July 18th, 2011
|12:18 am - Two's Company, Three's a Crowd (Part 1/4)|
Title: Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd
Author: Kira O’Hara (kiraohara)
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Draco/OMC, Harry/Draco/OMC
Word Count: 26,501
Warnings: Threesome, slash, swearing, minor scar!kink, mature sexual content.
Summary: It has been four years since the War, and Draco and Hans have been together for a little over a year now. Out of the blue, Hans suggests a threesome with a famous Muggle that he rather admires. Draco reluctantly agrees. Little did he know that it was simply the strings of fate falling into place.
Betas: The wonderful and lovely SPark, who is one of my best friends in the world. ♥
Author's Notes: Um, I’ve never written smut before. …Ever. Please be gentle. Also, I still haven’t convinced myself to actually pick up Deathly Hallows and get the reading of it over with, but I used info I’ve picked up from the fics I’ve read for the scant few things I included. >.> I’m fairly certain I’m long-winded enough to make even Tolkien cry, so I sincerely apologize in advance if it gets boring... ALSO! The name Hansel has this meaning: As long ago as the year 1200, English speakers were using the ancestor of ‘handsel’ for any good luck charm, especially one given at the start of something new. By the 1500’s, traders were using ‘handsel’ for the first cash they earned in the morning – to them, an omen of good things to follow. Middle English ‘hanselle’ came from Old English ‘handselen’("a handing over" from ‘hand’ + ‘selen’). *dork*
Gift Fic For: killerangels13
Written For: HD_Smoochfest 2009
Prompt: Prompt #65:
Time-period / theme: Post-Hogwarts, EWE
Place: Muggle apartment/flat/house
Object / Word Prompts: nipple ring, tattoo, doorbell.
Action: Draco's partner invites 'Muggle' friend Harry Evans to join them, with Draco's permission of course.
Preferences / Other Notes: If, in the moment, Draco and Harry neglect their third but don't entirely forget him.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd
Draco gazed out of the window from where he sat propped on the windowseat. His twenty-second birthday was only a week away, and he still had yet to come up with a proper present for himself. It was a tradition – in his family, at least – that one should always get oneself an extravagant present. It hadn’t really been a problem in most of the years past – excluding perhaps his seventeenth birthday, but that was for different reasons which he wasn’t overly keen on ruminating over. This year, however, he was honestly stumped and it was starting to make him grumpy. He knew his parents would load him down with gifts, and that his friends and lover were sure to get him several rather enjoyable things. But his present to himself…
Hoping for inspiration, he cast a bored look over at the couch where his lover was sprawled haphazardly and chuckled quietly. He was watching that abominable television again. Draco couldn’t for the life of him understand the fascination. He much preferred books and plays and concerts to the dull, two-dimensional images portrayed on the screen (though he would grudgingly agree that some of the films they had gone to the theater to see were rather entertaining). Alas, he figured there would always be some things that they would never see eye to eye on. They had been living together for a little over a year now, so they had apparently managed to see eye to eye on enough things.
Following the end of the War, Draco had spent a year helping to rebuild his family’s home as well as argue their cases to keep them all out of Azkaban. He’d somehow managed to study in-between all that and sat his N.E.W.T.s with the rest of the students who had missed seventh year due to the War – which he, of course, passed spectacularly. After that, he had been so tired of England and all of the turmoil that he’d decided to travel for awhile. England would always be ‘home’ and he knew he’d come back eventually, but he needed some time away. There was also the fact that, now that he was free to live life as he chose, he really had no idea what – or, above all, who – he wanted to be.
He’d been visiting with some distant cousins in Germany when he’d been introduced to Hansel. They’d hit it off as friends and dallied together a few nights, but that had been all. Draco had moved on in his travels and all was well. It was in Sweden, near the end of Draco’s travels, that they crossed paths again and began a tentative relationship. After almost two years of traveling, Draco finally felt settled enough to come home. When he did, he shyly asked if Hans wanted to accompany him. And Hans had agreed.
