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

CHAPTER EIGHT

Saturdays were even more wretched than Fridays, Harry decided. Especially when you had a date you didn't really want to attend, and you finally made peace with the fact that the object of your affections not only didn't want you, but downright hated your guts.

So it was no surprise to Harry when he woke up at eight in the morning, utterly depressed, and consequently, stayed in bed until noon. He made the decision not to go anywhere this evening only to retract it a few minutes later. Then he repeated this process for four hours. He tried to think of a reason to go to this blind date, preferably a reason that didn't make him look pathetic. But if he was to be honest with himself, the only appeal of this date was the knowledge that Malfoy would be upset if Harry went, and it was important to upset Malfoy because Malfoy had upset Harry. Which of course meant Harry was acting childish, something he was well aware of, and something that just couldn’t continue. He was getting tired of this. Every day was the same and nothing ever changed in his relationship with Malfoy. And Harry was certain that nothing ever would. Harry was wasting time. Malfoy would never be his friend and he would definitely never be his lover, and the obvious truth was that the two of them would never be able to work so closely together without holding each other back. Harry was deliberately sabotaging Malfoy's career and Malfoy was inadvertently sabotaging Harry's chance of ever finding someone to share his life with.

This meant Harry had two options. He could either quit his job — the job that he loved — and hope he would eventually find something else he was good at. Possibly, he could become a trashy romance novelist, as he had demonstrated the talent for fantasizing about impossible romantic situations. Or, he could ask for a different partner. Malfoy would still be there and Harry would still see him, but he would nonetheless be far enough to let Harry breathe normally. He already thought of a speech in his head, and knew exactly what he would say to his Head of Department. Harry hated to think like this but it was time for desperate measures. He would threaten and declare he couldn't possibly work with Malfoy, so she could either assign him a different partner or he would leave. Harry was pretty sure the Ministry wouldn't let him leave, though he knew they'd laugh and say they had told him that letting Malfoy work for the Ministry was a bad idea. They'd assume that Malfoy was being insufferable and his ineptitude was the real reason Harry was ready to quit his job. And despite the fact that his sympathies towards Malfoy were currently limited, this still made Harry mad. He didn't want to make things even more difficult for Malfoy. Not because of his stupid crush.

But it had to be done. Harry had messed with Malfoy's life more than it was healthy. Malfoy's future successes and failures, as well as his relationships with other people weren’t Harry's business. Just as Harry's life wasn't Malfoy's business. Which, technically meant that Harry was being stupid if he planned to go to this date just to spite Malfoy. This wouldn't affect Malfoy in any way. Especially since Harry didn't plan to die on this date. He had thought of three possible scenarios, depending on who would appear on this date, and two of them were promising. One, it was some maniac out to get him, and in that case, Harry would happily and eagerly detain him. He had been missing action as much as Malfoy had. He was starting to feel useless, rescuing jarveys and attacking television sets; some good old maniac-arresting would be refreshing. Two, it was some normal bloke who could provide a different sort of action Harry had been missing as well. In this case, Harry had decided that unless the man smelled really bad, he'd go home with him and have sex. And three, the most likely option, it was Derek Hogan. He couldn’t arrest Derek since he wasn't a maniac, and he couldn't go home with him to have sex since he was a friend. If it was Derek, then Harry had to decide in advance whether he wanted something more with this man or not.

And his first thought was not. Derek was nice, but Harry had never considered him as a possible lover. Admittedly, he had never paid much attention to Derek, though he liked his company. Because Derek talked a lot and being with Derek meant Harry's mind could wander towards more pleasant topics, and as long as he nodded, said Mmm occasionally, and smiled widely enough, Derek was pleased. Which was actually horrible of Harry, now that he thought about it. Perhaps he owed Derek a chance. Perhaps, tonight, he would try to pay attention to this man who was supposedly in love with him. It was a pleasant thought — that someone was in love with him. It might feel nice to bask a little in this love; it might soothe this gut wrenching pain caused by Malfoy's continuous rejections. Maybe this could work out.

He was going, Harry resolved for the final time around one in the afternoon while he was nibbling on something he hoped was real food. He would go and he would give Derek a chance and spend the entire evening not thinking about Malfoy. He should learn not to do that anyway. Not at work, not at dates, and not at home.

Oddly enough, once Harry had made a firm decision to go, the next few hours flew by. He was wandering around the apartment, pretending he was cleaning, but actually just trying to not think of Malfoy, and the next time he checked his watch it was already six o'clock. Which was bad since he was meeting his secret admirer at seven.

More or less calmly, he showered and put on the first items of clothing that came under his hand. He had no idea if they were going somewhere fancy or not, or if they were going to a Wizarding or a Muggle restaurant. The address on that note looked unfamiliar.

