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One Harry Potter, Please (If Possible, Seduced and Ready)

CHAPTER SEVEN

During the next two weeks Harry was getting increasingly nervous. Though, perhaps nervous wasn't the best description. Flustered would be more exact. There were several reasons for this, but his persistent secret admirer was the definite cause. First, the gifts hadn't stop coming; on the contrary, Harry would find a little something on his desk at work every morning and then a little something when he arrived home. The owl — never the same one — that waited for him in his apartment would always linger, presumably waiting for Harry's response, but Harry always shooed it away. But the gifts weren’t troubling Harry all that much; the letters that arrived with the gifts troubled him a lot more.

They were sweet and innocent at first, flattering but vague. But rapidly, they were becoming a lot less vague and a lot more sexually explicit.

Whoever this was, Harry was certain that the person knew him well, and he didn't know whether to find this comforting or even more worrying. What he did find worrying were the detailed descriptions of what this stranger wanted to do to Harry and what he wanted Harry to do to him. It was nothing terribly obscene, or conflicting with Harry's own tastes; however, it made Harry uncomfortable to read some stranger's sexual fantasies.

But he did read them. All of them. A few, he had read several times.

Harry didn't consider himself very inexperienced, but there were quite a few things that he wanted to try but had never had a chance to actually do; things he had wondered whether it was normal to wish or he was being a bit odd because his brain had been polluted by Muggle movies he liked to watch. But here this person was — sharing Harry's fantasies and even expanding them. Harry hated himself a little more every day, as he swallowed every written word eagerly.

He was just starved, he assured himself. Starved for acceptance. Though, not acceptance of a stranger, but Malfoy's acceptance. There was a little corner of Harry's brain, just a small treacherous part that liked to pretend that Malfoy was sending him these letters and presents. Harry had fantasized a complete scenario: Malfoy was his secret admirer, and he was only pretending not to like Harry because he thought Harry didn't like him, but of course, he just couldn’t stay away, so he tried to seduce Harry by other means.

This turned into Harry's favorite fantasy. He amused and depressed himself with it quite a few times, until, eventually, he concluded he was pathetic.

Malfoy, of course, was not his secret admirer. Harry wasn't as far-gone to entertain that thought in all seriousness. Not only was that ridiculous, but Malfoy was clearly getting more and more agitated by every gift and letter Harry received at work. At times, Harry was sure he could hear Malfoy gnashing his teeth.

Which was the second reason why Harry was feeling flustered. Not only was Malfoy constantly in a bad mood — worse than usual, if possible — but Harry just couldn’t figure out what was Malfoy's problem. He realized that Malfoy had a problem with Harry being gay, and he realized that he didn't want to spend time with Harry especially if that time included Derek — Malfoy was probably afraid he would witness some unwanted interaction — but why would it trouble him so much that there was someone sending Harry gifts? Harry's gifts should not have affected Malfoy in any way.

Though, if he was to be honest with himself, Harry supposed this did affect Malfoy in one way. Harry had actually eaten all that chocolate sent to him, because it was delicious and it was chocolate and it made him feel better. But as a result, he was possibly just a little sugar-high, and a little testy. He might have been snappish with Malfoy on more than one occasion. Though, maybe he couldn’t blame sugar for that. Illogically, he was angry at Malfoy because he wasn't Harry's secret admirer; irritated, because he wanted Malfoy to say those words to him; he didn't want to receive them from an unknown, and possibly obsessed and sexually crazed, stranger.

Harry's bad mood reached its height on Friday. As always, Friday was the worst day of the week, but this one was particularly dreadful. The day had been dull and uneventful, the height of the day involving the rescue of a jarvey from a tall tree. The magical creature had somehow managed to get stuck between the branches and a crying girl had called them for help. At the time, they had assumed that the name Jessie stood for her little brother, and Malfoy was crazily excited at the thought of rescuing an innocent child. Harry concluded the task wasn't dangerous so they had left in a hurry to a large farm near a small village with Malfoy practically bouncing all the way.

