Archive of Our Own

Work Text

The evenings were Harry’s favourite part of the day. After most of the shops closed, and the various Londoners had finished their shopping and were headed home, the streets were washed with the golden light of pre-sunset. It was also the time his own shop, Lily’s Bakery had closed its doors for the day, allowing him to wind down after a day of handling customers. Not that he had anything against them - he loved interacting with different people, and especially when they were Muggles who didn’t give him a second thought - but it could be draining. Especially since business was good. Ron said that his little bakery – located in a side street, but in a relatively busy area of Muggle London – attracted customers because of the little bits of magic Harry infused in all his cakes. It was his little secret; something that always made his clients smile in awe at the way his chocolate statues stay put, or the way his fondant covers perfectly mimicked reality. Hermione called that cheating, to which Ron agreed but claimed cheating isn’t bad if no one finds out (which resulted in a prolonged fight that even a red velvet cupcake didn’t solve, although Ron and Hermione figured it out eventually, as they always do). In Hermione’s opinion, infusing magic into Muggle baked goods was cheating and dangerous. She repeated time and time again what could happen if the Muggles figured out that their pastries were charmed, citing the Statute of Secrecy and pointing out the risk of the Ministry finding out about his little breaches. She kept insisting that the secret to his success was that his work was genuinely good - a statement that always made Harry feel just a little embarrassed but also very happy.Harry insisted that the Muggles would never find out, and that they liked his pastries and cakes a little bit because they tasted good and a little bit because the magic made them feel good. But if he were honest, he didn’t care. His shop was more of a hobby that paid his Muggle bills at his Muggle flat than anything else. But it was a nice pat to his ego when he saw the line in the morning or at the afternoon tea, or when he received a call for a custom order. It was a true honour, he thought, to be chosen to make a cake for a special occasion, whether it was a graduation, a bar mitzvah or just a regular birthday. Wedding cakes, however, were his favourite. It was his chance to pull out all the stops, to be extravagant and experiment. He put the last chair in its place and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6pm – which would typically mean it was time to head home, or to one of the pubs in Diagon Alley to have a drink with Ron after he’d finished his day at the Auror office. But today it meant that it was time for his appointment. Harry gave his shop a last glance to make sure that everything was in order. He knew that first impression was the most important thing, and the couple that had scheduled the meeting gave him the feeling that they will be very particular and meticulous. He wasn't exactly excited about that - he preferred to be creative and have his freedom - but as a custom cake maker, his first priority was to make his clients happy, whatever that may entail. The shop was, at least in his eyes, in perfect shape: all the tables and chairs were organised, the shelves were charmed spotless, and he had his portfolio ready at hand to show off his previous works to impress and inspire.Whenever Harry had a private booking he liked to imagine his clients. It was a little game he played with himself, and a childish part of him was a little proud every time the picture he had in his head matched the client. The name Greengrass had him thinking about wide meadows and sunny summers. He imagined a beautiful young woman, probably in her early 20s, with flowing brown hair. He could picture the flavours that would match her personality – and hopefully, also of her groom. Probably something light and fruity. Maybe blueberries, or strawberries. Definitely strawberries, he thought. With a lot of buttercream. He could also offer a classic vanilla flavour, maybe with a touch of rum just to make things a little more interesting.His clock - an ornate cuckoo clock he'd taken from Grimmauld Place - chimed six at exactly the same moment that the little bell over his shop's door rang to announce the arrival of his customer. With a thrill of excitement, Harry glanced down at his apron and straightened a crease before lifting his gaze up to the door with a smile.A lady walked in. The first thought that crossed Harry’s mind was that he had never, in his life, been more wrong about his image of a client. She was nothing like the airy elegance he had pictured. Not a wavy brunette, but a sophisticated tight blond bun, without a single stray strand which Harry thought only magic – or a significant amount of styling gel – could achieve. Her face, though young and beautiful, had a severe, almost cold expression. She wore what Harry could only describe as a century’s worth of styles: a ruffled Victorian pink blouse tucked into a pair of flared jeans straight out of Aunt Petunia’s teenage pictures. Even to his unfashionable eye, it was a strange sight – and completely the opposite of the boho-style woman he’d pictured.She glanced around, as if surveying the shop, gauging whether it was up to her standards or not.Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling somewhat inadequate. He forced himself to keep his smile plastered to his face. She might be a little bit eccentric, and quite possibly a little stuck-up – but she was his client, and she was a bride-to-be. “Miss Greengrass?” he ventured.She turned, looking at him as if just noticing his presence – despite the fact that he was the only other person in the shop, and was standing right in front of her. She paused for a second.Harry glanced down at himself, thinking that maybe he’d accidentally pulled on a dirty apron - rather than one of the clean ones he used mainly for this type of meeting. It was perfectly clean. She smiled politely at him. “Yes. I have a meeting with you, I believe?”Harry nodded, and offered his hand. “Yes, certainly. I was waiting for you, Miss.” She walked closer and raised her hand to take his, a strange expression on her face. Then her eyes widened and just before their hands touched she brought her hand up to her mouth. “You - aren’t you Harry Potter?”Harry’s own eyes widened at that, and he used his offered hand, left abandoned in the air, to ruffle his hair and hide his scar. The last thing he expected to happen was to be recognised at his own bakery shop. All of his clients so far had been Muggles who knew nothing about him, and he loved that. He loved being away from fame and recognition. He loved being just him - just Harry. That was why he opened his shop in Muggle London. Risked getting in trouble with the Ministry for catering to a Muggle audience.She kept staring, and Harry knew that his scar wasn’t the only thing making him recognisable anymore. Not after living in the Wizarding World since he was eleven, and definitely not since the War. That first year after defeating Voldemort had Harry’s face plastered on nearly every edition of the Prophet , not to mention posters, and of course, the many books written about the War and Harry himself.It was a nightmare, and therefore, Harry limited his contact with the Magical World  to his circle of friends, and the occasional trip to Diagon Alley when he needed supplies. But he always did those rounds under a Glamour to hide his identity.And now the Magical World had penetrated his life, his little Muggle-centred shop, and there was no escaping it. He cleared his throat. “Yes.” There was no point in trying to hide it now. His mind was racing, spiralling. If she were to talk to her friends, or worse - the tabloids - he might have to close his little shop. He might have to move to a different city. He really didn’t want to do that. Trying to break the spiral he forced himself to try and not think about the worst-case scenario. She could be a Muggle, someone he’d met somewhere and gave his name to and he simply did not remember. It was a feeble hope, he knew: her attire, the way she held herself, the way she was looking at him, even her name; it all pointed to her being a witch, and most likely, a pure-blood one. He had no idea what such a person would be doing in his little Muggle shop. He coughed shortly again. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”“No - I don’t think so. You…” she squinted, and Harry recognised the look. He reached up to flatten his hair again, although he knew the gesture was useless. “You are him, are you not?”“My name is Harry Potter, yes.” Harry felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Miss, would you like to take a seat?”She tilted her head, studying him. “I cannot believe this. Why would Harry Potter, of all people, work at a Muggle shop?”Underneath the surge of panic that his little bubble was collapsing he felt the tang of annoyance that she assumed he was working there. “Miss Greengrass, er, please, take a seat.”“You haven’t lost your magic, have you? Since you left the magical world there’s been rumours flying about. Is that why you work at a Muggle shop?”Harry felt his nails dig into the palms of his hands. “No - nothing like that. Miss Greengrass, please. We’re in a Muggle area, we cannot discuss… It’s…” he didn’t even know what to say. He thought he was in for counselling a couple regarding their cakes - not being insulted and defending his decision to withdraw from magic to someone he didn’t even know. He had enough of that from Ron. “There’s nothing to worry about, we’re inside, aren’t we?”“Yes, but…” Harry started, but then Miss Greengrass waved her hand, dismissing his feeble attempt at an excuse. There was something about the way she moved her hand, the way her mouth twitched slightly, that made Harry think about this one chatty old lady - Mrs Herrington -  that liked to drop by right at rush hour and occupy him with endless questions (and attempts to set him up with her granddaughter, which he refused every time to no avail). There was only one way to stop Mrs Herrington from prying into his personal life. He cleared his throat again, and offered a smile. “Your husband to be, will he be joining us today?”She paused for a second, and Harry’s heart beat hard in his chest. Mrs Herrington might’ve been chatty, and a little nosy, but she did not know he was Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, and she did not pose a threat to his quiet life. Unlike the woman currently standing in front of him.Miss Greengrass then offered him a polite smile. “Yes. He will be here shortly. I hope that this is not an issue?”The shift away from his identity and back into business helped ease the anxiety in him, shifting his focus instead to the couple and his purpose. Granted, he hasn’t been in the wedding cake business for all that long, but in his limited experience the couples who didn’t show up together and treated cake tasting as a chore rather than a fun, bonding experience did not last very long. But he wasn’t here to judge. There could’ve been any number of reasons for the groom-to-be to be late, and not all of them taletelling. “Would you like to start telling me what it is you are looking for, Miss Greengrass? Or do you prefer to wait?”“Please, call me Astoria,” she offered a smile, and then waved her hand shortly. “I’ve already discussed it all with him, so -”The sound of the store’s bell ringing cut into her words, making both of them look up at the door.Harry watched as the door swung open, trying not to let panic wash him again as he was certain he would have to go through being recognised again. He wiped his hand on his apron in preparation to greet the newcomer, but the man walking in made him stop mid-movement. For when, out of all the people in the world, Draco Malfoy stepped into his shop, the world stopped still.It was beyond the shock of a pure-blood wizard like Malfoy stepping into a Muggle shop, especially for something as intimate and important as cake tastings for his upcoming wedding. It was also that the sight of him brought back old memories of mean banter and late night stalking, waiting for him to stumble so he could finally get him for who he really was. Of years-long obsession, sometimes so severe that his own friends begged him to stop talking about Draco Malfoy and what he might be up to. Of a pounding heart and sweat drops as he waited for the inevitable, moments from being exposed to Voldemort, only to hear his shaky voice claim he does not recognise him and cannot confirm his identity. Of conflicted need to go back into the Fiendfyre and save him from certain death, a life for a life, despite their animosity. Of pity and righteousness when he testified on his behalf in front of the Wizengamot, effectively setting him free and relieving him from the consequences of the role he played in the war that changed the Wizarding world - and Harry’s life - forever.The door closed gently behind Malfoy, and he spared it only a second before he glanced about the room. It took a mere second for his eyes to land on Harry, and Harry watched as his eyebrows came together in a slight frown, as if he wasn’t sure of what he was seeing.Harry’s heart beat hard in his chest as a mix of emotions swirled in him. Malfoy had certainly cleaned up since the last time Harry had seen him at the trials. He was no longer beat down and unhealthily thin. He resembled more of his younger self, back in fifth year when he was at his peak; only now he didn't have the same air of arrogance he had back then, and no spark of spite in his eyes. He was confident, holding himself tall and graceful, and while his features were all still sharp like a knife, there was also a certain gentleness to them. He was, beyond any doubt, a very attractive man.“Darling! You’ve made it!”Astoria’s call broke the spell that held their gazes - and Harry’s breath. He let the air out and looked away when Malfoy moved his eyes to his fiance. “Of course. I apologise for my tardiness. I had important business to tend to.” He took a step farther into the shop, and then looked up again, his grey eyes once again meeting Harry’s. “Potter. Fancy seeing you here.”Harry’s mouth went dry. He swallowed, and forced back his professional smile. “This is my shop,” he said, slightly irritated. He watched Malfoy’s eyebrow arching up. Next to him, Astoria’s jaw parted slightly, and she muttered an apology - which Harry dismissed. “Take a seat. Please.” He tried really hard for that to not sound like he was begging, but Malfoy’s stare made that be a very difficult task. Astoria took the offered seat, settling herself. Malfoy, however, remained standing for another minute, his stare fixated on Harry as if he was trying to strip him to the core. It was only a few extra seconds, Harry knew that, but they felt as if they stretched for eternity, before Malfoy finally moved his gaze and sat down. Harry, witholding a sigh of relief, joined them on the third chair he'd prepared.He cleared his throat, but before he could start his typical speech about the different types of cakes he could make, popular trends and the best combination of flavours, Malfoy spoke again.“What are you doing with a Muggle shop, Potter?”“That’s… well…” Harry moved his hands over his apron, smoothing out the creases caused when he sat down. “I…” he really did not want to go into it, not now, and definitely not with Malfoy and his fiance. Malfoy had already proven once before that he’d be willing to sell Harry’s secrets - he did not want to give him a chance to do that again. At least, not more than he already had. Harry really didn’t want to move, or close his shop, or lose his regular clientele mere months after he’d finally managed to gain a reputation. But then, a thought flashed through his mind, it was just as unlikely for Draco Malfoy to be here, too.“I could ask you the very same question.”He watched Malfoy’s lip twitch into a small, barely visible smirk.“Oh, I know, so strange, isn’t it?” Astoria’s voice made him look away from Malfoy. She grinned, and moved her hand to hold onto Malfoy’s arm. “But you know how Muggle culture has been trending ever since they passed all these laws about being more… accepting, or whatever,” she waved her hand dismissively, then let it rest on Malfoy’s arm again. “I don’t quite get it, myself, but when Draco and I decided to get married, I knew my wedding would have to be on top of all the trends, and I just thought - a cake would be such a harmless way to get that Muggle culture into our wedding. Is it not, darling?”“It’s your day, Astoria. If you want a Muggle cake, I do not see the harm.”“It’s our day, darling.” Her smile faltered, but she didn’t allow it to drop. “Oh, but I am so glad we chose this place! Can you imagine our luck, Draco? Not only is this shop run by a wizard, but it’s Harry Potter! Oh, our wedding will be the talk of the year! Nay, century!”Harry felt his chest tightening. This was becoming more like a nightmare with each passing moment. “You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself.”Astoria looked like she was about to say something more, but Harry cleared his throat. The couple turned from each other, their attention back on him. “Actually - er - if you could keep my identity… I mean… I don’t really want Wizarding Britain to know I’m here. That this is my shop.” Harry didn’t have much hope that his request would be respected, whether they hire him or not. He hadn’t been this tempted to break the law since he was seventeen and fighting the meanest dark wizard of all times (minor breaches to the Statute aside). “I’m sorry if that’s… if I’m hindering your plans, or anything…”A glance up showed Malfoy's eyebrow raised in question, but his features relaxed a second later. “It is perfectly understandable,” he said instead. “We will keep your secret. Won’t we, Astoria?”“Oh, but imagine what people will say -”“If they knew you purchased your cake from Harry Potter you cannot say you bought your cake from a Muggle shop, dear.”Astoria’s eyes widened for a second, and she paused, giving Harry the hope that Malfoy’s notion was enough to ease her mind. But she then shook her head lightly, her hand, once again, placed on Malfoy’s arm. “We could do something else that’s Muggle - this is an opportunity that will not return!”“We have to be respectful.”Harry’s eyes shot back to Malfoy. He did not expect this from him. Malfoy was never known to sacrifice his convenience and gain for someone else’s comfort. Harry studied him, unable not to wonder what else has changed.Astoria’s resigned sigh made Harry tear his eyes from him and regain his professional posture. “Well… At least we can still say the cake is from a Muggle shop,” she said, and Harry noticed the squeeze she gave Malfoy’s arm before she turned her attention back to Harry. “But you could probably do some magic to make it especially spectacular, can you not?”Astoria looked a little disappointed, but nothing about her posture told Harry she might be lying. “If you choose me as your baker, I will of course do everything I can to make sure you have the cake of your dreams.” Returning to his more typical business talk had put him more at ease. He shifted back to his pitch, the same as he did with every couple, explaining the process of his work. “So… I typically start with the technical details, so I can offer the most fitting suggestions for your cake. Do you already know how many guests you’re expecting? And how many of those would have cake?”“Well, as you know, the Malfoys are very respectable… I think we were talking about maybe sixty? Are we inviting the Minister, dear?”“Of course. I think somewhere between fifty and eighty guests is the number, give or take. Depending on how many Ministry officials will come.”Harry nodded, and took out his little notepad to write that down. He probably should’ve expected, when he asked, that Draco Malfoy’s wedding will be over the top.“And do you have a date set already?”“The ninth of May.”“So we have about six months. Okay, that’s great.” Harry smiled, finally feeling in the rhythm of his work. “What about a budget? Do you have a preference?”“Please, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. Harry felt his face get hotter at the familiar tone. But there was, somehow, something different about hearing him speak that way now. Harry’s hold on the pen tightened. “Don’t be ridiculous. The only limit here is your imagination. I do hope you’ve improved since our time at Hogwarts, yes?”Harry let out a short, dry chuckle. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. I am sure my current level of creativity will be to your liking.” He forced himself not to falter under the silvery stare.“Don’t be silly,” Astoria’s voice cut through. Malfoy looked sideways at her, and Harry couldn’t help but notice the sharpness of his jaw. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. What was he doing, thinking about Malfoy’s jaw? While he was consulting with him about his wedding cake, no less! “I’m sure Harry Potter can create the most amazing cake for us.”“Please, Astoria, you can call me just… Harry.”That comment seemed to have delighted Astoria, as her eyes lit up and a broad smile spread on her lips. “Of course, Harry.” She seemed to enjoy saying his name.Harry nodded once in appreciation, and moved on with the intake. “At what kind of a venue are you planning to hold the event? I mean… is it going to be indoors? Outdoors?”“May is such a beautiful month. We’re going to have it outdoors.”“Outdoors… great, okay. Do you have a colour palette yet?”“Oh… no, not yet. We can’t agree on it. I want lilac and silver and Draco wants light blue… just because of a dress robe he found. Isn’t he silly?” Harry did not picture Malfoy in a fancy, fitting light-blue dress robe that accented his eyes. And he most definitely did not think that the colour would look stunning on him, and he did not wish he could see him in his formal wear. “But that just doesn’t work. So we’re still working on it.”Harry made the mistake of looking up. Malfoy was staring at him again. Harry shook his head lightly. “That’s… really okay. We don’t have to start there. What about flavours? Do you know what you want?”The rest of the meeting continued in about the same lines. Astoria, Harry noticed, was the leader of the conversation. But throughout the whole meeting Harry found himself repeatedly drawn to Malfoy. He’d caught himself lingering with his stare, and had to, more than once, push inappropriate images out of his mind. But if he disregarded this minor interference, he ended up getting all the information he needed. And what’s more - it seemed that the couple were pleased not only with his identity, but also with what he had to offer, as they agreed to schedule a tasting of their chosen flavours for the following week. They all got up, and Harry offered his hand. Astoria took it first, thanking him. She, at least, seemed to have gotten over the excitement over the possibility of having Harry Potter as a vendor at her wedding, and was back to being her polite self.When she let go, Harry turned to Malfoy. His breath hitched slightly when Malfoy took the offered hand and looked directly at him. The spark was still there, shimmering in the grey fog of his irises, and Harry had to force himself not to get lost in it.