The Fourteen Days of February
Harry/Draco | PG | 6915 words | Future Fic - EWE | 23 February, 2008
Betas: none, all mistakes are my own!
Summary: Draco makes a 14-day plan to woo Harry's heart...and other organs.
Notes:
This was written for the LJ community harrylovesdraco's monthly challenge #2. The original came be seen here. This version has been better looked over, and has some snazzy images too!
***
On the thirty-first day of January, Draco Malfoy had finally finished finalizing
his plans. The next day, Operation: GPN would begin.
***
1st February
“Potter.”
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Potter looked despairingly at me from
over the rim of his unsightly spectacles.
“I’m going for an afternoon cuppa. Want to accompany me?”
Potter set down the quill he was writing with and proceeded to take in the
lovely sight of myself lounging against his office doorframe. I suppose he
was actually looking to see if someone had put some sort of hex on me, but
I like to think he was admiring my body. My sources indicated my gender wasn’t
a problem.
Finally he said, “I guess if you were gonna kill me, you would’ve
found a way by now.” He rubbed his eyes vigorously under his glasses,
then ran a hand through his unruly hair as he stood. “Let’s go
then.” As if he had a choice, I thought deviously. He was gonna
come whether he liked it or not. My plans had contingency plans, after all.
Shedding our robes for the walk into Muggle-Land, we left the office and walked
in silence to the little coffee and tea shop a half-block down. I opened the
door and said, “After you,” to which Potter gave a curious look
over his shoulder as he passed.
Smiling at his back with a thousand secrets, I followed him inside. We stood
just inside the door for a moment, waiting in queue to place our order.
“What would you like? I’ll pay,” I told him.
Throwing another one of those curious looks at me he replied, “Mocha.
Extra chocolate.”
I smirked. “Want some whipped cream with that sweet-tooth, Potter?”
“I know I don’t have to explain myself to you, Malfoy,” he
said with a glare.
“Go sit down, I’ll bring it over.”
I stood in line. I ordered, got myself the same, without the extra chocolate,
and brought the large mugs to the little table where Potter sat, looking out
the window at the passers by. It wasn’t raining, but it was a rather
overcast day. A perfect day for a cuppa.
I had whispered a charm over the cups on my way across the café, and
while I sipped mine, I watched as Potter took his own and looked down at it.
“Huh,” was the noise that came out of his mouth.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The foam. They put hearts in it.”
“It is February, Potter. St. Valentine’s, remember?”
He dropped his gaze. “Oh, yeah.”
“So, no one special in your life?”
He looked up as he took a sip. “I’m not talking about my love
life with you, Malfoy.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“How about you take that as ‘it’s none of your business’?”
I made a little ‘hmm’ noise, and sipped my mocha again before
setting it down. Potter looked over, and at seeing that my foam was still in
a perfect heart, as well as his own, looked at me with a calculating expression
on his face. I merely returned a knowing look, and we finished our heart-adorned,
chocolate-laced espresso in silence.
***
2nd February
“Mr. Potter? This just came for you.”
I watched through Potter’s open door as the wanna-be Auror handed him
the stationary envelope and left. I’m not sure why I used him rather
than an owl or inter-office memo, but I found it…amusing to use such
simple “Muggle” means to deliver a message from across the office.
“Thanks,” Potter said, indicating to have him put it on the desk,
and I watched the little messenger boy scamper off, carefully avoiding my gaze.
Keeping half an eye on Potter, I scribbled on my notes while Potter looked
curiously at the envelope on his desk. He picked up his wand and waved it over
a few times. Obviously satisfied it wasn’t spelled in any way, he picked
it up and opened it.
I watched as his eyes roved over the shiny gold ink I’d used. Quickly,
I concentrated my gaze on my papers, as I knew his eyes were rising up to lock
on the top of my head as I bent over my work.
My missive had read:
I continued to write my notes on the case I was working on; and then realised
that my margins were riddled with squiggles and lines and, oh Merlin, little hearts,
which meant I’d have to re-do it all anyway. As I reached into my desk
drawer to get a fresh piece of parchment, something landed on my destroyed
notes.
It was a paper airplane. Made of the same stationary I used for Potter’s
note.
Reaching out, I darted a quick glance at Potter, who was watching me steadily.
To be honest, I was a little freaked out by the solid, concentrated look on
his face.
