Ten Steps

Author’s Note: Okay, so there has been some speculation to the identity of Harry’s date, and this chapter shall reveal all. Thanks again to Kasey, Shannon and TutelaTwin for being my beta’s. This chapter tickled my funny bone. I’m determined to make a likable Ginny in this one!! Watch out everyone!!!

Chapter 2 Shopping for Sausages

Harry woke up to a tapping on his window. It was Sunday and he’d planned on sleeping in, but apparently the owl post had different ideas for his morning. Reluctantly, he pried himself from the warm comfort of bed and wobbled over to the window. A graceful tawny owl flew in the moment he unlatched it and settled on the edge of the chair in the corner of his room.

Carefully, Harry reached out and scratched the bird behind the neck – one could never be too careful with the public birds, they were often far meaner than privately owned owls - earning him a warm coo before the bird thrust out his leg for Harry to accept the rolled parchment weighing him down. As soon as the final bind left its leg, the bird flew away through the window whence it came.

With longing eyes, Harry stared at his rumpled bed, but reluctantly shook off the idea of crawling back under the covers and drifting off to sleep again. It was already seven and if he dozed off now he’d probably sleep until noon, and that was far later than he’d like. Not to mention the fact that he was awake enough now that he’d merely toss and turn for a while and probably wouldn’t even be able to fall asleep again. He took his new mail and trudged downstairs to set his teakettle brewing. The shrill whistle was music to his ears and after a few minutes, Harry was sitting at the breakfast table sipping hot tea and unrolling the parchment he’d brought downstairs with him.

His mail consisted of an advertisement for the new broom coming out next month, the Graphite 2.0, which was supposedly the lightest and fastest model to date, and informed him that he could pre-order it from Quality Quidditch today. He also had a letter from Ron, which told him that he had successfully spoken to his friend who had agreed to attend Friday’s get together, which would be held at Ron’s house this week, and last but not least, an issue of Witch Weekly.

He didn’t subscribe to the magazine, so Harry wasn’t sure why he was getting it at all until he saw the note scribbled on the front in bubbly cursive writing. It simply said ‘Page Thirteen’.Harry frowned as he turned to a large photo and article about Draco Malfoy. The title of the piece was ‘Philanthropic Heartthrob’ and featured a list of Malfoy’s current projects, most of which were restoring historical magical buildings destroyed in the war. He’d started with Hogwarts and had apparently sunk a fair bit of time and money into making sure the castle was as it was before Voldemort attacked. Harry had donated a good deal of his own time and money into the project, but he’d stopped after the school was complete, where it seemed Malfoy had been inspired to continue his work elsewhere.

Another note graced the bottom right hand corner of the photo that accompanied the article – a picture that featured a smiling Malfoy as he surveyed the new plans for the rebuild of St. Madeline’s Orphanage. Harry rolled his eyes when he read it, Ginny’s handwriting quite evident now.

Harry,

I caught you staring at him several times at the party Friday. I thought perhaps you’d like to hang this in your office.

Love,

Ginny

“Terribly funny, Gin,” Harry muttered to himself as he rolled the magazine up and threw it in the rubbish bin. He wondered if Malfoy told her and Clive about their awkward kiss down in the cellar. He must have, otherwise Ginny wouldn’t have sent the magazine to rub it in Harry’s face.

“It wasn’t even a kiss. It was just Malfoy being a slimy git at usual,” Harry grumbled before deciding he wasn’t going to talk to himself anymore.

When the Floo sounded from the kitchen, Harry got up to greet his visitor. It was Luna again, and she wore an odd mixture of amusement and confusion on her normally dreamy features.

“Is Ron ill again?” he asked at once. “I just got a note from him this morning saying that everything was a go for Friday.”

“Did he tell you who the bloke is?” Luna asked, her lips curling up in a smile.

“No,” Harry replied with a frown. “Should I know? Is it bad?”

“Not bad, no,” she replied and settled onto a small wooden stool by the fireplace. “Ron’s fine,” she added as an afterthought. “This visit is actually work related.”