“It was nice seeing you again, Potter,” he said. It was completely professional, but there was still something about the way he said his name that tied Harry’s insides in a knot.He smiled back. “You, too.” Malfoy’s hold lingered a second longer before he let go, and reached for his belongings. “We will schedule the tasting meeting soon.”Harry nodded and said he would be looking forward to seeing them the following week, and then the couple left his shop. It felt incredibly empty without their presence, and Harry was left with a hollow feeling in his chest.  -Harry did not, by any means, spend the whole week thinking about Malfoy. It would be inappropriate, after all. When it was time for the next meeting Harry was prepared. He’d set his mind on being completely professional. He’d mulled over the previous meeting, and knew that any thought other than what flavours to prepare for the Malfoy couple and what decorations would fit their colour scheme was completely inappropriate. Not only was it bad business  - but Malfoy was getting married. To a witch . There must have been some other reason for the way his hand lingered on Harry’s when they shook goodbye. There must have been a different reason for why his eyes were set on Harry more so than Astoria.Probably the surprise of discovering Harry at a Muggle cake shop. Lingering resentment from their childhood. Gratefulness for Harry’s testimonial at the trial.No other reason, and Harry should not entertain even a budding thought in that direction.He set his cake samples on the table, arranging them and rearranging them, mulling over the order of the flavours to make sure the couple will be able to experience each one and fully understand the differences and nuances. He looked at his creations and nodded in satisfaction. He felt that the previous meeting with the Malfoy couple didn’t quite go in the ideal way. He attributed it to the surprise from both sides: he would never expect Malfoy, out of all people, to show up at a Muggle shop; and it was clear that neither Astoria or Malfoy expected to see Harry there. Harry was confident that this time will not be the same. That this time they will be over the awkwardness.Besides - this was the part where couples had the most fun. Showing up at a shop and tasting delicious cakes was always the highlight of the process, after talking about the daunting technical details, and before the negotiations and pre-wedding stress. Harry loved that part. He loved seeing people enjoying his work, being happy together. The fact that this time the happy couple included Harry’s exceptionally good-looking former enemy shouldn’t change that.The bell over the door rang, and Harry turned towards it, ready to greet the couple.But it was only Malfoy who walked in. Harry swallowed, feeling how the walls of his resolution were already starting to crack.“Hello again, Potter.”Harry pushed any inappropriate thought to the back of his mind. “Hey.”Malfoy crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. “Will Miss Greengrass join us soon?”Malfoy walked about the room until he reached the table Harry had set, the same as the last time. But today Malfoy did not wait for an invitation before he sat down. Harry followed. “Not today. She had other commitments today.”“Oh - er, would you like to reschedule?” Astoria’s absence had thrown him off balance. It had happened before, of course, but it wasn’t something he recommended. And the fact that this time it was Malfoy had made it that much worse. “The samples are ready, but I wouldn’t mind if you need to come another time.” He actually would. Preparing several cupcakes, all in different flavours and textures, was a feat that cost both time and money. But good customer service was to allow for some leeway, make the couple feel welcomed and cared for.He also wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone with Malfoy, but that had little to do with work ethics.“There will be no need. I will sample first. We might schedule another meeting, if she wants. Don’t worry, Potter,” Malfoy looked up at him, smirking, “we will pay for the additional meeting. That is not an issue.”Harry cleared his throat. That was not the problem. Money was not a problem. “Don’t… I mean, that’s okay. It’s perfectly fine. If that’s what you want. Okay.” He glanced at the cupcakes. One of them was slightly askew. He reached over to move it slightly, perfecting the line up. “So, er, shall we start?” Malfoy nodded. "This one," he gestured to the first cupcake, its soft lavender frosting swirled with cream in delicate silver and lilac, matching the couple’s chosen colour scheme. He thought it might suit them the most. A little bit of magic gave the cream a touch of iridescence - enough to notice and make it extra pretty, but not enough so that a Muggle might notice. “Is a London Fog cake, with a touch of lavender.”Malfoy’s eyebrow arched up as he picked up the cupcake, his long, elegant fingers wrapping around the cup, careful not to touch the cream swirl on top. “Cheers.” He brought it to his mouth, and took a bite. Harry’s mouth went dry when Malfoy closed his eyes and let out a pleasured moan. The crack in Harry’s resolution deepened, parts of the wall coming down like the piece of the cupcake that was torn by Malfoy’s teeth. Harry should not be reacting this way. Besides how incredibly inappropriate it was, what with Malfoy being a customer and engaged, it was Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. At least, Harry thought, it made one thing clear. Ginny was right after all. Harry wasn’t sure if he was thrilled with that realisation - but whatever he was feeling about his ex knowing about his sexual preferences without him figuring it out by himself first would have to wait for a more appropriate time.Malfoy placed the cupcake back on the table, swallowed, and then moved his fingers over his lips. Harry’s stare lingered a second at the light tug on Malfoy’s lower lip. Harry’s breath hitched.“Merlin, Potter,” Malfoy said. “I did not know you could bake so well.”Harry fought the warmth that threatened to spread through his face. “Thank you.” Determined not to steer from being strictly professional, he gestured at the next cupcake. It was a plain light one, but decorated with a swirl of white and light-blue cream. On the blue part of it there were white sugar pearls, nestled carefully between the creases of the cream. “This one is a vanilla blueberry cupcake. There is fruit inside.”Malfoy picked it up, and for a moment seemed to be just examining the decorations. “Your work is impeccable,” he said, and Harry couldn’t help a small smile, a bubble of pride forming in his chest, momentarily taking his mind off the fact that it was Malfoy who was eating his cupcakes. It didn’t last long, as Malfoy then bit into the cupcake, pink lips closing on the white cream. He let out another moan that should be absolutely illegal to produce in public.Harry was mesmerised. What on earth was wrong with him?!He cleared his throat. “What did you think about this one?”Malfoy’s jaw moved as he was chewing. He opened his eyes and carefully looked at the cupcake again. He was examining it, as if appraising a rare gem. “You used real fruit here,” he said once he’d swallowed. It was a statement, rather than a question.Harry shuffled in his place a bit. “Fresh ones, yes. I think they have the richest flavour, and the tang of sourness I think compliments the sweet vanilla. Of course, if you prefer sweeter, I can use sugared ones. Or a different fruit. One of the best things about vanilla flavour is that you can pair it with almost anything and it works.”“No, it wasn’t a complaint.” Malfoy took another small bite before placing the partially eaten cupcake back on the table. “It’s quite amazing. It has some sort of…”Harry smirked. The bubble in his chest expanded slightly. “Refreshing effect?”Malfoy’s eyes shot up. “Precisely.” The word dragged a little. For a moment, Malfoy stared at him, but then he picked up the cupcake again and moved it in his hand, twisting it back and forth. He then placed it back, and grabbed the London Fog cupcake, and did the same. He let out a low humming sound, bringing his eyebrows together. “Is that Iridencia?”Harry bit his lip. “Er. Yes, it is.”“And in the other one. Is that Purgo?”“Er.” He felt his face heating up again, and raised his hand up to his head, letting his fingers brush through his messy hair. “I thought this was a Muggle shop.” Malfoy’s words drawled in the room. He lifted his eyes from the cupcake, his silvery gaze landing on Harry, an amused smirk playing at his lips. “Are you cheating, Potter?” His teasing tone lightened the air in the room, taking away their past animosity. He leaned back in his chair, his teasing tone making it look like he was savouring this little moment. Harry scratched his head. “Well… I wouldn’t call it cheating, per se…”Malfoy’s smirk broadened. “And the Muggles, they have no idea?”Harry smiled sheepishly. He moved his hair backwards and then moved his hands to the back of the chair in front of him, leaning slightly. He had been standing all day, after all. “I tell them it’s a secret recipe.” Malfoy’s eyebrow shot up, making him look impressed. “I thought you were a Gryffindor all these years, and here we are, finding out that you are, in fact, a Slytherin after all.”Harry couldn’t help a chuckle. “Not that I think you’re right, but I did almost get sorted into Slytherin.”Malfoy’s second eyebrow shot up. “Is that so? I would’ve never imagined. Although, after knowing you for so many years, perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised.” He shrugged, and then glanced downwards before meeting Harry’s eyes again. “You can sit down, you know. If you want to.”Harry pulled the chair out and sat down, stifling a relieved sigh as he could finally lift his weight off his feet. “What do you mean?”“You’ve always had some very Slytherin qualities. But nevermind that. So magic, heh? And no one from the Ministry has said anything?”Harry leaned back in his chair. “I’m not breaking the Statute. No one knows,” he shrugged, “I never use magic in an obvious way. They never suspect anything. They just… think I’m a really good baker. There’s nothing wrong with that.”Malfoy’s second eyebrow arched up as he kept examining the cupcake. “Based on what I’ve tried so far, they aren’t wrong. I suppose if no one ever suspects there really isn’t anything fundamentally wrong with cheating with a little magic. But had it been anyone but you…”Harry frowned. “Whatever does that supposed to mean?”“You’re Harry Potter. They wouldn’t dare touch you unless you did something truly drastic. It’s not a bad thing. Anyway,” Malfoy’s voice indicated the end of that discussion, and his eyes moved away from Harry, lowering instead back to the cupcakes. “What’s the next one?”Harry turned his attention back to the table, and the task at hand. He inhaled deeply. “The next one,” he said, letting all the air out as he pushed the next sample in Malfoy’s direction, “is a lemon cake. You weren’t clear about what your preferences are, if you want a traditional cake, or a cupcake tower, or something else. Of course, all flavours can come in both, but I also wanted to show you an example of a more traditional take, and the lemon flavour was the best for it.” Malfoy picked it up and examined it. Harry gestured, pointing at the frosting. “You see, this one is a regular sponge cake, and it is covered in lemon flavoured frosting. You’ll… er, you might feel a little bit of lemon zest in it. It might be a bit too much for some people, so I can definitely tone it down, if you would like. Of course everything is customisable and it’s just to give you an idea.”“I see. Why lemon? We never mentioned lemon.” Draco twisted the cup back and forth, and then raised his other hand and swabbed the side of the cake, his finger picking up the frosting as he did. He then put his finger in his mouth, sucking on the sugary coating.Heat - familiar, and incredibly uncomfortable - spread in Harry’s stomach. He swallowed, and looked away, pretending that he was very interested in perfecting the line in which the cake samples stood on the table. “I know you didn’t. But in my line of job, I sometimes need to… er… read people. See what might fit them without them even knowing. I thought something fresh and a little zesty might work. Especially in summer, you know… when everyone wants to feel more refreshed.” He looked up, and found Malfoy’s grey eyes locked on him. His finger was still on his mouth, glistening lightly with saliva as it pulled on his lower lip, almost absentmindedly. Harry swallowed down and looked away. “I fully understand if it’s not quite your vibe. I have many other flavours for you.”“My vibe.” Malfoy tapped on his lips, as if tasting the word. “My, my, Potter. Lemon, hmm? Subtle, yet bold. I wonder if you’re trying to tell me something.”“What?” Harry nearly choked. “I’m… no, of course not. I meant… I mean…”“Relax, Potter. I was just impressed. I’ve never mentioned it to you, because, well,” he let out a short chuckle, “why would I? But lemon cakes are my favourite. Astoria, though, she hates them.”“Oh. That’s… that’s perfectly fine. Like I said, there are many other flavours here for you to try. We’ll just cross off the lemon one.”Malfoy brought the lemon cake to his mouth and took a bite. When he brought it back down Harry noticed a spot of frosting on his nose. “It’s a shame, really,” Malfoy looked at the cake again. “This one is really good. Astoria is great, you know,” he trailed. “She’s a very clever witch. Very successful, too. A good match for the Malfoy heir.”Harry glanced down, fumbling with the hem of his apron resting on his knees. He fought the urge to reach over and remove the frosting from Malfoy’s nose. “That’s great, Malfoy. I’m happy for you.”“She’s not too bad to look at, either.”His nail found a hardened spot on the apron’s fabric. He scratched at it, attempting to remove it. “She is beautiful. Though she needs to work on her Muggle fashion.” Harry let go of the hard spot and instead looked up at Malfoy, offering a weak smile. The atmosphere was different now. Heavy and thick. Confusing. It was normal for partners to talk fondly about one another, but there was nothing fond about the way Malfoy was talking about her. It felt, rather, almost businesslike. Malfoy’s lip twitched upwards. “You might be right. I’ll inform her.” He took another bite from the lemon cake. The dot of frosting was still on his nose when he lowered the now halfway gone cake. “Are you involved with anyone?”The question took Harry by surprise. “Er. No, I’m not.”“Is that so? The great Harry Potter, single?” Malfoy chuckled shortly. “How intriguing. No one strikes your fancy?”Harry felt his face heating up. “Uhm. No, not at the moment.” He had no intention of letting Malfoy delve into his personal life, especially not in its current messy state. “Would you like to try the next one? It’s -”“Intriguing, indeed. Last I heard you were to marry the Weasley girl.”“Yeah, but, er, it didn’t… it didn’t quite work out.” His fingers scratched at the hard spot again. He felt the fabric breaking apart under the insistent scratching. Frowning, he let go, flattening it over his knees before bringing his hands up.Malfoy’s eyes rested on him, a silvery spark playing at his pupils as he toyed with the lemon cupcake. “How sad.”His tone reflected anything but sadness. Harry cleared his throat, his tone final when he spoke next. “It’s quite alright.” He gestured at the next cupcake. “This one’s white-chocolate matcha - green tea -  cake. A little bit like the London Fog one, it has a hint of bitterness - ”“I know what matcha is, Potter.” Malfoy picked up the matcha cupcake. Much to Harry’s relief, his eyes shifted to examine it instead of Harry. “Did she find out you’re flying for other team and call it off?”Harry choked. “I… I have no idea… what?”Malfoy’s lip twitched upwards, and Harry felt his skin burning under the scorch of his eyes when they were directed at him again. “I noticed the way you look at me.”Harry's mind raced, trying to process Malfoy’s words. There was no way he was being that obvious, was there? His throat went dry, and he could feel the heat rising up his neck. “I don’t… I didn’t…”“Come on, Potter. Lying and pretence were never your strong suit. You’re not that much of a Slytherin.”“I’m not lying…” Malfoy placed the cupcake back on the table and shrugged. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re both adults. Besides,” he shifted slightly, leaning forward and looking directly at Harry. Harry swallowed, trying to force the lump that had formed at the base of his throat to go away. “If I were to judge you for it, that’d make me quite a hypocrite, wouldn’t it. And I’ve worked too hard all these years to better myself to allow myself to sink that low again.”Harry’s head jumped up, no longer attempting to avoid Malfoy’s stare, but looking directly at him. “W… what?”“Don’t look quite so shocked. Pansy has always told me I was being quite obvious. Honestly, Potter. Have you got no observation skills?”Harry shook his head, ignoring Malfoy’s little jab. He had much more important things to focus on. “Did you just…”“Take myself out of the metaphorical closet? Why, Potter, I knew your brain was as thick as a Troll, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”The insult was nothing but background noise now. “But you’re getting married.”“Once again I am impressed by your observation skills.”Harry frowned. “You’re marrying a woman.”“What gave her away? Was it the ruffly pink blouse? Or the breasts under it?”“Malfoy - I’m serious!”“Hmm.” Malfoy leaned back in his chair. His expression changed, eyebrows brought together in a scowl. “Alright. Yes, I am getting married to a witch. What does that have to do with my preferences?”Harry scoffed. Malfoy could not possibly be serious? “Usually people get married because they love each other. Because they want to spend the rest of their lives together.”“Not necessarily,” Malfoy mused. “My personal situation is not what we’re discussing.”“Then what -”“A very simple matter, really. You find me attractive. I find you attractive. See what I’m getting at?”Harry did. He felt it in the heat that was gathering in his stomach, in the way his heart was beating hard in his chest. After Ginny broke up with him and told him he should figure out what he actually wanted, he swore off relationships until he did. But he could not deny the way Malfoy was making him feel. “You’re getting married,” he repeated, frowning at how weak the argument sounded. He had a selection of other reasons, too: Malfoy was a customer; Harry wasn’t sure this was something he wanted; and even if he did, he had no idea how it would work. He’d only ever been with Ginny before. And it was Malfoy, for crying out loud!“It’s a contract, nothing more, nothing less. I need an heir. She needs a husband. She is well aware that I am incapable of giving her anything more than that. So,” he leaned forward. The light caught on the frosting spot on his nose, drawing Harry’s attention back to it. His fingers itched to reach over and wipe it off. “The only question left is whether you want it, or not.” “I…” Harry started. Malfoy’s offer was tempting, especially when he was looking at him like that, with his stormy eyes and his pink, inviting mouth. Harry swallowed. “I can’t. It’s wrong.” He forced himself to look up and meet Malfoy’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”“Very well.” Malfoy’s tone was business-like. He straightened up in his chair, turning his attention back to the cupcakes. “So this one is green tea and white chocolate, you said?”Harry cleared his throat. Malfoy’s ability to switch from a rather direct lewd offer to business was unsettling. “Yeah,” he said, and watched as Malfoy picked up the green cupcake. “If you choose to go with a blue, or purple, colour palette, I can use food colouring or magic to make it a fitting colour, so please don’t worry about that.”Malfoy nodded once, and then took a bite. “This one is also very good,” he said. “But I think this is not quite the flavour we’re looking for.”Harry nodded, reaching to take the matcha cupcake from Malfoy. Their fingers brushed, and Harry’s breath hitched; but they both pretended it didn’t happen as Harry placed the rejected cake back on the table. There was one remaining cake sample on the table. Harry gestured at it. “The last one is a classic fruit cake. It’s the most traditional type of cake for a wedding. You have a layer of marzipan on top of it, and the white layer you see is a simple glaze icing.”Malfoy examined it shortly before taking a bite. “I like this one,” he said. Malfoy’s natural slip back into professionalism, strange as it was, helped the tension that weighed on Harry. He even managed a small, polite smile. “Great. Alright, so that’s all of them,” he said. “Which were your favourites? And which do you think Astoria might appreciate?”“My personal favourite was the lemon cake,” Malfoy said with a smile, and brought his fingers up to his mouth, presumably cleaning cake residue. Harry forced his eyes away, overly aware that Malfoy had noticed his inappropriate stares. “But that one is not an option, as I’ve told you Astoria will not approve. I found the London Fog one a bit too bitter, much like the green tea one. I did find the blueberry one especially delightful, and the colour palette would fit Astoria’s vision perfectly. The purple one, too, and I think Astoria would love the traditional one. It’s a Muggle tradition, is it not?”“Yes, yes it is. And like I said, don’t worry about the colours, I will ensure that any flavour you pick will suit your theme, once you settle on one.”“That is very good to know.” Malfoy pushed himself away from the table and stood up. Harry hastened to follow suit. “Of course. I want your event to be perfect.” It was a line he always said. And usually, he meant it. But this time it felt robotic. Fake. A force of habit. “How would you like to proceed?” He asked. “Would you like to schedule another tasting, one where Astoria can attend? Would you like any flavours to be adjusted for that meeting? Try any others?”Malfoy paused and turned to look at him. “I will need to discuss this with Astoria and inform you later on. Can you receive owl mail, or Muggle only?”