They got an apartment together in a section of London that was mixed Wizarding and Muggle – though the Muggles were largely ignorant of that fact. Draco took on a public relations position in his mother’s clothing company and had managed to spread the business across the Continent. His parents approved of Hansel (and his pure-blooded family), which was a relief to Draco. He still suspected that his mother expected him to marry and produce an heir one day, but he gracefully ignored such conversation starters for the moment being. He and Hans were happy with one another, certainly, but they had come to the understanding early on that what they had was not the ‘forever’ type of love. Marrying for anything less – and especially going through the potentially dangerous process of spells and potions that would allow two men to bring a child into the world when they likely would not be together forever – was an offensive idea to both of them. At one point, Draco would have married whatever pretty little pure-blooded bride his parents had told him to, but he wasn’t that person anymore.
Instead, Draco and Hans had spent the last year content in their spacious flat. Hans, he had found out, was somewhat fascinated with the Muggle world – though thankfully not to the point of the Weasley patriarch. Draco teased him about it, but with no real malice. He’d come to appreciate some of the things that Muggles had created with their odd technology. Still, he thought most of it was silly, much like the telly that his beloved boyfriend would watch when he was bored. Hans loved to cook, and had made his own money from selling his recipes to various cookbooks (mostly to prove to his relations that he wasn’t just some trust fund leech). But when he wasn’t bustling around the kitchen cooking (or cleaning up his latest spectacularly explosive disaster, of which he’d had a few, during which Draco would mutter about his possible relations to the Longbottom family), he really had nothing else to do other than lavish attention on Draco. And while Draco often thought it a worthwhile endeavor, he liked having his own space sometimes too, so he sometimes found himself silently thankful to whatever gadget had caught his lover’s attention.
In the last year, several people – men and women alike – had attempted to come between the two of them, but none had been successful thus far. They were both a bit of the jealous sort, so monogamy was demanded on both sides. They knew that if someone else caught either of their eyes enough to tempt them into dalliance that it would be best to end it then. Their friendship was strong enough that neither would be too put down about it, save for the fact that they wouldn’t have a dependable partner to look to. Most of the potential suitors’ attempts were laughed at by the two of them later.
Draco smiled in the direction of the lanky man across the room. He normally spent a while making his hair look tame, but today his curly dark brown hair was still proudly mussed with bed-head. Draco, despite his insistence on being immaculately groomed himself, rather preferred Hans’s hair like that. There was something endearing about it. As if sensing Draco’s gaze, a pair of soft, cerulean blue eyes turned his way and Hans returned his smile. Draco mentally stomped on his own foot to keep the smile from faltering on his face.
He was never sure why, but sometimes Hans’s eyes would strike him in an odd way – and not exactly a good one. They were beautiful, of course, but…there was always something off about them that Draco couldn’t put his finger on. When he’d tried to think about it once, all he came up with was that they weren’t vivid or deep or bright or dark or beautiful enough. They just weren’t right and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He’d scolded himself severely for such a thought and tried not to let it bother him. Every now and then, though, he’d catch Hans’s gaze and the feeling of wrongness would wriggle at the back of his mind.
Perhaps, he’d thought once, it’s because they aren’t the eyes that should be looking at you that way. He had a way of ignoring such thoughts, though. He’d accepted it as probable truth once he and Hans had come to the understanding that their love was not eternal. He was content for now though, and he wasn’t going to let even his own mind ruin that for him.
He looked down at his recently abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet and flipped a few pages again. He had been hoping to find something to inspire him towards his own gift, but so far the paper had been wholly unhelpful. Which wasn’t particularly surprising, but it didn’t stop him from pulling a face at it. Nothing within today’s edition really struck his fancy or interest on a personal level. He’d combed the business and fashion sections for work purposes and the sporting section for the latest Quidditch scores, but none of the everyday headlines were all that alluring. Some official got married, the Aurors had broken a small potion-smuggling ring, more conflicts between wizards and magical creatures, and the almost-weekly obligatory article wondering at what had befallen the Boy-Who-Lived-(Twice).
Draco had found those articles interesting for a time when he’d returned from his travels. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one who had needed a break from his old life. After the conclusion of the War’s events, Potter had promptly told the press to sod off and dropped off the face of the Wizarding world. Draco had snickered a bit at his terse final statement before taking his leave. All of Potter’s close friends claimed to know his whereabouts and activities, but that it wasn’t open for discussion. They would confirm that Harry was just fine but would refuse further comment. Draco had spent a few times chuckling over the difference between Harry’s little Gryffindors (and the few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who’d wriggled their way close to him) and his own Slytherin friends. His friends would probably have had a price. Some would consider it sad, but being a Slytherin himself Draco just shrugged it off as being the way of life.