I unfolded the paper, and below my neat and shiny gold calligraphy, Potter’s
scrawl of black was this:
Raising an eyebrow, I took up my black-ink quill and wrote back:
Folding it back up, I took my best aim and even with a little flick of my
wand, I sent the paper airplane back across the office and through Potter’s
open door to his desk. His reply was:
I smirked. Clearly Potter didn’t know me as well as he thought he did.
I was fully prepared to blind-side him and deal with the (hopefully) delightful
consequences.
***
3rd February
He wouldn’t look up from his seemingly endless paperwork.
“Come to ask for another excursion for coffee?” he asked.
“Actually, no,” I replied, “I’m coming to ask you
if you’ll join me for lunch.”
He finally looked up with a frown. “What is this? A Harry Potter Intervention?
What the hell is going on, Malfoy? Why the sudden interest in me?”
“You’ll have to come to lunch to find out,” I quipped. “Pescara’s.
Noon,” I threw over my shoulder before heading back to my desk.
See, the problem with Gryffindors, 11-years past or no, is that they’re
curious. Like cats are curious. I knew that he would come, and I’m sure
that even he realised that I knew that he would come. But he came anyway. Because
he can’t help himself. Yet I know he won’t give in to his instincts
that easily. I’m sure he’ll think of a way to get information out
of me before I’m willing to tell it to him. Unfortunately for me, none
of those ways are pleasant.
I arrived intentionally early. Pescara’s is a small Italian place two
blocks down the main thoroughfare. I don’t know when it happened, but
I started to like the Muggle places better than the Wizard ones. I have no
notoriety here, so I’m sure that helps. I also thought it might put Potter
at better ease.
Looking up into his face as he entered the establishment stiffly, quickly
making his way over to where I sat, I apparently thought wrong.
He didn’t sit down, but narrowed his eyes at me, obviously wanting to
use his stature to cow me. Thankfully, I’m not so easily cowed.
“Potter, sit down.”
“Tell me why I’m here so I can leave.”
I hailed a waiter. “Waitress? Could you please bring us a merlot; the
finest year you have.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, sir.” She stole a quick glance at Potter,
who never looked away from me. I was determined to ignore his pissy attitude,
however, because I knew, eventually, he would calm down and be more susceptible
to my charms.
When the waiter came back and Potter and I were still having a staring contest,
she stood there awkwardly and asked, “Will I be pouring for two?”
“Yes,” I said with force, just before Potter opened his mouth
to surely reply in the negative.
The waitress, Janine, poured quickly, left the bottle, and mumbled something
about coming back for our order. I already knew what I was having, but I was
rather concentrating on the way Potter was continuing to glare at me.
“Potter,” I said lowly, “You’re making a bit of a
spectacle of yourself, so sit down.”
His left bicep twitched, so I broke eye contact for a brief moment and said, “I’m
not going to bite you, or poison you, or harm you in any way. I just want to
talk.”
“About what?” It came out as a forced bark.
I sighed. “Just sit down. Please.”
I sensed he was startled by my request, but he was far from relaxed, and so
he sat down, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.
I took a sip of my wine, mulling over the taste. “I don’t know
why you’re so wary of me, Potter. I’m only trying to be friendly.”
“Malfoy, we’ve been working together for how long now? Around
each other every day, and you’ve never been ‘friendly’.”
“But I haven’t been an arse, either. In fact, you’re the
one that always seems disgruntled at me.”
“Maybe it’s because I dread having to see your ugly face everyday
at work.”
I smirked. “Or maybe it’s because you are in desperate need to
get laid.”
Potter glared more, if that were possible. “What part about ‘it’s
none of your business’ mean you get to ask me about my personal life?”
I shrugged. “None, I suppose. And yet, I’m still curious. You’d
better look at the menu. Here comes Janine.”
“Who’s Janine?” he asked as he reached forward and took
his menu.
“Do you…know what you’ll be having?” Janine asked,
darting looks between the two of us, though I could tell she seemed somewhat
relieved that at least Potter was now sitting down.
“I’ll have the fettuccini alfredo with chicken and broccoli.” Janine
nodded and looked to Potter.
He glanced up. “Erm…just a sec.” Scanning the menu quickly,
he said, “Do you just have spaghetti?”