“You can owl me, that’s okay,” his smile turned genuine. Of course Malfoy would prefer owl mail over the convenient Muggle internet. Malfoy nodded once and headed towards the door. Harry followed, making sure to remain a respectful distance away. Malfoy reached the door and paused. “I would like to apologise for making you uncomfortable.”Harry paused too. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Draco Malfoy apologised.” He couldn’t help a chuckle. Malfoy didn’t seem to bite. “Things change, Potter.” There was a hint of a smile on Malfoy’s lips. “So they do.” Harry lowered his head, and then looked back up. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the, er, staring. I was being unprofessional. It will not happen again.”Malfoy held his stare for a moment longer. Harry’s skin tingled. Malfoy lowered his head, nodding once. The light caught on the frosting spot again. “Well then, we shall be in touch. Goodbye, Potter.”“Yeah. We…” Harry moved slightly. Was he really going to let Malfoy leave his shop with frosting on his nose? Malfoy arched an eyebrow. He couldn’t stand it. “Hold on, you have something…” he took a step further and reached over. Malfoy’s eyes widened when Harry placed his thumb on his nose, and he felt a puff of warm air brushing against his palm as he wiped the frosting off. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through Harry. He lifted his hand, showing Malfoy the white smear. “Frosting.” The word came out breathy and low, barely over a whisper. Malfoy’s eyes lowered to Harry’s thumb, lingering for a second before he met Harry’s gaze. His eyes were dark, intense. “I see.” His voice was low, vibrating through Harry’s spine and sending shivers through his body. He could feel his warm breath on his face. “Thank you.”Harry felt his heart beating hard in his chest. Malfoy was so close he could feel the heat radiating from him, fogging his thoughts, blurring the line between right and wrong. All he had to do was lean a little bit forward; Malfoy, he knew, would not resist. He explicitly expressed his desires, shameless and bold as Malfoy always was. “You’re welcome,” he managed to say. His throat felt dry. He swallowed. He could see Malfoy’s eyes following him, lowering down to his lips before moving back up, the grey even darker now. The moment stretched, each second feeling like a torturous eternity. Harry’s body was aching to close the distance. To throw all caution, every bit of his moral compass out through the window and ravish Malfoy’s mouth. But there was still a little bit of dignity left in him, holding him back. Harry had never compromised the integrity of his business, except, perhaps, enhancing his cakes with a little bit of magic; so faint there was no way the Muggles could detect it. But this…This was completely different. This went against everything he believed in.And he wanted it so bad.Malfoy shifted, and Harry felt his hand closing on his arm. Sparks lit up where skin touched skin, and his breath hitched. He briefly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he could see Malfoy’s lips twisted up in a small smirk. As if he’d noticed Harry’s stare, Malfoy opened his mouth slightly, and Harry saw his tongue slipping out, moving slowly over his lower lips, leaving a wet trail in its wake. Malfoy leaned a little bit closer, moving his hand up Harry’s arm, over his shoulder, fluttering over the sensitive skin of his neck. “No one has to know.” The words were whispered, barely audible over Harry’s beating heart, fluttering over his lips and his neck and breaking the last of his restraint. He tilted his head, searching and finding Malfoy’s lips. They were every bit as warm and soft as they looked. His skin tingled when Malfoy slid his hand over his neck to grab his nape, gently, but firmly, holding him in place. He couldn’t help a small moan. Malfoy’s lips parted, and Harry responded in kind, welcoming him. It no longer mattered that the sweetness of Malfoy’s mouth was a remnant of the glazing from the cake samples Harry had made for his wedding. All that mattered was how wonderful it felt to kiss him. It was nothing like Harry’s previous kisses. He’d only kissed two people before, and he could barely count the wet, teary experience with Cho Chang as a kiss. Ginny was good, and he enjoyed what they shared - but Malfoy was inherently different. He asserted his dominance as soon as Harry let go of his inhibitions, tongue darting out to explore Harry’s mouth and hand placed on Harry’s waist, holding him in his place. There was something incredibly hot, intoxicating, about the way Malfoy made Harry feel that he could just let go. Let someone else be in charge, for a change. He let himself give in to Malfoy’s touch, let him pull him closer, moaned when he felt the obvious bulge pressing against his thigh. He moved his hips, instinctively searching for more contact.Malfoy’s groan vibrated against Harry’s lips, low and primal. “Greedy,” he purred against Harry’s lips. “I like that.”Harry didn’t have time to register the words - let alone react - before he felt Malfoy’s hand sliding over his back. Long fingers found the knot of his apron, and Harry felt the apron go loose on him when Malfoy untied it. He then slid his hand upwards, causing shivers through Harry’s body before reaching the upper knot. His fingers tickled at Harry’s nape as he fumbled with that knot. This one took a little bit longer, but soon enough Harry felt its weight lifted from him and a thud confirmed that it’d found its way down to the floor.  Suddenly, Harry felt the edge of one of the tables digging into the back of his thighs. He didn’t even realise Malfoy was moving, or that he was moving along with him. The impact caused the air in his lungs to come out in a gasp. This was all going fast, almost overwhelmingly so. But Harry didn't want to stop. It all felt too good: Malfoy's lips, his tongue exploring, his hands over his body. Rather, he wanted more. Remaining passive was no longer enough, and he found himself placing his hand on Malfoy's nape, pulling him closer. Merlin, Malfoy felt good.It seemed that Malfoy took that as encouragement, as Harry felt his hand sliding back down his body, over his back and his stomach and oh god, he shivered when Malfoy's fingers found the place where his shirt was tucked into his trousers, when he felt the pressure of them when he grabbed at the shirt and shamelessly pulled it out. Malfoy moved his hand over Harry's stomach, making Harry’s muscles tense and his breath hitch until he found his belt buckle. One swift motion and the belt was undone, quickly followed by the buttons of his jeans. It only took another second for Malfoy's hand to slide into Harry's pants and erase any remaining coherent thought from his brain.Harry let out a moan and tilted his hand back when Malfoy closed his hand over his already hard cock. "Fuck, Malfoy..." the words came out breathy and desperate. It seemed to have spurred Malfoy on, as Harry felt his hand starting to move along his shaft. Harry was grateful now for the table behind him, and moved his hands backwards to lean on it, feeling that he might fall without the support."You like it, don't you?" Malfoy growled. "Y... yeah..." Harry managed. Merlin, it was hard holding still and not coming right there and then in Malfoy's skilled hand.It felt good. So good, Harry didn’t know something as simple a wank could feel this good. And it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel more. More of Malfoy. He wanted to make him feel as good as Harry felt. Harry lifted his hand from the table and reached for Malfoy's belt. Slowly, hesitantly, he undid it. Malfoy's moan encouraged him when he fumbled with the button of his trousers, and he heard him moan in relief when he pulled the zip down. Malfoy's stroking grew a little bit faster, making Harry's breath turn more rapid. He slithered his hand under the elastic of Malfoy's pants, struggling a little with how tight it felt, but it was all worth it when his hand finally met with the hardness inside. He let his hand close around Malfoy's cock, which had pulled an especially beautiful moan from Malfoy's throat. It was Harry’s first time touching another man's cock, and no amount of self-care had prepared him for how thrilling it could feel. He started moving his hand, but quickly realised that Malfoy's clothes were too tight to allow him to move as he wanted. He let go - much to Malfoy's displeasure, if he were to judge by the noises he was making - and pulled on his pants to lower them. No longer confined by fabric, Malfoy's cock jumped, briefly brushing against Harry's and sending a jolt of pleasure through his body before standing at attention almost flat against Malfoy's stomach. Harry couldn't help himself when he opened his eyes (when had he even closed them? He wasn't sure) and looked down. He almost gasped at the sight - Malfoy's cock was beautiful. Pink and long, it stood hard and begged for attention - and Harry’s excitement overtook the significance of the discovery, and all he could do was oblige. He grasped it again, and let his hand move up and down, slowly, feeling every inch. As he reached the top he moved his thumb over the tip. It was already wet and smooth, and oh, fuck, how come he never realised how good this could all feel?Malfoy’s movements grew faster, and with them, Harry’s breaths. He was getting close. His hand tightened on the edge of the table for support, and he leaned his forehead against Malfoy's neck, which stretched up in response. His scent - an intoxicating cocktail of sweat and his citrusy, almost spicy perfume and something that was so uniquely Draco filled his nose, his lungs, his consciousness. How could he smell so good?He felt Malfoy's breaths, just as fast and shallow as his own, and the sound of his moans filled his ears. He had never heard something sexier in his life. “Fuck, Potter,” Malfoy breathed, and the way he said his name was all it took to drive Harry over the edge.He didn’t even have the sense to warn Malfoy before the heat inside him exploded and pleasure filled his every cell. It took all of his remaining self control to keep upright and not stop his hand from sliding up and down Malfoy’s cock when Malfoy kept pumping him, helping him ride his climax. A few seconds later Malfoy tensed, and let out a loud moan, and Harry’s hand was covered in his warm cum.They remained still - leaning against each other, holding each other’s wet, softening cocks - for a moment as they were catching their breaths.Soon enough, though, the high of the orgasm started fading away. Harry's breath was slowly getting back to normal, and the blissful fog was lifted from his brain. He looked up, and saw Malfoy's face, still flushed, still close enough to kiss. He wanted to - Malfoy's lips were so soft, so tempting - but he could now remember why he said no in the first place.Malfoy was not available. Not according to Harry's standards.Guilt washed over him, casting a heavy shadow on the last remnants of his high. He let go of Malfoy immediately. "Shit.” The word came out breathy, raspy.Malfoy’s thumb moved over him in a single, slow movement before he let go of him."Mmhm," Malfoy's voice hummed, the hot air fluttering over Harry’s skin. But it was no longer pleasurable; it felt more like a torture. “I agree. That was great.”“No.” Harry’s throat was closing up. This was not good. What was he thinking?! He could blame the lack of sexual encounters for the past year all he wanted - it was no excuse to get involved with an engaged man.“‘No’?” Malfoy’s voice was still painted by post-orgasm laziness. “It wasn’t enjoyable for you? It certainly didn’t feel that way.” He leaned forward to kiss Harry’s lips.It took too much of Harry’s self-restraint to move his head. It seemed like Malfoy was starting to pick on Harry’s change of mood. He straightened up and took half a step back. Harry glanced up to see him starting to get his clothes back on. Shame filling him, Harry did the same. “You’re engaged, Malfoy.” There was nothing dignified about stuffing his messy cock back into his pants. He felt tainted. How could he have been so stupid as to give in to simple lust? He didn’t believe in any sort of religion, but he could see why it was considered a deadly sin, now."That I am." Malfoy's tone changed; it was colder now, almost business-like. He moved a little bit farther back. He moved his arm and pulled his wand from the back-pocket of his trousers. A simple wave of it, and they were both clean. It didn’t help the vile lump that had settled in Harry’s throat. "I thought I made it clear that my engagement should not be an issue." He put the wand back in its place and moved his hands back to the front instead, zipping up his trousers and popping the button back into its place.“It is an issue for me,” Harry said. With fumbling fingers he did his own jeans, button after button. “It’s wrong. What we did…” He pulled his shirt out of his jeans, letting it fall over it, moving it only so slightly back to its place. “It's wrong.”“Why?” Malfoy’s question sounded genuine, which made Harry look up. Malfoy’s shirt was still untucked, hanging loose over his trousers. “W - why? You’re asking me why it’s wrong for you to be with someone else while you’re engaged?”“It might be wrong for me, but I have my reasons. I’m asking why are you getting so worked up about it.” Malfoy lifted his arm to comb his fingers through his hair.“Because I - I participated. I… helped you cheat.”“You were merely enjoying the company of another man. If you were to meet me under any other circumstances, you probably wouldn’t even know I was engaged. It makes no difference to you.”“But I do know! I know, and I…”Malfoy let out a sigh. “You think you have the moral ground, don’t you?” he sounded almost angry now. “You think you have a moral obligation to prevent me from cheating on my fiance.”Harry blinked. “No - I didn’t say that -”“You didn’t need to. But it doesn’t matter. You are really clueless, aren’t you?” Harry dared looking at him. Malfoy’s expression was almost - sad. “My marriage to Astoria is a mere business agreement.” Malfoy rearranged his shirt, tucking it back into his trousers. If it wasn’t for the rosy hue of his cheeks, the ruffle in his hair and the swollenness of his lips, Harry thought, no one could’ve guessed what had just happened between them. Harry felt that his own guilt was plastered on his face, like an Azkaban wanted poster. “Nothing more. I am in need of an heir. Astoria is in need of a husband. And it’s probably no surprise to you that the Malfoy name has taken quite a hit after the war. The Greengrass family are respectable. They never took the Dark Lord’s side, so their name is unstained. But they’re still pure-blood. Ancient. Much like my own family. Astoria is a fine match. A perfect match for me, if it wasn’t for a minor thing, really insignificant. I am gay. I could never love her. Not like a husband loves his wife.”Harry knew all of that. Malfoy had already said it. Before. When Harry still had his wits about him. When Harry said no.“You’re marrying her,” he said. “Whatever the reason is, it does not matter. It’s a choice you made. Live with it.”“It’s a mere business agreement. Surely you can understand that. You have a business.” Malfoy gestured around them.“It’s not like - my contracts with my suppliers! It’s not like… if I buy pearl sprinkles from one company, but now I want edible glitter from another. Marriage is an exclusive contract! If you chose someone you don’t love, well, that… sucks, but it’s not an excuse.”“Marriage is only exclusive if both parties agree it is so,” Malfoy pointed out. It was something Harry had never thought about, accepting the sanctity of marriage as it was. “It’s a social construct. Do you believe that because of society’s expectations of me I do not deserve happiness? I must live my life in loneliness? In denial of my identity?”Harry was taken aback. Of course, he did not believe any of that. Everyone has a right for happiness, don’t they? Of being true to themselves? “That… no, of course not. But it doesn’t make cheating right. You could just… not get married. It’s not that complicated.”“It is, in my world.” Malfoy’s tone was cold, factual. “As an heir, I have to get married. I have to have my own heir. It’s not a choice. Happy, love-marriages are rare when you have so many expectations of you. Almost everyone ends up being married to one person, but finding their emotional and physical needs met elsewhere. It’s expected, almost.”Harry’s mind couldn’t quite wrap around it. He knew such things happened - but they were a thing of the past, when monarchs and lordships meant something. Kings had concubines - the more, the better. The world has thankfully progressed since then.He shook his head. “It’s still not right.”Malfoy sighed. “You cannot judge me until you understand where I’m coming from,” he said. “We have a mutual understanding, Astoria and I. She’s well aware of my standing. No matter what you might think of me, I would not let an innocent woman enter a marriage with me without knowing about my preferences and my expectations. I can provide her with certain things she cannot obtain on her own. She can provide me with an heir. That’s really all there is to it,” he shrugged, “but I am not going to try and persuade you into something you’re feeling this uncomfortable with - no matter how fun what we just did was. It’s a shame, I won’t lie. But it’s okay.”Harry frowned. He still didn’t agree. He was still mad at Malfoy for seducing him and putting him in this situation. “You should not feel guilty about what we did, Potter. You did nothing wrong.” Malfoy made a final arrangement in his clothing, and turned towards the door. “I will owl you regarding the next tasting. Astoria will be present to finalise our choices.” Malfoy’s words hang in the room even after he closed the door behind him, heavy and confusing. Harry was, above everything else, mad at himself.He shouldn’t have given in - no matter what Malfoy said, it was wrong.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As soon as Harry stumbled back into his flat, he let his face muscles relax and smile fade away.It's not that he wasn't happy. He certainly was. Celebrating Ron's birthday was always fun, and Harry loved spending time with him, and with Hermione, and with all the others. And it wasn't like the Tipsy Toad was bad. It was very nice, especially for a new place, and it could definitely compete with the more long-standing establishments of Diagon Alley. They played the familiar nineties songs, including the Twister Sisters who'd disbanded since then, and some others, more modern and hip. They even included a few Muggle big hits. He had a good time. He really did.But at the same time, being there, being the only one there who wasn't paired up with someone, was not easy. And once Ginny showed up, hanging on the arm of her new boyfriend, the loneliness weighed heavier on Harry’s chest. Of course, he did not show it. He didn’t want to spoil Ron’s party, and he definitely did not want Ginny to think he wasn’t doing well. So instead he opted for Firewhiskey and non-virgin Butterbeer. He was almost relieved when Hermione announced it was getting late, and the bill had been paid and the party was over.It was lucky, really, that he made it home without splinching. It was the upside of having spent his first year of Apparition practice apparating under the duress of being chased by Death Eaters.Straightening up, Harry glanced about his place. It was exactly the same as he’d left it: a few mugs scattered around on different surfaces, the small light in the kitchen on, showing the unflattering state of his kitchen sink and counter. He looked at the direction of his bedroom, but realised that he didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. He decided, then, to do the wise thing and headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His morning self, he knew, would berate him if he didn’t hydrate.He picked up a clean glass from the cupboard, taking a mental note that he only had a couple more left, which meant that he really should do his dishes the next morning, and filled it with water. As he sipped (he really should drink more water, he thought to himself. Water was amazing) his eyes landed on the small pile of letters he left on the counter. The top one was the owl Malfoy sent to him earlier that day.Harry swallowed down the water, and picked up the parchment as he turned and leaned his back against the counter. Malfoy’s elegant, precise handwriting informed Harry of the flavours he requested for the second tasting, as well as a short list of available times to schedule it. There was absolutely nothing significant about it, and Harry had already sent his reply that afternoon, right before he left for Ron’s birthday party. But he found himself staring at the cursive Draco L Malfoy signed at the bottom, and his mind drifted to their encounter at the shop two days earlier. He could almost feel Malfoy’s breath on him, could almost taste his lips, could almost hear his low raspy voice saying his name as he came on his hand. Familiar warmth spread at the pit of his stomach, and he frowned, sipping the rest of the water in a futile attempt to calm himself down. He knew it shouldn’t have happened. But he also couldn’t stop thinking about it. Malfoy had been in his thoughts almost every minute of the past few days since he stepped out of the shop’s door. Not just the physical part - although his body certainly remembered how good it felt, being touched by Malfoy - but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Malfoy had said. Maybe Harry really just didn’t understand how things worked in the magical world. Malfoy did live in a completely different reality than him. It was so easy to sit up high on his righteousness horse, judging him, when Harry himself had never grown up with the customs of the pure-blood tradition. Harry didn’t know the consequences if Malfoy didn’t follow what his parents and society dictated. How could he?And Harry knew how harsh society could be. He’d been judged since the day he knew who he was. There was, after all, a very good reason he’d chosen to separate himself from the Wizarding World, where, ever since he was fourteen, the tabloids had been speculating about his love life - and have attempted to follow his every step even earlier than that. Assuming, and judging, and ruining relationships. After he and Ginny broke up the papers were full of pictures of him and her, full of different theories as to why the Wizarding World’s “golden couple” broke up, from speculations that his money was running low and Ginny leaving because she didn’t want him ‘leeching’ off her Holyhead Harpies salary, to a scandalous rumour that she was having an affair with the coach, to that one time the press somehow found out about a rift he had with Ron and decided that it was Ron who forced Harry to break up with his little sister; each theory more ridiculous than the other and all absolutely wrong.He could only assume how much worse this sort of thing was for