Chapter 1
Draco saw Harry Potter on a Thursday.
On Thursdays, Draco visited the owl post to mail in the shop’s supply order for the following week. It was a mile’s walk to the post, so it didn’t matter if he detoured slightly on the return trip to visit the homey Sereni-Tea shop. Except, on that Thursday Potter was there, sitting at a window table, sipping tea.
Draco tripped over his own feet when he saw him. Draco’s stumble caused him to bump into an older woman in line, who turned with a frown. Draco turned beet red and rushed out an apology, mollifying the woman. Then he turned back to the table to double check it wasn’t an illusion.
Potter was staring straight at him, an amused smile on his face. Draco’s face reddened further, and he may have left on the spot had another man not walked in behind him, blocking a swift exit. Draco steeled himself and stared straight ahead. He didn’t spare another glance towards Potter while he went through the routine of ordering. He didn’t linger in the shop when his order came up.
Draco was nibbling his lip as he approached Sereni-Tea the next week. He had been coming for years and had never seen Potter there before. He rarely recognized anyone from his school days. Occasionally a stranger would realize who he was and react with a sneer or quick shuffle away from the notorious Death Eater, but the shop ladies were always kind.
Muscles Draco hadn’t realized were tense relaxed when he walked into the shop and there was no Potter to be seen. He joined the queue and Trina smiled at him from behind the till when it was his turn. “The usual?” she asked, already ringing him up. When his order was ready he took it to a small table near the back of the shop. He was still lingering over his small coffee when he saw Potter walk in.
Potter was in his crimson auror robes this morning, chatting with a second auror as they waited to order. Draco froze in an instant, his eyes downcast as if should he not be able to see Potter then Potter would not be able to see him. Today Potter didn’t get a table, and Draco never knew if Potter saw him at all.
The next Thursday was sweltering. An unexpected heat had rolled in and it was all the wizard shop owners could do to keep their interiors cool, they’d given up on summoning an artificial breeze to cool the streets. Draco left his formal shop robes at home as he trekked the mile to the owl post. He barely had energy to worry about another run in with Potter on his way to the tea shop. He was far more relieved that the shop’s cooling charms were holding up than by the fact Potter was no where to be seen. He changed his order that week, selecting the iced daily special option instead of his normal drip coffee. It was a splurge, so he passed on his normal scone.
Armed with an iced beverage, Draco braced himself against the heat and marched out the door. Nearly ramming straight into an unexpecting Potter, who was about to enter the shop himself.
Draco stalled, shell shocked from their near collision. Potter had no such struggles. He pulled the door open further so he could step past Draco. His gaze took its time running down Draco’s form, taking in Draco’s loose, athletic tank top and tight jean trousers. Entirely muggle. Potter’s eyes flicked back up to Draco’s and one side of his mouth quirked up. Draco didn’t think it was the weather that made him feel so hot just then. He watched as the door closed behind Potter before shaking himself out of whatever was wrong with him. He gulped down his drink as he sped back to work.
It was the fourth Thursday, nearly a month after that first sighting, when Draco and Potter spoke.
It felt inevitable, that moment when Potter entered the shop immediately after Draco. Both took their place in line. Draco tried not to fidget and definitely did not turn around to confirm his first glance had been correct. Not even when Potter cleared his throat. Not until a huffed out, “Good morning.” Draco tried to paste on a pleasant smile, like the one he used for customers, when he turned. Potter chuckled at his failure, a deep rumble that made Draco’s stomach do a small flip. “Don’t hurt yourself there, Malfoy, not over a simple hello.” Draco let the smile drop into a scowl, which just had Potter grinning.
“Good morning,” Draco forced out through clinched teeth.
Potter’s grin relaxed a bit. “Nice weather this week, cooled down enough you’re wearing real clothes again.” Draco glanced down at his plain grey robes, his normal, professional attire he would rarely be caught out of on a city street. He felt his cheeks heating as he wondered what Potter was thinking at their encounter last week. Potter leaned in just then, “I like you dressed casual, you should do it more often,” he said quietly enough it wouldn’t carry.
Draco’s eyes flashed up to Potter’s and Potter didn’t lean away. They were too close for strangers to be standing. Potter wore that same small smile from the previous week.
“Good morning, Draco, your usual?” Trina asked from the counter. Draco flipped around to face her, instantly relieved to be at the front of the line. He covered up his nerves with a smile and small talk as he paid for his order, then retreated to the side counter to wait for it to be prepared. Potter strolled over towards him once he placed his own order, but he didn’t talk right away. Their orders were called almost at the same time.
