Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Dubious Affection	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8450 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any charactors from the books and I am not making any money off of this

Chapter List
- 2
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- 4
Friday came with the speed of a train...well actually waking up on Friday felt like getting hit by a train whereas the days leading up to it seemed to drag on and on and on, lasting so horrifically long that it felt like the end of the week would surely never come.

But come it had and Draco suddenly couldn't remember why he had been so anxious for it. The perfectly pitched sound of his alarm clock had rung softly throughout his bedroom - neither too loud nor too quiet, just shrill enough to cut through the fog of sleep - and had pulled him from dreamland, which had been oddly filled once more with Potter in all sorts of unnerving situations.

He had showered, trying to ignore his morning erection before giving up, as he typically ended up doing, and pulling himself off with the water pounding into his back and the last remnants of his dream filtering through his mind. He was sure the black haired man in the red and black uniform taking form behind his eyes couldn't possibly be Potter, because there was no way in hell that the Auror could possibly have such on effect on his libido. No, no it had to have been someone else with long fingers, and red tea heated lips, and green green eyes that always popped open to look right at him as he reached his climax.

Yup it was someone else and he would go to his grave swearing to that fact.

Not that anyone knew of his morning...er solo times and what he was thinking about but that was beside the point.

Though he found that he liked to drink his scolding hot tea right after and he wasn't quite sure what that meant - especially since tea now made him think of his most demanding client. It was aggravating. It was also aggravating how often he was forced to feel aggravated lately and well, that once again made him think of Potter because Potter was aggravating to his very core and...

It was a pointless circle. He could go round and round for hours and he hated doing that, it tended to make him tighten screws too roughly or come an inch too close to a finger for his liking while working with his table saw.

Merlin help him if he lost a finger because of bloody Potter. Draco would be forced to kill him as he couldn't seem to think of any other remedy to get the obnoxious man out of his brain. Plus it was a finger! You can't grow those back, you just have to live without it, and that would be a true tragedy.

Draco had nice fingers. Or so he'd been told.

"No lovely, try the black one, you know, the one with the silver buttons."

Draco scowled at his mirror and ran his fingers through his hair - his grease free hair, nothing but beautiful platinum locks that fell enticingly over his brow and brushed around his ears. It was longer than his mother liked him to wear it and his father was constantly trying to buy him new hair gel in order to get his son to slick it back but Draco liked it like this (plus he was 28 and really it was about time his parents butted out of his life but that unfortunately was not the pureblood way). It was still masculine but with some actual character to it, plus he knew from experience that if he ruffled it just right, with just a smidgen of mousse that he could get nearly any companion he wished when out at a bar, especially when he tipped his head and let a piece fall over his eye.

It was a perfected move from when he was younger, seeing as he rarely went out much these days, but he was happy to see that he could still accomplish it without any real effort.

Not that he was trying to look enticing, he was only meeting Potter for Merlin's sake.

"I'm not changing again." Draco snapped at his vanity mirror, turning slightly to his right to check over his reflection. He looked good in the sapphire blue scoop neck tee-shirt and pitch black jeans that accentuated his lean form that he had somehow managed to keep despite his sedentary work. The sharp, pointed angles of his face had softened somewhat over the years…or maybe he had just finally grown into them. Either way he no longer looked pinched, like there was a bad smell nearby, and Draco found that he could actually look well, approachable, if he let himself relax his facial muscles - but only if he was trying, otherwise he still maintained enough of the hard angles to seem sufficiently aloof liked he preferred.

"That is not how to dress to impress." His mirror drawled in a haughty tone that sounded remarkably like his mother.

"I'm not trying to impress, I'm just meeting Potter." Snatching the leather jacket from his wardrobe he shrugged it over his shoulders and swung the dark gray scarf in loose loops around his neck to complete the ensemble. "Strictly business." He added as he slipped his wallet into his back pocket and slid his wand into the special pocket in his jeans, the wooden length resting invisibly against his thigh.

"Harry Potter." His mirror cooed and Draco narrowed his eyes at his own reflection. Honestly even his mirror was enamored with the war hero? He just didn't get it, it was just Potter.

Klutzy, clock adoring, tea guzzling, predicable Potter with his insane hair that looked like he had just shoved his finger into a light socket, and his muscular arms that the shirts he liked to wear showcased perfectly, and his annoying habit of smiling while biting his lip, and not to mention those stupid emerald eyes.