Malfoy, with his family’s background, and his uptight parents, and his history as a Death Eater. The Wizarding World, Harry knew, never completely forgave him for his past crimes. No matter how young he was when it all unfolded, no matter how many charities he funded for Muggle-borns, he was always regarded as a bigot, his motives always questioned. Harry could understand why he chose to marry Astoria Greengrass. And it wasn’t fair. Harry grunted and banged his head on the cupboard behind him, wincing a little when he realised he used a little more force than intended. Malfoy was right. He didn’t have to be miserable his entire life just because of society rules. At least, as long as he wasn’t hurting anybody. Malfoy explicitly said that Astoria knew about his situation. Knew about it - and still seemed excited about marrying him, which Harry could only conclude meant she had approved of it, or, at the very least, didn’t mind it.And if she didn’t mind it - who was Harry to decide whether it was right or wrong?And Malfoy… Harry closed his eyes, his hand closing tight over the letter as he rested his head (gently, this time) on the cupboard door. Malfoy wanted him. He wanted him, and he felt so good. Kissing him felt so good. Having his hands on him lit fire in ways Harry didn’t even know were possible. And then there was the way Malfoy looked at him when Harry said it couldn’t happen. Malfoy handled it in perfect dignity, as Harry would’ve expected of someone like him. On that day, Harry was too busy with his own guilt, too busy blaming Malfoy; but minutes after Malfoy left he realised just how hurt Malfoy seemed to be under his dignified mask. Harry opened his eyes and stared at his ceiling. Trying to claim - even to himself - that he didn’t want Malfoy was ridiculous. He felt the attraction from the moment Malfoy stepped into the shop, and it intensified with every moment he spent near him. Even now, days later, just the thought was enough to make Harry’s jeans feel just a  little bit tighter than usual. If Astoria knew, and Harry was aware of the situation, and they were all adults, was it really that bad?He uncrumpled the parchment and lowered his eyes to look at it. The words were still there, with Malfoy requesting the blueberry and lavender cupcakes, along with the traditional Muggle cake and the request for an additional flavour. His name was still there, cursive and elegant, decorating the bottom of the parchment. Harry turned it over, and in the same elegant script was an address.Harry’s heart pounded in his chest when he realised he recognised the street name. It was a split-second decision to pull out his wand, and pray he won't get splinched as he apparated.Rain washed over him as soon as he materialised. He should’ve expected it, probably, but he didn’t even bother to put his coat on before he recklessly waved his wand. Kensington Crescent was quiet at this time of the night, which was to be expected. It was a quiet, high-end neighbourhood; nothing like Camden, where Harry rented a flat.Makes sense Malfoy would live in a place like that, Harry thought as he looked around in search for the correct house number. He sort of expected him to live within the magical community, or in a place like the Manor, isolated and luxurious. But, thinking about it, Harry could see why he chose this neighbourhood. Malfoy did mention he still felt he had to atone for his past. Harry wouldn’t put it past the magical community to still hold a grudge against him and seek to harm him. The fallout from the war was unpleasant, to say the least. Harry noticed it already at the trials; people still held grudges, believing him to not be worthy of the lenient sentence he’d received. He looked around and located the house number specified on the letter. Determined, Harry crossed the street until he reached the large metallic gate. He glanced around, and, after making sure he couldn't see anyone, he took his wand out and waved it. A small spark, and the gate slid open. He put his wand back and slipped through. He crossed the short entryway until he reached the heavy-looking wooden door. He raised his hand, and tried to knock; only the wood escaped him as the door opened, and he nearly fell over.It took a moment for Harry’s hazy mind to understand he was facing Malfoy. Malfoy, dressed in a loose grey shirt and even looser black trousers that had no business making him look so hot. Or maybe it was the hair, which, for a change, wasn’t meticulously arranged on that handsome head of his, but rather tousled, making him look like he’d just stumbled out of the bed. Maybe he had. Just the thought was enough to spread heat in Harry’s abdomen."Potter." Malfoy sounded surprised, more than anything else. Merlin, Harry loved the way he pronounced the ‘P’ in his name. “Why are you here? I doubt there was a wedding-cake emergency that demanded you to see me in the middle of the night. Especially in this rain. Merlin! You’re dripping wet! That’s an expensive doormat, you know.”Malfoy’s words were a blur. Did he have to say so much all at once? “Sorry,” Harry said, even though he really wasn’t. He didn’t care about Malfoy’s expensive doormat. He lifted his hand to brush through his hair. It really was completely wet. As if he’d just stepped out of the shower and forgot to dry it.“Oh, for Merlin’s sake. Come on in.”The next thing Harry knew was Malfoy’s hold on his arm, yanking him into the house and the door closing shut behind him. Harry stumbled, but Malfoy caught him, preventing his fall.“Are you okay?”Harry steadied himself. He ignored Malfoy’s question. “How did you know I was here?”Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "My wards warned me that someone broke in."“I didn’t break in. I was about to knock.” Harry took off his glasses. He could barely see, what with all the rain that covered his lenses. He wiped them on his shirt, but it only smeared the water and cleaned absolutely nothing.“You broke in. You undid my wards. Knocking on my door wouldn’t have changed that. Why are you here? Oh, for Merlin’s sake. Give me that.” Malfoy snatched his glasses, and suddenly he was holding his wand. He pointed it at the glasses, casting a spell, and then handed them back to Harry. “You might want to try a drying spell on yourself, too.”Harry murmured a thanks and placed the glasses back on his nose. It was all dry and clean. Malfoy was even prettier when he could properly see him. It should be illegal, surely, to look this good in loungewear. He didn’t bother with a drying spell. Instead, he stepped closer to Malfoy, his hand searching until it found Malfoy’s. His fingers brushed against it - warm, soft, comforting. “I missed you.”Malfoy’s eyes widened, but he regained his posture almost immediately. He didn’t move his hand away. “You missed me,” he repeated, enunciating each word as if trying to make sense out of it. “Yeah. Is that so bad?” He let his fingers wander, caressing Malfoy’s hand. Up and down, up and down. It felt so nice. “I was feeling lonely. And then… I thought of you. And I remembered what we did, and how good it felt. So I figured… why not.” He let his fingers travel a little bit more, now. Malfoy’s arm tensed a little under his touch. Merlin, he wanted more. Malfoy cleared his throat. “I see.” Finally, Malfoy moved. A slight movement at the corner of Harry’s eyes and he felt Malfoy’s touch fluttering over his jaw.Harry wondered if Malfoy could feel the blood pounding through the vein in his neck. “What made you change your mind?”When Malfoy placed his thumb on Harry’s lip, pulling down a little, Harry closed his eyes and let out a sigh. It was hard to think with Malfoy standing so close and the buzzing in his head. What did it matter now? The most important thing was Malfoy. Malfoy’s touch, Malfoy’s voice, Malfoy’s lips.“Doesn’t matter,” Harry whispered, and leaned in. He felt Malfoy’s lips brushing against his, his thumb moving to his cheek. He leaned closer, taking half a step farther into Malfoy’s personal space. Something pushing hard against his chest stopped him. He opened his eyes and frowned in disappointment when he saw Malfoy’s hand holding him back. Looking up, he saw Malfoy’s eyes staring right at him, slightly narrowed.“What -” “You’re drunk.”Harry blinked, his hand stopping at Malfoy’s elbow. How did he make his skin there be so soft? Harry knew his own elbows were incredibly dry. It didn’t matter, though. Malfoy’s accusation did. It stopped him from kissing him. And oh, Harry wanted to kiss him so bad. “No I’m not.” It was only partially a lie.“I can smell it on you. And you taste like it, too.”It was offensive, really. Did Malfoy just say he stunk? “I had a few drinks. I’m not drunk.” He paused, and then, “Why do you care?”Malfoy moved his hand, which Harry took as an invitation. But Malfoy stopped him again. “Because I don’t want your guilt on my conscience when you sober up in the morning. I offered you my companionship. You refused. The only reason you want this now is your current state of inebriation and the simple fact that you happen to be lonely and horny.”Harry wanted to stop for a second on the fact that Malfoy just said ‘horny’, but he had more pressing matters. “No,” he said. The word came out much more defensive than he intended. “I want this because I want you.”“I am very flattered, obviously.” Harry didn’t miss the roll of Malfoy’s eyes. “How did you get here? Can you go home safely?”“I don’t want to go home.” Harry pouted. Malfoy was all over him just a few days ago. He thought he would be thrilled to have Harry show up at his door. “I was home. I wanted to come to your home. I want to…” he paused, and  let his hand slide down Malfoy’s forearm, and felt him tense under his touch. “I want to kiss you, and I want to touch you, and I want to fuck you,” he nudged his nose against Malfoy’s chin. He inhaled. How could he smell so good? Like lavender, and lime, and sex. No wonder he gave in to him back at the shop. It was inhumane not to. “I know you want all of that too. You told me.” He lifted his face and found Malfoy’s lips. They were slightly apart now, welcoming him.He felt Malfoy’s low moan under him, and weaved his fingers through Malfoy’s, pulling on his hand slightly. Harry opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, but before he could savour the wonders of Malfoy’s mouth he felt Malfoy’s hand pushing him again, forcing him to stop.“No, Harry. Not like this.” Harry opened his eyes, the sound of his given name on Malfoy’s lips making his breath hitch. Malfoy’s breath put his skin on fire, wonderfully torturous. But Malfoy was looking right at him, a storm in his eyes and wrinkles in his frowning forehead. Harry felt a twinge of guilt. He was hurting Malfoy. That wasn't his intention, not at all. He sighed deeply, and took a step back. He let Malfoy’s fingers slip away as he brought his hand back to the side of his body. “I’m… er…” He bit his bottom lip, feeling rather silly. He knew that wanting Malfoy had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol flowing through his veins, but he could understand Malfoy’s stance. “Okay,” he said, defeated. He turned.“How are you planning to go back home?”Malfoy’s question made him turn back. “I don’t know. Guess the same way I got here. Apparate.” He shrugged. “Apparate?” Malfoy repeated. “You mean - you Apparated here? You know it’s illegal.”“I’m Harry Potter. Who’s gonna stop me?” His lips stretched in a smirk.“It’s not funny. You could get Splinched! I’d suggest the Floo, but I’m not sure I trust you with that, either.” Malfoy shifted, his eyes focused on Harry and his forehead slightly wrinkled again. It gave Harry the feeling that he was a troublesome kid. “I won’t get Splinched,” he said, knowing that he now also sounded like a troublesome kid, especially since the very same thought had crossed his mind both times he Apparated this evening. The worried look on Malfoy’s face gave him an idea. “But if you’re so worried, I could just stay.”He watched the spark that appeared in Malfoy’s eyes, but it disappeared almost as soon as it appeared. He could almost hear the wheels turning in that beautiful head of his. “I am not sure if that’s such a good idea.”Harry shrugged. “Okay. I’ll just Apparate back home.” He turned, slowly.“No - you can’t do that.”Harry paused, trying to hide his triumph. Malfoy didn’t say the magic words yet.Malfoy sighed. “I cannot have Harry bloody Potter get Splinched near my home.” He paused. Harry heard him sigh in resignation. “Fine. You will stay here.”Holding back his smirk was a near impossible task. Harry turned back to Malfoy, his hand once again searching for Malfoy’s. “Okay.”Malfoy moved his hand. “I’ll go prepare a guest room for you, then.”Harry let his hand fall, and he watched Malfoy’s back in disappointment. A guest room wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but by now he was getting tired, and he had a feeling that a guest room was the best he could get out of Malfoy this evening.A few minutes later he was already lying in bed, dressed in Malfoy’s incredibly soft - yet slightly too small - borrowed pyjamas. Harry placed his head on the pillow and pulled the duvet over his shoulder. Not like this , Malfoy had said. That didn’t mean not at all.  -Morning light hit Harry’s consciousness like a bludger. He grimaced, groaned, and turned on his other side. His cheek hit the pillow hard. It didn’t scratch against his skin. Weird. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and moved his hand over the sheet. It was smooth, soft. Even weirder.He blinked, awake now. A headache greeted him, making him let out another muffled groan. He turned again, laying on his stomach and burying his face in the pillow. He wasn’t home, that much was clear. He tried to dig in his mind. He remembered Ron’s party, and Ginny, and a few too many shots of firewhiskey. He remembered home, cold and lonely, and Malfoy’s letter. Malfoy’s eyes. Malfoy’s lips. Malfoy’s home. Harry whispered a swear into the pillow. He was at Malfoy’s. He turned on his back and reached over to the nightstand, where he found his glasses. He put them on and stared at the ceiling. It was spotless white, decorated with a gold chandelier that made Harry think of the extravagant chandeliers at Windsor Castle, but on a smaller scale. He scoffed, an action he quickly regretted. Trust Malfoy to have a palace-worthy chandelier in a guest room of a house that isn’t even the Manor. He remembered, with a sting of shame, having showed up on Malfoy’s doorstep uninvited, remembered throwing himself at Malfoy. He wanted him. Badly. And Malfoy clearly wanted him too. Harry’s lips could still feel the pressure of Malfoy’s, his body still remembered his touches. The only reason nothing happened - the only reason Harry woke up alone in a bloody guest room rather than in Malfoy’s arms - was because Malfoy had decided he’d drunk too much to be of sound mind.But it wasn’t true. Yes, Harry'd been drinking. Yes, he probably wouldn’t have shown up at Malfoy’s door begging for sex if he hadn’t. But he knew what he was doing, and knew what he wanted. Malfoy’s chivalry wasn’t needed. He couldn’t deny, however, that there was a part of him that appreciated it. He was used to the arrogant, egocentric, borderline narcissistic Malfoy who cared about nothing but his own needs and wishes. And then there was the pitiful, sad Malfoy after the war. But neither version of him felt capable of actually putting someone else’s need above his own. Maybe Malfoy really was different, now. Or maybe his circumstances just unlocked who he could’ve been without his father’s poison.Harry’s bladder started to wake up, reminding him that even though water wasn’t exactly on the menu last night, he still had plenty to drink. He threw the blanket off himself, noting, with a frown, that he was not dressed in his own clothes (and that the shirt he had on was a little too tight for his taste). He ignored it and stumbled across the room towards the door. As soon as he opened it a delicious scent hit his nose, and he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale. The scent of eggs and bacon was unmistakable, partnered with the heavy aroma of coffee. His stomach grumbled.Did Malfoy make breakfast?He walked out of the bedroom and looked around, searching for a door that could be the bathroom. It took a few tries, but he eventually found one, and a loo visit and a fresh breath spell later he followed his nose into the kitchen.A part of him, he realised, was expecting to see Malfoy sitting, sipping tea and reading the Prophet while an House Elf was making him breakfast. Old habits die hard. The sight that greeted him, however, could not have been farther from the truth. Malfoy - dressed in a lavender jumper and a pair of grey trousers, combined with a pair of fluffy white slippers - leaned on the counter by the oven, one hand placed on the white marble and the other holding onto his wand, lazily moving it to stir whatever he was cooking in a pan.Somehow he managed to look even hotter in the daylight, with faint sunlight emerging through the kitchen’s semi sheer curtains giving his skin an ethereal glow.Harry cleared his throat to catch his attention. “Er. Good morning.”Malfoy turned to face him. “Good morning, Potter. Did you find my hospitality to your liking?”Harry bit his lower lip and entered the kitchen. He gingerly approached the oven, the delicious smells - and Malfoy’s presence - drawing him. “Uhm. Yeah. Very comfortable. Thanks.” He glanced at the pan. The eggs, mixed with the dill and pieces of bacon mixed inside, bubbling in the pan, looked amazing. Harry’s stomach growled. “You made breakfast?”“I figured you’d probably need to eat something when you wake up. I also made you some coffee. I mixed it with a Hangover Draught. I’m not sure the coffee will be enough to cover the taste, but it was the only thing that stood a chance and would not hurt its efficiency.”Harry was certain the coffee wouldn’t be enough. Hangover Draught was one of the most vile potions. The only one worse, at least from Harry’s experience, was Polyjuice Potion. He didn’t comment on it. “I…” Harry started. It was tempting to protect his honour and claim he was not hungover at all (a little headache was no ‘hangover’, or so he convinced himself), but he didn’t want to spoil the moment. Malfoy… did a nice thing. For him. “Thank you. I really wasn’t expecting… anything, really.”Malfoy’s lips stretched into a smirk. “Only five star service when you opt for Malfoy hospitality.” The smirk softened, turning into something more genuine. Harry couldn’t help a little smile of his own. This Malfoy was nothing like he imagined. It was weird, but he liked it. Malfoy glanced at the pan, and then back at Harry, and gestured at the kitchen island. “Sit.”Harry complied with the order, dragging himself to sit on the bar chair and placing both his elbows on the marble as he placed his chin on his palms. His stare was focused on Malfoy. “Do you treat all your guests with such charm and generosity or is it special for me?”Malfoy gave his wand a wave, and two plates flew out of a cabinet, floating across the room until they hovered right over the oven. Another wave and the pan soared up, and tilted, spilling its content onto the plates. A third wave and the plates made their way towards the island. One landed across from him, while the other nudged at his arms until he removed them from the counter. Pleased (at least it looked that way), the plate landed right in front of him.Shortly after Malfoy placed a large mug next to Harry, and occupied the other chair, holding another mug in his hand. “I pride myself on keeping all my guests fully satisfied,” he replied, and Harry saw a spark in his eyes, and felt his mouth go dry. “But knowing your state I did put a little more effort. Eat. It should absorb what’s left of last night’s indulgence.”Harry kept his eyes on him for a short moment, but then picked up the mug Malfoy gave him. He really was hungry, and if he wanted to keep down any of the food Malfoy had made for him, he should at least take care of his headache (not hangover) first. “I’m fine,” Harry said, to which Malfoy rolled his eyes. Harry narrowed his own eyes slightly, but brought the mug to his lips, prepared himself for the awful taste of the Hangover Draught, and took a sip. His eyes widened when his mouth didn’t fill with overwhelming, nauseating sweetness, but rather with a relatively typical coffee bitterness. If it was sweetened with at least three spoons of sugar. But it was tolerable. He swallowed, and stared at the dark liquid swirling in his mug. “It’s not bad.” He looked up at Malfoy, who was busy with his scrambled eggs. “How did you - ” he started, and then, swiftly, as if someone lifted a veil from his brain, his headache was gone, and along with it a hint of nausea he didn’t even realise he felt. “I have to give it to you Malfoy, that’s the best Draught I’ve ever tried.”Even while being focused on his breakfast Malfoy didn’t bother hiding a smug smirk. “It’s my enhanced formula. I’m glad you approve.” Harry offered him a smile and took another sip from the coffee before he put the mug down and picked up a fork instead. The food, he concluded after taking the first bite, tasted just as good as it smelled. It probably shouldn’t have been so surprising, and yet it was. Somehow he didn’t expect Malfoy to be so good at cooking. Seeing him cook had been a surprise enough. Harry took another bite and glanced at his coffee. Malfoy cooking, Malfoy developing his own potions, Malfoy with his hair tousled. What else was he hiding?Harry took another bite. He placed his elbow on the marble again, much to his plate's (and Malfoy's) displeasure, and placed his cheek on his open palm. "I never thought you’d know how to cook. You're actually really good at it."Malfoy's eyes moved to stare at him. He arched his eyebrow. "I am not sure I appreciate this backhand compliment. I'm not incompetent, you know."Harry straightened up. "No - no, that's not what I meant. I just...""You thought I was a spoiled brat."Harry swallowed. "Yes."He watched as Malfoy's expression relaxed. "I honestly cannot blame you. I used to be. I suppose I still am, in some aspects." Malfoy resumed his eating. Somehow he made even picking up scrambled eggs with a fork look peak elegance. "But a lot has changed. I learned a lot of the skills I was missing while I was awaiting my trail. I did not have access to most of the Malfoy assets. We were not allowed to hold House Elves. I was not allowed to use magic other than some very basic, simple spells. And Mother... she wasn't exactly in a state to do any of the household work. I'm not even sure she knew how. So I learned." He shrugged, and Harry felt bad for assuming. “I presume that means you’re enjoying your breakfast.”Harry was grateful at the last comment. “Yeah. It’s really… it’s delicious.”