Hans had wondered about his ‘fascination’ – as Hans had termed it – when they first moved back. The War had been mostly centralized in England, though a few tendrils of it had slithered elsewhere. The Wizarding world as a whole knew about the Dark Lord and praised the name of Harry Potter, but outside of the British Isles not many people knew too many of the sordid details. Hans had been familiar with the story and with Potter’s name – and not much more than that. Draco had told him a few stories here and there, but wasn’t entirely comfortable with spilling everything about he and Potter’s mutual enmity.
Sighing, he flung the pages of the Prophet shut and grumped his way into the kitchen. Maybe food would fuel his thought processes. …Or perhaps just some chocolate ice cream. Hans’s amused voice calling after him from the couch to ‘eat some real food’ put a scowl on his face and a damper on that plan, though.
Fate just was not on his side today.
Later that night, Draco sat in the study with a cup of tea and a book that he just couldn’t concentrate on. It was a favorite of his and he’d read it a million times before – which he might have attributed his inattentiveness to if he didn’t already know why he lacked concentration.
He still had yet to think of a birthday present for himself.
There were only six days left until his birthday now. If he didn’t come up with something soon, he was going to miss his own birthday. The last time he’d done that, there had been the extenuating circumstances of the War and being on the run. This time…this time there was only his own perplexity.
Finally giving up on the farce of reading, he sat back in his chair and scowled at the book. At this rate, by June fifth, his face would likely be stuck in a scowl.
Looking to the clock, he idly wondered when Hans would be home. Maybe he could provide some…distraction. Draco let a small smirk creep across his features. Hans was very good at distracting him when something was bothering him. And, were his normal habits any indication, he would be home soon.
Hans and a few of his friends liked to frequent some of the Muggle clubs in the city, which Draco wrinkled his nose at. They were always dirtier and smellier and too hot (or sometimes too cold). The selection of alcohol wasn’t the greatest either. It was a wonder that Muggles had somehow not yet stumbled across the various forms of Wizarding alcohol. And then there was the fact that Draco refused to get a credit card (why should he, when he bought so few Muggle things?) and would have to pay cash, which meant going to Gringotts and going through the hassle of withdrawing it and having it changed over from Wizarding to Muggle currency. There also was the fact that Draco’s style of dress was often seen as a bit odd to most Muggles, which Hans laughingly agreed with. Robes would naturally call attention, and many of his shirts and trousers were of a design or cut that was not on par with the disastrous styles that Muggles somehow considered ‘fashionable.’ Most of his clothing that would have fit in with Muggles was stuff that he wore for the comfort of it and would not be suitable to a night out clubbing. Certainly, he could have simply purchased a few outfits for that purpose, but he preferred to be stubborn on that issue. He was in the business of fashion and he wouldn’t sink so low – or so he claimed.
So, whenever Hans got it in his head to go to a particularly Muggle club, Draco could usually be found enjoying a quiet evening at home. He liked the peace every now and then, and if he got bored he had his parents and plenty of his own friends to visit or invite over.
Propping his chin on his hand, Draco lightly drummed his fingers on the desktop. After a few minutes of that, he went and made that huge bowl of chocolate ice cream he’d been denied for lunch. It wasn’t until he was blissfully about halfway into it that Hans came waltzing in the door, a mischievous grin on his face. Draco cocked an eyebrow in response, waiting for the explanation that was sure to come in three, two, one…
“You’ll never guess who I met at the club tonight!” Hans was nearly bouncing.
Working fastidiously to control the roll of his eyes, lest his darling lover take it the wrong way, he swallowed his mouthful of chocolate before obliging in asking. “Okay, I give up. Who did you see at the Muggle club that has you about to bounce out of your socks?” He spoke it in a bored tone, knowing it would annoy Hans.
True to form, Hans sent a mock glare in Draco’s direction, knowing exactly what he was getting at. Draco stared back innocently, making him snort. “Why, just the singer and lead guitarist of one of my favorite bands. I couldn’t believe my eyes, really, when he wandered into the club. Turns out the band’s in town for the week while doing an interview on some late night talkshow – on the telly, that is – before they head to their next stop on their current tour.”