I hid my snicker behind my menu, and Janine smiled. “Yes. Would you
like that red or white?”
“It comes in two different colours?”
It was getting harder to hide my snickering, and Janine replied. “How
about we just go old fashioned, with tomato sauce and meatballs? Sound okay?”
“Sounds perfectly normal,” Potter said as he handed her his menu.
I handed her my own, and Potter caught look at my expression. “What?
What’s so funny?”
“You, Potter. You’re…amusing.”
He frowned. “I don’t know if I like being ‘amusing’ to
you, Malfoy.”
“Well, you are, so deal with it.”
Potter sat forward and took his wine, taking a gulp, which I also found amusing. “What?” he
asked.
“Feel the need to get drunk for the rest of the afternoon?”
He wrinkled his nose. “No, I just have a feeling I’m going to
need a bit of alcohol in me before you tell me whatever it is you need to tell
me.”
I tilted my head. “You may be right.”
“Oh, god,” he said, and took another gulp. I reached forward and
refilled his glass.
“Feel any more calm?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Shall I wait until after you’ve eaten?”
“Will I lose my appetite?”
“I don’t think so, but you might beat the crap outta me.”
He perked up. “Really? Well, come out with it then. I have no problem
with punching your face in.”
I rolled my eyes. I thought I might be insane, doing what I was doing. I took
a deep breath and my own gulp of wine. Liquid courage was apparently needed.
Looking up into his expectant face, I said, “Potter, there’s really
no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it and hope you don’t
kill me.” A pause for dramatic effect… “I like you.”
Potter blinked owlishly from behind his glasses. “You…like me.” It
was more statement than question.
“Yes.”
“So…what? You wanna be friends, or something?”
“Er…yeah, that might be a start…”
“Wait, why would I beat you up because you...wanted…to…be…ohmygod.” He
sat up straighter as he caught on.
I sat there, my breath held, totally freaking out, and hoping to Merlin that
it didn’t show. Potter sat there too, his jaw slightly slack, and his
eyes getting wider and wider as his mind tried to wrap around his brain’s
many revelations.
I finally felt the need to breathe before my face turned purple. “Look,
Potter-” but he held up a hand.
“Shush. No. Just…be quiet for a minute.” I promptly shut
up.
His eyes moved around the table rapidly, bewildered. He swallowed, and took
a shallow breath. “So…you…like guys.”
I wasn’t sure if he expected an answer, so I tried not to be sarcastic.
I shrugged. “I suppose I do.”
“And me? Why me? We hate each other. Don’t we?”
Again I shrugged. “All I can say is…well, there’s never
been a thing about you, Potter, that hasn’t gotten under my skin. In
some way or another.”
“Oh my god…you’re serious.” He still hadn’t
looked at me, but I nodded anyway.
During the next moment of silence, Janine came by with a basket of warm bread.
The awkwardness permeated the air, and she quickly went to leave. I sent her
a hesitant smile. I’m sure she was gossiping with her co-workers about
what the hell was going on between Potter and me.
“I’ll go, if you want, Potter.”
He finally looked up, his eyes in complete disbelief. “Why do you do
that?”
“Do what?”
“Confess you feelings for me, but call me ‘Potter’?”
“Some habits die hard, I guess.”
He sat back and rested his hands in his lap. His face was cast in shadows
and hidden by his shaggy hair. Then, his shoulders started quivering, and I
raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t be crying, could he? No, surely not.
Thankfully, depending on how you look at it, I was right. He was laughing.
He put a hand to his mouth to hold it in, and eventually raised his head and
looked at my puzzled expression, which only made him laugh harder, and a bark
of laughter finally came through.
“Okay, Potter, I give up, what’s so damn funny?”
Letting loose his laughter, he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “Jesus,
Malfoy. You…wow.”
“What?” I asked, now getting a little annoyed.
Potter just shook his head. “You’ve been setting this up, haven’t
you? The whole ‘hearts in the foam’, and passing the gold notes,
even this lunch! God, maybe you’re more oblivious than I am.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“Do you want to know why I’ve been being such an arse, lately?” Without
a response he went on. “I’ve been playing hard to get. I figured
that if I were more resistant, you might try harder. Because I do know
you, Malfoy, and I knew you wouldn’t let my being an ass deter you.”
“Wait, now, so are you saying you like me too?” What the hell?