No, not emerald, they were more...hell Draco didn't know but debating the shade of green that Potter's eyes were was hardly a productive way to pass the time. Nor was it necessary because like he said, it was just Potter.

"You should definitely wear the black one then and the black trousers and...a necklace, yes a necklace! Oh he'd love it!"

"Do shut up." He smiled a bitter smile and walked away from his sputtering mirror, his bedroom door closing and thankfully cutting off the sound of its high pitched trill. He really didn't know why he even kept it when he just found it so terribly annoying. It had been a gift from his mother when he had moved and his parents had been so disappointed that he had chosen to live in a muggle neighborhood that he figured the least he could do was keep the damn mirror.

He was seriously reconsidering his decision though.

Waving his hand towards his workbench the clockwork that had been chattering and very nearly bouncing against the wooden table top quieted back down, lying still once more. With another quick twitch of his wrist his previously hastily abandoned tools flew to their receptive places, his goggles dropping themselves over their hook on the wall, and his slim portfolio zooming into his out stretched hand.

He had come up with three different designs for Potter to look over but strangely Draco wasn't over excited about any of them like he usually was. He loved coming up with his own pieces but for some reason every time he sat down to sketch out a pocket watch for the overly famous wizard all he could think about was the day of the final battle and how Potter had looked, legs swinging in the air, eyes dusted closed, arms limp - the same arms that not long before had pulled him from the fire. It was in those moments that Draco could smell the burning air and feel Potter's back pressed tightly against his front, his hands gripping Potter's waist for all he was worth.

He had gone into that room to capture Potter and turn him over to the Dark Lord in a desperate attempt to redeem his family from their excruciating fall from grace. But Potter had saved him instead, the perpetual hero, and he couldn't help but wonder - and not for the first time - if that was why he was so enamored with time and clocks. Like his own form of redemption was seeking to rid the world of those tragic moments that had ceased to exist in Draco's being, the moments Potter didn't win, didn't survive. He erased those minutes each time he fixed a clock, he saw Potter's eyes flash with life with every gear that turned once more and heard his voice with every reawakened tick.

Of course Draco couldn't abide by the fact that Potter's near death had affected him so deeply and thus, overtime, Potter's gaze and voice dimmed in his mind until all he saw were the gears and all heard was the metallic tick - not allowing himself to acknowledge anything more. That was until recently, until Potter in his flesh and blood sprung free from its place in Draco's mind to his daily life.

Which was just thoroughly frustrating. Feelings weren't Draco's cup of tea, suppressing and compartmentalizing were.

Glancing around himself he strode towards the front door and pulled it open, trying to dispel the sudden nervousness he felt gripping his stomach. Like he had been continually reminding himself all day, it was just Potter, just a meeting, another chance to become even richer. The muggle pub Potter had chosen to meet at was a few blocks away from the corner Draco lived on, the autumn night chilly but not unpleasantly. It was actually a rather nice night for a walk and Draco found himself easing into his steps with a growing confidence as his feet carried him forwards and before he knew it he was there.

The Hollyhock Rust.

A disgusting name for a pub really. Honestly who in their right mind would name a dinning establishment after a floral disease?

There was a group of men loitering outside the front of the thick black doors that looked like they had lived through a fire and as Draco stepped through its threshold he quickly came to realize that it was a theme. An ‘I nearly burned down but am still standing strong’ theme. The walls that went up and up and up were scorched black over exposed red brick, old photographs of burning buildings and firemen with their hoses spewing gallons of water hanging by thick wire at varying heights around the room. There was a wrought iron staircase winding up towards a loft in the middle of the pub where a low thud of music could be heard and all around the vast open expanse of the ground floor were blackened wooden tables with paintings of Hollyhock twining up their legs - a long bar with back lit alcohol bottles lining shelf after shelf running along the far wall.

Separately it all seemed a bit strange but together it was impressive, giving off the feeling of hiding away in a sooty pub in the middle of nowhere instead of in a great sprawling city.

It felt like a place to come and forget yourself in.

Draco frowned. He wasn't here to forget his inhibition, this, as he repeatedly told himself, was a business meeting and nothing more.

The pub seemed to be steadily filling up, with waitresses winding through the growing crowd, but it only took a moment to spot Potter at a table in the far corner. He was sitting sideways in his chair, his back leaning against the brick wall, his legs clad in gray trousers stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. The black and gray stripped sweater he wore was bunched around his wrists like he kept pushing the sleeves up to his elbows only to have them fall back down, the material stretched across his chest in a way that seemed to revel in his slim, muscular build.