But soon enough, Harry found out that they were meeting in a Muggle restaurant, one that was probably a little too fancy for Harry's plain jeans and shirt.

He had Apparated to the nearest safe location he knew and then walked to the restaurant, arriving about fifteen minutes early. He considered lurking in the shadows and wait for his date to appear so he could see him before the man realised Harry had showed up, but it was cold outside, and Harry didn't feel like skulking, so he sighed and went inside, hoping for the best.

He told the hostess his name and she led him towards an isolated table, romantically decorated with candles and a dozen long stemmed roses. The hostess had told him that the table was reserved on his name, disappointing Harry who had hoped that he would at least know the man's name before he arrived. Nervous, he sat down, facing the entrance so he could see his date the moment he appeared, and ordered a glass of red wine.

His mysterious admirer was late, and that reminded Harry that Derek was usually late for everything. Troubled and a little unhappy, he stared at the main door, holding his breath every time a man entered, and then exhaling slowly when he saw that he wasn't carrying a single red rose as the author of those letters promised he would.

After some forty minutes, his nerves on edge, he was almost ready to leave, willing to believe that this was some sort of sign and that a higher power was trying to tell him this was a bad idea, but the door opened again and Harry inhaled and waited to get a good look of the person who entered.

It was probably a good thing he was sitting down, and a bad thing he had drunk his wine, because Harry's vision blurred and he felt faint for a moment, unable to believe his eyes. The man who entered definitely wasn't Derek Hogan, and Harry had to blink several times to convince himself he wasn't seeing things. But every time he opened his eyes again, the vision remained the same, and Harry had no choice but to truly believe that Draco Malfoy was here, heading towards Harry's table.

And just as Harry clenched his fists, thinking Malfoy had only come here so he could cause trouble, his gaze reluctantly moved from Malfoy's expressionless face and fell on his hands.

And in his hands, Malfoy held a single red rose.


*


It wasn't like Draco had made a conscious decision to hide here in the shadows and lurk. But he knew the address and he knew the time, and when the clock's hand moved closer to seven, Draco simply found himself here. If someone ever asked him to explain what he was doing here, Draco would claim this was a case of a spontaneous Apparition. He didn’t even know what he was trying to achieve. Was he really here just so he could sulk while Potter had fun with his date?

Draco frowned. No, he did know why he was here. He was here to protect his unwitting partner.

A secret admirer! Draco scoffed just as he scoffed at least once every five minutes. How could anyone be so ridiculous to go and meet a complete stranger just because he was sending him gifts? Which of course only proved that this stranger was an irresponsible sort of person, spending all that money on those expensive presents. And it proved he had a higher agenda and expected some sort of payment in return. Draco knew how this worked. Why, this was the same thing his father had told Draco to do in order to lure women. This was one of father's tamer lessons on women, which left Draco only slightly traumatized. You must send them expensive and tasteful gifts, his father had said, to impress them as well as to create a sense of obligation on their part. They will feel the desire to reciprocate your kindness in a way more accessible to them.

Draco grimaced, disgusted. Why he should aim to be with someone because he had managed to create a sense of obligation in them his father had never explained. On the contrary, he had given Draco an odd look when Draco had posed this question, and walked away mumbling to himself about disappointments. Though at the time, Draco was twelve, so he could be misremembering things.

But he remembered how improper wooing looked like. And this was wooing and it was improper. And completely mental because of course the wooer was Derek Hogan and everything he did was insane by default. And it proved Draco's theory that in addition to being insane, Hogan wasn't very clever. Did Hogan fail to realise that Potter was paying attention to him, at least, much more attention than he paid Draco? And that meant Hogan didn't have to fight for it and, in the process, waste precious time he could spend with Potter. Why hadn’t he simply approached Potter and asked him out? Potter wouldn't stand up Hogan like he stood up Draco. Not that Draco asked Potter out on a date, but that wasn't the point. The point was that some people had everything and they didn't realise it. And Hogan was one of those people, someone who had Potter's attention and could get a good look of Potter's dimples whenever he wished, and who only had to wave to make Potter enter the diner and stay.

Clearly, Hogan resorted to this just because he wanted to show off. Stupid bastard. Just so he could flaunt how much money he had and show everyone what wonderful things he could buy Harry. That is, Potter. As though this made him better suited for Potter, as though this made him better than poor blokes who had to watch every little Knut they earned and invest carefully to make sure they could keep their ancestral home, the last remnant of their dignity and the reminder of their former status. Honestly, as if Potter cared about these sort of things. Though Draco was no longer sure about this. He didn't think that Potter cared about expensive presents, but then again, Potter was here. Though apparently, Potter just wanted a good shag. And jam.