None of my contingency plans counted on this. And my contingency plans even
had contingency plans.
Potter shrugged. “I just had a feeling you liked me. I wanted to see
how far you’d actually go with it.”
“Well, like you said, Potter, you know me, so I obviously was prepared
to go all the way.” Was that a note of bitterness in my voice? No, of
course not. Pfft.
Janine brought our food by at this time, and Potter smiled at her, then immediately
starting inhaling his spaghetti. I just looked at my fettuccini in dismay.
While chewing around a mouthful, Potter asked, “So do you want to go
out on a date or somethin’?”
I had just picked up my fork, but that stopped me. “Excuse me?”
He swallowed and looked up at me. “A date. Tomorrow. Let’s go.”
“Go…where?” Merlin, I sounded like a moron.
Potter shrugged. “I dunno. A film or something.”
I set down my fork. “I’m sorry, Potter, but this is just a bit
to handle here. Not only do I find out that you knew what I was on about
from the beginning, but now you’re asking me out on a date?”
“Well, now that it actually is your business, I’m not seeing
anyone, I swing both ways, and you’re not too bad off in the looks department,
so why not? It might be interesting.”
I had to find a way to get back my footing. “Okay,” I agreed. “A
date. Tomorrow. But I get to choose the place.”
He nodded. “Alright. Control freak,” he muttered into his pasta.
I picked up a slice of bread and threw it at his head.
***
4th February
Work was…awkward? Strange? Surreal? I couldn’t think of one word
to describe the atmosphere in the air once we left Pescara’s and returned
to the office. And today…well…today, I had decided I was a little
pissed off that Potter had made me before I even started, but I hadn’t
figured out what to do about it yet.
One thing was certain though; Operation: GPN would continue to go on. I had
spent most of the evening revising my plans (and their numerous contingencies)
to fit in with the new situation. In fact, my plans were so fluid that they
were nearly non-existent. I wonder if Potter really realised he just made my
job easier…or maybe he knew and was going to continue to be a pillock
and make things harder for me. Well, thank Merlin for my wit, quick-thinking
and perseverance.
Potter continued to work like any other day, while I spent the bulk of it
staring at him and wondering when I missed the world turning upside down. I
was going out on a date! With Potter! To say my brain was running around like
an excited child was an understatement.
Right before we left for the day, Potter caught me looking at him (though
I’m pretty sure he had just been ignoring it before) and smirked. Smirking
looked odd on his face, I decided, and I left the office. He met me in the
lifts, and we stood side by side, our robes brushing at the sleeves, and pretended
not to be highly aware of the other’s presence. I think even the other
lift patrons were starting to catch on to the tension.
Once the lift made it to the atrium, and everyone departed, we turned to each
other, letting the whirlwind of the end of the week pass around us.
“Decided on a place, yet?” Potter asked.
“Yes. A film at Uptown. I’ll meet you there at 6:45. The movie
starts at 7pm. Don’t be late,” I nodded curtly before turning and
walking to an apparition point and heading back to my flat.
The film I had picked out was an Indie affair; something with mystery and
intrigue; something I thought Potter would at least enjoy for a few hours.
Though I spent most of the time deciding if I should make the “hand-holding” move
on Potter, ignoring the popcorn, and wondering if my first-date plan was as
lame as it seemed to be, the movie was brilliant. Potter seemed to think so
too, and I thanked Merlin I wasn’t stupid enough to try and hold his
hand, as he was smiling when we left the theatre.
“Nice choice, Malfoy.”
“What? You think I’d take you to some chick flick?”
Potter laughed and shook his head. “No, I suppose not. Where to now?
Or is this the end?”
I gestured to a coffee shop on the next corner, and suggested, “Why
don’t we get another cuppa, and walk through the park?”
“Sounds good, as long as there aren’t any more hearts floating
in my coffee.”
I laughed. “No, that was…just an attempt to see if you’d
notice.”
“I did.”
“Then I guess it worked.”
We got our coffee and crossed the street to the park. It was a chilly night,
and the park was rather quiet, but the glowing lamps provided something like
romance, rather than “there’s a killer waiting in the dark”.
Most of the walk was silent, until Potter said, “I wouldn’t have
picked you for a dinner-and-a-movie for the first date type.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “I expected some fancy restaurant with over-priced
food. And a limo,” he added as an afterthought.