Draco felt the corner of his lips twitch with an attempted smile at the sight, he was fast coming to realize that even with the updated wardrobe that fit just right Potter somehow always seemed to come across rumpled - like he dressed the night before and just rolled out of bed without doing anything in the morning.

It was rather enduring.

That unnerving thought hit the same moment Potter caught his eye with a slow spreading smile and Draco felt something thump in his chest - making him firmly decide that he didn't like the Hollyhock Rust. In fact he didn't think Potter should be anywhere near an establishment that centralized on fire. It was too much, too...real. Squaring his shoulders at Potter's welcoming wave, Draco made his way across the floor, the chair squeaking as he drug it back and dropped down into it.

"Potter." He said in way of greeting, laying his portfolio down next to him on the table top.

Potter's elbows landed on the table as he twisted in his seat, his gaze raking up Draco in a way that made the blond entirely uneasy. "Should have guessed you'd be here on the nose." He grinned and drummed his fingers against his cheek as he rested his chin in his palm.

"You said eight, it's only polite."

"Ah, of course, nothing at all to do with your time obsession then?"

"My time obsession?" Draco repeated incredulously, silently wishing that Potter would stop blinking owlishly at him from behind his round glasses.

"You eat dinner at 7:40." Potter countered as Draco frowned.

"So?"

"7:40 Malfoy, not 7:30 not 8:00...I bet you wake up at an oddly specific time too." Potter's tone was light and teasing, chuckling softly. "Don't you?"

"I don't see how that matters." Draco pulled the laminated menu towards himself, purposely ignoring Potter's gaze.

"Come on, what time?" Potter prompted, nudging him with his toe under the table.

"And you think I have the obsession." He flicked it open and tried to concentrate on the small black lettering of the appetizers but all he could think about was Potter's booted foot that was still pressed against his. It felt wrong, it felt solid, it felt...intimate.

"6:02? Or is that too early? 7:33?" Potter paused and Draco could feel him tap his foot in quick succession. "8:17?"

"You're just spouting random numbers." He grumbled, sliding his foot backwards and out of Potter's tapping presence, rolling his eyes in annoyance when Potter didn't respond but instead just kept staring at him expectantly. "Fine, I get up 6:37, happy? And I assume your clock goes off at a much more normal time? You probably silence it a million times too, don't you?"

Potter laughed and grinned. "Yes I do. I hate mornings, their evil and should probably die. I like to lay in bed."

Draco shifted under Potter's heavy gaze and pushed the mental image of Potter's stormy head against white pillows and tangled sheets violently away. Honestly he just didn't know where those thoughts came from. "To wank?" He drawled, smirking as he glanced back down at the menu.

Not that Potter even had to wank, that was what his groupies were probably for. He probably kept them on a rotating schedule because despite the fact that the magazines had been bereft of any information on Potter's love life (seriously, nothing, well except for the brief mention of a date with a rather unattractive and no doubt tedious witch…not that Draco had been looking of course), he just knew that Potter had to be a slut. There was no way the man could uphold a relationship, given the hours he worked and then all the time he had been spending at Draco's flat lately. Thus, he concluded, Potter had to be a slut, getting his clocks fixed and then picking up any easy adoring fan that pricked his fancy on his way home. He probably even called out the wrong name when he came, with his eyes closed, and sweat sliding down his back.

Draco scolded, his fingers curling harshly around the menu. Just figures Potter would get whatever he wanted when Draco hadn't been with anyone in...hell, he couldn't even remember.

"Sometimes but I like wanking in the shower better, it's more...slippery."

Draco choked on his intake of air and looked sharply up, fighting a flush as he was unwillingly forced to picture Potter in the shower, with his fist around his own cock, and his head leaning against the slippery tiling. He probably bit his lip while he slid his fingers over himself and groaned excessively, considering how loud Potter always was. "Slippery?" He heard himself repeat and immediately wanted to curl up into a ball and die out of embarrassment as Potter cocked his head and smirked, like he could see into Draco's crass thoughts.

