial art. I remember my tests in Aikido. They were somewhat intense, but very fun!
I am doing well. Dealing with more hours from one job and some housesitting, which is nice because I get a house to myself. ^_~
no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 03:48 am (UTC)From:Thank you on the luck. Yes, our tests are pretty intense, too. I'm most worried about making it through my board breaking and ensuring my flying kicks are up to par.
Nice about having the house to yourself. :D I have mine to myself - it makes for a nice sanctuary.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 08:13 pm (UTC)From: