Ten Steps

Author's Note: Many thanks again to Kasey and Shannon for their beta work on this chapter and thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Only five chapters to go!

Chapter 20 Don’t Feed the Animals

Harry hurried around the bend of Diagon Alley and Hobble Lane to the tiny café on the corner. He was supposed to meet Oliver there for breakfast and he was running a tad late. The place was jammed with people when he entered, but he didn’t spot his boyfriend’s face anywhere in the gathered crowd. He took a seat at the only table left, a two-top toward the back with a clear shot of the door. He thought that was handy in case he needed to flag Oliver down when he walked in. He was just glad the Keeper was late as well and that the blame wouldn’t fall entirely on Harry’s shoulders.

As he perused the menu, unsure of what to order or what he was even in the mood for, he wondered if Oliver might have already come and gone. Surely Harry wasn’t that late? When he pulled the menu away from his face to glance around the café one more time, he noticed the only other chair at his table was suddenly occupied. “Is this seat taken?” Draco asked, a delicate smirk on his lips.

Harry knew he should be annoyed with the blond, especially after the stint at St. Mungo’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to be irked by the man when he looked like he did. Draco seemed tired and frazzled. He had shadows under his eyes and his hair was less kempt than usual and Harry thought he could see wrinkles in the man’s robes, which wasn’t normal by any means. But beyond all that, Draco still managed to be the hottest bloke Harry had ever set eyes on.

“It is now, I suppose,” Harry replied rather glibly. “Stalking me again?”

“Hardly,” Draco scoffed. “I always have breakfast here. Besides, I was here first,” he added, gesturing to the fact that he already had food and tea in hand.

“What, no sausage?” Harry asked, commenting on the meat-free pastry Draco had on his plate. “I seem to recall you mentioning that you preferred a nice, thick sausage for breakfast.”

“I think it’s adorable that you so easily remember a conversation we had months ago. I had no idea you cared so much,” he purred, causing Harry to blush furiously when his plan to embarrass the blond had been promptly turned around on him.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry replied, but the words held no venom, only humor. “So, what’s good here? I have no idea what to order.”

“Try this,” Draco offered, holding out a chunk of his blueberry Danish for Harry to bite. Harry did, pausing to lick a stray smudge of fruit that had lingered on Draco’s fingers. The blond averted his gaze, warding off his own flush, but Harry didn’t seem to notice as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the bite of Draco’s breakfast.

“Mmm,” he sighed, and Draco had to fight to keep breathing as he watched Harry’s face take on a blissful expression. Draco’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, as if he could taste what Harry did. “That’s delicious.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Draco murmured thickly, trying to tone down the lust burning through him.

“You seem to have a knack for that,” Harry pointed out, opening his eyes to take in Draco’s curious expression.

“For what?” Draco asked, leaning in a bit more than was prudently necessary. The café was filled with noise, but Harry hadn’t had any trouble hearing the blond so far. Still, he didn’t complain.

“For knowing what I’ll like,” Harry replied with a warm smile.

Draco felt his heart skip a beat and knew at once that he was treading thin ice – how had breakfast become so erotic? – so, he changed the subject. “How’s Hermione doing?” he asked.

The fire faded from behind those emerald orbs and Harry adopted a more serious tone. “The Healers think she’ll be fine so long as she gets some rest. They’ve sent her home with a potion regiment that should replace the magic reserves she’d depleted. Although, how it happened I still don’t understand,” he sighed.

Draco nodded, knowing it was impossible to explain anything to the man while they were here in the middle of breakfast, but he didn’t envy Harry’s ignorance. Draco always loathed it when his parents had withheld information from him during the war. It had made him feel so useless, and it resulted in an array of mistakes that Draco might not have made if he’d been fully versed on what was happening around him. Draco worried that Harry was about to make a mistake that he could never take back, simply because he didn’t know all the variables. More than anything, Draco wished he could fill Harry in.

“I don’t think I can eat the rest of this,” Draco sighed, pushing his plate away. “Do you want it?”

Harry didn’t agree with words, he simply opened his mouth, waiting to be fed as Draco had done before. When had things become so comfortably intimate between them? Draco didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to turn Harry away now, or ever for that matter. He simply picked up the remaining half of his Danish and held it to Harry’s succulent lips, wishing he could kiss them without any unseemly side effects.

“Well, this looks cozy.”

Harry pulled back, his mouth half-full of food as he rushed to chew and swallow the bite he’d taken. Draco on the other hand had no food in his mouth whatsoever, but was equally speechless. Oliver stood there, staring at them both and waited for an explanation. “Harry, it was nice bumping into you,” Draco said and got up from the table. “Oliver,” he added as an afterthought before abruptly leaving the couple alone, ignoring the desperate glare Harry shot him in his wake.

Oliver took Draco’s abandoned seat and remained silent, staring at Harry across the table with hurt and anger in those dark eyes. When it was clear Harry had nothing to say, even after nearly choking as he swallowed Draco’s breakfast, Oliver decided he could take the silence no longer. “Did you make a date with the wrong boyfriend?” he asked, startling Harry with his quiet, seething tone.