Potter collected his then turned to examine the shop. “There’s only one table open, care to share? I’m waiting for a coworker so I’ll be gone in a few minutes,” he said to Draco before Draco could leave.
Draco considered making an excuse and leaving anyway. But there was Potter, looking at him with that smile, and Draco’s stomach did one more flip. He didn’t understand what was happening but that didn’t stop him from nodding agreement. Both men made their way to a table at the side of the room.
Potter sipped his tea while Draco nibbled a scone. The silence wasn’t companionable but Draco didn’t find it grating. After a moment, Potter asked, “Do you only come in Thursdays?”
Draco glanced up at him, surprised at so specific a question. “Yes,” he said. Potter waited, still smiling at Draco, as if he expected him to say more. Draco lipped his lips and glanced at his hands before rambling, “I walk by here on Thursdays. The first time I got a bit lost and stopped in to ask directions. It was raining that day, and I was soaked through, even though I,” Draco paused, reworked his thoughts, then continued, “even though I hadn’t brought any money that day they still gave me a small coffee, and clear directions. It was lovely. I come back every week now.”
Potter’s smile had softened a bit as Draco spoke. “So being a lovely little shop isn’t just for marketing?” he asked.
Draco huffed a laugh. “Well, that, too, I suppose, but they’re lovely people as well.” He paused, glancing at Potter as he took a sip of coffee. Potter was so relaxed, as if having a drink with a good friend and not a former bully/convicted Death Eater. Draco didn’t understand what was happening. Potter noticed him staring and Draco spout out a question in the hopes it would help him avoid looking rude. “When did you start coming here regularly?”
Potter full on smirked. “I think you noticed,” he said not unkindly. Draco’s mind flashed back to his spectacular embarrassment that first time he saw Potter.
Draco grimaced at his scone. “Okay, why did you start coming here regularly?”
Potter shrugged. “Moved into a new flat not too far from here. The new roommates can be a bit loud, it’s nice to have somewhere calm to get away to.”
Draco’s smile was genuine as he considered that. Sereni-Tea was a silly pun, but an apt name.
The shop door opened and both Draco and Potter glanced up at a tall woman as she walked in. Unlike Potter, she wore her auror robes and was clearly on the clock. Potter waved at her to order something before turning to Draco. For the first time Draco saw him hesitate, if only a moment. Then Potter was smiling at him again, his eyes a bit too sharp for Draco’s comfort. “When do you have a day off work?” Potter asked.
Draco blinked slowly, confused. He felt it would be bad to tell the whole truth, so instead he said, “I get off at six on Sundays.”
Potter quirked an eyebrow, noting that wasn’t an answer. He moved past it easily, though. “Are you free for dinner this Sunday?”
“Dinner?” Draco asked.
“Right, evening meal. I was thinking Indian. My treat,” Potter said.
Draco’s whole body was frozen. He stared, wide-eyed, uncertain he had heard that right.
Potter’s smile dimmed a bit at Draco’s prolonged silence. Draco realized he was disappointed Draco hadn’t agreed. The offer had been genuine.
“Yeah, yes. Dinner would be nice,” Draco found himself saying.
Then Potter was grinning again, bright and so blinding that Draco could hardly say anything else. Potter grabbed a napkin and handed it with a pen to Draco. “Write down your address, I’ll swing by and pick you up at seven.” Without thinking Draco wrote down the address for the shop he worked at. Potter pocketed it then, still smiling, he jumped to his feet and strolled merrily over to his colleague, not sparing another glance towards Draco, who sat at the table in shock, his coffee and scone forgotten.
-
Nibill’s Apothecary was not well respected, high quality, nor of an affordable nature, but Mr. Nibill had deigned to hire convicted Death Eater Draco Malfoy and so Draco Malfoy was proud to work there and call it home. Mr. Nibill stayed in business by being remarkably close to a potion training institute, allowing for graduate students in quick need of supplies to grab and go, as well as by marketing to a lower class of purebloods who were still too snobby to shop anywhere muggle-borns or mixed-blood wizards would brew their potions. And even a disgraced member of the sacred 28 was still a member of the sacred 28. There wasn’t a more affordable pureblood apothecary in London sporting that at their front counter.
