Ten Steps

Author’s Note: Many thanks to my newest beta, Kasey, for her work on this chapter as well as my ever present betas, Shannon & TutelaTwin. Big thanks as well to everyone who has been reviewing the story thus far. I’m nothing without my editors and readers!

Chapter 4 Bloody Hell

A sputtering Harry Potter on his doorstep was not exactly what he expected to walk out to, but Draco could easily do worse, he supposed. They’d been standing there in a staring contest for what seemed like an hour already and Draco was determined to win.

“But, Professor Amore is a woman,” Harry complained as he made some floating gesture across Draco’s body, “and you’re not!”

“How marvelously observant you are, Potter,” Draco replied drolly. “I assure you that you wouldn’t be the first close-minded dolt to make that mistake, but alas, I am Professor Amore, always have been.”

“I’m sure the articles have mentioned that Professor Amore is a woman,” Harry muttered, talking more to himself now than to Malfoy. “I’m just sure of it, and Luna’s never corrected me.”

“She wouldn’t be allowed,” Draco responded lightly. “Now, are you coming in or am leaving you out here?”

“What do you mean, not allowed?” Harry couldn’t think of a single valid reason why she couldn’t have given Harry some inkling as to the identity of whom he was about to meet with. “Unbreakable vow or no, someone should have clued me in as to who I was spilling my guts out to.”

“I’d hardly call any of our conversations ‘gut-spilling’. You talked to me as Draco Malfoy more than you spoke to me as Professor Amore,” he huffed. He was getting quite tired of standing out on his stoop, waiting for Harry to stop blubbering about injustices and just come inside already or go away entirely; it made little difference to him at the moment.

“It’s still not right for you to trick people.” The gleam of Auror integrity was apparent in Harry’s eyes, but Malfoy could only deem to roll his own.

“What would you expect I do? Write a column titled ‘Advice from a Death Eater’?” he scoffed. “I’m sure that would get hundreds of readers,” he added sarcastically. “No one would dare seek advice on love from an unmarried, former Voldemort sympathizer.”

“How does someone like you even end up writing an advice column?” Harry remarked snidely. “It’s nonsense.”

“If you have an issue with the advice I give, then why did you write in?” he snapped. He didn’t have to stand there and listen to high and mighty Harry Potter disparage him at his own home.

A blush stung Harry’s cheeks and his shoulders slumped in resignation. The blond was right; as much as Harry was loath to admit it. Harry had trusted, respected, even praised Professor Amore’s advice up until he found out her – well, his – identity. It was bigoted of him to complain about the column now that he knew Malfoy was behind it, and only served to prove Malfoy’s explanation as to why he used the penname to begin with. “You’re right,” he sighed in defeat. “I’m here because I respect Professor Amore, and if under that mask is you, then I’ll just have to deal with it.”

The newly calm demeanor took Draco off guard. It was as if someone had blown up a massive balloon and then watched as it deflated from a seemingly insignificant pinprick. He liked Potter, probably a good deal more than he should, but most of his recent taunting had been fun and games – or so he had thought until he saw Potter with Wood. The tug of jealousy he’d felt last night was undeniable. Still, it was in all likelihood that Harry was a terrible match for him. It took a keen eye to discern between good looks – which Harry clearly had – and a good lifetime partner, which Draco was still patiently looking for. He had mostly given up hope, but not entirely. Part of him felt it was only justly ironic that his best talent seemed to lie in the perfect pairing of others while his own match remained consistently out of his grasp. But it didn’t stop him from wanting it nonetheless.

“So, are you coming in?” he asked at last, because he still wasn’t entirely clear on that fact and desperately wanted out of the cool night air.

Harry seemed to steel himself and nodded, following Draco into a warm sitting room to the west of the foyer.

Draco was neither a minimalist, nor was he a collector of useless junk. His townhouse was richly decorated with things that were either comfortable or deeply sentimental and there wasn’t a single nook Draco didn’t live in. He was well beyond the days when he’d have to try and avoid punishment from his mother because he’d forgotten and strolled through a sitting room in the Manor that he wasn’t allowed to actually sit in. The colors he’d selected were warm and inviting, tans, ambers, and dark gold accents. He could tell by Harry’s slightly gaping expression that the man was surprised.