“Good. So eat it.”Harry took the hint, and consumed the rest of his meal in silence. And then the food was gone, and Harry sat in front of his empty plate and half empty coffee mug and stared, because he didn't know what to say.He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Malfoy that last night wasn't just a result of overdoing his celebratory drinks a little bit (okay, maybe it was, in a way, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it). He wanted to apologise for being demanding, and for imposing on him without giving a second thought to Malfoy's own schedule, privacy, or wishes. He wanted to tell him that he'd been thinking, and that he'd understood. He wanted to tell him that he wanted him. That he couldn't stop thinking about him. That that had nothing to do with alcohol, or any other type of substance.He dared looking up. Malfoy was staring sideways, his hand idly playing the spoon in his mug. It rang a little chime every time it accidentally hit the rims of the mug.“Malfoy,” Harry dared, and watched as Malfoy’s hair swished slightly as he turned his gaze to Harry. Harry swallowed, the weight of Malfoy’s stare making it hard to speak. “I…” He paused, lifting his hand to weave through his hair. “Thank you. For the, uh, food. And everything. It was really good.”Malfoy gave a short nod. “You’re welcome.” He got up, picking up his dishes and heading towards the sink.Harry took the hint and followed through, placing his coffee mug on his empty plate and balancing it as he walked around the island. Once he reached the sink Malfoy grabbed the mug and the plate and placed both in the sink. He opened the faucet, the sound of running water filling the air.Without the burden of trying to keep the mug from falling and shattering on the floor Harry was suddenly very aware of how close Malfoy was. He inhaled. “I also wanted to apologise for last night.”Malfoy glanced at him shortly before he turned his attention back to the sink. “Don’t worry about it.” He moved his hands under the water, washing them. It was amazing how he somehow managed to make the simplest things look so hot; like lowering his head a little as he was watching the water running over his delicate hands in a way that made his hair fall slightly over his eyes. “You were drunk. I understand. We don’t have to make things awkward.”Harry frowned. “I wasn’t drunk. I might’ve been a little tipsy, but I was perfectly aware, and I meant it.” He held his gaze on Malfoy, heart beating hard in his chest.The sound of running water was gone, leaving nothing but their breaths, and the distant noise of Muggle cars penetrating through the windows. Malfoy muttered a wandless drying spell. “Which part?” The words were casual, but Harry could hear the subtle drop of tone, the faint breathiness of his voice.Harry lowered his eyes for a second. “All of it,” he said. Malfoy didn't move, his hands still hanging over the sink, as if waiting for water to drip. Harry continued. “Missing you,” he shuffled a little closer, “thinking about you,” he looked up, his eyes meeting Malfoy’s grey ones. “Wanting you.”Malfoy finally moved his hands. He turned on his side, placing one supporting elbow on the counter, slightly leaning as he looked directly at Harry. Harry noticed the dilated pupils, the darker shade of grey of his eyes. “Did you, now.”It was not a question. If any, it felt more like an invitation.Harry took half a step forward and moved his hand to brush against Malfoy’s. Malfoy’s eyes shot downwards at the place where Harry’s hand touched his, and then he looked back up at Harry. “What made you change your mind? You seemed to be very much against it when I offered.”“Does it matter?” Harry’s fingers found Malfoy’s, sneaking to weave between them. “I’m not under any sort of influence now. I know what I’m saying.”Malfoy moved his hand away, dark eyes still focused on Harry. “It matters to me.”Harry held his gaze for a moment longer, and then let out a sigh. “Okay. I gave it a lot of thought. And I realised... If Astoria is okay with it, then... what's the harm?" He shrugged. "And... I was thinking... it really is not fair. That you would have to deny that part of you. And also..." he moved his hand again. Malfoy didn’t move away this time. Harry’s lip twitched and his breath turned heavier. “I thought about how you make me feel,” he watched Malfoy’s eyes widen, just for a second. He wet his lips. "I thought about that a lot.”Malfoy’s Adam’s Apple moved up and dropped as he swallowed. “And how is that, exactly?” His voice was low, making Harry’s skin electrified. “Hard, mostly,” Harry smirked, and watched, amused, at the blush that tinted Malfoy’s cheeks. “Hot, too, and bothered. But in a very good way.” Malfoy didn’t move his hand as Harry weaved his fingers through his now. Encouraged, Harry moved his thumb over his palm. “Is that okay?”“Very much so,” came Malfoy’s answer, low and husky. He closed his own hand over Harry’s and pulled lightly. Harry gasped when he felt the unmistaken hardness pressing against his thigh. It sent a rush of heat through his body. He moved his leg, grinding it against Malfoy. The sound of Malfoy’s moan was music to Harry’s ears. “Have you been thinking about me, too?” The question came out low and breathy.Harry watched Malfoy’s tongue slip between his lips, crawling over the pink flesh and leaving a shiny wet trail in its wake. Harry’s cock pressed against his pants. “I have.”“Mmhm.” Harry pushed himself a little closer, lips now hovering over Malfoy’s, so close that he could feel each warm, heavy breath. A spark flashed through Malfoy’s eyes. “I wanked to the image of you every night.” The words fluttered against Harry’s lips, making it hard to listen. He closed his eyes, his hold on Malfoy’s hand tightening as he tried to control himself. “Imagined the feeling of your cock in my hand." Harry gasped at the sudden pressure of Malfoy’s hand on his side. “Imagined that it was your hand on me instead of my own.” The hand started travelling, crawling over him until it reached the hem of the shirt Harry was wearing. Hot fingers snuck under the fabric. Harry shivered at the touch of Malfoy’s skin against his. “Listened to you moan next to me as I laid alone in my bed.”Harry inhaled sharply when Malfoy’s hand moved along his abdomen. “Fuck, Malfoy…”“Your wish is my command.”Harry didn’t have time to digest Malfoy’s words before his lips were captured and he was kissing Malfoy desperately, breathing him in like a drowning man. Tongue met tongue, warm and wet and fuck, feeling so damn good. This time Malfoy didn’t taste like cake, but he was delicious and addictive all the same. Harry couldn’t get enough. He moved his hand, placing it on Malfoy’s chest. There was something strange about how flat it was, but not in a bad way. He loved the defined muscles he could feel under his open palm. He felt Malfoy’s hand slipping, but before he could protest he felt it on his back, travelling south until he felt it on his arse. Harry lifted his newly-freed hand to cup the back of Malfoy’s head, his fingers weaving through the silky hair. He felt Malfoy’s lips stretching slightly under his, and a second later Malfoy gave a little squeeze that made him let out a surprised moan. “You like that, don’t you,” Malfoy murmured against the kiss, and all Harry could do was hum in approval. “Good to know.”Harry ignored the pang of disappointment when Malfoy’s hand moved away from his arse and when his lips slipped away from his own. But the disappointment quickly morphed into a pleasured moan when he felt Malfoy’s hot mouth on the delicate skin of his neck. His hand travelled up Harry’s back, slipping under his shirt. The fabric travelled upwards along with it, slowly letting the cool morning breeze flowing through Malfoy’s open window hit Harry’s heated skin. Malfoy’s other hand glided across Harry’s waist to join the other, and soon Harry had to let go of Malfoy so he could lift the shirt over Harry’s shoulders. Harry heard the thud of fabric hitting the tile floor, but didn’t have time or capacity to dwell on it as Malfoy recaptured his lips almost immediately. The kiss grew more desperate, and Harry found himself holding Malfoy tightly, pulling him closer as any millimetre of distance between them felt like absolute hell. He needed to feel Malfoy - every breath, every touch, every millimetre of skin - desperately, like his life depended on it.It felt like Malfoy was feeling the same. He was devouring Harry’s mouth, almost violently tasting every corner, and his hands roamed Harry’s body, tracing every line, every muscle as he travelled down to the waistband of Harry’s trousers. Harry felt his muscles tense under Malfoy’s touch, the heat intensifying the lower Malfoy’s hand travelled. His breath hitched when with no hesitation Malfoy slid his thumb under the elastic and pushed it downwards along with Harry’s pants. A relieved sigh left Harry’s throat when his cock - hard and throbbing - was released from the tightness of his clothing. He felt the fabric sliding down his thighs, and stepped out of it, kicking it away as soon as it hit the ground, along with the long-forgotten shirt. Needing more contact he flattened himself against Malfoy’s body, but was surprised when instead of cooperation, Malfoy placed his hand on Harry’s waist, holding him at bay. Harry let out a frustrated whine when he felt Malfoy’s lips slipping away from him.He opened his eyes, scowling, but his expression softened when he saw the way Malfoy was looking at him. More than anything, it reminded him of the way everyone looked at the unicorn the first time Professor Grubbly-Plank brought them for the class. Like he was something special, rare. Malfoy’s eyes scanned him, taking in all of him like he was something precious. Harry swallowed when Malfoy’s restrictive touch turned gentler as he traced the lines of Harry’s body with the tips of his long fingers. He felt his muscles tense under his touch and his breath turning heavy. When Malfoy’s fingers reached his hip bone, Harry felt his cock giving a twitch, yearning for Malfoy to continue just a little bit more, to touch him there, to hold him, to pump him until he was spent. Harry held himself back from taking Malfoy’s hand and showing him what he wanted.“You are absolutely beautiful.” Malfoy’s words cut through Harry’s thoughts, pushing the feral need aside. Malfoy lifted his gaze to meet Harry’s, making Harry’s face feel warm. Harry swallowed. “I…” he started, but couldn’t figure out what he ought to say to that. He swallowed again. “Thank you. I… er… obviously… think you are gorgeous, too.”He felt awkward, and Malfoy smiled warmly at him. “I think I am a little overdressed.” Harry agreed with the statement, but before he could bring himself to take action, Malfoy’s hand moved. Harry took half a step back instinctively when Malfoy’s elbows brushed against him as he lifted his arm to grab at the back of his own shirt. Harry watched when he pulled it off of him, the fabric dragging along his hair, tousling it. As if Malfoy didn’t already look like he belonged in a bed.Malfoy let the shirt fall to the ground and join the pile before he straightened back up. Harry’s jaw fell slightly open at the sight. Malfoy’s lean figure hid well-defined muscles, but that wasn’t what caught Harry’s attention. He bit his lower lip as his eyes moved along Malfoy’s chest, the pale skin disturbed by thin, pink lines. Harry felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered exactly how Malfoy got these scars, and he lifted his hand to reach over and touch. An apology played at his tongue, but no words seemed fitting enough.Malfoy’s hand closed on his wrist, making Harry look up sharply.“Don’t.” Malfoy’s voice was soft, as if he knew what Harry wanted to say. Harry swallowed and gave a short nod. He reached for Malfoy’s trousers, hooking his finger at the elastic and pulling him close. He rose on his toes to kiss Malfoy. He let out a soft gasp when he felt Malfoy’s hands on his arse, cupping him and pulling him close, as if no sort of distance could be tolerated. Harry couldn’t agree more, and the soft fabric of Malfoy’s trousers suddenly was way too much; a barrier that should not be there. His heart beat hard in his chest as he pushed on the elastic, pulling the trousers and pants down. Malfoy’s relieved sigh was mixed with Harry’s surprised yelp when Malfoy’s now-free cock brushed against Harry’s, hard and needy. The kiss became more desperate, with Malfoy devouring every centimetre of Harry's mouth. Harry found himself moaning loudly, and he wasn't even sure if it was because of how Malfoy was kissing him, or because he'd squeezed his arse again, or because he moved his hips to grind against Harry; it was all so very, very good. He moved his own hand, placing it first on Malfoy's waist and moving it towards the space between their bodies. Malfoy gave a small thrust when Harry's fingers brushed against the hot skin of Malfoy's cock, encouraging him to wrap around him. Much like last time, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how he felt in his hand, hot and hard and wanting. A part of him couldn't believe he waited all this time to feel what it was like to touch another man, but now that he had - and especially with that man being Draco Malfoy - it was hard to imagine how he could live without it at all. Malfoy's lips fell from his when he started moving his hand along Malfoy's shaft. He felt the hot air of his gasps crushing against him, felt him leaning his forehead against him as if he needed the support. The heat in Harry's own stomach was becoming unbearable. Knowing he was the reason for Malfoy being on the verge of losing control was intoxicating. He moved his hand a little faster, and the little whine that escaped Malfoy's throat when he moved his thumb over the wet tip of Malfoy's cock sent a jolt of pleasure directly to Harry's own cock.Merlin, he needed more.As if he was using Legilimency to read Harry's thoughts, Malfoy moved his hands; one was sliding over his side to his front, making Harry's muscles tense as it approached his aching cock, and the other was moving along Harry's arse. It was only when he felt the fingers sliding between his cheeks that he realised what Malfoy was actually doing, and he opened his eyes, a pang of alarm mixing in with his need and pleasure. He saw Malfoy's eyelids open, and their eyes met. Harry realised he stopped moving his hand over Malfoy when Malfoy's own movements stopped as well, and for a second only their forced panting filled the kitchen.Malfoy's movements turned slow, gentle. "Hey," the word fluttered over Harry's heated skin, "is everything okay?"Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he looked down. His eyes met the sight of their cocks, both hard, Draco's long one wrapped in Harry's hand as he still moved along it. He was being silly, he knew that. He wanted this to happen. He'd been thinking about it for days, came over to Malfoy's place last night looking for exactly this. And it wasn't like he'd never had sex before.But even though he loved touching Malfoy, and there was no doubt in him that he enjoyed Malfoy's touches, a part of him still panicked a little when it became too real. Too fast. He knew - instinctively, or somehow - what was supposed to happen. And it excited him, and terrified him. He felt another gush of air brushing over his skin when Malfoy sighed. “We don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind.”“No.” Harry shook his head lightly, his nose brushing against Malfoy’s. Even the light movement of Malfoy’s hand over his behind stopped, and Harry looked up. Malfoy’s eyes were fixated on him, but he could feel the change. He wanted to grunt in frustration when he realised Malfoy misunderstood him. “I mean… I haven’t changed my mind.”Malfoy’s hand resumed its gentle stroking. “What’s wrong then?”Harry bit his lip, glancing sideways for a second. He could still hear the outside world, but pushed it to the very back of his head as he tried to find the right words to explain himself. "I'm... Merlin," he shook his head, and then scowled in determination and looked directly at Malfoy. "I've never done this before. Like... like this." He swallowed. “With a man, I mean.”Malfoy's eyebrows arched up, and his lip twitched up. A soft gush of air whispered against Harry's face at Malfoy's soft chuckle. “That is all?”“Uhm,” Harry felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Yes?”“That is... really fine. Don't worry. We can work through this together,” Malfoy leaned in to kiss Harry's lips softly. He raised his hand from Harry's stomach, letting his fingers flutter all over Harry's body, before he weaved them in Harry's hair. “We can take it slower, if that would help. Do you have a preferred position?”Harry felt a rush of heat in his face. “Uhm, no... not really.”Malfoy's lips stretched a little further, and Harry felt him moving under his touch, gently pushing him backwards. “That's quite alright,” he whispered, and leaned in to kiss Harry's lips again. “I will make sure this will feel good for you. But if you don't like anything, let me know, alright?”Harry could only nod and hum his agreement as Malfoy’s kiss encompassed his entire consciousness again. He let out a soft gasp when his back hit the cold marble of the kitchen island. Malfoy's hands resumed their roaming over Harry's body, tracing every line. Harry moaned against the kiss, until once again Malfoy's lips slipped off Harry's own, and he started kissing his neck instead. Harry barely had the time to register the change before Malfoy's hand reached his cock, only brushing over it at first but then grabbing it and slowly moving up and down it.Any thought he had about this going too fast, any uncertainty and concern was gone with Malfoy's touch, evaporated with the heat his body was emitting. All he could think about was how good Malfoy felt, how much he needed more of it. More of him. And then Malfoy's mouth started travelling along Harry's body. First his shoulder, then down to Harry's chest, where he lingered at his nipple, licking it with his hot, skilled tongue. Harry let out a low, needy sound. This seemed to have spurred Malfoy on, making him lick his way down Harry's torso torturously slow. Harry moved his hands backwards, gripping onto the cool marble for support, feeling as if his knees might give in with the next flick of Malfoy's tongue. When the movement on Harry's cock stopped, Harry opened his eyes, a whine playing at the edge of his tongue. But then Malfoy dropped down on his knees, his hands moving to hold on Harry's hips as he briefly looked up and the complaint died on Harry's lips, drowning in the dark, foggy sea of Malfoy's eyes. He let out a sharp breath when Malfoy placed a kiss on his thigh, and gasped when he breathed on the heated skin of his cock.“Oh God, Malfoy -”The last thing he saw before his eyesight was lost to pleasure was Malfoy's smirk. Harry yelped, his hold on the island tightening when his cock was engulfed by the wonderful wet warmth of Malfoy's mouth. He fought the urge to thrust forward, grateful for Malfoy's strong hold on him, grounding him. He had no idea this could feel so good. He'd received blowjobs before, of course, but Ginny wasn't too keen on giving them, and now, as Malfoy's tongue was swirling around him, as he was taken deep into Malfoy's mouth, Harry realised she also wasn't very good at it. A jolt of pleasure ran through Harry's spine when Malfoy moved his hand down and between his thighs, moving over his skin until he reached his balls. Right then Malfoy pulled away, and Harry whined at the loss, both frustrated and hot as Malfoy played, slowly but skillfully, with his testicles. He looked down to see Malfoy’s stare at him.“I’ll start prepping you now.” The raspy way the words sounded, a clear reminder of what he’d been doing until a second earlier, made it hard for the words to register. But as if to help Harry understand what he meant, he moved his hand slightly further between Harry’s legs. Harry felt the heaving of his chest with each panting breath, felt his heart pounding inside his chest with anxious excitement at what Malfoy intended to do. “Okay?”Harry needed only another second before he bit his lip and nodded. He parted his legs a little bit, giving Malfoy easier access. “Yea - oh,” he whispered, but the word morphed into a small yelp when Mafloy’s finger hit his opening. He vaguely heard Malfoy whisper something, and suddenly his finger felt wet against him, slipping easily inside. It sent a new wave of pleasure through him, slightly strange and intriguing, but mostly so damn good he doubled over and  moved his hand from the marble, letting it bury instead in Malfoy's hair. His hand clenched when Malfoy took his cock into his mouth again. He wasn't even sure if he was trying to pull him closer, to make him take him deeper, or if he was trying to restrain him so he wouldn't come right there and then in his mouth. It didn't feel like it was helping too much when he felt another finger slip into him and the heat intensified. It was already almost too much, and holding onto Malfoy and the marble was all he could do. Malfoy kept at this for a moment, moving back and forth, in and out; Harry felt his muscles relaxing to accept Malfoy’s fingers more easily. Then Malfoy shifted, at once taking Harry deep into his throat and inserting another finger into him. Harry let out a swear, fingers clenching over Malfoy's hair in a futile attempt to hold himself back. “Malfoy - I - I think - ”And just as suddenly, Malfoy pulled out, and straightened back up. Harry swore, but the word was swallowed by Malfoy’s kiss, sloppy and wet. Harry could taste himself on Malfoy, a hint of saltiness mixed with Malfoy’s flavour he’d already felt addicted to. His cock was throbbing, begging for more attention, and Harry desperately thrusted his hips against Malfoy’s, trying to get even the faintest friction.Malfoy’s lips stretched under his. Malfoy's lips stretched under his. "Eager, are we?" he murmured, the words vibrating right through Harry's body, directly to his cock.He gave another thrust, opening his eyes just so he could scowl at Malfoy. "I was so bloody close and then you stopped, what do you think?"Malfoy chuckled, and grinded his own hips against Harry's, slowly, as if making sure to drive Harry as mad as possible. Harry huffed, a small, desperate whine escaping his throat. "Tell me what you want me to do now." Harry whimpered when he felt Malfoy’s touch on him, too slow to get him anywhere, but just enough to keep him right on the edge. “More,” was all he could muster. His brain was drained, all his blood flowing to his bottom half.“More? Come on, Potter. I know you can do better than that. Go on.”Malfoy's hand squeezed lightly at the base of his cock, making Harry whimper in frustration. “Fuck,” he let out, his hand clenching over the marble so strongly his knuckles started to ache. “I want…”“Yes?”