Draco glanced over his shoulder at the darkened apothecary, ensuring no lights had come on in a back room to signal that Mr. Nibill would for whatever reason come back to the shopfront after hours. Draco stepped away from the front windows, just in case. Draco didn’t want Mr. Nibill to see him in his tight muggle jeans and loose henley long-sleeved t-shirt. It was thoroughly muggle, but appropriate for a summer evening. That, and Potter had said he liked when Draco dressed casually. Draco licked his lips and tried not to think too hard about how he’d taken Potter’s words to heart.
They were meeting for dinner. Potter hadn’t said it was a date. Potter said he would pay for dinner, but that didn’t mean it was a date. Draco didn’t need to dress well at all if he didn’t want to.
Potter himself showed up a minute later. He also wore jeans, along with a green button up shirt that matched his eyes. Draco’s heart beat faster when their eyes met.
“Hey you,” Potter said.
“Hey,” Draco answered, almost breathless.
Potter glanced at the apothecary. “Oh, I thought we’d be meeting at your place,” he said.
Draco shuffled his feet. “I live above the shop,” he said.
“Ah,” Potter said in understanding. He smiled again at Draco. “I know this great place, but it’s a bit far to walk. Side along?” he offered his arm to Draco.
For a moment Draco had an intense feeling of bewilderment. Harry Potter was smiling at him and offering out his arm to Draco himself. Draco never would have imagined. Hesitantly he reached out to take Potter’s arm, before suddenly pausing. Draco’s dropped his eyes to the ground to hide his panic. “Walking’s not so bad, I’d rather fancy a walk with you,” he said, hoping he somehow managed to sound bold and daring.
Potter chuckled. “Yeah, that would be nice,” his voice had deepened and Draco could feel it roll over him pleasantly. “Maybe after dinner? I’m famished and it’s really too far for this trip.”
Draco bit his lip. It had been awhile since he’d read his probation contract, but he did his best to recall the exact language. Of course Draco was not allowed to cast apparate for himself, but did it say anything about him not being allowed to apparate at all? Potter was an auror, would he even suggest it if it wasn’t allowed? This was all so strange though. Draco’s stomach did a flip. What if Potter was setting him up? He had heard of other auror’s taking advantage…
“Hey, is everything alright?” Potter asked. He took a step closer to Draco, rubbing his hand up the side of the arm Draco never did put against his. Draco gasped in surprise, almost stepping back. Potter leaned further forward before he could. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”
In a panic, Draco actually did. “I’m not allowed to apparate,” he said.
Potter paused before slowly guessing, “Because you’re on probation?” he asked. Draco’s nod was so fast and so small Potter would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching. “Oh, well. I don’t think it can mean side-alongs. I did my stint working probation, and the contracts just listed it on the prohibited spell list not anywhere else. I’m sure it’s fine. Besides,” he did his quirky smile again, “I’m an auror. You can’t get in trouble if an auror does it, can you?”
Draco glanced up at Potter through his lashes, still uneasy. He wished he sounded more certain when he said, “But you’re not here on auror business, right?”
Potter took another half step forward and his hand at Draco’s arm lifted further to caress Draco’s cheek. Draco’s eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. He opened them in time to see Potter lean in further, his eyes burning into Draco’s. Potter spoke so quietly and sincere. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get you in trouble over this.”
Draco realized with certainty that this was definitely a date. He stammered, “okay, okay let’s go.”
Potter grinned then moved his hand to Draco’s shoulder as he pulled out his wand and cast a spell Draco hadn’t felt in years. The two swooped through space together, lurching to a stop in a dark alleyway. Draco stumbled at the landing, feeling queasy, but Potter was there to steady him. Potter took his hand and led him towards the light of a busy street. Across the street was a small, muggle Indian restaurant and they sat at a table without fuss. Potter glanced at him skeptically for a moment, and Draco realized he was checking to see if Draco would react to being in a muggle establishment. Draco pretended not to notice and made no remarks at all. He saw Potter smile softly, and assumed it was appreciation for the lack of drama. Potter was still smiling at Draco when the server brought out menus. Draco was entranced by how happy and at ease Potter looked flipping the menu open and perusing options. He wondered again what Potter was doing with him.
“What looks good to you?” Potter asked, still skimming options.
Quickly, Draco flipped his own menu open and pretended to consider. He knew, instinctively, that Potter wouldn’t approve if he admitted he had never had Indian food before. He couldn’t well share his pure blood parents’ thoughts on the cuisine, and how he had sustained himself over the years he’d lived on his own. Instead, Draco asked, “Have you been here before? What do you think is good?”