“Oh?” Harry asked warily. He couldn’t understand why she would need him for anything work related. He’d given her a couple exclusive interviews with him over the years because she was his friend, but nothing important had happened recently that would need to be reported on.

“Did you write a letter to Professor Amore?” she asked casually.

Harry flushed a deep crimson before nodding. “Yes. She’s the one who suggested I ask my friends to set me up on a date.”

“Why didn’t you ask me? I could have arranged a lunch or something,” she replied, as if chastising her son. “The professor’s asked me to track down the person who wrote the letter.”

“Why?” Harry asked, more confused than ever. “It’s already been posted in the paper along with her answer.”

“Because the professor is preparing a set of case studies and was interested in what you wrote, apparently because you mentioned being in the public eye,” she noted.

“I think I’d rather not,” Harry replied with mild distaste. “I don’t want to be some laughing stock.”

“It’s a huge honor, Harry,” Luna corrected abruptly, clearly in Professor Amore’s corner. “You’ve been selected by the professor personally to take the Ten Step lessons.” She acted as if Harry was being bestowed with the Order of Merlin, but he’d already gotten one of those just after the war and it was locked up in his cupboard. He didn’t much care for being singled out, especially when he didn’t even understand what he was being singled out for.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a series of private sessions where Professor Amore bestows upon you the ten guaranteed steps to having a long healthy relationship. The professor normally charges a large fee for the service but is offering it to you for free because of who you are,” Luna explained, her gaze far away as if she was thinking about something else altogether.

“She knows who I am?” Harry balked. He hadn’t wanted that at all, in fact, that was part of the reason he’d gone the anonymous route in the first place. The last thing he needed was for all the media to be reporting on poor dateless Harry Potter.

“No, but when the professor asked about you, I informed them that you’re a prominent figure, like you said in your letter,” she replied, looking a bit embarrassed but not remorseful.

“I didn’t tell her that. I just said that it was hard finding someone who can live in the limelight without exploiting me,” he rebuked.

“Whatever you said, you got the professor’s attention,” she replied. “It’s a good thing.”

“So what, you think I should do this? I’m not even dating anyone,” Harry replied. He couldn’t fathom going to this woman for dating advice directly, writing that letter had been taxing enough, but maybe that was just what he needed. He trusted Luna’s opinion after all.

“I wasn’t dating Ron when Professor Amore helped us. We were both in the professor’s program,” she told Harry with a soft smile.

“Ron went to a dating class?” Harry asked incredulously. He simply couldn’t picture it.

“We’d both gone to the professor separately and after a few lessons he matched us together. We’ve been inseparable since, and the professor’s ten step program made sure we lasted.” Her face was alight with joy as she recalled that time in her life. She and Ron were one of the happiest couples Harry knew. Perhaps there was someone else taking Professor Amore’s classes that she could see him matched with.

“I’ll do it,” Harry replied at last, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

“Brilliant. I’ll set it up for next Saturday,” she replied. “You should meet your date on Friday first, after all, it was the professor who suggested it,” she quipped before erupting into a fit of giggles. Harry had no idea why any of this was so funny, but Luna eventually gathered her calm and left, which was fine since he really needed to start his day. He had a million errands to run, including going to the market, which always took him forever since he never managed to stick to his list.

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Harry couldn’t decide whether he wanted a cantaloupe or honeydew for his breakfast the next morning and held one of each in his hands as he weighed the possibility. “Nice melons, Potter,” commented an all too familiar voice from behind him.

Harry rolled his eyes and held them up suggestively, trying to best the Slytherin at his own game. “Do you like them really, Malfoy?” he asked, batting his eyelashes demurely. “I think they might be a tad large for my frame.”

“Well, it is size that matters after all,” Malfoy quipped, “but I’m not a big fan of melons. I prefer a nice, thick, juicy sausage for breakfast.”

Harry flushed and turned back to the fruit stand to replace both melons to their respective piles. Once composed, Harry turned back to his unwelcome guest and smiled. “I had guessed that about you, actually,” he replied at last. “I’m sure the thin, limp frankfurter always covets the bratwurst.”