“Ugh,” Harry lowered his head, and let his hand drop from Malfoy's hair to his back, down to his arse, “I…”Malfoy's hold grew stronger. If he would only go a little bit faster, Harry knew he would - “Yes, Harry?”Harry's eyes flashed open at the sound of his given name on Malfoy's lips. It wasn’t like last night, when Malfoy begged him to stop, trying to address logic lost somewhere at the bottom of a firewhiskey bottle. There was something incredibly intimate about it this time - even more than everything they've been doing, in a way. He breathed out sharply. “You -”“Tell me. I want it to come from you.”Harry held his gaze on Malfoy for a second longer before he took a deep breath. “Fuck me.” The words finally left his lips, breathy and needy, but oh so liberating.Malfoy leaned in to kiss Harry's cheek, and there was something so sweet, almost innocent about it, that for a second Harry just stared at him. It didn't last long, though, as Malfoy then licked his way to his ear, sending shivers down Harry's spine. “Turn around.”Harry didn't need to think, his body following the order without his brain even processing it. The marble, heated from Harry's body, was hard against his stomach as he leaned over it. His heart pounded in his chest, anticipating and fearing what was to come at the same time. Malfoy didn't let him wait too long, and it was only a second before Harry felt him hovering over him, chest flat over Harry's back and Malfoy's cock poking at his thighs.He waited.“I will finger you again, now.”Harry nodded, and then let out a moan as Malfoy's fingers, still wet - or wet again, his brain really wasn't in any state to notice whether Malfoy cast another spell or not - slipped inside him. He didn't bother with moderation this time, inserting two fingers right away. “Are you okay?”Harry could only hum his agreement, anything more intelligible than that feeling impossible like magic theory. Malfoy immediately started moving, slowly getting deeper before pulling out.  He repeated the movement a few more times, each time getting a little bit deeper, each time drawing a needy whine out of Harry’s throat. It was the most wonderful torture, and Harry wanted it to never end just as much as he needed his relief. Right when Harry was about to complain, to say he needed more, Malfoy - almost as if he was using Legilimency on him - inserted another finger, and this time Harry felt him trying to stretch him. He whimpered under him, moving his hips, his body instinctively begging for more. Malfoy kept at that for a moment before pulling out completely, and before Harry could register what was happening he felt something else pressing against him.“Is this okay?” Malfoy asked. His voice was strained by now, telling Harry that even though it felt as if he was in full control, he was just as needy as Harry, holding himself back to make sure everything felt good. “Stop asking,” Harry found himself saying, his mind foggy with need. “I want you. Please, Malfoy. Just…”The pressure intensified, and Harry braced himself, his heart beating so hard he thought it might break through his ribs. But Malfoy only pressed a little bit more, only his tip slipping into Harry, nothing more than a promise.Harry whined again, frustrated.Malfoy leaned over him, flat against him, his hands now holding Harry's hips. “Say my name.”Harry panted, fighting the urge to just back into Malfoy and get him in. He licked his dry lips. “Please, Draco.”Harry didn't have the time to dwell over how strangely wonderful Draco's given name felt on his tongue, as Draco finally started pushing himself into him. Harry felt himself stretching around him, his hole, already loose and ready, welcoming him. Draco pushed in slowly, evenly, but Harry could feel him shaking behind him, could feel his forced breaths that suggested that he wanted nothing more than to get all in, to let Harry's body swallow him whole. Harry appreciated the slow pace, even though his own body was begging for more by this point, too, as a mix of dull pain, and the strange feeling of being stretched like that, and the wonderful pleasure flooded every cell of his body, driving every nerve to overdrive. Eventually Draco stopped, Harry feeling his hips flat against him, and his panting crushing against Harry's heated, sweaty skin. Harry felt Draco kissing his shoulder, felt him trailing his way up to his ear. Merlin, this felt way too good. “Let me know if you want me to start moving, alright?”Harry nodded. He wanted him to start already; needed to feel him inside him, hard and fast and fuck, he'd been so close for so long already he felt he would explode soon. But he also knew that if he asked Draco to do that, if Draco would listen, he might regret it later. So instead he breathed in and out, trying to get his heart rate to slow down and his body to adjust to Draco's presence, and use every bit of self restraint not to thrust against Draco.Draco placed soft, warm kisses on him wherever he could reach, and Harry appreciated the gesture, feeling how each one helped him feel more at ease. Eventually, though, the frustration and need grew stronger than the discomfort, and he felt it was time.“I'm ready,” he said, and braced himself, holding tightly onto the island's marble as Draco gave him one last kiss before pulling himself out.The sensation was even stranger than when Draco pushed himself in, and just as pleasurable, even though a part of Harry felt, immediately as Draco started to pull out, that he already wanted him back, wanted Draco to fill him up, as if he was the missing piece of his body Harry didn't even realise was missing. He moved along with Draco, his hips slightly moving away from the island as they followed Draco's. He felt him pulling almost completely out, and then Draco pushed back in, faster, but still letting Harry have enough time to adjust.“Still okay?” Draco's voice sounded even more strained, each syllable accompanied with a harsh breath.“I'm fine,” Harry replied. This was getting ridiculous. He might've never done it this way - but he knew what sex was all about. He moved his right hand from the marble, shifting a little as he reached behind him, finding Draco's arse. He pulled, as best as he could considering the awkward position of his arm. He felt the muscles move slightly under his touch, and yelped when it made Draco move inside him. “I'm really fine. Stop... stop worrying.”“Okay. Tell me if you need me to slow down.”“Okay, I will - just-”But Harry didn't get to finish his sentence as Draco pulled out, and thrust back into him with a grunt. Harry let out a swear and, feeling like he needed the extra support, moved his hand back to his front. Draco repeated the action, a little bit harder, and another - stronger - wave of pleasure washed over Harry. He pushed back against Draco, and when Draco thrusted in again, he felt the same jolt again. He closed his eyes and lowered his face, feeling his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Merlin, Draco felt so good, Harry wanted to just do this forever. Diminish his entire existence to this moment, to just the two of them, with the hard marble pushing against his stomach, and Draco’s forced breaths, and Draco’s cock inside him, moving back and forth -And then a blast of pleasure shot through him as Draco must’ve hit something inside him. Harry let out a surprised yelp, backing into Draco in an attempt to make that happen again. Draco seemed to have realised he’d done something right, as he thrust into Harry again, harder, and Harry spat a swear when he felt it again. It was so much - too much - and he let his hand let go of the island again, sneaking it down to reach his cock. He held on and stroked himself, his hand hitting the island’s wall with each stroke, with each thrust of Draco’s hips. Soon Draco picked up his pace, pounding into him, grunting, holding on him so tight Harry was certain he would end up with bruises; but he couldn’t care less, his entire existence limited to the pleasure and his need and fuck, he was so close, his lower stomach feeling on fire, and Draco was going so fast, hitting the same place that made Harry yelp again and again until Harry felt the world turning white as every nerve in his body exploded with pleasure. His fingers dug into the marble as his other hand kept pumping him, and Draco kept pounding into him, faster and faster, frantically. It didn’t take much longer before Harry heard Draco’s choked moan and he felt him thrust one last time, hard, into him before stopping. His hips hurt from Draco’s strong hold on him, his nails digging into his skin. They remained like that for a moment as the high of the ecstasy eased. Little by little Harry’s breath slowed down, and his heart regained its natural rhythm as the world stirred into focus again. Over him he felt Draco going through the same. Eventually he heard Draco take in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh as he peeled himself off Harry. Harry felt his cock slipping out of him, and mourned the loss, even if he felt completely spent by now. He allowed himself another moment to catch his breath before he let go of his rapidly softening shaft and pushed himself off the kitchen island, turning, instead, to face Draco. His heart swelled at the sight of a sweaty Draco, his cheeks and tips of his ears pink with blush, his eyes still slightly unfocused and his lips swollen with abuse. He was, to put simply, breath-taking. Harry kept looking as Malfoy looked up, grey eyes meeting green ones, and he was suddenly very aware that he’d just fucked Draco Malfoy, and was currently very much naked, in his kitchen, and his cock still messy with cum. He felt his own face heating up, and he smiled sheepishly. “Uh…”Draco smiled back at him, and took half a step to close the distance again. He kissed Harry, not desperate, but warm and deep and slow. Harry felt the tension and awkwardness ebb away. “How are you now?”Whatever remained of the awkwardness dissipated at Draco’s question. Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I’m… really good. That was…” he inhaled, and let the air out with a sigh. He smiled. “Very good.”“Good.” Draco placed a short kiss on Harry’s lips and leaned over Harry, reaching far behind him before he straightened up. Harry’s gaze followed him, confused, until he noticed the wand he now held in his hand. Draco waved it shortly, and the sticky feeling on Harry’s thighs, in between his legs and his palm disappeared. He then picked up their clothes, picking out the items he wore, as well as Harry’s pants, while letting the rest stay on the floor. He handed Harry his pants, which Harry took, while staring, confused, at all the other clothes. “I think maybe we need a shower,” Draco said, and Harry looked up from the clothes in time to see his lips stretching into a smirk. “You’re welcome to mine, if you want.”Harry considered Draco's offer for a minute. A part of him wanted to accept the invitation. A part of him imagined them sharing the shower, and maybe somewhat of a repeat performance of what they just did. He glanced at the clothes Draco had given him. It was a bit much, maybe. He started getting dressed.“Thanks,” he said, “but I think... I think maybe I need to go home. I had a great time. And… er, I’m sorry for intruding on you last night.”Draco shrugged, and briefly waved his wand again. “I’m not going to lie to you, it was unexpected.” He pulled on his pants - a pair of small black briefs that left little to Harry’s imagination - and let his trousers and shirt hand on his arm. Harry didn’t have much time to appreciate the sight, though, as with a whoosh another pile of clothes zoomed right at him. He let out a surprised little yelp, but quickly enough recognised the rough fabric of his jeans. The clothes he was wearing last night.Harry looked up when Draco spoke again. “I’m glad you did. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for you to change your mind.”Harry swallowed. Now that his mind was less foggy, now that everything felt real and surreal all at the same time, a question that’d been nagging at the back of his mind ever since their first slip-up. He started getting dressed, feeling the weight of Draco’s eyes on him. He pulled on his pants, then his jeans. By the time he reached the last button he couldn’t hold it in him anymore. He frowned. “Draco?”“Hmm?”“Why… why me?”Harry looked up to see Draco’s confused stare.“I mean…” he finished up with the last button, and turned to pull on his shirt. “Maybe… I suppose, maybe you are attracted to me… or something -”Draco let out a snort that cut into Harry’s words. “I think we’ve established that.”“Right.” Harry straightened the bottom of his shirt, making sure it fell nicely on his hips. “But I rejected you. I mean… sure, I wanted you. I still do, obviously, but it felt… well… it’s just… back at the shop, it felt like you were really… trying. And, well… we didn’t have such a good relationship in the past. I think I was just wondering…”Draco shrugged. “You’re hot.”Harry’s frown deepened. “Draco…”The air changed, and the amusement faded from Draco’s features. He sighed. “Okay. You are. And I think I might’ve been attracted to you, at some level or another, since we were in school. You have a certain aura to you. Has no one ever told you that before?”Harry’s face heated up. Since school? He shook his head.“Well, then, you do. At least I think so. But it’s also… there aren’t many options for me, you see.” Draco pulled his trousers from the small pile on his arm. He then placed the shirt on the counter and put on the trousers.Harry waited, confused.“There aren’t all that many wizards in the world. Or rather, here in England. Wizards - and witches - make up only about 0.015% of the population. Cut that in half to include only the men, since I was fortunate enough to be attracted to men only, and lets cut that even further to exclude children and, well, men who are old enough to be my father. That means that out of about, I don’t know, ten, fifteen thousand wizards, my eligible pool is only about… hmm, 700? 800 wizards?”Draco grabbed the shirt and put that on, too. Harry couldn’t help but stare at him, already confused by all the numbers.“And out of those, well, the majority are wizards who are interested in witches. Maybe about 5% will be interested in men, which leaves about 40 homosexual or bisexual men. In the entire United Kingdom.”Harry blinked. He couldn’t follow the maths - he was never good at it, and therefore was very happy when he found out that it wasn’t one of the subjects taught at Hogwarts - but he could understand that 40 men is a very small number. It didn’t make much sense to him. “That’s it?” That couldn’t be right. “What about Muggles?”Draco’s eyebrow arched up. “I’m a pure-blood wizard, Harry. The heir to the Malfoy name. Being pure-blood and gay is bad enough. I can’t also start blending in with Muggles. And it’s not just that. I live in a magical home, have magical friends. I rely on magic for everything I do. Even if I ignore how it would be perceived for me to be dating - or even just shagging - Muggles, I will put the Statute at risk every time I meet with one. I don’t know anything about the Muggle world, and… well, even though I’ve changed a lot of how I think about them, Muggles are still too different. I am still too different. It’s just… it’s not an option.”“Right.” Harry hated it. But he couldn’t deny that there was something in what Draco was saying, as harsh as it sounded. Hermione would’ve hexed him to hell and back, but Draco could probably never get along in the Muggle world. “Only forty, then.”“That’s it.” Draco gave another shrug. “Theoretically, anyway. I did not conduct a survey. But it should be around that number. And, naturally, I will not be attracted to all of them. And not all of them will be attracted to me. So when I noticed the way you looked at me, and knowing the way I’ve been thinking about you for years… you can, I am certain, understand why I didn’t want to let you go all that easily.”Harry glanced at his feet, moving slightly in his spot. He wasn’t exactly sure what answer he was expecting when he asked Draco that question. But surely, he didn’t expect a statistical report on the Wizarding Community of the United Kingdom. Especially not one that would make him feel so lonely all of a sudden. He heard Draco move, and then he was once again close. “Hey.” Harry felt his hand on his chin, gently tilting his face up to look at him. Harry bit his lower lip. “I like you. And not just because I have no other options. I just meant that I was incredibly lucky that you like me. It’s incredibly rare. Impossibly rare. And therefore invaluable.” Harry felt him leaning close, felt his lips pressing onto his softly. “You’re invaluable.”“That’s not… I didn’t think that you wanted me just because you didn’t have a choice,” Harry said weakly, the words feeling ridiculous and offensive even as he said them. “I just… it’s incredibly sad, isn’t it? We… only have a few options. It’s like it’s impossible to find happiness.”“I wouldn’t say impossible,” Draco’s thumb moved over Harry’s jaw. “We do have each other, do we not?”Harry opened his mouth to agree, but he then suddenly remembered that it wasn’t entirely true. He’d agreed to the terms; decided he wanted Draco in spite of it. But Draco was not his. Could never be. But maybe that was all Harry could have. It figures. His entire life led him to know he couldn’t have it all. He was lucky enough that he didn’t die - or rather, didn’t stay dead - back when he was seventeen. Fair wasn’t something he deserved.He swallowed, and forced a faint smile. “Yeah. We do.”Draco kissed the top of his head before moving back. “I have a few tasks for today. My offer to use my shower still stands, if you’ve changed your mind. I will go in myself. You could join me.”Harry thought about Draco's offer. Sharing a shower with him, washing under the warm water, naked, touching... it was all much too tempting. He wasn't sure when would be the next time they could see each other alone. And he did need a shower anyway. He reached over to touch Draco's hand and pulled him down for a kiss. "Yeah, okay," he said, and the sight of Draco's lips stretching into a smile swept away any remaining doubt he had. "Good choice," Draco said and closed his hand over Harry's as he guided him through the house. They walked past the guest room where Harry’d spent the night, and then past the bathroom where Harry washed his face - and kept going. Harry's heart raced as he realised Draco was leading him towards the main bedroom, where Draco probably had another bathroom. As Draco stopped in front of a heavy looking, partially closed door, Harry felt the excitement rising within him. Even though he had spent the night at Draco's home, even though they just had sex in his kitchen, there was still something incredibly intimate about knowing he was about to enter Draco's own bedroom. Where he slept, where he got dressed, where he wanked himself off - thinking about Harry, if Harry was to trust what he'd told him earlier.Draco pushed the door open, revealing a surprisingly well-lit room. There were several closets, each standing in a different location. One had its door slightly open, revealing what seemed to be a collection of dress robes. There was one set - lavender, with silvery decorations - hanging on a rack right beside it.Draco's wedding attire.Harry swallowed, and moved his attention from it. Other than what had to be an industrial amount of clothes, the room also held a small study; a heavy-looking desk right by the window, with a few piles of parchment resting on it, and a chair, slightly pushed aside. The light from the window fell on a quill, shining through its feather's white barbs almost like an aura. Pushed against the distant wall stood a rather large bed. Larger than the one Harry's slept on, and definitely larger than the one Harry had at home. The frame was made from the same luxurious-looking wood of the desk, and was perfectly made with a soft-looking dark grey duvet. A few - three, Harry counted - white pillows laid at the top of it, leaning against the headboard. A half-full glass of water standing on the matching side table was the only thing that suggested someone had slept here last night.Following Draco into the room felt, strangely, like he was given permission to another side of Draco, a personal side of him only a selected few were privy to. He couldn't help but feel a slight warmth spreading in him.Crossing the room, Draco had led him to a door hiding to their right. It was slightly ajar, revealing a white marble bathroom. Harry followed Draco into it, and knew he shouldn't be surprised that it was more similar to a luxury hotel suite's bathroom than a home one, with both a rain shower and a large bath. There were candles floating near the ceiling - none of them lit up - and a large sink, adorned with what had to be more than a dozen different types of products. Harry couldn't even start to imagine what they were all for. In his own bathroom he only had three: hand soap, toothpaste, and an aftershave. He already felt he was going above and beyond with the aftershave."I don't think I have the time for a bath this morning," Draco said, cutting through Harry's examination. "Is a rain shower okay?"The mere question - the option to have both - had already been more than Harry's expected. His own flat only had a simple rain shower. And it was probably about a third of the size of the one Draco had. "Yeah, of course." Draco smiled, and let go of his hand, undressing himself. Harry followed suit, lingering only for a minute on Draco's frame. Without the pressure of raw need, he could appreciate more how gorgeous Draco was, how his muscles played under his fair skin with each movement. Harry felt faint warmth at the pit of his stomach. Nothing that demanded attention; just a pleasant, comfortable feeling, calm and sweet, almost relaxed, like he could finally let go of the expectations and just be. Harry took off the last of his clothes as Draco stepped into the shower and turned the knobs. The soft sound of falling water filled the room, accompanied by the light steam and subtle scent of lavender and lemongrass. Harry watched in awe as water cascaded over Draco, flattening his hair and trickling down his skin. The warmth in Harry’s stomach grew as Draco lifted his chin to the spray, slightly parting his lips in a sigh of relief. He was beautiful, an artistic masterpiece so captivating Harry felt he could stare at him forever."Are you coming in? Or did you want to just watch?" Draco's voice cut through Harry's thoughts, amused and cocky. Draco was now looking at him, the water glistening over his skin as the droplets and streams caught the light from the window. His arm was extended out of the water stream, an invitation sent out to Harry.Harry felt his face heating up in a way that had nothing to do with the steam that filled the room and everything to do with having got caught staring. Harry murmured an apology, which Draco