Ten Steps

Author’s Note: Thanks again to Kasey, Shannon and TutelaTwin for their beta work. This story is a lot of fun to write now that the set up is out of the way. Congrats to all who predicted Oliver in the last chapter. This story is going to circulate around the triangle between Wood, Malfoy and Potter, so he’s going to be around for a while. Get used to him. *wink. I thought I would be nice this lovely Friday and post up a chapter of this story early. I'm not nice often, so bask in it. lol

Chapter 3 The Meeting

Saturday began rather foggy and dank outside, but Harry’s mood was not reflected or diluted by the nasty weather. He’d had a brilliant time with Oliver the night before and had even managed to stump Malfoy as he left. It had been a perfect evening so far as he was concerned. As he sifted through the morning mail, tossing aside the Daily Prophet as he always did and chunking several advertisements for healing potions in the bin, he realized he had a note from both Oliver and Malfoy in the pile. He stared at them both with curiosity tinged with excitement.

He opened Oliver’s first, smiling as he looked down at the harried handwriting that matched his own scribble quite well.

Harry,

I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night, and I must admit I was a bit reluctant to agree to a date until Ron told me who it would be with. I’m not much of a relationship guy because I’m so busy with practice and games, but if you’ll have me, I really would like to make plans to meet up again. I’m free on Thursday night if you are. We can meet here at the Puddlemere pitch and I can show you around.

Olli

Harry snickered at the nickname and could see it really growing on him. “Olli, breakfast is ready,” he tried and smiled to himself at the casual ease he felt at saying the man’s name, not to mention the ache he felt when he thought of having the man staying over so that he could serve him breakfast the next morning.

A thrill went through him and he bit into his bottom lip to quell it. There was no use getting ahead of himself, especially since he had no intention of buggering Wood on their second date. He wrote back a quick acceptance, letting the other man know he’d been thinking of him as well, and that he’d be pleased to join him on the pitch Thursday evening. Then, he looked reluctantly to Malfoy’s letter and decided he had best get it over with.

Potter,

Did you enjoy my sausage at breakfast this morning? I do hope you ravaged it properly. Do you have lunch plans?

DM

Harry blinked several times as he looked down at the parchment, his face heating up beyond measure. He hadn’t forgotten the sausage incident. In fact, every time he looked in the icebox, a warm smile came over him and he chuckled involuntarily. He’d served himself a slice with his fruit and eggs that morning and he was enjoying it immensely, not that he’d ever tell Malfoy that of course.

Malfoy,

As a matter of fact, the sausage is in my mouth right now and it’s a tad too spicy for my taste. Perhaps if hell were to freeze over and cool it off, maybe then I’d ravish it properly – as you so delicately put it.

And yes, I have plans for lunch, and no, they do not include you or your sausage.

Harry

He didn’t actually have plans for lunch, but he figured it wouldn’t be too hard to make them so that he wouldn’t feel like so much of a liar. Draco’s note made him chuckle in spite of himself but he knew the man was just toying with him. It was simply Malfoy’s way of trying to make Harry feel uncomfortable; in fact, the man might be able to write a book about all the ways he’dsuccessfully tormented the great Harry Potter over the years. But Harry wasn’t falling for it this time. He knew there was nothing but hollow sarcasm behind every single one of his words.

He was cleaning off his breakfast plate when he saw a familiar shape in the distance through his kitchen window. He hardly thought the owl had time to deliver both letters before he came back with another one from Malfoy.

Potter,

Perhaps my sausage is an acquired taste? Maybe you should give it a chance?

Malfoy

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t squash the smile that invaded his features at the suggestive note. He knew he shouldn’t have bothered to read it, as Malfoy was just trying to shake his confidence, but now that he was officially dating Wood, sort of, his nerve wasn’t so easily challenged.

Malfoy,

I’m sure your sausage would be perfectly enjoyable…to someone else.

Harry

He watched the note fly away with his owl and left the house before Malfoy could write something back. He could see why the blond always seemed to have to get the last word in. It was rather fun to leave someone gaping. The only thing that could have made it better would have been to see Malfoy’s face as he read the dismissive letter. Doubtless it was rare for someone to turn the blond down, but Harry wasn’t falling for his nonsense.

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It had been awhile since he’d visited Hermione at Hogwarts and he thought a Saturday lunch visit would be just the thing to fix that as well as keep up the charade he’d given Malfoy at the same time.