Malfoy's disappointment was difficult to watch, and Harry promised himself he'd let him go on a more exciting assignment one of these days. Though, Harry promised himself that almost every day.

The girl was still distressed and Malfoy was pouting so Harry had climbed upon the tree, and tried to rescue the shivering jarvey. He had tried using magic, but the Levitation Spell had rebounded from the animal's thick fur. Then, Harry tried to reach for the jarvey with his hand but the thing almost bit him.

"Maybe you should sweet-talk him?" Malfoy suggested from bellow.

Harry looked down at the blond standing beneath the tree, directly below Harry. Good, Harry thought irritably, if he slipped, Malfoy would break his fall. Nonetheless, Harry tried as Malfoy suggested.

"Come here, Jessie. It's okay," he said sweetly.

"Stupid piece of arse!" the jarvey cried, still shaking.

Malfoy laughed heartily. "I forgot how much I like jarveys," he said fondly. "Enchanting creatures. Aren't you, Jessie?" Malfoy cooed.

"Faggot!" Jarvey screamed, glaring down at Malfoy.

As Harry laughed, Malfoy stopped smiling; instead, he twirled his wand in his hand. "I think we should just Stun him."

"No!" yelled the girl standing a little farther away. "He's just scared, so he's lashing out. He's the sweetest thing normally. Right, Jessie?"

"Idiot airhead!" Jarvey wailed.

Undaunted, the girl gushed, "Isn't he adorable?"

Seizing the moment as the Jarvey was distracted, Harry lunged and grabbed it. The jarvey screamed and scratched and insulted Harry with words a little girl shouldn't hear. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Malfoy had stood behind the girl and firmly placed his palms on her head, covering her ears. Amused but busy, Harry gritted his teeth, trying to keep the creature in his grasp as he climbed down as quickly as he could. He had almost reached the ground with one foot when the jarvey twisted, bit Harry's hand and ran away towards the ground. Harry yelped and released the branch he was holding on to. His leg found no purchase and he hit the ground awkwardly, landing on his feet. Pain shot through his legs and his knees screeched and buckled. He would have fallen and probably broken something, but suddenly there was a small pop and a body pressed against his back, arms wrapping firmly around his waist, holding him upright.

Harry took a sharp breath, unable to believe that Malfoy had just Apparated — because he must have Apparated since he was standing too far away to reach Harry so quickly — to save him. And not from mortal danger but from a broken leg. But Harry couldn't focus on that thought for too long. Not with Malfoy pressed so close to him, practically hugging Harry while Harry's arse nestled right against Malfoy's crotch, the latter fact making Harry wish he could freeze this moment and stay this close to Malfoy forever.

But it didn't last forever, merely a few moments. And then, Malfoy jumped back so fast Harry suspected he had Apparated again. As he turned around, Harry could still feel Malfoy's grip around his waist, and he could feel that his trousers felt a little too tight all of a sudden. Malfoy looked pale, almost alarmed, but he composed himself quickly.

"Thank you," Harry breathed out, remembering his manners.

Malfoy swallowed and took another step back. "I'm an Auror. It's my job to rescue people."

Despite his ragged breathing and the overwhelming sadness at seeing Malfoy edging away from him like that, Harry laughed. "You really took that task to heart."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, as though Harry had accused him of something. "Your point?"

"Er, I don't have one. I'm just impres—"

"Got you!" the girl yelled suddenly and both Malfoy and Harry looked over.

She was cradling the Jarvey in her arms, cooing at him and rocking him gently. "There, there. It's all right now."

"I hate you," the jarvey said in a petulant voice, though he sounded more terrified than angry.

The girl waved at them happily. "Thank you!" she said and ran towards the house as the jarvey still mumbled, "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."

Malfoy smiled a little. "That thing is cute." Then he quickly stopped smiling and added, "Moderately. If you like furry creatures. Which I don't."