“What, did you expect everything to be Slytherin green?” Draco quipped as he wandered over to a small bar in the corner. He could almost feel the heat of Potter’s blush from across the room and shook his head in mock dismay. “Some of us have grown up a bit since Hogwarts.”

“Since the war,” Harry corrected, his voice soft and reverent. “The war changed a lot of people.”

“Too true. Without the war I might not have evolved into the person I am now,” he mused. “Though I might be tempted to give up my current happiness to have avoided it altogether.”

“That’s more selfless than I would have given you credit for, Malfoy.” The look on Harry’s face showed he was both amused and puzzled by the blond pouring drinks. This didn’t go unnoticed by Draco, of course, but it wasn’t commented upon.

“Care for a drink?” he asked instead.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Harry replied as he did another quick scan around the room. “This house really is splendid, Malfoy.”

“So happy you approve,” he responded dryly as he handed the man a martini glass filled with icy, clear liquid and two brilliant green olives. “I assume you’d like to know about the program?” he started but Harry shook his head.

“I don’t think I can do that,” he admitted. “I’m not willing to share so much of my personal life with you.”

“The Unbreakable Vow goes both ways, you know,” Draco sighed, obviously exasperated at Potter’s fickle behavior this evening. “You wouldn’t be able to reveal my secrets, nor I yours.”

“Yes, but you would still know them regardless of whether or not you were allowed to tell anyone else.” Harry seemed firm on this, unbendable, but Malfoys had ways and charms that Potter had probably never seen before. Providing a lasting match for Harry Potter would be a crowning achievement indeed, even if he weren’t permitted to speak of it, just knowing he had helped the Gryffindor Golden Boy find true love would be a thrilling personal accomplishment.

“Why does that matter? It’s not as though you care what I think,” Draco goaded, but Harry narrowed his eyes and wasn’t so easily dared into situations as he had been as a boy. “Look at it this way, ten sessions with me will provide you with a happily-ever-after. Is that too steep a price to pay? Am I really so abhorrent that you would give up true love simply to avoid telling me minor personal details about your life?”

“No.” Draco couldn’t tell at first if it was another refusal of his assistance, or an acceptance of his latest argument, but Harry’s eyes seemed rather conflicted still so he pushed a bit further.

“How about this, I could give you my personality test, which will gauge what kind of partner would be perfect for you, and then you can decide. That way, you can get some hint of my experience in these matters and I can get an idea of how difficult you’d be as a client.” He kept his voice light and casual but truly he was dying to give Potter the test and hear his answers.

“What would it involve?” Harry asked skeptically, but Draco didn’t think he was mistaken when he saw a hint of intrigue in those expressive green eyes.

“Just a few questions, and then I can weigh you against my other candidates,” Draco replied.

“But I’m dating Oliver,” Harry corrected and Draco nodded.

“I can get the answers from him too if you like and we can compare your results with him as well,” he offered.

“How would you get his answers?”

“I have my ways,” Draco replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Keep your ways to yourself,” Harry huffed but couldn’t seem to help returning a warm grin when Draco smiled. “I’ll take it,” he said at last and only Draco’s decades of Malfoy training kept him from jumping and shouting in victory.

“So, first I need you to tell me about the last three people you dated,” Draco told him, leaning back in his chair. He made a funny jerk with his hand and a quill and parchment materialized in front of him and he began to take notes as Harry spoke.

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Sitting across from Draco Malfoy and actually relaxing would have seemed out of the question just a few moments before, but now Harry found himself comfortable in Malfoy’s quiet company as he told the man about things he’d rarely spoken of.

The last few men he’d dated all varied greatly. Most recently there was George Weasley, which had been a terrible mistake. He found the man attractive but more importantly, familiar. One afternoon while reaching for Molly’s potato salad at Sunday lunch, his hand brushed against George’s and a sort of spark went though him. He remembered how handsome the older redhead looked when he blushed and it had made Harry confident enough to ask him out. Up until then, his relationships had been rather shallow, other Aurors who were always working long hours, reporters who tricked him into thinking they weren’t reporters at all, and plenty of people who simply wanted a chance to bed the famous Harry Potter.