“What?” Harry asked, completely baffled.

“Do you miss him already? Should I ask him to come back? I hadn’t meant to interrupt your sweet little moment,” Oliver replied, goading Harry into anger.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Harry shot back, his pitch increasing ever so slightly.

“Am I being ridiculous? Because it seems to me that you hang out with him an awful lot for someone you supposedly hate,” Oliver growled.

“I don’t hate him, I never said I did. That doesn’t mean I love him either,” Harry replied defensively.

“I never said anything about love,” Oliver whispered, his eyes narrowed in challenge.

“You know what I mean. Draco and I are just friends,” Harry scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. His ire increased in competition with his guilt. He didn’t want to make a scene, but Oliver seemed to be leaving him no choice.

“Since when? You two were sniping at each other the night of our first date, but ever since then you…” Harry glared as Oliver’s voice trailed off and the man looked away, so that Harry could only imagine the derogatory lies Oliver was thinking.

“I what?” Harry challenged.

“It almost seems like you’re dating both of us,” Oliver sighed, suddenly looking more defeated than angry.

“That’s preposterous! Draco doesn’t even like me that way,” Harry assured, but to that Oliver just laughed – albeit, there was no humor in the sound.

“Oh, well, that’s certainly reassuring,” his boyfriend scoffed. “I suppose you’d just jump right into bed with him if he did?”

“That’s not what I meant! Merlin, you’re twisting around everything I say,” Harry shouted, too exasperated to keep his volume in check. It hardly mattered by now though, he knew their fight would be front-page news in the papers tomorrow morning.

“Then just be blunt with me, Harry. Do you have feelings for him?” Oliver asked, his eyes both furious and pleading.

Harry flushed with anger and embarrassment, and opened his mouth to answer, although he had no idea what he would say. What could he say? Yes, he was attracted to Malfoy? Yes, he would bed him in an instant if Draco were willing to be in a committed relationship? All of those things would hurt Oliver, and he didn’t want to hurt him. But maybe the man needed to know the truth of the situation.

The answer was taken out of his hands, however, when a clumsy woman slipped and sprayed her hot tea all over Oliver’s lap. “Oh! Oliver, I’m so sorry!” the woman apologized, dabbing at Oliver’s trousers with deliberate care. Harry was about to tell the trollop off for molesting his boyfriend, but quickly realized who it was. In the haze of his anger, he hadn’t even noticed Ginny making her way over to their table.

Oliver stood, casting Ginny a scathing glance and cleaned himself off with a flick of his wand. “I’ll be out of town for the next few days,” he told Harry sharply. “We’ll discuss this when I get back.” And with that, Oliver strode toward the door, ready to walk out on Harry. He didn’t know if it was the blatant rudeness of Oliver running away in the middle of a fight, or his increasing guilt over why they were fighting to begin with, but Harry said something he instantly regretted the moment the words left his lips.

“I’ll try not to fuck Malfoy while you’re gone!” Harry shouted after him. Oliver turned and gaped, pain and hurt blazing in that dark gaze, but he didn’t reply. Instead, Oliver continued on his path out of the café and Harry slumped further into his chair, feeling like complete rubbish.

When he looked up, Ginny had taken Oliver’s seat, which had been Draco’s before that, and Harry had to laugh, because if he didn’t he might cry from the frustration of it all. At Ginny’s bemused expression, Harry decided to explain. “Did you know that you’re the third person to have breakfast with me this morning?”

“Well, aren’t you popular?” she quipped.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Harry asked, the laughter dying abruptly on his lips as they set into a tight line.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

Harry glared at her, putting the same menacing glint into his gaze that he used when facing off with the villains he dealt with at work. “Don’t be coy, Gin. You and I both know you’re better than that.”

“I didn’t like the way he was talking to you, Harry. It’s not right,” she said with a pout, as if that would garner Harry’s favor and lessen her lecturing. Maybe it worked, or maybe Harry was too tired to chastise a friend who behaved childishly. Besides, what kind of hypocrite would that make him?

“No, he’s perfectly reasonable,” Harry sighed, running his hands haphazardly through his messy, black locks. “He walked in with Malfoy feeding me. Can you believe that? I don’t know how I let myself get into these messes.”

“Oh, that sounds hot,” she purred, leaning closer in case Harry wanted to whisper about the indecent bits. “Do go on.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Stop it, Gin. I’m dating Oliver. It’s completely inappropriate for me to be accepting bites of food from another man’s fingers.”

Ginny sighed like a petulant girl denied a later bedtime, and straightened her posture. Her look quickly turned stern, as if she were channeling some Molly-Minerva hybrid, and Harry quickly realized he preferred the pout. “If you know that, then why are you doing it?” she asked, making Harry swallow thickly, because guilt was building up in his throat.

“I don’t know.” It was the only answer he could come up with, and Ginny just stared at him for a long time, clinking her newly manicured nails against her empty teacup. She looked on the verge of either slapping him or telling him off using large words he couldn’t begin to understand.

“Well,” she said at last, and Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. For some reason he’d begun to think she was just going to stare at him with those harsh, knowing eyes forever. “Perhaps that’s what you should be asking yourself.”