Harry bit his lip and dug his heels into the ground. He was possessed with a sudden urge to grab Malfoy and kiss him until one of them faints. Or at least, he could ask Malfoy to heal the bite on Harry's hand. But of course, that would have been silly since Harry could easily heal that himself. Besides, he was having trouble walking as it was, too much Malfoy proximity and Harry's erection would never go away.

"Coming?" Malfoy asked, eying Harry.

Harry groaned and said, "Yeah," then Apparated to the Ministry.

Yes, he definitely hated Fridays.

He hated them even more when he realised that Fridays meant Harry wouldn't see Malfoy for two days (unless Malfoy would appear with a pencil or a paperweight on his doorstep again, but Harry didn't dare to hope for such a thing to happen twice) and as usual, it meant staying at work late, trying to do the paperwork and not thinking about pinning Malfoy to the desk and ravishing him. Both of these things were hard to achieve and Harry had failed to pull them off. Especially the "not thinking about ravishing Malfoy" one.

The memory of Malfoy's firm thighs pressed against his was too vivid in Harry's mind and the acute awareness that their booted toes are touching as they sat at their desk was driving Harry crazy. To make things worse, a letter and another box of chocolates had arrived for him, making Malfoy glare and scowl.

Harry shifted in his seat, worried after he concluded this meant that whoever was sending him gifts knew Harry would arrive home late today so he had sent the letter here.

Harry shouldn't have read it. Not in front of Malfoy. Not while he was still hard because of their earlier close encounter. But even though he knew he shouldn't, Harry quickly opened the letter and devoured every seductive word.

"Is it porn?"

Harry's gaze snapped up to meet Malfoy's dark gaze.

"What?" Harry asked, thinking he misheard.

"Is — it — porn?" Malfoy said again, very slowly. "You're blushing, Potter."

"Of course not!" Harry said, not sure whether he was denying his blush or the fact that the letter contained porn. He was lying either way.

"Mmm." Malfoy pursed his lips, and looked back down at his papers.

"It's none of your business," Harry said, a little belatedly, but Malfoy made no further comment.

Annoyed, Harry reached for some chocolate but the box was empty. It was unlikely that his admirer had sent him an empty box. Which meant Malfoy had been sitting there eating chocolate while Harry was absorbed in reading his letter. Who knew how long Malfoy had been watching him. Harry felt a new wave of heat hit his cheeks.

"They could have been cursed, you know," he told Malfoy, annoyance clear in his voice.

Malfoy didn't even look up or stopped writing. "I doubt it," he said calmly. "Why on earth would your boyfriend send you cursed chocolates? Trouble in paradise?"

"These aren't from my boyfriend," Harry bristled, but then immediately regretted it. Why had he told Malfoy that?

Malfoy gave a false little gasp, but didn't look up. "You've been naughty! What will your boyfriend say when he learns someone else is sending you chocolates? And porn."

"I don't have a boyfriend. And it's not porn."

That made Malfoy look up, the look in his eyes still stormy, confusing Harry for a moment. "Then who is sending you all these gifts? The Easter Bunny?" Malfoy frowned. "Well, I suppose that would explain the excessive amounts of chocolate."

Harry's hand gripped the letter tighter. The almost angry look in Malfoy's eyes made him feel defensive. "That's none of your fucking business," Harry growled, feeling the muscle in his jaw twitching.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "You said fucking. You never say fucking." He glanced at the letter in Harry's hand. "Porn it is then."

Harry swallowed, trying to calm down. He was getting truly upset though he wasn't sure why. This whole thing seemed stupid suddenly. Malfoy thought these gifts were from Harry's boyfriend, which would be normal. If he found out that Harry had been eagerly reading letters from a complete stranger, he would surely laugh himself silly. He would gloat and say he had always known Harry was too easily seduced by faltering words of the Boy Who Lived worshipers.

Before Harry had managed to think of something to say, Malfoy's hand shot out and he grabbed the letter. Harry was gripping it too tightly, however, so the letter tore in half.

Panicking, Harry reached for his wand and yelled, "Evanesco!"