Potter took that answer in stride. “Once or twice, there’s a takeout place nearer to my flat but it’s not the best for a sit down. Tikka masala is my go-to, if you don’t mind a curry. And the veggie samosas here are great.”
Draco didn’t understand any of that. “Sounds delicious, I’d love to try those,” he said instead.
“How spicy?” Potter asked.
It felt like a test, but since he didn’t know the right answer he might as well be honest now and not embarrass himself later. “Mild,” he said.
Potter’s smile this time didn’t reach his eyes but he nodded and waved for the waiter to come back. He ordered what they discussed, and a couple more things Draco didn’t track. The waiter wrote it down and walked away. Potter’s focus returned to Draco. “So, do you enjoy apothecary work?” he asked.
“Oh, sure, you know it’s fine,” Draco said, silently cursing himself for sounding so awkward.
Potter was good natured. “C’mon, staffing a till all day and chatting up customers has to be a stimulating enterprise.”
Draco allowed himself a smile. “Oh, it is, sometimes. We’re close to a potions training center and around exam times it gets lively. All the students swing in needing those special ingredients they forgot to order two weeks ahead from the center’s suppliers in order to practice enough not to blow up the cauldron in front of their professors.”
“That’s worth an extra sickle, I can imagine,” Potter said.
“Mm, or more with Mr. Nibill’s pricing. But it can be fun, asking them about their projects and learning a bit about the latest theories. That and they’re all younger, they don’t really-” Draco cut himself off for a moment, then continued, “really know much about the potion market, if they did they might trek a bit further to the Apothecary St Anthony, better stock at better prices,” he improvised.
“With a sale’s pitch like that I don’t know how Mr. Nibill’s stays in business,” Potter quipped.
Draco full out laughed this time. “It’s a mystery to all of us,” he said, perhaps too honest. He shook his head to clear it and then braved his own question. “You’ve been with the aurors near to a decade, right? Are you liking that?”
Potter smile dimmed again, even as he said, “I love it. I lovethat I’m doing work that makes a difference.” This silence felt more awkward to Draco, but Potter interrupted it before it could linger. “Why’d you chose to live above the shop?”
“Uh,” Draco said. “Mr. Nibill was so generous as to offer it. I had just lost my roommate at the time, and it was the best deal available to me.”
Potter nodded as if he understood. “It’s convenient, I imagine, short commute and all that.”
This was an easier topic, so Draco nodded enthusiastically. “It was a bit weird at first, I hardly went anywhere else for a while. Now I’m more settled and it’s not so bad. Helps during the long hours.”
“Long hours?” Potter asked. Draco just smiled and shrugged. Potter shrugged as well and moved on. “I just moved into a new flat, I think I mentioned. I lived with two roommates before so I thought I knew what to expect, but this bunch is loud,” he dragged out the vowels in “loud” for emphasis. “Is your place ever like that, with people coming and going, having big meet ups at all hours?”
Draco grimaced in sympathy. “Gods, no, thankfully. Mr. Nibill actually has a larger space in the back of the building, but I never hear anything from it. There’s a small kitchen behind the shop with a stairway up to my room, a stairway down to the potions lab, and then a door back to what is basically a whole house. Not sure exactly how it works, there doesn’t seem to be enough room off the street. Maybe it’s one of those space extensions. And he’s quiet as a mouse or has up a silence charm or something. Hard to say.” Draco realized he was rambling again and Potter was staring at him with a very peculiar look.
Thankfully, the food arrived that very moment. It was served family style, with the expectation that the two men would share. Potter pointed out the extra, spicier curry he had ordered with a self-deprecating chuckle. Draco was a good sport and served himself just a little to try. Potter laughed merrily when Draco actually did try it, only to have his eyes well up with tears as he gulped down water to clear the taste from his mouth. Draco laughed along afterwards. Dinner was still very awkward, but Draco found he was happy.
Afterwards, Potter took him up on his earlier suggestion for a walk. The night had cooled, but not too much that either felt chilled.
Potter casually asked, “Do you think you’ll stay working at the apothecary?” Draco wondered if there was an unspoken reference to after. His probation would be ending soon, and then…
In the dark, surrounded by muggle London, with only Potter to hear him, Draco felt brave enough to be honest. “I rather like potions. I’m hoping that someday soon I can get an apprenticeship and learn to be a potions master.”