Draco did roll his eyes now. Such a fanboy. I’m rather glad he wasn’t around when Potter was. I might not have been able to stand him.
“Oh, hush and quit rolling your eyes at me-”
“I didn’t say anything?” Draco interrupted impishly before licking the spoon clean in a suggestive manner.
Hans glared at him again, but Draco could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Hah bloody hah. Honestly. Well,” he continued from before, flopping onto the other end of the couch, “he’s even hotter in person. You never think it’ll be like that, with the way they touch up photos to remove blemishes and the like. But somehow, he pulls it off. I don’t think the camera does him justice at all.” There was a look of contented appraisal in Hans’s unfocused eyes that made Draco scowl.
“Well, if you think he’s so hot, then perhaps you should be fucking him.” Draco knew he sounded catty, but was already in a grumpy mood and his boyfriend clamoring over another bloke’s looks was not helping.
Hans chuckled and slid closer on the couch next to him, trying to pull him into an embrace. Draco remained stubbornly curled around his ice cream bowl, deigning only to take another bite. Hans laughed and settled with curling around him, accustomed to Draco’s moods.
“Now, now then, meine Liebe. He will be gone in a week – why would I ever give you up for something like that? It is nothing like that. Well, actually…” Draco couldn’t help the small amount of stiffness that sprang into his shoulders and back. Hans tried to nuzzle his neck reassuringly, but Draco yanked to the side and narrowed his eyes at the other man.
“What, are you actually asking for permission?” Draco bit out.
“Not exactly, no.”
“Then what exactly, pray tell, do you mean?” His teeth were gritted and he knew that it made his words sound a bit odd, but he didn’t care.
“What I meant was…well, I wanted to see if maybe you would allow him to join us. Really, he’s more your type than mine, both physically and personality-wise, though I do find him rather attractive. I really do admire him quite a bit, too. He and his bandmates all grew up as orphans and met when doing charity work for some of the organizations meant to help kids like they had been. The whole reason they formed the band in the first place was for a fundraiser, and then they were discovered and took off. Most of their proceeds still go to various organizations, and they often participate in conferences that call for changes in the system that will allow for better care for orphaned children as well as stricter screening of potential parents. Recently, with two of the members outing themselves as bi, they also joined in the Muggle fight for gay couples to adopt. Can you believe that, for all their advancements, Muggles still discriminate against things like that? Ugh, it’s sickening, really. …Um, Draco?”
Draco listened to him ramble on, acknowledging the information he was given only barely. What was racing through his mind and preventing him from processing the rest in its entirety was the very first sentence and what it suggested. “Join us. Join us how?” Draco’s mind had come up with a likely explanation of that phrase, but he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to believe it just yet. His mind liked to come up with some awful interpretations at times.
Hans laughed – albeit slightly nervously at Draco’s tone. “To be absolutely blunt, love? I think that I could convince him – if you will allow it – to have a threesome with us. Honestly, I think you’d like him. And I think he’s wonderful. And it’s not like he’s going to stick around, being a star and Muggle and all. I think it would be an interesting experience for us.” Hans shrugged once and quirked his head at Draco, awaiting his reaction.
It was exactly as Draco had thought, and it made him a little uncomfortable. “But…well, I mean, we’ve never allowed anyone else into our bed. Neither of us has dallied on the side. Why…do you want to change that?” Draco squirmed inside with the self-doubt that threatened to wash over him. “Didn’t we agree that…we’d end it before cheating on one another?”
“Draco, love, listen to me. It wouldn’t be cheating. It would be by both of our consent, and with both of our participation. It would not be a dalliance on the side. And yes, I know we’ve never allowed anyone else into our bed before. I was just curious if you might want to try it. It can actually be a bit of fun.” Hans grinned at him and Draco was reminded of the fact that Hans had led a very active sex life before he’d chosen to shack up with him. It would not be too much of a stretch of the imagination to assume Hans had been in a threesome before. Hell, he’d probably been in an orgy, though Draco had carefully never asked, not really wanting to know. As far as he knew, Draco was Hans’s first monogamous relationship since his younger schooldays.