That was what made George a breath of fresh air. He knew George; he trusted him and above all else he knew that the redhead wouldn’t strive to hurt him as previous boyfriends had. Their first – and only - date was at a Muggle amusement park and Harry had a magnificent time. They played carnival games and George even won him a small stuffed frog and proceeded to call Harry ‘Neville’ for the next hour or so. They ate funnel cake and rode roller coasters and Harry thought for a brief instant that George might just be the one.

Then there was the Ferris wheel.

Harry was high on the brilliant day they’d had and his stomach was comfortably aching with sugary, deep-fried food, when their tiny rocking car reached the top and they had a view of the entire park and well beyond. It wasn’t typically like Harry to kiss a man on their first date, but this was George Weasley, he’d known the other man since he was a boy, so without a second thought he’d leaned over and kissed George full on the mouth. The redhead tasted of cotton candy and saltwater taffy and his lips were soft and pliable, but in the end, it felt more like kissing his brother. There were no more sparks, no more passion. They were just really good friends. Admittedly, now they were slightly awkward friends who always looked at the ground when they greeted one another.

Harry sighed and related the tale of dating George as best as he could and was rather shocked when Draco simply nodded, as if he wasn’t even the least bit surprised or disgusted that Harry had dated a Weasley.

“So, you dated a man that was more a brother than a lover because you’ve been burned before?” he asked wisely.

“Yes, I suppose that was the driving factor of it,” Harry admitted to the floor.

“Tell me about some of those other relationships,” he prompted and Harry thought about the man he had dated before George. Orsino Thruston was the drummer for the Weird Sisters and Harry thought that since he was used to the spotlight himself, that Harry’s own fame would be rather unimportant to him. He’d been wrong there too. He and Orsino went out for three months before Harry found a flyer announcing himself as the special guest of the band. They’d been using his relationship with the drummer as a selling point to attract fans and ticket buyers. It was quite mortifying since Harry had been under the delusion that things were going well, and to make matters worse, Orsino didn’t even seem to feel guilty about using him when Harry confronted the man about it.

Before Orsino was Marius Welch, a wealthy businessman who was only a year older than Harry but very clever when it came to Ministry politics and making money and connections. They had only dated for a month before Harry got a call from Gringotts that Marius was trying to access his vaults without proper authorization. Apparently he’d found the Gringotts account information lying around Harry’s study and hadn’t realized until it was too late that Harry’s vault was in a very high security area of the famed bank. The goblins had fun with him that day, vicious creatures that they were, and Harry didn’t do a single thing to stop them.

“So,” Draco replied after Harry had finished, “you aren’t respected for yourself, only your money and fame, and those who are close enough for you to trust are too close for you to be attracted to,” he observed after a moment’s pause.

“That’s exactly it,” Harry nodded, happy to be both understood and clean from ridicule, two things he hadn’t expected would be happening in the presence of a Malfoy.

“Do you have any physical attributes you’re usually attracted to?” he asked and Harry shook his head.

“Not really. I mean, I’d rather a fit bloke than a lazy layabout, but I don’t prefer brunets over blonds or anything like that.”

“Good to know,” Draco replied with a subtle smirk and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Or blonds to brunets for that matter,” Harry quickly added upon seeing the look.

“Do you travel a lot as an Auror?” he asked, ignoring Harry’s correction.

“Not really. I occasionally need to travel overnight, but most field work can be accomplished during reasonable hours these days,” Harry mused. “It can get somewhat dangerous though, so I suppose the perfect companion would need to be okay with that.”

“Okay with it as in silent about it, or okay with it as in smother you with tender kisses whenever you walked through the door unharmed?”

Harry’s face heated up and he smiled. “It’s always nice to be appreciated,” he answered vaguely but Draco made a little note and smiled warmly at him.

“Kisses it is,” he quipped before moving on. “Let’s see, I already know you’re an only child, which indicates you’ll need an attentive lover, a fact that’s only amplified by the fact that you grew up not knowing your parents.”

“Are you calling me needy?” Harry balked and Draco laughed.

“In a word, yes, but your ideal match won’t mind, in fact, they’ll like to know that they are wanted and needed,” Draco soothed.

Harry could hardly believe how diplomatic Malfoy was being, which was probably the only thing keeping him in his seat through the slightly humiliating set of questions. “I suppose that’s okay then,” he huffed dramatically, smiling back when Malfoy gave him a playful grin.