“Yeah? I can see that. You were good at it. Do you think Mr. Nibill will take you on as an apprentice?” Potter asked.
Draco couldn’t hold back jaded laughter. “Never,” he said firmly. Then realized he was being too honest again. He just wasn’t used to talking to anyone anymore and was no longer practiced in knowing when to stop talking. He did still know when he needed to cover up something he said. Quickly he continued, “Mr. Nibill has been so generous already, but it takes a lot of effort to train an apprentice and he wouldn’t have the time or resources. It’s alright, though, on my time off he lets me work on my technique. I’m a deft hand at four or five of the shop staples already.”
“You make potions for the shop as part of your job?” Potter asked.
Draco might have imagined the judgmental tone, but just in case he hurried to explain. “Oh no, I’m not certified to work in potions making. It’s like a pre-apprenticeship, you need a certain amount of practice hours before some of the great potion masters will even consider taking you on as their apprentice. I practice with ingredients that Mr. Nibill won’t miss, and if it’s valuable to the shop he will check the work and if he approves it can be put up for sale. If anything goes wrong it would be his liability, just like an apprenticeship, so he’s very careful checking my work and I’m very careful so I don’t waste anything he relies on to run the shop.”
Potter hummed noncommittally. “It’s good to practice, I suppose,” he said. “Do you have a wizard who’s agreed to take you on as an apprentice when you get the hours in?”
Draco sighed into the night. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But mother had family in France. My great aunt Rosalyn was particularly fond of my mother, and her second cousin went into potion making. When I can, I exchange letters with Aunt Rosalyn and make sure to mention what I’ve been studying. I think, soon, I can ask her if she would make a connection.”
“Would that mean moving to France?” Potter asked.
Draco glanced at Potter, seeing a slight frown. Was Potter really sad to think of Draco leaving? That couldn’t be it. “Maybe,” was all he said.
“Wouldn’t Mr. Nibill mind?”
Draco frowned himself a little. “I don’t see why, surely he could find someone else to run a shop.”
Potter shrugged and let this topic go as well. They settled into a companionable silence as they strolled down the street together. Not long afterwards Potter apparated them both back to the apothecary. It was late and the street was dark and empty. It felt intimate. Maybe Potter felt that way himself. He certainly chose to stand much closer to Malfoy than was expected.
Potter took Malfoy’s hands in his own. “I had a nice time,” he said.
Malfoy hoped the darkness hid his blush. “Me, too.”
“Maybe we can do it again?” Potter suggested. “Are you free this Friday?”
Draco hesitated only a moment before lying, “I get off at seven.”
Potter smiled once more, that big smile that made Draco feel all warm inside. “I can’t wait,” he said. Then he leaned forward further still, and brushed his lips against Draco’s. “Have a good night,” Potter said against Draco’s lips. Then he stepped back and with a wave apparated away.
Draco lifted a hand to his lips, remembering the feel of Potter’s kiss. He felt the remembrance of it on his lips all night. As he drifted towards sleep the memory twisted into something less pleasant, a stubborn fear that whatever was happening between himself and Potter couldn’t possibly be real.
-
Draco woke up early every day but Thursday to open the shop, with doors open by seven in the morning on weekdays so students could visit before their morning classes. Mr. Nibill did not arrive until ten, and Monday through Wednesday Draco might not see him at all as he spent his time in the laboratory brewing. On Monday he was in the store front just after ten to scowl at Draco.
“Where’re the potions?” he demanded.
Draco was taken aback. “Which potions?” he asked.
Mr. Nibill gritted his teeth. “Hair pollination, pepper up, the simple sleep tonic. Your potions, where are they?”
Realization hit Draco. “Oh, I didn’t make anything last night,” he admitted.
If Draco thought Mr. Nibill looked angry before, he was wrong. The potion master was now seething. “You didn’t do your job last night? How am I supposed to run my business if my employee doesn’t do their job?”
It felt like Draco’s stomach was dropping out from under him. He knew better, but wasn’t thinking straight and went ahead and said, “Sir, Sunday is my night off. I’m not allowed to work making potions.”
“Not allowed to work making potions?” Mr. Nibill was practically yelling now. “Is this what I get trusting a Death Eater in my apothecary? Maybe I should let you go and find someone who would be grateful for the opportunity.”