Draco chuckled darkly and shook his head. “Who knew the Gryffindor Golden Boy would have such a keen sense of humor?”

“Who said I was joking?” Harry replied with his eyebrow arched in challenge.

“Touché,” Draco replied but sidled in closer to Harry’s personal space. “However, I assure you that there is nothing thin or limp attached to this body,” he added, gesturing to the magnificence that was Draco Malfoy. Had the man not been watching him carefully, Harry might have allowed his gaze to linger on the fit blond, but as it stood he refused to give in.

“Two encounters in one week, one might think you’re stalking me, Malfoy,” Harry pointed out.

“You could just as easily be following me, Potter,” Malfoy noted.

“Except I always shop at this market on Sunday afternoon,” he explained, as if that was somehow definitive proof that he couldn’t possibly be stalking Malfoy anywhere.

“Noted,” the blond replied with a wink and moved along through the produce area, leaving Harry staring after him again. Just once Harry wanted to have the last word when they parted ways. Just once.

He surreptitiously watched Draco toss a pomegranate, a tomato, and a golden yellow squash into his basket. Harry thought about pointing out that he was only selecting Gryffindor colors, but that would only lead to talking to the man again and he really didn’t want to do that. No doubt it would only lead to more blushing on his part while Malfoy stared on with a smug grin. The git.

Harry finished his shopping quicker than usual as he tried to avoid any more run-ins with the blond. Draco got into line right after him as everything was being rung up but thankfully the Slytherin remained silent, occasionally smirking in Harry’s direction. When Harry got home, he levitated his bags into the kitchen and began to put his things in the cupboards. It wasn’t until he got to the third bag that he noticed something was off.

There, in plastic wrapped glory was a massive beef sausage that Harry hadn’t purchased. He scowled down at the joke – the sausage was truly comical, nearly as long as his forearm and twice as thick - that must have been slipped in with his things while he wasn’t looking. Malfoy must think a great deal of himself, but despite his disdain for the blond, Harry caught himself laughing aloud over the incident several times that day.

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During the week, Harry was both worried and excited for Friday to come. It was a slow week for the Ministry, which gave him plenty of time to dwell on who he’d be meeting as well as whether or not there would be chemistry. He trusted Ron and Luna, and since they both seemed confident that Harry would like his date, he tried to calm his mind and keep that fact forefront in his thoughts.

“It’s not as though they thought to set me up with Malfoy,” Harry found himself muttering quite often whenever he allowed himself to think about it.

When Friday finally arrived, Harry debated for nearly an hour on what to wear. He eventually settled for dark robes that fit him nicely, simple well-tailored trousers and a dark purple shirt. Once he was sure his hair wouldn’t get any better, he set out for Ron and Luna’s.

His heart was thudding in his chest as he approached the front door. He knocked sharply and waited, his breath leaving him the moment the door was opened and he found Malfoy standing on the other side of the threshold.

“Potter, how good to see you,” he greeted, although Harry could tell he was being sarcastic.

He was seconds away from a retort when it hit him; Ron and Luna were setting him up with Malfoy after all. He mentally crossed them both off his Christmas list as he stood in the doorway and tried to decide how to proceed. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was invited,” Malfoy replied. “Same as you I’d imagine.”

Harry wanted to drive a sharp object into his forehead as his reality spun out of control. How could his friends do this to him? “So, they’ve recruited you to be my date?” Harry groaned, rubbing at his temples as he felt a headache coming on.

“Merlin no,” Draco laughed. “Your date’s inside. Though I think when you see him you will have preferred it was me,” the blond added with a wink and opened the door to let the mortified Harry inside.

He quickly shuffled away from the smirking Slytherin and made his way over to Ron, who was speaking to a familiar man. Harry hadn’t seen him in years but he would recognize that fiery passion in those bright blue eyes any day.

“Oliver!” Harry called out, extending his hand out for the man to shake. He’d seen a few of the man’s Puddlemere games, but hadn’t really seen Wood since just after the war. “Long time no see.”

“Time’s been good to you, Harry,” the Scot replied as he took Harry’s hand and gave him an appreciative once over.