dismissed, and took the offered hand. Draco smiled at him and pulled him, and within a second Harry was already flat against Draco's body, water falling over his head and his skin. Draco's shower must've been charmed, as the water temperature was perfect for him. It wasn’t even perfect in his own shower, even though he’d already learned the approximate location of the hot water knob according to his preference. He still had to play with it every single shower to get it just right.He couldn't help a sigh of relief at the feeling of the warm water washing over his body and for a moment he just stood there, enjoying the cleansing feeling - and Draco's proximity."Nice, isn't it?" Draco said, his tone suggesting more of an observation rather than an actual question. Harry felt his glasses being removed, feeling silly, for a second, that he'd forgotten them. A glance showed him that Draco charmed them to float to the sink area. Harry didn’t bother lingering to see where exactly they would manage to land with all his products, choosing, instead, to succumb to the calming feeling of the water and Draco’s touch. Harry's skin tingled with pleasure as Draco let his hand leave Harry's, fluttering up his arm instead. Harry closed his eyes, letting himself melt into Draco's touch."Yeah," he said, voice coming out soft, like a sigh. He shuffled, letting his other hand reach for Draco's body. He placed it on his hip, moving his thumb gently over his smooth skin. "Very nice."Draco chuckled softly. "Good." He moved his hand over to Harry's shoulder, sliding it to the base of Harry's neck. Instinctively, Harry tilted his head to the other side, giving Draco better access.A low hum of pleasure rumbled in his throat when Draco pressed against his muscle, gently massaging him. Harry felt Draco's thumb digging into a knot Harry didn't even realise he had, and suddenly his neck felt lighter. He parted his lips in appreciation, and felt Draco kissing him. It was a nice surprise, and Harry let himself lean into the kiss. It was slow, gentle; nothing like the kisses they shared just minutes earlier in the kitchen, and  they made a whole different kind of warmth to spread through Harry's body.Draco moved away after a moment, his thumb still working on Harry's neck."Do you have any preferred type of body wash?" Draco's voice asked, casually and softly - almost like they’ve been showering together for years.Harry opened his eyes, blinking at the water falling on his face. "No, not really," he answered, and, curious, glanced around. Behind Draco, he now noticed, was a blurry caddy with several blurry bottles. He held back a chuckle when he realised there were actually more products here than there were on the sink. "I... usually just buy the first thing I see, and use it until it's all gone."Draco shook his head and gave Harry's neck one last squeeze before he removed his hand. "You are unbelievable.""Thanks?"Draco didn't even grace that with a response. “I think maybe this one,” he said instead, giving a small wave of his hand. One of the many bottles floated from the caddy, landing in Draco’s grasp. “Lavender, Moondew and Lemongrass, ingrained with a touch of Phoenix ashes.” Harry found himself gaping. Phoenix ashes? “Try and smell it,” he popped it open and placed the bottle under Harry’s nose. Harry inhaled, his nostrils filling with fresh sweetness. It was divine. “The Moondew will revitalise your skin cells. It’s also very good at helping with the appearance of scars, although not ones caused by magical curses.” Harry opened his eyes to look at Draco. Without his glasses and with a veil of steam and falling water he couldn’t make out any of the details of his body. But the image of his scars was well ingrained in his mind. “Phoenix ash is restorative, and also offers deep detox. How does that sound?”Choosing a soap like this required a much more thorough thought process than Harry usually cared to invest. It smelled nice, though. “Yeah, sounds good.”Draco poured some soap onto his hand and let go of the bottle. It kept floating where he left it, out of the way but easy to reach. “Do you at least know what magical ingredients your soap has? Or have you not even bothered to check?” Draco rubbed his hands together, and Harry could see the little pool of greyish-purple soap expanding. He was pretty sure he saw it foaming, but without his glasses it was hard to tell.“I buy Muggle products.”Draco stopped the rubbing motion, his eyes widened almost in horror, the water falling in his eyes but it didn’t seem to bother him. At least, for the few seconds before he shut his eyes and shook his head. He then turned the faucet knob, the water quickly stopping, and he turned his eyes back to Harry. “Merlin, Potter. Have you forgotten you’re a wizard?” “No,” the word came out defensive. What was so bad about Muggle products? He’d been using them all his life. And he liked the Muggle supermarkets better. No one stopped and stared at him, and it almost never resulted in an article in the Prophet about his dinner plans, or what cleaning products he chose to use. “It does the job.”“Right.” Draco resumed the rubbing. Without the steam and running water, Harry could see that the product was, indeed, foaming. It released a few iridescent bubbles into the air between them. They floated up to the ceiling, where they popped and evaporated. “Walking does the job too, but I’d still prefer to apparate, or fly.” He paused, looking thoughtful for a second. “Don’t you use magic in your cakes?”“I… do.”“So you would break the Statute to infuse magic in your Muggle cakes, but you will not do the sensible thing and purchase magical products for yourself. You truly amaze me.”Harry wanted to reply. He could almost think of a response, almost opened his mouth to say it. But every thought evaporated from his head when Draco’s hands touched him, lathering his skin. The calming Lavender scent filled his nostrils, clearing his mind from every single thought. His skin felt instantly fresh and moisturised, and his muscles felt instantly relaxed wherever Draco’s hands touched him. All he managed to do was to let out a relieved sigh, closing his eyes as Draco washed him.“Feel alright?” Draco whispered, and Harry nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was Draco’s movements, or the soap, or a wonderful combination of both, but he’d never felt more relaxed in his life.Draco kept washing him, his hands going over every bit of his body; from his arms to his torso, then he asked him to turn and washed his back for him. No one in Harry's entire life had ever given him such gentle attention. Draco’s movements didn’t suggest anything sexual, but there was no denying the sparks that Draco’s touch lit everywhere he touched. Harry had a semi-hard on when he just entered the shower with Draco, but by the time Draco moved his hands down his body, hands gently massaging his buttocks and his thighs, his cock was already hard and waiting for attention. Harry’s breath hitched when Draco moved his hand around his thigh, letting his fingers slip in between Harry’s legs. Harry’s moan was swallowed by Draco’s kiss when he was slowly massaging his cock. Nothing as urgent as what they shared before, not back at the shop, and not in the kitchen. Rather, Draco seemed to be taking his time, the soap allowing his hand to move smoothly over Harry’s sensitive skin.Harry held onto him, moving an arm to wrap around Draco’s shoulders. His hand hit the floating bottle, and he decided to take it and squirt some onto his palm. He let his hands, now covered with soap, roam along Draco’s body - his arms, his back, anywhere Harry could reach while Draco’s hand was busy - until he made it to Draco’s cock. It was just as hard as Harry’s now, and Draco let out a moan of relief when Harry touched him. They kept at that, both moving relatively slowly, for a moment; until the need grew too insistent, and the kiss grew desperate and the movements faster, their breathy moans echoing in the bathroom’s acoustic. A moment longer and Harry felt his muscles tensing as the knot of heat that’d been building in him reached its peak. He came with a gasp, and soon enough he felt his own hand covered in a liquid that definitely was not the soap. Riding the high off, they supported each other, both breathing heavily, until Harry was left only with the post-orgasm euphoria and he found himself laughing lightly. He looked up at Draco and saw his blurry smile. They shared another long kiss before Draco turned the water on again.They spent the rest of the shower washing each other again, kissing lightly, talking; it didn’t feel, Harry realised, like they had just got reacquainted days ago. It didn’t feel like a filthy side affair, like the night at Harry’s shop felt. It felt… comfortable. Like they’ve been doing this for weeks already - still at the height of attraction, but the initial awkwardness was gone. Harry found himself asking Draco about his life since the trial while he washed the mess off him, and Draco asked him about his shop as he used a different product to clean (and tame, Draco said with an amused smile) Harry’s hair.When all the soap and shampoo was gone, and Draco turned the water off and, with a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead, reached over for a towel and handed it to Harry. He cast a drying spell on himself before he stepped out of the shower.“If you prefer clean clothes, I can let you borrow some.”Harry was surprised at the offer. It was sweet, even if Harry assumed none of Draco’s clothes would fit him well enough even just to go home. Besides, his last night’s clothes weren’t too bad. He grabbed a clean shirt when he left for Ron’s party, and he’d only worn the jeans once before yesterday. He thanked Draco with a soft smile. “I’m good,” he added and dried off his body, unable not to think about how soft Draco’s towel was. Maybe Harry should stop buying the cheapest things he could find. He could afford more expensive things, if he wanted. He just never realised what a difference it made. Once done he placed the towel on the rack, and reached for his clothes.“Alright.” Harry looked up just in time to watch Draco’s back - still naked - retreating into the bedroom, where he started walking from one closet to the next, picking out clothes and getting dressed.Pulling his shirt over his head, Harry followed him into the bedroom, standing awkwardly as he waited for Draco to finish getting dressed. Harry had to admit - to himself, at least - that fully-clothed-Draco was just as gorgeous as fully-naked-Draco. He watched as he carefully picked a robe and some accessories, amazed at how much attention Draco was paying to his appearance. When Harry got dressed in the morning, he usually grabbed the jeans he’d left on the floor the day before, and the first shirt his hands landed on. Other than his belt - which he kept in the jeans’ loops, anyway - he didn’t even have any accessories.After checking himself in the mirror for the last time (Harry assumed), Draco turned to him. He weaved his fingers through Harry’s hair, and a frown appeared on his face. “You didn’t even dry your hair?”Harry shrugged. “I never do. I just let it air dry.”Draco rolled his eyes. With a wave of his wand, Harry felt the water weight and the wet chill disappearing. “I’m not a child,” he commented, but the truth was that Draco’s treatment made him feel special. Cared for. He wasn’t used to it. He was usually the one to do the caring.“Then stop acting like one.” There was no sting to Draco’s words. He closed the distance and kissed his lips softly. “I kind of wish I didn’t have to say this,” the words fluttered against Harry’s lips, gentle and a little sad, “but I think it’s time to go.”Harry swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. “I know.” He was surprised to find himself sad at the idea of leaving. It wasn’t just the sex, he realised. The sex with Draco was amazing, for a lack of a more powerful word. But the post-sex Draco was gentle, and clever, and funny. He made Harry’s chest feel warm and fuzzy, even now, when they’ve only met three times. He looked at him with a twinge of fear and sadness. If he was feeling this way now, what would he feel like a week from now? A month?In six months, when Draco inevitably gets married?Draco remained quiet for a short moment, his silvery eyes holding Harry’s gaze. He then let out a sigh and took a step back. “Alright. I’ll walk you out, then.”Placing a hand on the small of Harry’s back, Draco started walking, guiding him back to the corridor where Harry stood, inebriated and soaking, just a few hours ago. They reached the front door when Draco paused for a moment.Harry stopped too. He stared at the floor, noticing the doormat Draco was so worried about last night. He couldn’t help an amused smile. This morning Draco didn’t seem to care that much about his belongings and their state of cleanliness.“I am glad you’ve changed your mind.”Draco’s words made him look up. He felt Draco’s hand pressing gently on his back, moving back and forth. For a short moment Harry just held his gaze. He enjoyed this morning with Draco. It was good. He got to know a Draco he never thought even existed. A Draco he could almost…Harry stopped that thought. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he decided to Apparate here last night. He forced his faint smile back on his lips. “I am, too,” he said, trying not to let the slight quiver of his tone show. “It was…”Draco’s hand travelled to Harry’s side, his palm capping him and pulling him closer. The unexpected gesture turned the rest of Harry’s sentence into a soft gasp as he found himself staring into Draco’s eyes. “It was,” Draco agreed, kissing his lips again. He took a step back and cleared his throat. “I am sure I don’t really have to tell you this, but this should stay between us.”Harry felt his chest tightening. It made sense, and he probably should’ve expected it, but there was something about the way Draco said it that made Harry’s guts twist with pain. It felt like with that single sentence Draco had burst the happy little bubble Harry didn’t even realise he’d put himself in. A bubble where it was just the two of them. Where there was no shop, no tabloids, no wedding.Draco’s words brought reality back. The reality in which they met at a wedding cake appointment. The reality in which Harry said no to getting himself involved with an engaged man. The reality in which he’d decided to be okay with shagging him just because the world was incredibly unfair. “Harry?” Draco placed a finger under Harry’s jaw, gently lifting Harry’s chin to make him look up. His eyebrows were furrowed a little. “If you’re not okay with this…”Harry’s chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Images from the morning popped in his head, Draco’s touches and his words, the way he treated him - last night, when he thought Harry was too inebriated to make decisions, and today. It was not a pretence. And should Harry have to give that up just because they had to keep it under the radar? After all, keeping their relationship away from the public eye would probably be beneficial for Harry, too. He couldn’t even go grocery shopping without his face appearing in the Prophet; he could imagine the delicacies they’d make out of finding out that not only was he gay, but that his newest interest lay with the engaged heir of the Malfoy family.Draco’s request made sense. And he wasn’t ready to give up so quickly after having just discovered what it feels like to be with a man. With Draco Malfoy. He lowered his chin to kiss Draco’s finger. “No, I… you just caught me by surprise, that’s all,” he forced a smile. The frown on Draco’s face disappeared, and he brought Harry’s face close to his, kissing him again. “Thank you. I can’t…” Draco lowered his face, leaning his forehead on Harry’s. “I can’t afford to have my situation known. The Wizarding Community already dislikes me, and I’ve been working very hard to improve my reputation. If the tabloids get wind of my preferences, or worse, of me not being faithful to Astoria… they will not care that this is something we’ve all agreed to. All my efforts will be for nought.” Harry felt him moving his head slightly, his nose brushing against Harry’s as his hand searched and found Harry’s. “I wish it wasn’t like this, but I just can’t. And I know I can trust you. I can, can I?”Harry wet his lips and closed his eyes. He swallowed, and let his fingers weave through Draco’s. “Yes,” he whispered. “I… understand.”“Thank you,” Draco whispered back, and placed another kiss on Harry’s lips before moving away. Harry’s eyes followed his movements as he reached for the door, placing his hand on the door knob and pulling Harry towards him. He stood straight, the soft expression morphing into a smirk. “Well, I hope you found the Malfoy hospitality to your taste. Please don’t forget to leave a five-star review.”The sudden change, so drastic, had left Harry confused. But he walked towards the door, and, as Draco pushed it open, walked through before he turned back to face Draco. “It was five-star worthy hospitality,” he managed to say, and regretted the awful comeback as soon as it had left his lips. Draco chuckled, and glanced behind him before turning his attention back to him. “Excellent. Cheers, then. We’ll be in touch?”Harry nodded. “Yeah. Er, yes. Have a good day.”“You too.”Draco offered him another smile before he closed the door. -"Well," Astoria said, looking sideways at Draco after having taken a bite of the last cake sample, "you were absolutely right." She turned her eyes back to Harry. "These are delicious. I'm not sure how I feel about the blueberry one - but there is no doubt you are most talented, Harry."The compliment fell flat in Harry’s chest, a bitter reminder that they were here to prepare for a public celebration of their relationship. He knew it was all nothing but a facade; a charade with the sole purpose of conforming to society’s norms, but it didn’t ease the pain of knowing he would forever have to live in its shadow. A lump had formed at the base of his throat when a second later she turned back to Draco and removed a crumb that had been there since two tastings ago. He swallowed down the memory of having done the same - the little dot of cream that had decorated Draco's nose last time, right before they -Harry forced the memory to the back of his head. "Thank you," he said, frowning briefly at how thick his voice sounded. Clearing his throat did little to remove the lump that lodged there. He forced a smile, the stretch of his lips expanding the cut in his chest. But he was a professional. "Do we have a winner? If you’re still unsure, or would like to discuss it further, you can let me know later. You can of course discuss this and let me know later. We could discuss colour palettes, shapes, quantities... I know picking a flavour can be difficult for such an important occasion."He absolutely hated how flat his voice sounded. He hated how Draco's eyes were looking anywhere but at him. He hated the thought of his own creations being a part of the celebration of Draco's marriage to someone else.Harry moved to pick up the remains of the tasting samples, moving around the table as he reached for the more distant ones. His breath hitched when he accidentally hit Draco’s knee. Alarmed, he looked up and found himself staring directly into Draco’s stormy eyes. He hurried away from his side of the table, placing the last partially-eaten cupcake on his tray and walking away to put it on the counter. He pushed it further away, making sure it was well balanced as he was willing his breath to calm down."I think that would be a great idea.” Harry could barely hear Astoria over the sound of his heart pounding. “Draco and I would have to discuss the flavours between us.”“Okay,” Harry said, and his own voice sounded distant. He frowned, annoyed with himself. He shouldn’t be reacting this way. He picked up a towel from the counter and, willing his face back into professional politeness, turned back. Astoria was no longer leaning over at Draco, but rather, sitting straight in her chair. The lack of physical contact between them brought back the hope that Harry could get through this meeting without any incidents.She smiled politely at him and, as he drew closer, stood up. Harry paused and looked up at her, confused. A fragile bubble of hope formed in his chest, unstable, flickering at the logical notion that the meeting could not be over just yet. They still had many details to discuss; details that didn’t require picking any specific flavours.“Uhm, do you happen to have a lavatory available somewhere?"The bubble burst at the simple question, its remnants settling in his chest and drowning him in the realisation that her leaving would mean he would be left alone with Draco. He didn’t know if he could trust himself alone with him."Yeah," played with the towel in his hand for a short moment before gesturing with it towards the back of the shop, "right there. Just go behind the counter, and you'll see a door to your right."She smiled politely at him, and thanked him as she followed his directions.The air shifted immediately as the sound of the door closing echoed in the shop. Any shred of pretence disappeared, leaving the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. Harry refused to give in to the temptation to look at Draco, too scared to test his self restraint. He didn’t know how long Astoria would be gone - but it couldn’t be long. He approached the table, keeping himself busy by wiping the crumbs off."Hey, Harry."Draco's voice, so different now than it'd been mere moments ago, made him stop. The towel was only halfway through the table, crumbs gathering at its edges like a building dam. Harry closed his eyes briefly. So much for his intention to remain professional. “Draco…”“Relax. She’s gone to fix her makeup. It might take a while.”Draco’s casual tone made Harry look up. He found himself staring directly at his amused smirk. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He could never be this comfortable with him if they were not alone.Harry inhaled and resumed his cleaning. “Maybe, but it’s still risky.”A hold on his wrist made him stop again. He glanced down at where Draco’s hand held him, as if he could calm the electricity of the touch with his sight. “Maybe I enjoy the occasional escapade.”Harry swallowed. “She could come out any second. It was you who wanted to keep us a secret.” The words might’ve come out a tad sharper than Harry's intended. Harry felt a sting in his chest when Draco sighed and moved his hand away. His wrist was cold, a chill that travelled up to his chest, clenching at his heart. He looked up to see Draco pushing himself off the chair, followed him as he walked around the table to stand right beside Harry. Harry’s body tensed at the proximity, his muscles aching to reach and touch. His breath hitched when Draco placed his hand on his waist, its warmth sending a shiver down Harry’s spine.