The color drained from Draco’s face. It didn’t matter that Mr. Nibill wasn’t making sense, what mattered is he could not lose this job and Mr. Nibill knew it. “No, no, I’m grateful,” Draco insisted. He was years past caring how pitiful he sounded to his employer. “I was going to make them tonight, after work. They’ll get done.”
Mr. Nibill was still glaring but he recognized when he had won. “See that you do,” he said. Then stalked out of the room.
Draco was up well past midnight brewing. Then up early to clean up the laboratory before Mr. Nibill could see it. He opened the shop ten minutes late but no one noticed. Tuesday night he had extra work tidying the shop that he had put off Monday. Also, it seemed Mr. Nibill made a bigger mess than normal in the potions lab and it took ages for Draco to clean it. On Wednesday night Draco could hardly stay awake during inventory of the shop’s supplies, but he forced himself to meticulously itemize each ingredient and write out the list.
On Thursday morning, Potter did not come to Sereni-Tea. Draco waited as long as he dared, slowly nursing a small coffee and nibbling on his scone. He had to rush back to the shop so as not to be late. When he felt himself worrying he doubled down on his efforts to get ahead on his work. If he tried hard enough, he could make it all work and still enjoy his date with Potter.
-
Potter walked up to the apothecary right as Draco was locking the front door behind him. He had left the place a mess, without restocking potions or counting money in the till. He’d done the best he could with the store closing right at seven, but ultimately was relying on Mr. Nibill’s indifference to not check in until Malfoy had time later that night to put everything to right.
“Long day?” Potter asked in greeting.
Draco smiled over his shoulder at him. “It went by fast,” Draco lied. “How was yours?”
“Just getting started,” Potter said with a grin.
Something like butterflies flittered through Draco’s stomach. “What’s the plan for tonight?” Draco asked.
Potter attempted a sashay towards Draco. “It’s Friday, what do you think of dancing?”
“Dancing?” Draco asked.
Potter stepped in close again, this time wrapping an arm around Draco’s waste. “Yeah, it will be fun.” His cheer was effective and Draco smiled and nodded. Potter tapped his side in warning, then apparated them both away.
This time they went to a nicer bar. Draco thought it must be a wizard establishment, the way they recognized Potter and let them in without checking ID, but when he saw the menu at the bar Potter led him to it was all muggle money. “I didn’t bring muggle money,” he said right off, his mortification not worse than the potential future embarrassment of not being able to pay for what he ordered.
Potter only smiled. “My treat,” he said as if it were obvious. He ordered for both of them at the bar, which had a small food menu and a long list of drinks. Potter handed Draco his drink before steering him towards a side booth the bartender would have food sent to. Potter slid in next to Draco, close. “I’ve been waiting all week to see you again,” Potter said. Draco didn’t know what he’d been expecting but that hadn’t been it. Potter then asked, “Didn’t you miss me?”
Draco found himself nodding before he could help it. “I was sad I didn’t see you yesterday.”
Harry’s gaze was like fire, burning through Draco. “We’ll make up for it, yeah?” he said. He lifted his glass and raised it to Draco, who lifted his in turn. They both drank, Draco hiding a wince at the strong flavor. He hardly ever drank these days, not for years now really. Whatever Potter had ordered was strong. Draco didn’t enjoy it, but every time Potter stared at him with that fiery look Draco would match him drink for drink. They drifted closer to each other, Potter eventually resting a hand on Draco’s thigh, even when the food came, and then refills afterwards. Potter would lean close and ask about Draco’s life, listening intently as if the answers mattered. Draco shared details he never dreamed of telling anyone. He told Potter about the used books he bought off students at the end of terms when he had the money. How he researched which potions he could brew without breaking any prohibitions, he even mentioned probation directly without prompting. He shared how he took inventory every Wednesday and how he was responsible for ordering ingredients, how that’s how he knew what would be left over for his experimentation. He answered question after question about what supplies were kept in the shop, adding in which ingredient might go with which potion that he might try if it ever lined up right. Potter would ask about that, too, his aspirations and worries. He asked about how Mr. Nibill treated him, whether Mr. Nibill ever had friends visit and if he treated him the same. Draco lost count of how many drinks they had. Potter made it so easy to talk to him, Draco didn’t even worry about rambling for a change.