Since it was Saturday, he suspected Hermione would be poring over papers in her office, so Harry Apparated into Hogsmeade and made the trek up to the castle. The fissures and holes that had marred the lovely school after the war were long since repaired and Harry couldn’t even see a trace of them left behind, a fact for which he was immensely grateful. It was difficult enough to deal with the memories of the place in which Harry had grown up and fought for his life countless times without having visible reminders of all the loss he’d suffered there.

He made his way through the familiar corridors and knocked on Hermione’s office door. He’d been right about her being holed away there, but she wasn’t grading papers, she was relaxing with tea and she wasn’t alone at all.

When she opened the door, Harry saw Ginny and Luna both sitting around the fireplace with their own teacups in hand. “I’m sorry, Mione. I should have fire-called first. I didn’t realize you would have company.”

“No worries, Harry,” she replied with a beaming smile. “Come in, we were just talking about you actually.”

“About me?” Harry asked as she ushered him into her immaculate office space. Not a single item was out of place on her desk, which was covered in neat, orderly piles of paperwork and rich, burgundy leather accessories.

“We were discussing you and your many suitors,” Ginny piped in with a gossip-mongering grin.

“And those would be?” Harry asked, taking a seat and a cup of tea for himself. He would be ridiculed incessantly if any of their husbands were to walk in and catch Harry taking tea with the ladies as if he were a stuffed bunny at an imaginary tea party, but Harry always found it best not to argue when these three women were together. They could be rather frightening if challenged.

“We’ve all been so absorbed in our own relationships that we’ve overlooked the fact that you haven’t had one in a while,” Hermione clarified. “Now that we see you being pursued by both Oliver and Draco, we wonder where you’ll end up.”

“I hardly think having one nice conversation with Oliver could be referred to as pursuing, and Malfoy?” he asked, his eyebrows arching in humor. “You’re joshing, right? Malfoy was put on this Earth to make me miserable, nothing more.”

“I think he’s quite taken with you,” Ginny corrected. “Clive even mentioned that he asked after you a time or two.”

“Probably to find out where I would be so he could annoy me with sausages,” Harry muttered.

“Sausages?” the women asked in unison and Harry flushed.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Anyhow, I like Oliver. I’m seeing him again Thursday night,” Harry told them, casually steering the subject away from Malfoy and his meat stick.

“Splendid,” Luna cooed. “I do like him quite a bit. I think he’d be a brilliant boyfriend for you, Harry.”

“Well, Professor Amore is an expert. Her advice gave me Oliver, and I couldn’t be more pleased at the moment. I guess we’ll see as far as the rest goes,” he mused.

The women exchanged knowing glances and smiled at one another before directing their attention back to Harry. “I suppose it’s good you asked Ron to set you up. Had you asked me, I would have paired you with Draco.”

“Thanks, Gin. I always suspected the others were better friends than you,” he teased.

She stuck out her tongue at him and pursed her lips cutely. “I think Draco’s a fine catch.”

“I’m sure he is,” Harry replied with a roll of his eyes.

“He’s very lovely,” Luna admitted.

“And clever,” Hermione added.

“And I hear he has a large cock,” Ginny chimed in with a wicked grin.

“Well good. I’ll let Clive know you’re leaving him for Malfoy,” Harry shot back before giving the other women withering glances. “Why is no one happy about Oliver?”

“We’re very happy about Oliver if you’re happy about Oliver,” Hermione pointed out.

“But if things don’t work out with Wood, you could always shag Draco,” Ginny added with a laugh as the other women joined in her mirth.

Harry rolled his eyes and tried very hard not to have similar thoughts. “I’m not dating Draco Malfoy,” he replied resolutely. “I need someone I can love and trust, not just a one night stand with a smirking Slytherin.”

“Draco’s not as bad as you make him out to be, Harry,” Ginny replied. “He’s actually quite different than he was in school. I think he’d surprise you.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Harry replied, remembering the stunted conversation and unexpected kiss he’d shared with the man not that long ago, coupled with his sarcastically flirtatious attitude since. He seemed like the same sneering Malfoy to him, although, he would be a brilliant kisser from what Harry could recall from the other night. Still, it took more than a few delicious snogs to constitute a relationship that Harry would want to stick with. He and Malfoy were just too different to be properly compatible.

“What happened when you two disappeared looking for wine the other night?” Luna asked with waggling eyebrows. “You were gone for quite a while and then you avoided him like the plague.”