I shrugged and took a sip of my latté. “Too much work.
Besides, I know you’d probably feel out of place at a restaurant like
that.”
I saw him smile out of the corner of my eye. “Speaking of food…that
popcorn wasn’t enough. There’s a food stand at the end of this
path; do you want to get something?”
“Sure.”
The vendor was selling hotdogs and pretzels, so I bought us two pretzels and
we went to sit on a park bench down the next path.
Eating in silence was alright, but I kept feeling more and more on edge. I
wondered if Potter was jerking my chain, and my confidence kept wavering. Plus,
I was still upset that he had been playing me as well. Then again, I was on
a date with him, and that’s what I had wanted, wasn’t it?
“Feeling awkward, yet?” Potter asked suddenly, finishing off his
pretzel.
“What? No.”
“For all your machinations, you sure can’t lie well, Malfoy.”
“Look at you, breaking out the big words,” I quipped. It was a
defence mechanism, I know that.
Potter turned fully to me on the bench. “You obviously had some plan
as to how this whole thing would go. You would try and woo me without me realising
it, because you wouldn’t want to scare me, and I would be oblivious until
the last minute.”
I frowned. “No…I obviously had plans to tell you what I was feeling
from the early.”
“But you still expected me to be oblivious, and that you’d have
to work to get me to come around.”
I shrugged. “You are oblivious, Potter,” I said into my
paper cup.
“How do you expect this night to end?” he asked.
I chewed thoughtfully on my pretzel for a moment. “I don’t expect
it to end any particular way, I suppose.”
“You don’t want to kiss me?”
“Maybe I do. But that’s not really tonight’s objective,
is it?”
“Then what is tonight’s objective, Malfoy?”
I turned to him. “To see if we should bother going further.”
“Do you think we should?”
“I honestly think that decision lies on you this time around, Potter.”
Potter finished off his mocha and tossed the cup in the nearby bin. “Maybe
if you can stop being so awkward around me, it will.” With that, he stood,
and started to walk away.
I jumped up and caught up to him, throwing my half-finished pretzel and latté in
the bin. “Oi, Potter, you can’t just walk away like that!” I
grabbed his arm to keep him walking any further. “You want to know why
I’m so bloody ‘awkward’? It’s because you blind-sided
me yesterday, and I’m pissed off. Yes, I’m pissed at you, Potter.
Maybe I wanted to ‘woo’ you, okay? Maybe I wanted to slowly make
you come around to the idea that you and I might be good together. I’m
pissed at you because you ignore me like I’m nothing, and seem to only
get joy from jerking me around. I’m pissed because I want like crazy
to kiss you, and now I believe that won’t ever happen.” Okay, that
last part I hadn’t really meant to say out loud, but I’d pretty
much played the whole night by the seat of my pants, despite my revised plans.
And now Potter was just staring at me. One of his eyebrows was raised, like
he hadn’t expected me to say something so…revealing. I was dying
of embarrassment inside. What the hell had come over me? What happened to my
control?
“You don’t like not being in control, do you?” Potter asked
finally and quietly. The air seemed to still and there was no noise but our
breathing.
“No, not really,” I managed to say. It felt like he was reading
my mind.
“It’s driving you crazy that I won’t just fall in line with
your plans, isn’t it?” I didn’t need to answer. I didn’t
even nod. He went on. “Maybe letting go is what the objective here tonight
was, Draco. Perhaps it’s okay to be a little awkward, until we figure
out ‘us’.” He leaned forward, and I could see our breath
mingling together. “And never say never.”
He didn’t kiss me then, but as I watched him walk away, I had a feeling
he would.
***
5th February
When I got to work the next morning, there was a perfectly hot latté sitting
on my desk with a note, penned in red ink.
Draco –
What do you say to tomorrow’s objective being that we let go and
just have a good time?
Meet me at the park we went to last night at the bench we sat on at noon.
Harry
Tomorrow was Saturday, and while I hadn’t quite had anything planned
for non-work days, I figured this would be a perfect opportunity to continue
to whittle my way into Potter’s life.
***
6th February
The next day was sunny and clear, if a bit chilly, so I bundled up and set
off to the park. I found Potter not on the bench we were at the night before
last, but on the grass behind the bench, lounging on a blanket. There was a
small plate of snacks and a few cokes.