At some points the lights in the bar had dimmed. The crowd was thicker, and it looked more like a club than a dinner restaurant. Potter noticed, too, and with a quirked smile he slid out of the booth, reaching back for Draco. Draco followed and let Potter guide him away, to what he realized was a dance floor just beginning to fill out. Potter pulled Draco close until Draco could feel Potter everywhere. Potter wasn’t a graceful dancer, but he was confident, and he kept Draco close enough that Draco felt hot all over from more than just alcohol. The music began to pound louder and the crowd grew more frenetic. Potter and Draco were jumping together, dancing enthusiastically to unfamiliar muggle music that made Draco feel alive.
Then Potter pulled Draco even closer. He tilted his mouth to Draco’s ear and Draco could feel his breathing, smell the liquor on him. “Let’s go back to yours,” Potter must have shouted to be heard but the words were just for Draco. Draco nodded and then Potter was guiding him away, out of the club, around a corner to a dark alley. Potter pulled Draco back up against his body and this time the kiss wasn’t a chaste brush of lips. Potter surged against Draco, who gasped in surprise, making space for Potter’s tongue to enter and explore. Draco moaned against Potter, surrendering to it. The woosh of apparition was almost nothing compared to how Potter wanting him left him off kilter and unmoored.
Potter kept kissing him when they arrived out front the apothecary. They lingered on the street in each other’s arms until Potter finally released Draco so he could turn and unlock the front door. Both stumbled inside, giggling. Draco flipped the lock closed behind them, trusting the wards to turn on automatically as he led a handsy Potter into the back.
They left the rooms dark as they traveled through them, unstealthy in their drunkenness but doing their best not to raise attention. The upstairs was dim, but Draco didn’t summon a light. Summer was melting into fall, but it wasn’t yet so cool at night to need a warming charm. Not when Draco felt on fire and had Potter’s warm hands caressing him. Draco let Potter pull up his shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside. Potter’s lips found Draco’s neck, licking and biting softly. His hands ran up Draco’s back, then down until they cupped his ass, squeezing. Draco rubbed himself forward, moaning at the feeling of an aroused Potter there to meet him. Potter squeezed harder, rubbing himself against Draco for a moment until they both were riled up enough to need more. Draco continued into the room, pulling Potter along until both hit the side of Draco’s bed. A cot, really, but you couldn’t see in the dark. Potter let Draco pull off his shirt as they both crawled onto the sleeping place.
Feeling Potter’s chest, firm and strong with hard earned muscles, snapped Draco back to reality. He was touching Harry Potter. Savior of the wizarding world. Hero auror. This couldn’t be possible. “Wait,” Draco said, stilling under Potter. Potter stopped in an instant. He lifted from Draco’s shoulder, where he’d been leaving love bites along Draco’s collar bone. Potter’s eyes were blown wide with lust and Draco couldn’t believe the way Potter was staring at him. “Wait, what are we even doing?” Draco asked.
Potter’s eyes narrowed slightly. It made Draco feel uneasy, but then Potter leaned down to brush his lips against Draco’s cheek. “I thought you wanted this,” he said, emphasizing his words with a slow hip thrust, rubbing himself between Draco’s legs, dragging his hard cock against Draco’s. “Do you want me to stop? Say the word and I’ll stop,” Potter whispered into Draco’s ear, his hot breath making Draco tingle.
Draco didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t know what was happening but he didn’t want it to stop. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to speak past his anxiety. “Please don’t stop,” he whispered.
Potter moaned again and then was kissing him on the lips. His tongue plunging into Draco’s mouth the moment Draco opened it to him. Potter’s hips were frantic, rutting against Draco with new intensity. “Can I feel you, please let me feel you,” he said into Draco’s mouth.
“Yes,” Draco moaned.
Then Potter's hands were reaching for Draco’s jeans, the same pair he’d worn before, the only muggle pair he had. He had worn them because Potter liked it, and now Potter was pulling them off of Draco along with the pants underneath, leaving Draco bare in the dark. When Potter was back, he was naked, too. His lips still kissed desperately at Draco.
Then he was nudging Draco, turning him around until he lay on his stomach beneath Potter. Potter kissed his back, his tongue tantalizing the back of his neck, his teeth marking his spine. Potter said something Draco couldn’t understand, and then Draco felt the oddest sensation inside of him. Draco gasped in realization at the same time Potter slid a finger in. The stretch hurt, at first, but Potter was gentle. Draco rested his head on the bed and kept still as Potter worked him open. The cold liquid inside him quickly warmed as Potter thrust his fingers in and out. Then Potter grazed Draco’s prostate and Draco gasped again, thrusting back to meet Potter’s fingers. Potter’s chuckle made Draco’s cock harder still and he couldn’t wait any longer. “Please, please, I’m ready,” he begged.