Potter licked his too red lips and opened his mouth, only to be thankfully silenced before he could speak by the arrival of their waitress. Draco ducked his head, hiding his flushed cheeks as he tried to get his heartbeat under control. Potter's voice was cool and collected as he ordered a bottle of wine and after getting a quick nod of agreement from Draco some appetizer that he honestly couldn't remember the name of. Or if he even liked it. But that didn't matter, getting his breathing under control mattered, and getting the image of a wet naked Potter out of his mind mattered, and remembering why the hell he was even here mattered, and that was all.

Draco knew Potter tended to make his mind degrade into mush, the longer he was in his company the worse it got and Draco couldn't stand it. He wasn't going to be a blushing idiot all night, he would pitch his ideas as quickly as possible and leave, this had been a bad idea to begin with. He never went to dinner with any of his other clients, it was unnecessary.

He had clocks to fix and a good book waiting for him at home. And wine. Lots of wine, until he passed out and dreamed of...bollocks.

But getting to the point with Potter was never an easy task. The man was particularly difficult to make concentrate, he was just so...chatty and not in the clumsy way he used to be when he was younger. He talked with a carefree cadence to his tone as he leaned back in his chair and watched Draco with his eerily green eyes as the clockmaker tried to focus and not reach across the table and throttle him or slap him or maybe just trace his lips with his thumb...

It was irksome how he couldn't seem to stop staring at Potter's mouth while he was speaking.

"So Giles filed the report, actually claiming that I had deliberately put his life in danger."

"Your new partner?" Draco asked, toying with the stem of his wine glass and furrowing his brow as he stared down into its blood red depths, trying to remember how he knew that.

Actually he knew more than that. He knew Giles had been assigned to Potter a month ago after Weasley had up and decided to retire in order to help his brother (George maybe?) out at his shop. He somehow knew that Giles was younger, just out of training, and liked to second guess everything Potter did. He also knew that Giles was jealous of Potter, even though the older Auror never hinted at it, just like he knew that Potter would give everything he had in helping the little git become a skilled member of the team.

Because Potter was a noble idiot.

Draco had never met this Giles but he didn't have to, to know he didn't like him. The blighter had put his partner’s life in needless danger more than a dozen times already and Draco could vividly remember the time Potter had come over with a long cut from his temple all the way down to the middle of his sternum. He had brushed it off as nothing but the story of how he got it while attempting to capture some nefarious dark wizard still chilled Draco to the bone.

Then there was the awkward moment where Draco tried to heal it and when he had placed his hand against Potter's chest, the other man had spilled his tea all over his lap which had caused him to leap up, sending them both toppling to the floor with Draco smashed into the ground under him. He had found himself staring at Potter's mouth then too, despite the fact that Potter hadn't been speaking, he had just been breathing heavily - panting really. Panting and staring and so bloody heavy before Draco finally regained himself and shoved him off, scoffing offhandedly about Potter's klutziness and how it would surely kill them both one day.

It was probably a good thing he hadn't actually met Giles, he had a feeling the other man wouldn't survive the experience.

"Yeah." Potter beamed, pausing briefly as he contemplated Draco and took a sip of his wine. "Anyway he's pushing for Robards to desk me."

"Desk you?"

"Take me off field duty and make me a paper pusher."

Draco snorted as he set his wine glass back down. "He's not all that bright is he?"

"Why do you say that?" He looked honestly curious, his dark hair framing his bright eyes and making a little shiver pass down Draco's spine despite the owlish blinking.

"Because you're the Ministries Golden Boy, they wouldn't dare." Draco explained. "I think you really should ask for a new partner though, this Giles fellow is going to get you killed or he'll just do it himself. In fact I wouldn't stand too close to any cliffs near him or drink anything he gives you if I were you."

"Worried for my safety Malfoy?" Potter leaned forward, placing his elbows onto the table again and bringing himself too close for Draco's liking, the table seeming suddenly much too small.

"Of course, you're financing my retirement remember?" He replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Can't have you dying before you make me the richest man on the Continent."

"You're already rich." Potter pointed out and Draco felt his foot brush against his own once more - honestly how could Potter be so utterly unaware of his surroundings? He was surprised the man didn't just trip and fall into the wizards he was chasing and accidentally arrest them. Maybe he found them while they were dinning and just kicked them until they turned themselves in.

"One can always be richer." Draco tried not to smile as Potter chuckled but it was starting to get difficult with the wine warming in his stomach and the room cast in the soft glow of dimmed lights and Potter's damn foot that was constantly following his around under the table.