“I’ve missed you.”The simple words shattered something inside him. The picture of Astoria removing a crumb from his lip, touching him casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Draco letting her. The pain in Harry’s chest as he witnessed the scene.It was too much. Harry tore away.Draco’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?”All Harry could hear was his heart pounding in his chest and his own rambling thoughts. This wasn’t how he imagined his life unfolding - hiding in the shadows, stealing kisses when no one was looking, forced to pretend he was nothing more than a cake supplier when just a few nights ago he was writhing under his body, making Draco come undone with his touch. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t something Harry could live with.“I can’t.”The silence lay heavy between them, disturbed by nothing but the faint noises from the street outside the door and the quiet rhythm of their breaths. Harry's chest ached, yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret his words. As the silence prolonged he dared to look up. The pain intensified at the hurt look on Draco’s face.“You can’t?”The sound of a toilet flush, closely followed by the sound of running water, filled him with a sense of urgency. His eyes shot to the closed bathroom door before meeting Draco’s again. “I’m sorry.” He watched as the spark in Draco’s eyes slowly dimmed. Each breath felt as if he was trying to breathe water as his gillyweed was wearing off. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”Draco scowled, the pain now visible in his features. “Is this still about my marriage?” The sound of the water running stopped, but it didn’t seem to bother Draco. “You said you’ve been thinking about it. You said you were okay with it.”“You can do whatever you want, but it’s quite rude to convince me you were okay with the situation that I have been very open with you about, only to back away now, after -”“It’s not that!” Harry’s panicky words cut into Draco’s speech. He felt as if his lungs were getting rapidly full of water. Running out of time. He glanced at the bathroom again, but the door was still closed.“So what is it, Potter?”The sound of his last name felt like a blasting curse to his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, enough, at least, to be able to do this properly. “I meant what I said. I don’t think… I don’t think you have to deny yourself. As long as both you and your spouse are aware and in agreement, it’s really… It’s your business.” Harry opened his eyes and met the frustration - anger, even, maybe - in Draco’s. “I’m just saying… I can’t be a part of this. I just can’t. If you want to live a lie, then, by all means, do it. But it’s not for me. It’s not what I want for myself.”The air laid heavy between them as Harry’s word sunk in. The lines on Draco’s face shifted, morphing his confusion into pain that stung in Harry’s chest just as much as seeing Astoria wiping a crumb off his lips did.Maybe worse.“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated after a moment. His heart beat hard in his chest, but he knew that he was doing the right thing. Maybe not for Draco - but for himself. “And I-”The sound of the bathroom door opening made him look sharply at the door. The light behind it was switched off, and he could see Astoria’s silhouette walking through. He didn’t have time. “I can’t be your supplier for the wedding.”Draco opened his mouth to answer - whether he wanted to try and convince Harry to change his mind, or hex him, Harry didn’t know - as by then Astoria was already right next to them.For a moment, she looked between them, the silence thick and awkward. Harry felt the weight of her gaze on him and realised Draco was still standing intimately close. Nervous, almost shameful, he moved away.The silence stretched for another strained second before Astoria broke it. “I’m sorry for taking so long. My refreshment charms didn’t work properly.”Harry let out a short, nervous laugh. The tension remained, electric almost, in the air. He couldn’t bring himself to face her. “Yeah, er, sorry about that. All the Muggle technology here interferes with the magic.”“I see.” She dragged her words a little, her stare still weighing heavy on Harry. Harry’s heart beat hard in his chest as he thought she might call them out. “Well,” she said, and finally the weight of her stare was lifted. Harry dared to look up, and saw her approaching Draco. She placed her hand on his arm, and Harry felt the ugly prong of jealousy stabbing at him again, even though he knew he had no right to. She turned her eyes to him, polite and friendly, but as Harry studied her he was certain he saw something more. She started walking back towards the chairs, guiding Draco along with her. “Shall we move on? I think you wanted to know about our colour palette. We’ve discussed it over the weekend and most likely it will be lilac and silver. And we were going to have about fifty people? Right? Or do you think your father will invite the entire ministry?”Harry felt Draco’s eyes lingering on him for a short moment before the weight was lifted off of Harry. “It’s got late,” he said, and Harry’s heart broke at the way he sounded; hollow and tired. Knowing he was the cause made it sting worse. “Maybe we could do this another time. There’s still plenty of time until our wedding date.”Astoria’s eyes shot back at him. Harry felt panic rising in him, the way she looked at them minutes ago still fresh in his mind. But thankfully she offered a polite smile and stepped away from the chairs. “We do. And it’s probably best if we decide on the colours and theme first, isn’t it dear?”Draco nodded. “Yes. That way we will not be wasting Potter’s time.”Astoria turned her attention back to Harry. “Thank you for your time, Harry. The cakes were really magnificent. We will be in touch about another meeting, alright?”Harry forced a smile and wiped his hands on his apron. “Of course.” He glanced up at Draco, and, for a short moment, their eyes met. The flirty spark was gone, replaced by something Harry couldn’t quite decipher. Regret? Pain? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. Harry’s decision, this time, was final. He hoped that he’d made himself clear enough; that Draco would figure out an excuse why they shouldn’t schedule that meeting after all. Because Harry didn’t think he could handle seeing him again. Not as a client. Not at all.“Good night, then. We’ll owl you. Draco will, probably,” Astoria picked up her belongings, and started making her way towards the door. Polite greetings were exchanged, and the little bell above the shop’s door chimed again as they left. The latch clicked with a finality as the door closed behind Draco’s robes. The shop, usually filled with the warmth of baked goods and the joy of celebration now felt cold and lonely, the colourful displays of cakes and sweets mocking Harry with their vibrant cheer. -Trying out new recipes was Harry's favourite part about being a baker. He loved trying out new things, he loved playing with magic and magical ingredients and seeing which ones he could incorporate into his Muggle shop without having the Muggles notice. It was, by far, the best way for him to take his mind off things. It was how it all started, after all - with Hermione suggesting he take up a hobby instead of sitting at home, dwelling about the war, and the people he'd lost, and everything that had happened since Voldemort had been back. Ever since the day Harry had found out he was a wizard, with a large hairy part-giant knocking on his uncle's cabin door and hexing Dudley right before giving Harry a delicious, albeit somewhat crushed, cake. His very first birthday cake. It was that feeling - the unparalleled warmth and excitement of having a cake just for him - that had made Harry decide to try out baking, out of all things.At Lily’s Bakery, that was exactly what he did—he created delicious treats for people’s happiest moments; be it a birthday, a wedding, or even just if they were giving themselves a treat for a job well done. It brought him joy. Painted cheerful pastel colours over the darkness of his thoughts.He allowed himself a little smile as he brought a spoon of unbaked batter to his mouth and the light sweetness of lavender and vanilla filled his mouth, closely followed by the tang of lemon he’d mixed in. The charm he included in the batch was supposed to be only activated once baked, but he could certainly already feel his muscles relaxing a little.Pleased, he poured the batter into the pan he’d already charmed with a non-stick charm, and, having gently thumped it against the counter to get all the bubbles out, he slid it into the pre-heated oven. For a short moment he stood in front of it, watching the batter drowning in the dark orange light of his oven, slowly – way too slowly for him to notice, but his imagination pictured it regardless – rising, expanding in the pan to create the perfect cake.The sharp sound of knocks – hard, desperate – startled him. The shop was closed, as indicated by the hours on the door. He glanced at the clock on the wall near the counter—almost eight PM. Definitely not a client—unless it was one of those entitled customers who thought the rules didn’t apply to them. His stomach growled, and he recalled that before he started messing with batter and magic he’d placed an order for a takeaway, realising he would be staying at the shop for longer than he’d originally intended.The silence of the empty shop was broken again by the sharp knocks at the door, and Harry hurried out of the kitchen, calling out, “Just a minute!” With the cake baking in the oven, it was perfect timing for his takeaway dinner of Chinese noodles, fried rice, and pork balls smothered in a radioactive-looking, yet absolutely delicious, red sauce. He felt a rush of anticipation as he crossed the shop, pulling his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He opened the door while still rummaging through his wallet, searching for the correct amount in British Pounds.Magical takeaways, much like anything else magical, were out of bounds for him as long as he wished to keep his address hidden from the magical tabloids. The outside chill hit his face as he pulled out a ten-pound note, and, triumphant and excited, he looked up."There you go, nine-thirty, right?" he looked up, holding out the cash to the delivery person.His arm stopped midway through the motion and his polite, apologetic smile froze on his face when his eyes did not meet those of the young lad who usually served his area and brought the noodles to his doorstep. Instead, he found himself facing a very dishevelled looking Draco Malfoy standing at the threshold. For a moment all Harry could do was stare. Draco’s lips were partially open as his chest heaved with his breaths. The rain was falling on his hair, flattening it over his head and dropping down to his eyelashes, making his eyes squint a little as he tried to keep the rain away.His eyes dropped for a second before he met Harry's gaze again. A smirk played at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know much about Muggle currency, but if that’s what you’re paying me for my services, it seems awfully cheap.”Harry frowned. He’d thought he’d made himself perfectly clear about not wanting to see Draco again. “What?” The smirk dropped from Draco’s lips, and he shook his head. Harry watched the water falling from his hair, mixing with the rest of the rain on the ground. “I was joking. Are you going to let me in?”“I –” Harry started. Everything about this was confusing. He was expecting his food - not Draco. A gust of wind blasted a dose of rain at Harry. His floor, cleaned at closing like every day, was getting wet and muddy. “Yeah, okay.” He moved slightly away from the door, freeing up the entrance. Draco walked in, and Harry closed the door behind him. He fumbled with his wallet in an attempt to place the money back inside, his face heating up as Draco’s words replayed in his head. He failed miserably, and, having given up, stuffed the note in almost violently, ignoring the way it crumpled against the wallet’s walls. He tried to shove the wallet back in his pocket but failed again as his hand kept missing it. Giving up, he placed it on the nearest table before turning his attention to Draco.He could comment about his floor, and how Draco’s dripping hair and muddy boots were messing it up after he’d already cleaned it for the evening, remembering how worried Draco was about his doormat. He bit his lower lip, frowning as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He sighed. “What are you doing here?” he asked again.Draco pulled out his wand, and with a wave of it every drop of water evaporated from his hair. He put it back in the pocket of his dark winter robe, and then wiped his face with his hand. “I came to see you.”Harry almost rolled his eyes. “I assumed you didn’t suddenly have an irresistible craving for a cake and decided to barge into a closed bakery.” His voice came out sharper than intended. He inhaled, feeling the initial shock of Draco standing at his door begin to fade, replaced by the familiar ache gnawing at his chest. “Why?” The word tore through the air between them like Sectumsempra —sharp and unforgiving. He saw the shift in Draco’s face, hope turning into painful despair. Harry forced himself to look away. He couldn’t afford to care. He picked up his wallet and opened it, deciding to try and arrange the damn note in a way that didn’t make it impossible to close. “Don’t tell me that you couldn’t figure out an excuse to give Astoria. I’m not taking you back.”“I left her.”Time froze. Harry’s hand, still fumbling with the Muggle note, stilled. His chest tightened, a sickening heaviness settling deep inside him, making it hard to breathe. Draco’s simple words hung in the air between them, a dark cloud that threatened to break into a storm. “I didn’t do it for you.” Draco continued. His voice echoed in the room, passing by, distant. “I was going to go through with it. I was telling her about this other vendor, another Muggle store, that Pansy had told me about. I’d already set up a tasting appointment at that other place. She started asking me questions. She asked me if it was because of you.” He paused. Harry glanced up, but Draco wasn’t looking at him anymore. His stare was fixed at the cake display, where Harry kept his frilly cupcakes. The ones teenage girls liked to ask their boyfriends to get for them. The Muggles didn’t know, but the shiny power decorating the frosting was pearl dust. They just thought it was pretty edible glitter, but Harry always enjoyed watching the pink blush spreading on their cheeks after the first bite; the way they always seemed to seek a bit more closeness with their partner as the dust worked its charm through their system. “I told her it wasn’t. And then I told her that I didn’t want any vendor.”Harry remained silent as he listened. Draco’s voice, quiet at first, turned more frantic with each word. As if with those first words some kind of dam broke within him and he could no longer contain the flow. “She asked me what happened all of a sudden, and all I could think about was you.” Harry swallowed, but he didn’t dare to stop the stream. He didn’t know how, even if he wanted to, Draco’s words and Harry’s emotions swirling in a chaos inside him, disorienting, overwhelming. His heart pounded in his chest. “How it felt like when I could just be myself around you. How much it pained me to ask you to keep it between us. How much it hurt to see the pain I caused you by saying that.” Draco shook his head. “And I remembered your words, and realised that you were right. It isn’t all that complicated. I could just… not marry her.”The words dropped on Harry, finally penetrating through the thick fog that engulfed his thoughts. He frowned. “But what about everything you’ve said? About tradition, an heir, society?” Harry’s words came out rushed, pounding in his ears. His chest heaved with every breath. “Whatever it was that she needed from you as her husband?”“She could find another husband. She’s a beautiful, talented, and clever witch. I am not worried about her.”“And you?”Harry finally dared to look up, his eyes meeting Draco’s. The grey eyes held his stare, steady, unflinching. “I realised I didn’t want to live a lie.”Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. “But…”“I’d rather lose it all and live my life authentically.” Draco’s tongue slipped out briefly as he wet his lips. Harry’s mouth dried, and he watched, mesmerised, as Draco took a step closer. “You taught me what it could feel like,” another step. Harry’s heart beat even harder. “You showed me what I will lose, going through with the wedding.” He stood mere centimetres away from him now. The edges of his robes brushed against Harry’s apron, each breath shifting it slightly. Harry felt his warm breath brushing against his skin. He closed his eyes at the sensation. His breath hitched when he felt Draco’s soft touch on his jaw. “I realised how devastating it was losing you.”Harry’s mind raced. It was all too much; Draco’s touch, the confession in his words, and the intolerable proximity that erased every logical thought from Harry’s head. “But…”“I was a coward, Harry.” Harry’s heart clenched at the way his name fell from Draco’s lips. Soft, broken, desperate. “Please. Forgive me.”Harry inhaled, feeling the air getting stuck in his throat. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? “I…”Draco’s hand dropped from Harry’s jaw, his thumb sliding gently over his skin before losing contact. Harry’s eyes flushed open.“I would understand if you don’t,” Draco continued. The pleading was gone, replaced by resignation. “You aren’t obligated to. I meant what I said. I didn’t do this for you, but for me”Thoughts and emotions still spun in Harry’s mind, threatening to drown him. But as he felt Draco pulling away, something broke inside him. He didn’t end things because he didn’t want Draco, but rather - because he realised he might want him too much. Because he didn’t think he could handle living in Astoria’s shadow. But this was different. This… Draco was offering him himself. Fully, whatever that entailed. Draco was willing to take the step, to break his bloodline’s tradition and face the consequences. Harry reached over and grabbed Draco’s wrist. Draco’s gasp was audible in the empty shop as Harry pulled him closer. “You’re not a coward,” Harry said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. Draco’s eyes lifted to meet his, wide and uncertain. He felt his breath fluttering over his skin, warm and tempting. “I don’t have anything to forgive. I…” he wet his lips. “I was too jealous. I couldn’t handle seeing you…”He felt Draco’s hand placed hesitantly on his waist, stopping Harry’s confession. His hold strengthened a little when Harry didn’t protest. “You have nothing to be jealous of anymore. I promise.” Draco’s thumb pressed against Harry’s waist. “I will be wholly, absolutely, completely yours. If you’ll have me.”It was as if a dam broke in Harry. All the emotions and needs he held back ever since Draco’s last visit to the shop spilled through, flooding his mind and drowning everything else under their weight. In a split second’s decision he pulled Draco close and raised his arm to wrap around his neck as he crushed his lips against Draco’s, hot and desperate. Draco’s hold on him tightened as he returned the kiss, parting his lips to welcome Harry in. Harry let out a low moan as Draco’s other hand placed on his back searching for the gap between Harry’s shirt and his jeans - A knock on the door made them separate with a gasp. Harry’s heart pounded in his chest, his breaths fast and heavy. Draco stared at him, looking as dishevelled as Harry felt.There was another knock, and Harry’s hazy mind eased back into reality. He looked at the door, where he could make out the silhouette of a person. Who was holding what seemed to be a bag in their hand.Harry blinked. His food. He’d totally forgotten. He turned back to Draco with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I… Just a second,” he muttered. Just as a third knock echoed in the shop Harry managed to tear himself away from Draco. He patted the back of his jeans in search for his wallet before he recalled placing it on a table when Draco first walked in. He picked it up and hurried to the door. A young girl - she looked almost like a teenager - stood there, an umbrella in one hand and Harry’s Chinese food, carefully bagged in a plastic bag, in her other. “Harry Potter?”“Yeah. Uhm. Here. Keep the change.” Harry pulled the crumpled ten pound note and handed it to her, in exchange for the plastic bag. She didn’t even bother checking the note, instead, turning on her heels and rushing away as soon as the bag was no longer in her possession.Harry closed the door and turned back to Draco, who was still standing right where he left him. He looked somewhat baffled, but was eyeing the bag in Harry’s hand. It was adorable, really. Harry placed the bag on the table and started unboxing its content: the square carton of noodles and the plastic box containing his fried pork balls and fried rice. He placed the extra container of red sauce next to the others and looked up at Draco. “Are you hungry? I ordered some food. There’s enough here for both of us.”After a moment’s hesitation Draco approached the table. Harry watched, a fond smile playing at his lips, as Draco examined the contents. “Are you certain this is edible?”Harry picked up the box of noodles and opened it. He then reached back into the plastic bag and pulled out a pair of chopsticks. “I am, yeah. It’s very good. Want some?” He pulled some noodles out of the box, his unskilled hold dropping about half of what he attempted to pick up back into the box. As he raised the noodles a little bit higher, offering it to Draco, a few more fell off.With an arched eyebrow Draco reached to hold on the sticks. His fingers fumbled with them, twisting as he tried to hold on. Harry slowly let go, but they both let out a yelp as Draco lost his hold and the noodles fell on the floor. He stared at the mess with a scowl. “Brilliant.”Harry let out a soft laugh, feeling the tension of this entire evening - the entire week - being released. He leaned in to place a kiss on Draco’s cheek. “I think maybe we should stick to a fork this time, what do you say?”Draco glanced at Harry, surprise flickering in his eyes. But his lips stretched into a playful smile. “A fork? What a ludicrous idea,” he teased, but placed the chopsticks on the table. He helped himself to a seat, making himself comfortable before peeking at the rest of the offered food. “What would you recommend?” Harry grabbed the box of the fried pork balls. He rummaged through the plastic bag for the disposable utensils, picked up a ball and offered it to Draco. He smirked.“Prepare to be amazed.”