When Draco only chewed his lip in response – which Hans found adorable – he continued. “He’s actually very intelligent, and witty to boot. He has that sort of underhanded dry sarcasm that you indulge in so much. Took me a few minutes to get that he’d even made jokes on some things, or that he’d teased me. He backed off of the small amount of flirting he was doing once I mentioned I had a lover already, though I think he might not object if you were agreeable. The band’s fame has spread all across England, and even to the Continent and the Americas, but he’s still remarkably humble about it. He accepts the fame, stating that it’s something he worked hard for and that he’ll always put it to good use in furthering warranted causes. I think he’s a mite shy around people in general, but he’ll talk to whoever makes the effort to catch his attention. He’s been outed as bi, though I think it’s been said he slightly prefers men.”
Draco stared into his slightly melted bowl of ice cream as Hans rattled on about the man’s attractive features. Okay, so the bloke seemed a tad overly righteous, but Hans was generally correct. He was very much Draco’s ‘type.’ And the righteousness might be inflated somewhat by Hans’s fanboy attitude and the media attention his actions received. Draco knew that the media often skewed things disproportionately. He’d used that against Potter more than once, and he’d had to battle it to save his own family’s reputation after the War.
Hans really believed he could talk this bloke into their bed. Draco knew for a fact that Hans could be dreadfully convincing on many issues, especially in the interpersonal relationships department (the bastard usually got his way in their conflicts because of it). He’d counseled many of Draco’s friends with relationship advice and played matchmaker to countless others. Hell, if Draco didn’t know better, he’d think that Hans was almost trying to set him up with the other man. The sheer idiocy of the thought made him chuckle silently.
After a few more minutes of Hans extolling the virtues of the bloke’s attractive features, Draco rolled his eyes and reached up to flick Hans at his temple. “Alright! Enough already!” Hans stuck his tongue out in response, making Draco roll his eyes again and try to playfully snatch at it with his fingers. “So…you really want this?”
A smile slowly grew on Hans’s face. “Yes, I think I do. And for some reason, I think it’ll be good for you too. Just a gut feeling.” Draco knew that Hans’s gut had an uncanny sense of things. Which is likely the only reason he told himself ‘what the Hell, right?’
“…Fine. But if I don’t like him then I’m kicking him out and I don’t want to hear a peep from you about rudene-”
Hans silenced him with and exuberant kiss. “Thank you, Draco. I promise you won’t regret it.” Draco put up with Hans’s ecstatic cuddling for a bit, finishing off his ice cream in-between demands for kisses. He was still vastly uncertain about it, but that uncertainty now held a fair amount of curiosity as well.
And, in the midst of it all, he was indeed distracted from thinking about his present to himself.
Draco Malfoy was nervous.
He hated being nervous, but there he was, rechecking the apartment to make sure any blatantly Wizarding items were put away. The last thing he – of all people – needed was some Muggle (a famous one, no less) coming to some form of harm in his home because he’d touched something he shouldn’t have.
He knew it would probably have been easier to just take the pictures down for the moment being, but he couldn’t stand how forlorn the flat looked without them. Instead, he had painstakingly gone and put a freezing charm on each and every one of them. He would grumble at himself for being a sentimental pillock later when he had to go undo all of the charms. The people in the pictures would likely glare or make rude faces at him for keeping them frozen so long, too. He’d already had a time of it getting the blasted things to freeze in flattering ways as the pictures inhabitants apparently thought his exasperation at them funny.
Everything was immaculate now. He and Hans weren’t overly messy people on a normal basis, but they were still men in their early twenties and a bit of clutter was the norm. One of the House Elves from the Manor would come over to do the actual scrubbing once a week, so any mess was just the random piece of clothing that got tucked into the couch or books left out in various places or a piece of paper wedged somewhere that must have made sense when it was done. And now that all of those things had been taken care of, he was fidgety.
Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, massaging his forehead. Somehow, in all of Hans’s chatter, Draco had forgotten to ask what the Muggle’s name was. And now Hans was out at that club convincing the man to come back to the apartment. Perhaps he really should have given in and gotten one of those odd Muggle communication devices – sell-fones, if he remembered correctly – so that he could at least ask Hans before they got back. Swearing silently to himself, he hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward. If anything, he’d probably be the awkward one, which irked him to no end. The other bloke was famous, and from what he had heard most gays their age weren’t as into monogamy as he and Hans. He’d probably be the only one who’d never been with more than one partner at the same time.