Not to mention Potter looked, well, good. Infuriatingly so. Draco firmly believed that Potter had absolutely no business being attractive, it just wasn't fair for him to be.

Potter ran a hand through his hair, his finger lingering momentarily over his lightning scar. "Money's not everything, there must be something more you want."

Draco suddenly felt hot all over, his throat oddly tight, the tone of Potter's voice doing funny things to his nerves and making him think without any real direction to his thoughts that, yes there was something more he wanted. Not that he could have it. "What more could I possibly want Potter?" He said instead, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't know." Potter replied slowly, staring at him like he did know but just wasn't telling him, which was just unacceptable. "Do you remember a few years ago when we ran into each other in a pub?"

"No." He lied, shifting in his seat and frowning. Potter wasn't supposed to bring that night up...ever. Honestly did the man have no tact whatsoever?

"Really?" Potter smirked, looking like he was already enjoying this way too much. "You don't remember getting pissed drunk and falling on our arses on the street?"

"You fell." Draco corrected before he could stop himself. "And ripped my favorite robe in the process."

"So you do remember?"

"Vaguely." Draco scowled. "You being the sodding drunk you were and the fact that you wouldn't let go of my arm, I was forced to take you home and return you to your girlfriend." And Merlin was that terrifying. The youngest Weasley had folded her arms over her bathrobe clad chest and glared like it was Draco's fault that her boyfriend was in such a state and whining about not wanting to be home. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"I broke up with Ginny that night." Potter confessed and Draco felt something stir inside him, almost like he could still feel Potter plastered to his side and slurring in his ear entirely inappropriate things. Of course he had been delusional then and Draco had always highly doubted that Potter even knew it was him he was saying those things to. He doubted he even remembered now, if he did Draco knew without a shadow of a doubt that Potter wouldn't be bringing that night up.

No sane man would. Telling your childhood nemesis that you loved their arse and wanted to lick it was just much too embarrassing to ever live through, Potter had to have blocked it from his memory as Draco himself tried to do.

"You broke up with her when you were stumbling drunk?" Draco snorted. "Classy Potter."

Potter shook his head and glanced down into his wine glass with a faraway look. "Didn't have much of a choice. After you dragged me through the door and basically dropped me onto the floor at her feet we got into a fight."

"Are you trying to blame me for your failed relationship?" Draco drawled, growing increasingly annoyed and uncomfortable with the conversation. There was a reason he didn't think about that night, a reason he didn't let himself dwell on the things Potter had said and the way his hands had wandered.

And it was a good reason, a very, very good reason that he had sworn never to forget.

He laughed. "No...but yes?"

"Merlin Potter, you make very little sense most the time did you know?"

"I mean that night kind of lit a fire under my arse and I realized that I was just...settling. I was settling for Ginny, I was settling in my job, I was bored...hell I was boring."

"You're still boring Potter."

He grinned. "You think?" He winked with a twinkling eye that had Draco frowning and gripping his glass much too tightly. "Anyway I guess, in a way, it was all because of you, so...I wanted to thank you for...kicking me back into living. You've always been good at that."

"At kicking you? I suppose you could say-"

"No you prat, at getting through the haze I had been walking around in after the war ended." Potter was still smiling, still talking like Draco had actually done something instead of having just drunk himself silly while in the others company. "Not to mention that relationship had been doomed..."

"Of course it had been doomed, no one ever marries their school yard sweetheart."

"Ron married Hermione." Potter pointed out, sounding a bit defensive for some reason.

"Well their abnormal and hardly a good example."

"True, but that's not why it wouldn't have worked out between Gin and -"

"Stop right there Potter." Draco interrupted, having no intention whatsoever in hearing all the drama surrounding Potter's no doubt heart shattering decision to end his blissful life with the ginger shrew. "It may be hard to believe but I do not pride myself on making my old school mates break up with their girlfriends after getting them slobbering drunk and forcing them to stop dancing on table tops, nor do I care to hear all the dirty details years later." Draco huffed, feeling vastly aggravated at this turn of events for some reason.

What the hell was Potter thinking, thanking him for...he didn't ever know. For making him live again? What did that even mean? How was he not living before? And he couldn't have caused that much of a change in the other man, if he had wouldn't Potter have done more than simply nod in his general direction the next time they had come across each other?

If he had meant those things he said that night, or hell even remembered them, wouldn't there have been something...more?