Potter dragged his fingers against Draco’s prostate again, inciting a moan from Draco. Potter moaned in return. “Yeah,” Potter rasped, shifting behind Draco. He adjusted himself between Draco’s legs and pulled Draco’s hips up higher. Draco arched his back to meet him. Then Potter lined up and thrust in.
Both men moaned at the connection. Draco was seeing stars. Potter stretched him so far it hurt but the drag of his cock inside Draco’s body was exquisite. When Potter began to move Draco met him eagerly. Draco couldn’t help himself as he whimpered and moaned and begged for more. Potter gave it to him, he didn’t let up. His hands were tight on Draco’s hips as he pounded over and over and over again into Draco’s body. Draco didn’t know how long it lasted, Potter’s steady rhythm, until the thrusts almost stuttered. Potter groaned then leaned forward to reach around Draco. He grabbed Draco’s own member and began to stroke, frantic movements off kilter with Potter’s own frantic thrusts. It hardly took anything for Draco to be pulled over the edge and he cried out when the orgasm hit him, spurting onto the old sheets beneath him. Potter groaned again and then Draco felt him twitching, felt his own release deep inside Draco’s body. Potter slumped forward, his weight on top of Draco for a moment before he eased sideways, his spent cock slipping out of Draco’s body.
Draco stared wide-eyed into the darkness, his mind buzzing, unable to process what had just happened. Potter’s hand still rested on Draco’s side, with Potter lazily running it up and down Draco’s ribs.
“Damn Draco, your body is amazing,” Harry said huskily. Draco shivered as he embraced the words. Potter had liked it. They had had sex and Potter had liked it.
“It was amazing,” Draco said softly.
Potter leaned forward to nuzzle against the back of Draco’s neck, leaving small kisses along his skin. His arm slid from Draco’s ribs to embrace him, pulling Draco’s body flush again with Harry’s.
They were so close to each other, Draco felt warm and cared for. His mind buzzed louder, unable to make sense of it. Unable to tie everything he knew about Harry Potter with this man who had come into his life out of no where and treated him so gently, who had desired him. Despite the warmth Draco began to shiver. He struggled to breath, but fought against the panic.
Potter, thankfully, couldn’t tell at all. “Are you cold?” He asked as he held Draco. Without waiting for an answer he mumbled “Accio wand,” and then when it came to him he cast a mild warming spell on the room, surrounding Draco further in comfort. He nuzzled against Draco again and once again ran his hand up and down Draco’s body. “I wish I could stay,” he murmured against Draco’s skin.
Draco, still staring wide eyed at nothing as he fought off a panic attack, said nothing. They lay in silence a while longer.
“I have work in the morning,” Potter explained.
Draco forced himself to take a deep breath. His words were almost steady when he said, “Of course, I understand.”
Potter kissed his shoulder again. “Please don’t get up, I’d rather you stay here where it’s warm.”
“Okay,” Draco said, not knowing what else could be said.
Potter began to push to his feet. “You left it dark on the way in, I can do that again on the way out. Might stumble into the wrong place at first, but I’ll find my way out. Is that alright?” He asked.
Draco nodded, realized Potter couldn’t see, then spoke. “Okay, that’s alright.”
Potter paused in dressing himself for a moment. He bent down to Draco and brushed a hand through his hair. Draco finally closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I won’t make a mess, nothing that will get you in trouble,” Potter said.
The words were jarring next to the intimate gesture. Draco only said, “of course, that’s okay.”
“Any trick to locking the door behind me?” Potter asked.
“No, there’s a lower switch you can turn before you leave and the wards will set themselves.”
“Sounds great. Have a good night, Draco.” Then Potter left and Draco was alone. How long had it been since they finished? A few minutes? 10? 15?
Everything was silent when Potter left. Yet the buzzing was nearly overwhelming now. In place of Potter’s touch, it felt like bugs were crawling over Draco’s skin. He couldn’t get enough air. Draco rolled over and buried his face into a pillow. He didn’t know from experience, but this couldn’t be how sex was supposed to end. Not with Potter walking out like he’d gotten everything he’d wanted from Draco and there was nothing else worth staying for.