And with that, Ginny got up and left the same way Oliver and Draco had, leaving Harry staring after her as he wondered how he could have managed to irritate three people so thoroughly in a matter of minutes.

And he still hadn’t eaten a proper breakfast.

Harry hadn’t heard a word from Oliver all day. He’d been sure he would have gotten a response to at least one of the many apologetic Owls he’d sent – even a terse telling off would have been appreciated at this point. He suspected that he’d bollixed things up for good this time. What had he even been thinking? Sitting with the man would have looked suspicious enough, but at least that could be easily explained away, but taking food from the man’s fingers as if they were lovers…. It was inexcusable really, especially given the fact that Harry was happily dating Oliver. It wasn’t as if Harry was a single man with only his own heart on the line. Any dalliance with Draco would only be temporary, and it would end up hurting both Harry and Oliver in the end. Draco had said so in as many words, this was only business for him. Even knowing this, however, Harry couldn’t seem to stop falling for the blond’s advances and found himself encouraging them more often than he knew he should.

When the fireplace flared to life, Harry found himself wishing that it was Oliver, but he wasn’t as disappointed as he should have been to see it was Draco instead. Harry walked over to sit in front of the luminescent green flames and glared mockingly down at the blond. “You got me into a bit of a mess with Oliver,” he told the man, who winced and looked genuinely apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble,” he whispered, but Harry only sighed and shook his head in dismay with himself.

“It’s not all your fault,” he admitted. “Still, we had our first big fight and now I don’t know what to do. He’s going to be in Ireland for the next few days.”

“Did you two break up?” Draco asked, and if Harry had hoped to detect a fleck of victory in the tone he would have been sorely disappointed. Draco seemed concerned, almost as if his life depended on their relationship working. That made sense in the context of the Unbreakable Vow, but not in the context of the way Draco had been behaving around him. Harry couldn’t understand, as much as he wanted to, why Draco seemingly wanted him to stray from Oliver when he knew that they were matched. Draco had performed the tests and spells himself, for Merlin’s sake, so why the constant flirting?

“No, nothing that severe…I hope,” Harry replied at last, a bit distractedly. “I don’t know though. Maybe he wants to end things.”

“Perhaps he just needs some time to cool down,” Draco offered. “How are you? Do you need someone to talk to?”

Harry wanted to scream. Boorish Malfoy he could easily ignore, Flirtatious Malfoy he could even deal with, but sweet, considerate Draco was so hard to resist it nearly drove him mad from trying. With effort, Harry succeeded. “Yes,” he replied with a soft sigh, “but I think it’s a bad idea to meet up with you now.”

“I understand,” Draco whispered, sounding slightly hurt. “If it’s any consolation, arguing was step number six, so technically you’re still on schedule.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better. There is no way that arguing is the way to a man’s heart,” Harry laughed.

“Arguing is unavoidable, Harry. You’re not going to agree with him on every little thing. It’s not as if we encourage it, mind you, but this way you’ll know in advance how he reacts in a tense situation.” Draco’s explanation made complete sense but left Harry feeling a bit empty.

“He ran away,” Harry rasped, feeling his heart tug with anger and pain all over again.

“A lot of people do. Are you okay with that?” Draco asked. “I mean, are you okay with the fact that Wood does it?”

Harry merely shrugged and stared into the glow of the flames. He didn’t think it mattered much if it bothered him or not. It was Harry’s fault they’d fought, so he would just need to deal with it. “Is that why you didn’t come up with some smooth lie like last time? You knew we needed to fight?” Harry asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

Draco laughed and preened a bit, which made Harry laugh as well. “I wish I had that much control over your relationship, Harry. Honestly I just couldn’t think of any plausible reason why I’d be feeding you breakfast. It’s not as if your arms had fallen off, after all.”

“So, why did you?” Harry asked, all humor sucked out of him like a deflated balloon.

“Why did you accept it?” Draco challenged, equally somber all of a sudden.

“I should go,” Harry said, standing abruptly and leaning against the mantel. “I’m tired and confused.”

“It’s never been my intention to confuse you, Harry,” Draco whispered softly.

“I know, but just because you didn’t mean for it to happen doesn’t mean it didn’t. I’ll Owl you after I’ve spoken to Oliver,” Harry said, lingering longer than he should have. It was painful to pull himself away from the fireplace, away from its warmth…away from Draco. But he knew he had to do it. If things didn’t work out with Oliver, maybe Harry could entertain going down this road with Draco, but by then, the blond probably wouldn’t be interested. Regardless, Harry was in a committed relationship with Oliver now, so he had to put space between he and the beautiful blond face bobbing in the fire. “Goodnight, Draco,” he said reluctantly, before turning away and heading for his bedroom.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Draco replied in the barest of whispers, moments after ending the fire call and heading toward his own sleepless night.

Author's Note: Yes, yes. I know. I've heard it all before. Poor Draco! Stupid Harry! Have I mentioned there are still 5 chapters (Well, 4 now)? Any of you who know me should know that I plan on milking it to the very end. *Slytherin smirk