I jogged up to him and leaned over his head. He was wearing sunglasses, but
I’m pretty sure his eyes were closed, as he made no move to acknowledge
my presence, until he said,
“Malfoy, you’re blocking my light.”
“Are you expecting to get a tan, you pasty Englishman? It’s February,
and you’re covered in clothing,” I said as I sat down next to him.
As he sat up he replied, “Who’s calling who ‘pasty’ now?
Have you looked in a mirror recently?” He took off his sunglasses and
smiled at me.
“You look weird without your glasses on.”
He fished in his pocked and switched out his sunglasses for his normal ones. “Bad
weird or good weird?”
“Both.” I took a cucumber sandwich and munched on it. “So
what are we doing here today?”
“Eating. Talking. Cloud Watching. Whatever we want. We can sit here
in silence the whole time if that’s what we want to do.”
“Okay. This is us ‘letting go’?”
“Yes. No judgements, no pretences, no worry about how we look.”
I shrugged. “Alright, then.” I finished my sandwich and lied
back, pillowing my head on my arms. I saw Potter lay back down out of the corner
of my eye, and we looked up at the sky. There were plenty of clouds, mostly
wispy thin ones, but a few large puffy ones too. And far off in the distance,
beyond the nearby buildings, there were darker clouds in the distance. It’d
probably rain tomorrow.
Potter raised his hand and pointed to a cloud to the south. “What does
that look like to you?”
“A cloud, Potter.”
“No, I mean, do you see anything in it?”
“Not really.”
“Let go, Malfoy. Use your imagination. You have one, don’t you?”
“Of course, Potter. Did you pay any attention to all the horrible things
I did to you in school?”
“I try to forget it, as should you. I see a hippogriff.”
“It looks more like a horse.”
“What about that one?”
“A fish.”
“Really? It looks like a whale to me.”
“Well, now it looks like a dolphin. The wind moved it around.”
“And what about that one?” And he pointed to a bit of fluffy clouds
right above us.
It looked like a heart. Not a filled-in one, either. No, it was a perfect
heart, and it was the outline of one.
“You cheated,” I said, looking over at him.
He smiled with no remorse, and took a hand out from under his head and held
it out. Looking down at it for a brief moment, I took my own hand and placed
it in his, interlacing our fingers. Smiling, I looked back up to the clouds.
***
7th February
“There’s exactly a week until Valentine’s Day. Do you want
to do anything?”
Potter and I were having dinner at a pizzeria near his flat. Apparently, it
was the best pizza in London, and Potter was a pizza-freak.
He tilted his head at my question. “Isn’t Valentine’s Day
for couples and people who feel the need to act like they can only express
their love only one day out of the year?”
“Whoa…bitter about this holiday, Potter?”
He shrugged. “There’s been a few bad memories…”
“What about living in the moment? Letting go? Making better memories?”
“I take it you have something planned?”
“No, not really.” Liar. “But if you don’t want to,
we don’t have to do anything.”
“Well, are we a couple, then? I mean…if you want to label us…”
“You mean, do you think we’ll last another week?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Something like that.” Damn, he was bloody
hot when he got shy.
“Well, I think we will. A week is nothing.”
“Do you want to plan something, Draco?”
“What, you mean, you’re going to let me have control over something?”
Harry laughed. “Only if you want to.”
“Then I’m planning something. Be prepared,” I warned, smiling
devilishly.
***
8th February
Monday mornings sucked. In fact, work sucked, besides the fact that I got
to see Harry every day. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to pounce on
him and pull him into the broom cupboard like I wanted to. In fact, my besotted
staring from across the office was starting to catch the attention of my co-workers,
and I’m pretty sure our boss was wondering why my finished work suddenly
decreased in its frequency.
I had no answer for him when he asked me into his office. I could only tell
him I was distracted. He told me to un-distract myself and get back to work.
If only he knew.
Harry was smirking at me when I left the boss’s office, and I knew he
knew exactly why I had been in there. If only I could distract him as
well as he distracted me.
***
9th February
Tuesdays also sucked. This was because Harry wasn’t in the office. He’d
been sent away on a case for the day, and so I was left to stare longingly
at his closed door and wish he were here to leave me coffee on my desk first
thing in the morning, and give me knowing looks when he caught me not doing
my work, or to tease me at lunch when we went out and no one was watching.