“Nothing happened,” he lied with a finality in his tone that made the three women drop the subject – for the moment. “I’m meeting with Professor Amore tonight so that she can give me some pointers for my next date with Oliver.”

“You’re meeting with the professor?” Ginny asked, somewhat shocked. “In person?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied with a frown. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “I’m just surprised is all. The professor is usually very… reclusive.”

“What is she like, a hag?” Harry joked.

“Definitely not,” Ginny replied, glancing at Luna who smiled knowingly.

“Wait, you know her too?” he asked.

“We all do,” Hermione replied. “Professor Amore matched us all. We each took the ten step program and it was successful for all three of us.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed. “How did I not know that?”

“We made an unbreakable vow not to reveal the professor’s identity to anyone who didn’t already know it,” Ginny replied. “We all owe our happy marriages to the program.”

“So, she really knows her stuff then?” Harry observed. He didn’t know any couples happier than these three and their husbands. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“It will be memorable for sure,” Hermione said, and the other women exchanged knowing looks before bursting out in a fit of raucous giggles.

Harry looked at them all curiously and shook his head. “Barmy, all of you,” he murmured before excusing himself from Hermione’s office and their cryptic comments.

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He came back to another letter from Malfoy, and this one he ignored outright. He wasn’t willing to put himself in a bad mood before his meeting with Professor Amore.

Harry tried to wait until at least seven fifty-nine before Apparating to his eight o’clock appointment, but he couldn’t hold out any longer. As such, he found himself on her doorstep at a quarter till.

He was dressed casually in simple black robes over well-tailored trousers and a freshly pressed, steely blue jumper. His hair was tamer than usual and he’d forgone his glasses in exchange for a temporary vision spell. He took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the townhouse door, hope filling his very bones.

He was anxious about this meeting, he had no idea what to expect. Did she want to write a book about him, just document his progress for her own personal reports or was there something more to it? Most of his friends seemed to know her well enough that it made Harry nervous. What if she didn’t like him as much as she’d liked all of them? What if she told them things that happened within their private meetings and his friends laughed at him?

Shaking that thought off as just silly, Harry rocked back and forth on his heels while he waited. Professor Amore would be kind and professional and just as compassionate as she seemed in her published letters, he was sure of it. Though, he wanted desperately to know if he already knew the woman. What if they were already acquainted? Would that make the lessons more or less awkward? Perhaps it was one of the professor’s at Hogwarts? It would certainly explain the name and how Hermione and Neville had met her. What if it was Headmistress McGonagall? Could he talk to her about sex and men and dating?

He had practically scared himself off the stoop with that question, but he stayed glued to the spot and busied his frantic mind by looking at the scenery around him.

Professor Amore lived in a quaint home made of sparkling white stone and dark green shutters. It even had a little white picket fence out front, which Harry thought was a unique touch for the middle of London. The door matched the shutters and since no one answered the first time, Harry knocked again, this time a little louder.

Sheer curtains were drawn against all the windows but Harry could see the shadowy silhouette of someone coming to answer the door. He’d created a picture in his mind of Professor Amore; small and curvy with curly brown hair and a warm welcoming smile, but the person coming to answer the door was a tall, thin man from what he could tell through the window; probably her husband, or perhaps an assistant. Professor Amore was a busy woman after all and couldn’t possibly do everything herself.

Harry found himself rather hopeful after the odd conversation with his friends that afternoon. If they had all be matched and married through Professor Amore, she must really be quite talented. Surely she could help him just the same with his relationship with Oliver?

As the door opened, Harry straightened his posture and smiled, preparing to extend his hand in greeting when his eyes took in the figure in the doorway. Tall, blond and devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

“You’re early,” the man remarked, obviously surprised but not quite as surprised as Harry felt.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, bewildered beyond comprehension. “You work for Professor Amore?”

The man laughed, a deep, groin tightening sound and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Potter.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Harry asked, unable to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his shocked state.

“I live here,” he answered, gesturing to the flawless building. “I take it you’re Lonely Lion,” he added with his trademark smirk. Harry nodded dumbly as the obvious crashed into him and left him bereft of a coherent retort. “What an interesting turn of events,” Draco mused. “I’m Professor Amore. Do come inside.”

Author’s Note: Ah yes, so many of you predicted this outcome, and I suppose it was sort of obvious from the start, but doesn’t it make poor Harry’s delusion that much funnier? The poor dear. And, for those of you familiar with my other stories, I've brought the meddling women back in a new incarnation.