"I didn't dance on tables." Potter looked horrified, eyes wide with denial.

"You did, it was a scaring experience for many involved, myself included."

"Oh god." He groaned, taking a long drink from his glass. "I don't remember that, please say that's the only foolish thing I did."

Draco swallowed, his memory bombarded with the walk to Potter's flat that night. The arse licking comment had only been the tip of the iceberg, in fact Draco was positive that he had never heard so many filthy things uttered in his life, the fact that they were addressed to him just proving the fact that Potter was so far gone that he had apparently gone blind and had forgotten who he was clutching. He was blessedly saved from having to answer though as their waitress appeared with their dinner, sliding a delicious smelling fisherman's pie in front of him and a greasy looking beef sandwich in front of Potter.

He steered the conversation away from that fateful night after they found themselves alone again, talking about far safer topics as they ate, Draco growing increasingly aware of Potter's solid presence. The man exuded energy, like he could barely keep it contained within himself, he shifted in his seat, tapped his fingers and feet, all while watching Draco with an intensity that seemed to exceed the electric buzz in his veins. They had gone through the entire bottle of wine and then some by the time their food was finished and Draco could feel a matching warm flush on his cheeks that he could see on Potter's slightly darker but still pale complexion.

Which probably wasn't the wisest of decisions considering what happened the last time they had gotten drunk together.

It was when the plates had been cleared and the conversation had become somewhat stilted with long stares that Draco's brain was having a hard processing, that he finally remembered why they had met up in the first place - and it wasn't to go up into the loft and dance like Potter was starting to hint at. Merlin help him if he ended up actually dancing with Potter. Grabbing his portfolio, he slid it across the table, leaning back in his chair as Potter flipped it open with great fascination and enthusiasm.

"These are amazing." He grinned as he looked through them all. He ran his fingers over the carefully sketched drawings, smiled his charming smile that no doubt melted his groupie’s hearts, said something about Draco's amazing skills as a clockmaker, and then flicked the portfolio closed without making any sort of decision. He drummed his fingers over the top of the black casing as he cocked his head and asked Draco question after question about pocket watches and how he had come up with the designs and which one did he like best and on and on before sliding from his seat with a quick promise to return and disappearing between the tables.

Draco watched him walk away, his eyes lingering on his arse that seemed to swing a bit more than normal with each step...not that he knew what Potter's arse typically looked like when he walked. But it was hypnotizing now and Draco blinked, trying to clear away the fog that was bent on overtaking his mind but when he opened his eyes they were still on Potter's arse and his throat was still dry and his chest seemed oddly tight along with his pants. He frowned, tearing his eyes away and down to his own hands.

He was not getting hard staring at Potter. He simply refused. And if he was well then that just proved that he needed to get out more because he obviously was desperate for sex. Really he would take it anywhere, even upstairs where he could hear the music pumping, there had to be a bathroom up there with a toilet stall where he could snag someone and drag them into it. He really didn't care who tonight, man or woman, whoever caught his fancy as long as they were nice to look at...preferably with dark hair and light eyes though. And broad shoulders and a muscular but lean build and...

"Ready?"

Draco jolted out of his daydream as Potter materialized next to their table, a black wool jacket over his arm. "What?" His croak was a little undignified as he tried desperately to will away his untimely erection.

"You said you needed to get going..." Potter looked momentarily confused, sliding his gaze over Draco's face like maybe he thought he had somehow gotten deliriously drunk without him noticing. "I already paid so we can leave unless you changed your mind?" He asked, sounding a bit hopeful.

"Oh right, of course. Let’s go." Grabbing his portfolio and winding his scarf back around his neck, they stepped back out onto the sidewalk, hands in their pockets and feet in synchronized steps as they made their way down the street and towards Draco's flat - despite the fact that he was pretty sure Potter lived in the opposite direction.

But he didn't comment on it, instead he let himself settle into the rhythm of their pace, listening to Potter's soft voice in the night and shocking himself when he realized that he was smiling without really even noticing it and laughing softly at the things Potter was saying.

Potter would nudge his shoulder and he'd nudge back, Potter would laugh and he would chuckle lightly, Potter would tilt his head and smile at him as he eyed him from the corner of his vision and Draco would fight his own grin as he caught his sideways look. And for some completely unexplainable reason he found himself wondering what Potter's hand would feel like if he were to reach over the few inches between them and lace their fingers together.