He came back, though, looking haggard and dirty. Of course, my immediate thought
was that he should go take a bath or shower, and then that just led to thoughts
best left behind the closed doors of my bedroom.
That night, I went over to his flat and insisted that I make him supper, and
he relax. He ate my food like he hadn’t eaten all day (which I’m
sure he hadn’t), and then collapsed on the couch.
I sat down on the edge, next to his stomach, and ran my hands through his
hair. He hummed in pleasure, and I watched as he started to fall asleep. Not
sure what to do, other than cover him with a blanket and leave, I started to
stand. His hand caught mine and tugged, though, so I sat back down.
“What is it?” I said quietly.
He opened his eyes and looked up at me. “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. Are you okay?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then he sat up pulled my face
to his, kissing my mouth. It was slow and sure. Languid, almost, and I savoured
every last second, every last sensation, before he finally pulled away. “No,
make that great, actually,” he amended, smiling.
I kissed him again and smiled like a fool. “I should go. And you should
go to bed.”
“I should. Thank you again.” He struggled to stand, so I helped
him.
“I’ll let myself out,” I said as he shuffled off to the
bedroom.
“Goodnight, Draco.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
***
10th February
To be honest, I thought after our first kiss we wouldn’t be able to
keep our hands off each other. I kept imagining us in darkened hallways, in
cupboards grabbing handfuls of each other, stealing kisses behind his closed
office door. But no such things happened.
I found myself wondering if it were all a dream, but I still received my morning
cup of coffee, with a little note thanking me again, and saying that he wanted
to treat me to lunch. We met at Pescara’s, and he held my hand while
we waited for service, and held it again as we went back to the office.
The rest of the day was a blur for me, until I got home and found Harry sitting
on the stairs outside my building. I immediately took him upstairs and into
my flat, where I shoved him against the door and snogged him within an inch
of his life. We parted, breathless, tousled and red-lipped.
“Been wanting to do that for a while, have you?” Harry said.
“Shut up, you. Like you haven’t been teasing me.”
“Have I? How?” he asked, oh-so-innocently.
“By being you.” And then I kissed him again, and we moved hastily
to the couch, where we threw off robes and Harry put himself in my lap, and
I couldn’t contain my excitement, and I knew Harry could feel it too.
Everything was perfect, for a moment, before I got a floo-call that crashed
my entire world, and sent Harry tumbling to the floor in an undignified heap.
My boss wanted me for an immediate field-case, which I wasn’t used to
doing; I was mainly a researcher and developer. I strategised. I didn’t
put my life at risk like Harry did.
“Is that Potter?” our boss asked, and Harry sat up, getting pulled
onto the case as well. Wonderful.
***
11th February
I was tired. Very tired. And mostly dead. Well, okay, that last part was probably
a serious over-exaggeration, but it sure felt like I should be dead. I hadn’t
slept in nearly thirty-six hours, and hadn’t eaten much either. The case swept us up, and we were constantly moving. I couldn’t even remember
what our objective was anymore.
But Harry was along side me the whole time. Probably saved my arse a few times
too. He would give my hand a brief squeeze before we went in charging; only
to fight with such ferocity, I was suddenly scared of him. I’d like to
think I could defend his life with the same ferocity; that I could fight and
save lives without a thought, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t done work
like this in years, and Harry was doing this at least once a week. But he was
mine, and I think I could die to protect that; to keep him safe.
The end of the matter was that Harry and I managed to catch the bad guys,
with the serious help of several other field agents, and now we were on our
way home.
It was an unspoken agreement that we went back to his place; it was closer,
and since we were too tired to Apparate without splinching ourselves, we could
walk. He practically dragged me up the stairs, and we kicked off our shoes
and shrugged off our robes with the effort of someone who felt excruciating
pain whenever they moved.
I went to crash on the couch, but Harry caught my hand and pulled me to his
bed. Then we wrapped around each other, fully clothed, and passed out for several
hours.
***
12th February
We woke up around five in the evening. Harry’s head was on my shoulder,
and our limbs were in an interesting tangle. We also stank. I moved my shoulder
up to move Harry’s head.
“Harry. Hey, Harry, wake up.” He mumbled into my shoulder and
squeezed my torso. “Harry,” I said again, this time, louder. “We
stink. Let’s go take a shower.”