“Most of these I already know the answer to. You’re a leader, practically born into the role whether you like it or not, you have a diverse set of friends, but they are all well rounded and intelligent…well, most of them,” he mused and ignored Harry’s scowl. “How would you rate your tendency toward tidiness? On a scale of one to ten, one being Hagrid and ten being Umbridge?”

“Er, a six maybe, though some days it might be a four,” he replied, wincing slightly.

Draco let his eyes flick overtly to Harry’s wild mane and he nodded. “I guessed as much.”

“That’s unfair.” Harry’s pout was mostly manufactured, but the words still stung slightly despite his best efforts to keep them from doing so. What did he care if Malfoy liked his hair or not? “There isn’t anything I can do about this,” he told the man as he pointed to his thick, black mop of hair.

Draco looked at him skeptically and shot a few carefully aimed grooming Charms at the man, only to watch each one fizzle away as if Harry’s innate magic repelled them. With a frustrated huff, Draco got up and attempted to physically manipulate the locks, only to finally give up when they looked exactly the same as they had at the start. “I suppose I’ll have to concede on that one. Although, it’s softer than I thought it would be,” he mused to himself, but Harry tensed at the words, realizing his whole body had gone slack at the feel of Draco’s lithe fingers massaging his scalp.

The blond pulled away with a start and resumed his place in the chair across from Harry, carefully averting his gaze until he asked his next question. “Do you want children?”

“Yes,” Harry replied immediately. This was a question he had zero doubts about. He had spent his whole life wanting a family of his own.

“How many?”

“At least one, maybe two,” he replied. “I don’t care if they are boys or girls but I know for a fact I’d like to adopt one day.”

Draco scanned the list of remaining questions and went through them quickly enough, asking about what the man did in his free time, how easily he got bored, what his friends might say about him, and the men bounced back and forth with their banter all evening. It was much more enjoyable than Harry had ever anticipated it could be, but he was wary of continuing to meet Malfoy this way in the future. He didn’t think Oliver would understand his wanting to take dating lessons and part of him even felt silly for even considering it. Things between he and Wood would either click or they wouldn’t and they were off to a brilliant start so far, so Harry didn’t think he had much to worry about.

When the questioning drew to a close, Draco made a few last notations and leveled his wise gaze on the troubled looking man. “Well, I should have your prognosis shortly and just as soon as I can get Wood’s answers, I’ll let you know the verdict.”

“You make it sound so serious, like you’re about to tell me whether or not the test came back positive for Dragon Pox,” Harry teased, but Draco’s stern look didn’t waver.

“It is serious, Potter. When dealing with matters of the heart you can leave nothing to chance. Every action has a reasonably predictable reaction as long as you know the type of person you’re dealing with. Some couples are never meant to cultivate relationships, and some are better suited than others. This test will tell me what I need to know about you and Oliver and your chances at success and if you choose to continue with me, it will help me direct you to the best course of action. No ten steps are the same for everyone,” he explained.

Harry sobered at once and nodded. He seemed to have caused the blond some offense and he hadn’t meant to. Harry did take all of it quite seriously; in fact, he probably shouldn’t put as much stock into it as he did. Still, his friends had all been matched and married this way, and they were all so happy. It couldn’t hurt for Harry to give it a try. Maybe Oliver would even be open to the idea and come along.

“Everyone has a potential soul mate, Potter. It’s my job to help you notice him when he’s standing right in front of you,” Draco told him.

“I think I’ve found him,” Harry whispered and Draco’s eyes went wide at the look of tenderness in Harry’s emerald gaze. “Oliver is quite the guy.”

“Right,” Draco replied, crashing down to Earth rather hastily. “On the surface, Wood looks to be a good match for you. My test will prove that true or false for certain.”

“Well,” Harry replied with a smile, “this has been surprisingly nice. Maybe this not-so-snarky Malfoy will be the one to show up on Fridays from now on.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Draco replied with a wink. “I enjoy being snarky.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but the smile never fell from his lips. “I look forward to hearing my results.” He stood to take his leave and Draco matched his steps as they wandered back to the doorway. “Until then.” Harry gave Draco a parting bow and turned to leave, failing to notice that Draco stood in the doorway and watched his receding footsteps until the messy-haired Gryffindor was well out of sight.

Author’s Note: Harry, Harry, Harry. So oblivious. Whatever will Draco do with him? *shakes head.