Huffing softly, he somehow managed to refrain from just beating his head into the wall and avoiding the embarrassment by getting his arse sent to St. Mungo’s. Hearing the bolt turn over in the lock, he resigned to berate himself later. Instead, he took care to stand casually in the living room, as if he’d only just now gotten up at hearing the door. Quickly giving himself a once-over, he nodded approvingly. The khaki dress pants would make him more approachable than black, with his complexion. The light, airy, silk-like button up would add a touch of decadent softness. He’d neglected wearing socks so he wouldn’t have to go through awkwardly removing them or earrings just in case things got a little…rough. He gently spun the Malfoy signet ring he wore on his right ring finger, pondering for the millionth time if he should remove it. He never did any other time, he consoled himself, so why should he now? Satisfied, he raised an eyebrow at the voices in the entryway that sounded as if they had just been laughing.
“Ah, I’ve…admittedly never really done something like this before. With, um, three, that is,” one of the voices said with a touch of embarrassment. Draco was struck for a moment at that voice. Had he heard it before? It seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn’t for the life of him place it. After a moment, he realized he’d likely heard it on the radio or telly, since the man was apparently in a band Hans enjoyed.
“Oh, not to worry, it’s not as complicated as it must seem,” Hans replied good-naturedly. “As a couple, he and I haven’t either, though I’ve done it before.” He finally started into the living room as the noises of the stranger removing his shoes still sounded. Seeing Draco, he grinned at him. “Ah, love! There you are.” Draco smirked at the underlying possessiveness in Hans’s voice. After all, it was his idea to bring the other man here. He barely restrained a laugh at the equally possessive hand Hans slipped to the small of his back when he pecked his cheek in greeting. “This is the bloke I told you about yesterday, Harry Evans. Harry, do come in, don’t be shy now!”
His blood turned to ice and his chest seized up as if in a vice. No. It simply couldn’t be. His luck was just not. That. Bad.
Okay, so ‘Evans’ was Potter’s mother’s maiden name. But, to be honest with himself, neither ‘Harry’ nor ‘Evans’ were uncommon names. Neither was ‘Potter,’ for that matter, but he scowled inwardly and brushed that thought away. Thoughts of Potter always popped up at the most inconvenient times.
After a moment, the other man stumbled through the doorway between the entry hall and the living room. “Crap, ow. Er, sorry, my boot got a bit stuck on my trouser leg,” he said sheepishly, adding a nervous laugh to the end of it. He was still looking down and patting at the offending material, and absently Draco thought he was likely glaring at the half of a heavy black boot that was tipped through the doorway behind him. What occupied his attention, though, was the telltale messy black hair – curls and flyaway hairs falling in every direction (including up, somehow). He couldn’t see any glasses hanging off the face, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Getting one’s eyes fixed was an easy enough procedure most of the time.
Draco bit the inside of his lip so it wouldn’t show, as the emotions twisting in his chest battled and wavered between anxiety and – strangely enough – hope.
“If you’ll pardon my delay,” the visitor said with a laugh, “Hans told me some rather lovely things about you.” Then his vivid green eyes, crinkled in amusement at his awkward entrance, glanced up at him. And grew wide as saucers as the warm smile faltered on Harry’s face. “Oh. Well. That explains a few things.”
Draco just stared back for a moment. This, simply, could not be happening. Harry Potter. In his living room. About to have a romp with him and his boyfriend. Masqueraded as a Muggle (okay, he’d admit the last one wasn’t entirely farfetched given his disappearance from the Wizarding world, just really bloody unlikely). Finally, Potter’s words registered. “Wait, what do you mean it ‘explains a few things’?”
Hans had been looking back and forth in-between the two in confusion (and a small amount of worry) ever since Draco’s back had stiffened when he’d introduced Harry. He wondered if Draco – usually so aware of his own physical actions and reactions – even noticed he’d done it. Or that the slight flaring of his nostrils showed that he was breathing quickly, yet quietly. Even more puzzled by the initial interaction, he finally cleared his throat and asked, “Do you two…know one another…?”
Sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face, Draco half-grumbled out his response. “We used to, yes. For one, he is definitely not a Muggle. For two, we were…schoolmates. For three, that is very much not his real name.” Well, last name, anyway. He angled a look at Harry, somehow managing to both glare and look inquisitive. “So you used your mother’s maiden name?”
Harry looked a little sheepish again. “Ah, yes, I did. I was…more than tired of all the attention my father’s family name had brought me. I wanted something to discern between that kind of attention and anything I might receive because of my band.”
Draco scoffed. “Couldn’t stay out of the spotlight, then, could you?” he sneered out, making it plain what he thought of Potter’s fame-mongering.
Anger flashed across Harry’s features, his mouth twisting for a moment as if he’d snarl out a retort – but just as quickly he sighed and closed his eyes, as if forcing himself to let it go. Draco studiously ignored the part of him that was a bit miffed at not being able to make the Gryffindor react like he used to. “It is nothing of the sort you are implying, Malfoy,” he intoned icily. Draco barely held back his own urge to deck Potter with the way he intoned his family’s name as if it were an insult – or an admonishment. “I just wanted to be recognized for something that I did intentionally and by my own choice. Not by accident. Not because it was necessary.” He opened his eyes then, staring levelly into Draco’s.
The stare unnerved Draco more than he’d care to admit. However, he could admit that he’d been the one to make the contemptuous implication. He’d known for a long time that Potter had no wish for the fame he’d garnered as the Boy-Who-Lived. Sighing again, he apologized. “Yes, yes, I know. I apologize for my antagonism. I supposed some old habits are hard to break.” Well, he apologized as best as anyone would get a Malfoy to apologize.
He smirked in Potter’s direction and concentrated a moment on not laughing when Potter scowled back at him. It seemed he had indeed picked up on Draco’s inference that it was Potter’s old habits that were unbroken, not necessarily his own.
Still confused, Hans gently cleared his throat again. “Do we…have a problem?” Embarrassingly, Draco started at Hans’s interjection. He’d sort of forgotten that the other man was listening in.
Harry had tilted his head to the side slightly, studying Draco. One of his eyebrows raised and a small smirk dawned across his own face. Before Draco could open his mouth to respond, he ventured his dare. “Perhaps not? …Malfoy?” Draco chose to focus more on the undertone of challenge in Potter’s voice rather than the faintest of purrs that was added to his name.
Of course Draco would rise to any challenge that Potter presented – and naturally best him at it. Thinking quickly, he issued his own counter-challenge. “Only if you keep calling me by my family name. Unless you’d care to be thinking of a different Malfoy.” He made a small face of disgust at the thought to prevent himself from laughing as Potter went a little green. He looked as if that thought might just kill it for him. “Of course, I could just refer to you by your family name – your father’s family name, that is.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” was the reply, tinted with a slight growl. There was a bit of a feral grin on his face now, and Draco laughed back at it. He could feel Hans’s confusion still radiating from him, but didn’t feel like explaining. To be perfectly honest with himself would be to admit that not even he was entirely certain he knew exactly what was going on. Did Potter mean he’d rather Draco not call him ‘Potter’ in front of Hans, or that he’d prefer Draco to call him ‘Harry’? Why did the latter make his chest – and groin – feel a bit tighter? Then again, Draco was rarely perfectly honest with himself. So, as per usual when he was uncertain, he ignored the confusing questions and pretended to know everything.
Hans chose that moment to butt in (and hopefully lighten the mood a bit). “I don’t usually use my full first name, myself. For me, it’s more because I tired of jokes about breadcrumbs and Gretel’s whereabouts.” He angled a mirthful, lop-sided grin at the two of them and was glad when he saw a little tension drain from their stances. He even got an eyeroll from Draco and a chuckle from Harry. Good, this would go much better now.
“Well, if there aren’t any problems…then perhaps we could move this conversation to somewhere more, mmm, comfortable?” He let a bit of heat seep into his voice, hoping now to bring both of them back into what they were supposed to be doing at the moment. He saw Draco bite the inside of his lip, which he seemed to think no one could see him do, and slowly nod his assent though his eyes were still trained on Harry. Hans was a little put off about that, but brushed it off as Draco just being wary of the outsider. Harry flicked his eyes to Hans and inclined his head, indicating Hans should lead the way.