“You too,” Harry noted, and he wasn’t lying. The man still kept his reddish-brown hair cropped close to his head and his body was far more toned and muscular than it had been in school, but he otherwise looked much the same. He was handsome back at Hogwarts and he was equally so these many years later.

“So, how’s my favorite Gryffindor Seeker?” he asked, his smile warm and inviting.

“I’ve been good,” Harry replied easily. He felt comfortable with the man. He knew Oliver well enough to know he wasn’t slime, but not so well that he didn’t find him attractive. In fact, the heat growing in his groin pointed out to Harry exactly how attractive he found Oliver Wood after all these years. “I’ve been an Auror since the war, so close to making department head I can almost taste it,” he laughed. “You’ve done Puddlemere well, I’ve seen.”

“We’re going to the cup this year,” he beamed. “It was confirmed just last night. This will make our seventh straight victory.”

“Brilliant. You’ll win it for sure,” Harry cheered. He was so enthralled with his conversation with Wood that he hadn’t noticed Ron slip away, or the group of watchful friends analyzing his every word and gesture as they stood in the other room pretending to be chatting amongst themselves. In fact, he was having such a fluid and entertaining conversation that he didn’t even notice Draco Malfoy lingering in the corner eating up their every word. He also didn’t notice the slight frown on the blond’s face when Harry leaned over and grazed Wood’s arm or laughed genuinely at his jokes.

Before Harry realized it, he looked up to see Hermione yawning and noticed it was almost two in the morning. He’d been so wrapped up in his date that the time had just flown by him without pause. “So,” Harry started, suddenly quite bashful, “do you think you might have time for dinner sometime? I mean, only if your Quidditch practice permits, and if you want to… er, do you?”

Oliver chuckled and leaned over, brushing his thumb along Harry’s cheekbone before nodding. “I’d like that,” he replied. “Maybe next weekend?”

Harry nodded and grinned, unable to care if he looked like an idiot. Finally he’d met someone he could really entertain the idea of a long happy life with. He had loads in common with Wood, there was definitely chemistry there, and Harry already knew he was a decent bloke, even if he was a little Quidditch obsessed. “Excellent. Just Owl me when you’re available.”

“It was really great to see you again, Harry,” Oliver replied, his smile warming Harry to the core before he turned and said his goodbyes to the rest of the group and left.

Harry was staring at the door Oliver had closed behind him when he felt a warm arm twine around his waist. “So, that looked successful,” Ginny chirped.

“You think?” Harry asked, the stupid grin still prominently in place.

“Definitely,” Hermione answered, her gaze flicking from Harry’s face to just behind him. Harry turned in Ginny’s grip to find a scowling Malfoy leaning elegantly against the wall.

“It seems you have a new admirer, Potter,” he goaded. “I’m sure you’re tickled.”

“Jealous, Malfoy?” Harry replied, his tone snarky despite his lingering good mood.

“Of you?” he replied, and Harry merely grinned triumphantly and nodded. “Hardly,” Draco answered. “Wood’s no big prize.”

“No, certainly not,” Harry mused sarcastically. “He’s only the most brilliant Keeper on the most successful Quidditch team in the world. Nothing special at all.”

“I suppose that’s all well and good if you like Quidditch,” he remarked.

“I do,” Harry replied smugly.

“Immensely,” Draco added with a frown.

“I do,” Harry repeated, pleased to have the last word with Malfoy at last. He turned and bid his friends farewell amongst a smattering of good lucks and kisses on the cheek. When he got to the end of the receiving line, he found Malfoy standing there smugly.

“What’s wrong, Potter, no goodbye kiss for your dear friend Draco?” he asked, his mouth twitching with mirth at Harry’s discomfort.

“I don’t have any friend’s by that name,” Harry replied and promptly left the party. He was relieved to be out of Malfoy’s presence, but the blond’s smile lingered in his vision even when he climbed into bed. He banished it away with thoughts of Wood and what their next date might hold. As usual, Professor Amore was a brilliant woman with excellent ideas. He might just owe her his happiness just as surely as Ron and Luna owed her theirs.

Author’s Note: Sausage anyone?