Did I have an ulterior motive there? Of course I did.
“You can go,” he murmured. “Towels in the hall closet. I
need more sleep.”
I pouted. “Okay, but you’re gonna have to let go of me.”
He squeezed me tighter. “But you’re comfortable.”
“So is your bed.”
Harry pouted in his sleep. “Okay, fine. Kiss me first.”
I kissed him and left to take a shower. He was still asleep when I returned,
wearing only a towel, as my clothes were absolutely horrid.
“Harry, wake up. I need to borrow some clothes.” I shook him until
he blearily opened his eyes.
He lifted his head, his glasses up in his hair and fabric creases on his cheek. “Over
there.” And he pointed to his closet.
Realising my boyfriend (is that what he was?) was impossible, I shuffled through
his closet until I found a decent pair of trousers and a t-shirt. Harry still
refused to get up, so I left him to make breakfast. Or dinner. Whatever.
Harry padded out of the bedroom to the smell of coffee and toast and eggs
and bacon, and ate his plate and a second helping without a word before going
into the bathroom for an hour. I sat around his flat, looking at the books
piled around, and the strange Muggle electronics, and just took in the smell
that was Harry infused into my borrowed shirt. He smelled like musk, and woods,
and wind and something so “Harry,” I was tempted to bottle it
and call it Eau de Harry and wear it all the time.
When Harry eventually came back to me, he was in something comfortable and
collapsed on my lap.
“Have you called the boss yet?” he asked.
“No, was I supposed to?”
“Well, I imagine the fact that we haven’t heard from him indicates
that he knows what happened last night, and that he’ll expect our report
sometime tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. What do you want to do today?”
“Look up at your pretty face,” Harry said coquettishly.
I smacked him on the stomach, and he scrunched up and laughed. “What?” he
asked.
“Don’t be a smart ass.”
“Well, what do you want to do today?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m happy where I am right now.”
Harry closed his eyes with a smile. “Then let’s not move just
yet.”
***
13th February
Harry and I spent the majority of the day at our desks, filing paperwork and
writing our reports on the incident the day and night before. It wasn’t fun,
let me tell you. And I’m a regular at sitting at the desk all day long.
During lunch, Harry asked, “So, what do you have planned for Valentine’s
Day? What do I need to be prepared for?”
I looked at him blankly. I had actually sort of forgotten the holiday was
upon us, and what had happened to my plans? Was Operation: GPN a bust? No,
no, it couldn’t be. I could accomplish my mission. I had to.
“It’s a surprise,” I said quickly.
“A good surprise, I hope,” he replied.
Oh, Merlin, I hoped so too.
***
14th February
Seeing as we spent all day Saturday at work, I was happy to have a day off
for the all-important holiday that is St. Valentines. I spent all morning picking
out the perfect confectionaries from my favourite shop, and spent the rest
of the day creating the perfect card, the perfect setting, and creating the
perfect food. Harry was coming over for dinner.
He arrived right on time, and I opened my door to a smartly dressed, damn sexy
Potter. I had a sudden urge to strip him down right there on my doorstep, but
thought the neighbours might disapprove.
We sat down to a delicious meal of shrimp scampi and wine, lit by only candles
and the reflections on the crystal. We shared saucy kisses, and held hands,
and it was romantic and perfect. And oh-so-sappy, but I figured for our first
Valentines, traditional was a safe way to go.
“So, what’s the surprise?” Harry asked, just as I brought
over the chocolate truffles and the items to make chocolate fondue.
Sitting down next to him I said, “Well, to be honest, there isn’t
one. This is about it.” I smirked. I might have had something planned
at some point, but with the days going by so quickly…and we’ve
only been dating for a week or so…” I picked up the card I had
placed on the table. “Here. I think you might appreciate this. I thought
of it…at the beginning.”
Harry gave me a knowing look, and took the card. It was plain on the outside;
only a red heart adorned the front. Opening it, Harry found an outline of the
same heart and a rather witty message:
Harry looked up from the card, with his mouth slightly open, and his pupils
dilated. “How do you feel about food in bed?” he asked.
I stared at him for a second before grabbing the truffles and his hand and
dragging him into my bedroom.
Needless to say, Operation: Get Potter Naked was completed successfully. Several times.
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