He felt oddly warm all over, inside and out, happy in a way he couldn't remember feeling in a long time. Though the feeling quickly started balling up uncomfortably in his stomach as they ascended the stairs, a silence stretching taunt and heavy between them, settling around and invading every ounce of his being as they paused in front of his door.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? They weren't on a date, they weren't even friends really, and yet here they were, Potter staring expectantly at him like he was waiting for something. "Potter -"

"I had a really great time." He interrupted him, carding a hard through his messy curls and doing the whole biting his lip while smiling thing that was starting to make butterflies take flight in Draco's stomach every time he saw it for some reason. He honestly had no clue why, maybe because it made him look vulnerable...open in a way that Potter shouldn't be.

Not in front of Draco anyway.

"Did you make a decision?" He asked, clearing his voice when it came out a tad too scratchy sounding.

Potter furrowed his brow. "About what?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly Potter. The pocket watch, you know the whole reason for this evening? Did you pick a design?"

"Erm." He rubbed his neck and peaked bashfully up at him through his hair. "No."

"Do you enjoy wasting my time?" Draco snapped, unlocking his door and swinging it sharply open, not completely sure why he was so upset. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they had been out for hours, talked about things Draco swore never to even think about, and then Potter hadn't even had the decency to spare a moment for what they had met up for in the first place.

Not to mention that walk had been unnerving, because Merlin since when did he start wanting to hold bloody Potter's hand?

"I am busy you know." He flung his jacket off, feeling an anger rise in his veins as Potter took up his usual place of leaning against his door jam. "Just what the hell were you thinking about all night that you couldn't give two seconds to picking one of the designs I've spent hours on for you?"

Then Potter did the most annoying, incredulous thing he could possibly do in such a moment.

He laughed. And not a soft laugh but an outright, something is really funny but I’m not going to tell you, sort of laugh. Draco bristled, his face contorting in rage at the wasted night that was really just confusing on so many levels that he couldn’t even begin to sort it out.

“Tell you what.” Potter said, snatching Draco’s wrist and using it to keep him from stomping off into the flat like he was planning on. He glared and stumbled a step as Potter had the audacity to pull, propelling him towards the grinning lunatic. “I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking tomorrow, round lunch?”

Draco opened his mouth to protest and demand an answer now but then Potter bit his damn lip while he smiled again, setting off a storm in Draco’s nervous center that preceded to reached a fever pitch when the darker man reached out and fiddled with the loop of scarf closest to his neck, his fingers brushing the hollow of his throat.

“I have to work.” He mumbled then frowned, that did not sound like it him, it was too breathy but Potter was still holding his wrist and his fingers were so hot it was distracting – sending little spikes of something across his skin.

Potter leaned forward and Draco wished wholeheartedly he could get his body to start cooperating because he really wanted to yank his hand free and take a step back. But he couldn’t, he was stuck and now Potter’s face was entirely too close. Why he could nearly taste the others lips like they were already on his own.

Not that he wanted to, they probably tasted horrible, but god did they look soft.

“1:00 it is then.” Potter nodded, completely ignoring what Draco had actually said, and with one last lingering gaze as his thumb brushed over the sensitive skin of the blonds wrist, finally released his grip. “See you.” He waved goodbye and turned sharply on his heel, whistling softly to himself as he swayed with the composure of someone who had just a touch too much to drink down the hall.

Since when did Potter learn how to be mysterious and coy? And when exactly did his touch start feeling like dipping your hand in hot wax only to have it licked off on a cool day? Not that he had ever had hot wax licked off his wrist before but still…

And now Potter was gone and Draco was left alone once more, staring down the empty hall and touching his own wrist lightly where Potter had gripped him, wondering why his chest felt like someone was sitting on it.

TBC

Delia Cerrano: Thank you for reviewing! No, Draco doesn’t know Harry’s gay, he’s still laboring under the impression that he’s straight. But really, even more than that, this stories subtitled really could be: Denial thy name is Draco. But don’t worry he’s going to get it all figured out soon.

Staar: Thank you so much for reviewing! Yes, yes he does :) Glad you’re liking it.

Severus1snape: Thanks so much for reviewing. Ahh you’re so sweet, you just made my week :)

Blur: Thank you! I think Harry’s clock smashing habits are my favorite part of this too, this chapter was a bit different but I hope you still liked it.
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A Dubious Affection