Both pieces, the one in Harry's hand and the one Malfoy had been reading, vanished at once. For a moment, Harry stared at Malfoy, terrified that Malfoy had read the racier bits of the letter. If he had, he would make fun of Harry forever.

Malfoy's expression was unreadable, but he didn't look like he was about to make fun of Harry.

"A secret admirer?" Malfoy said slowly, incredulously. "Please tell me you're not going."

"Going?" Harry frowned, confused.

"To this blind date," Malfoy said impatiently and Harry regretted he didn't finish reading the letter. He knew nothing about a date. Malfoy was fuming as he continued, "With a complete stranger. Who is sending you porn. Yes, I saw it," he added when Harry quickly shook his head.

"This is none of your business," Harry said for what felt like the fifth time that evening.

"Of course it's my business," Malfoy snapped. "I don’t want someone to kill my partner. I . . . Do you realize how badly this would reflect on me? Someone would blame me for it, I'm sure. And you do realize how dangerous this could be? Please tell me you're aware that this could be some psychopath. Or a criminal who wants to murder you. Or worse — it could be Hogan!"

Harry stared, stunned by Malfoy's words. Harry's death would reflect badly on him? On Malfoy? That actually hurt. Malfoy truly cared so little about whether Harry would live or die? Today, when Malfoy rushed to his rescue, Harry had thought that Malfoy cared at least a little.

With supreme effort Harry banished those thoughts that shouldn't have been such a shock in the first place, and concentrated on the thing that had been bugging him for a while.

"What do you have against Derek? What did he ever do to you?"

"He . . ." Malfoy searched for words for a few seconds. "Exists." He inhaled and closed his eyes for a moment as though trying to calm himself. "Please just tell me you're not going."

"Of course I'm going," Harry said promptly, pleased when Malfoy looked even angrier. "And honestly? I hope it is Derek."

Two patches of red appeared on Malfoy's cheeks as he glared at Harry. "I realize your choice is limited, Potter, but do you really have to jump into bed with the first gay man that sends you chocolate? Are you really that desperate? Disgusting."

Harry's vision blurred as he shot out of his chair, his hands shaking. Malfoy had hit a nerve, Harry was aware of that. Because Harry was desperate, he desperately wanted what he couldn't have. He was a desperate idiot, yearning for a man who detested him.

Slowly, he managed to calm himself enough to say almost smoothly, "Yes, I'm desperate for some good ol' gay sex. And whoever appears on this date, I'll take them home, smear jam over his body, and then I'll lick it off before I fuck him into the mattress." Seething, Harry placed his hands on the desk and leaned in much too close to the gaping Malfoy. "Anything else you'd like to know about my love life? Want me to draw you pictures?"

Malfoy didn’t say a word. He seemed shocked, possibly imagining those gay related things that were so abhorrent to him.

Straightening, Harry grabbed his cloak and turned to leave.

"If I get murdered, I'll die happy knowing that would reflect badly on you," he said over his shoulder and stormed out.

Later, when he had reached his apartment, he felt vaguely proud of his manliness because somehow he had managed not to cry. It took him a while to realize why had Malfoy's hurtful words upset him more than usual this evening, and when he admitted the reason to himself he felt even worse. He hated to face it, but he had been hoping — against all reason, despite common sense — that Malfoy was his secret admirer. Harry thought he'd never forgive himself for even daring to hope.

An owl was waiting for him on the windowsill, a note lying next to it. Reluctantly, Harry walked over and picked up the note. The familiar handwriting of his secret admirer made Harry even more depressed. It contained an invitation to a dinner tomorrow night, and this time, it was signed with a letter D.

So it was Derek. Harry had suspected it but hoped for someone more . . . blond. And exciting. He laughed without humor as he remembered Malfoy saying that this could be a psychopath or a criminal or worse — Derek. Well, what was wrong with Derek? Derek liked him and he was a . . . happy sort of person. And he was accessible. Why grasp at something unattainable when he knew it would never move within his reach?

Sighing, Harry Summoned a quill and scribbled:

I'll be there.

Harry

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TBC

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