Which was fine with Draco. He had no plans to stop this. He just wanted to make sure that Potter wasn't in trouble. Idiot though he was, he was still Draco's favourite idiot. And since last night, Draco had suffered several anxiety attacks. Initially, he had believed that Potter and Hogan were an item and that Hogan was sending him gifts like a good little suck up. However, seeing that awful letter signed with the words Secret Admirer gave Draco instant nightmares. He was still almost positive that this was Hogan, but there was always a chance Potter was meeting a random maniac. Draco just wanted to talk to this man, maybe point his wand at him and threaten until the little bastard wets his pants and realises that if he tried to hurt Potter Draco would do much worse things to him than simply arrest him. And if, as a result of this threat, the man ran away screaming, that wouldn't be Draco's fault.

That went for Hogan too. Draco had a special speech ready for Hogan. He would tell him that if he ever noticed he was making Harry — Potter, damn it! — unhappy he would have to answer to Draco. And Draco had learned how to charm teapots to bite balls. Bless Mrs Herbert for the idea.

And that was all Draco planned to do — talk and threaten a little, nothing else.

He had stuck to this plan firmly, right until Hogan appeared. The crazy sod had an enormous smile plastered on his face and he was practically bouncing, clearly ecstatic about his upcoming date. His smile didn't waver after he spotted Draco, exhibiting yet another proof of his mental instability.

Hogan nodded and said cheerfully, "Hey, Draco!"

That was all it took. Draco had raised his wand and yelled Obliviate before he even decided to do it.

Hogan's face went blank and he stared ahead, blinking uncomprehendingly. Draco didn't feel the slightest bit guilty. Not even after he grabbed Hogan's shoulders, shook him much too hard, and asked, "You know where you are?"

Hogan shook his head, confused.

"You know where you're going?" Draco asked, smiling a little. He wasn't very good at Memory Charms, but apparently it had worked.

Hogan looked up and down and left and right, and he stared at the restaurant for a long moment, making Draco twitchy, but then he shook his head again. "No. I was going . . . somewhere. Do you know where, sir?"

Draco grinned. "Oh yes." He nodded emphatically and pointed across the street. "You were going in that direction. And you were going to find one of those iron covers on the street. And then you planned to lift it up with your wand and jump inside."

Hogan frowned. "I was? What ever for?"

"I have no idea, but it seemed urgent business. Something work related perhaps?"

"Work!" Hogan exclaimed, swaying slightly. "I love my work."

"Well, hurry then. This is important. You must do a good job."

"Yes, yes. An iron cover. I have to jump." Hogan nodded, turning around and nearly falling, but he straightened and stumbled away in the direction Draco had indicated. An elder lady across the street gave him a nasty look, probably thinking he was drunk.

Draco smiled widely, but then looked around and hid his wand. Inside the restaurant, a Muggle waitress stopped waiting on tables to watch him. Draco quickly ducked back into the shadows.

It was truly odd, Draco thought, that somehow he had ended up holding a red rose in his hand. He didn't remember snatching it from Hogan's grip, but here it was.

Draco stared at it for a long moment, possibly minutes. He remembered what the letter said, Potter's date would carry this rose so Potter could recognise him. But this was irrelevant to Draco; he should leave now. He really should. He saved Potter from a maniac, and that was all he wanted to do tonight.

Or. He could enter and . . . pretend. Because he was . . . curious.

What would Potter say? What would he do if he saw Draco walking inside with the rose? Would he believe Draco was his secret admirer? Would he be horrified? He probably would be horrified and shocked. He might actually run. Or maybe he would try to hex Draco.

Or maybe he would be nice.

Although Potter certainly wasn't interested in Draco in that way — nor was Draco interested in Potter in that way — maybe this would soften that rock Potter called heart. Maybe he would be less of a bastard to Draco. Maybe he would feel a sense of obligation to be nice to Draco since he had bought him all those presents. Maybe Draco's father had a point. Sure, it would be embarrassing to let Potter believe Draco was in love with him, but being Potter's friend was important. Work-wise, if nothing else. Potter was an important man, and the Malfoys had always been good friends with important wizards and witches. Going inside and convincing Potter he cared about him was practically essential to Draco's career. So this was a completely sensible thing to do.

Draco looked at the door and then at the rose again.

It might work. He just wanted Potter to stop being so cold towards him. Potter couldn't possibly hate him more.

Resolved, Draco took a deep breath, stepped out of the shadows, and walked inside the restaurant.

It took him two seconds to spot Potter and see those green eyes widen in absolute shock. Draco caught a glimpse of anger in Potter's eyes before they looked down at the rose Draco was holding in his hands.

It occurred to Draco then that maybe Potter could hate him more.

But Potter looked up again, and this time his lips parted and something indefinable appeared in his eyes. Draco didn't understand Potter's expression, but suddenly he had to remind himself that he was only here to try to gain Potter's friendship.

Potter's promise to shag whoever appeared on this date had nothing to do with it.

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TBC

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