Ten Steps

Author's Note: Many thanks to Kasey and Shannon, who both looked this chapter over for me.

Chapter 8 Dancing

“I wish you’d come to me sooner, really,” Draco remarked as he sidled up next to Harry in the lounge. “There is so much to do in preparation of the first date, and now you and Wood have already had two dates without my expert guidance.”

“I think I can manage some things on my own,” Harry bit back, rolling his eyes. “I’m not completely inept, you know?”

“Well, you are still single,” Draco pointed out with a delicate blond eyebrow lifted in challenge.

“So are you,” Harry countered bitterly and Draco merely shrugged.

“Love is not in the cards for me, Potter. I suspected as much a while ago and had it very recently confirmed.” He wanted to shoot himself for muttering the last bit, and sure enough, Harry latched onto it like a puppy with a new chew toy.

“How was that confirmed?” he asked, bright green eyes blinking across at him curiously. They’d been at Draco’s house for nearly two hours already and had filled that time with their ongoing banter. Harry wanted to be annoyed at being billed for a lesson he wasn’t receiving, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to complain. Truth of it was, Malfoy was proving to be excellent company. Harry was learning much about the elusive Slytherin and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“I recently lost my soul mate,” Draco told him honestly.

“Death?” Harry asked, those green eyes widening to round saucers.

Draco made to shake his head, but figured that would only lead to more questions, and in a way, Harry was spot on with the assumption. Potter, as far as a romantic relationship went, was dead to him. “Yes. Terrible tragedy, I’d rather not talk about it if that’s alright?” he replied, grazing over the subject as Harry nodded muttered his apologies while glancing at him sympathetically. “Now, back to the subject at hand. I witnessed your first date with Wood. You two seemed to hit it off, but tell me about the second date.”

“I met him at the Puddlemere pitch,” Harry explained, his eyes still sparkling with mild pity as he directed his gaze toward the blond. “I had a bit of trouble with the guards and Olli came to my rescue.”

“How quaint. The hero has his own knight in shining armor,” Draco muttered, barely able to keep the bile from rising in his throat.

Harry looked plaintively at Draco and pursed his lips. “It’s not as though I’m some damsel in distress, but it’s nice not to have to be the one to don the spandex and cape every now and again.”

“Pardon?” Draco balked, not understanding what Harry was referring to. “He was wearing spandex?”(XD Something it would amuse me greatly to see.)

Harry chuckled under his breath and shook his head in mock dismay. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you know nothing about Muggle culture. I bet you’ve never even seen a comic book.”

“You say that as if it makes me less of a person,” Draco snapped.

“Not less, no. Just different,” Harry placated, spreading his hands out in front of him in a yielding gesture, calling for a truce. Draco grumbled, but nodded, waving for Harry to proceed with his story with a rushed movement of his hand. “He gave me a tour of the pitch and then we went flying. As I was leaving, he tried to kiss me.”

Everything in Draco’s body tensed at the admission and he waited for Harry to go on, but he didn’t. Oh, this was no good. Would this burning pit open up in his gut every time Harry mentioned something like this? Would the green eyes of jealousy stare back at him through Potter’s own emerald gaze? How could he possibly coax Harry toward the end goal of marrying Wood when even the mention of a kiss drove Draco mad with envy?

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten as he did. He could do this. He could pass the gods’ test. He could best them all and prove himself worthy of their mighty gift. Perhaps in the end, once he had sufficiently proven his ability to wield the magic they had bestowed upon him, they might see fit to provide him with a match after all - someone decidedly not Harry Potter, whose only real talent was to infuriate him endlessly.

“And did you allow it?” he asked at last, proud that his voice didn’t betray any of the sharpness he felt.

“No,” Harry murmured. “I can’t really explain why. I just felt like it wasn’t good timing.”

“Well, you’re right about that. The first kiss is well down the list in our program,” Draco huffed to cover up his audible sigh of relief.

“What are the steps?” he asked, leaning in with sudden interest.

Draco shot him a smug pursing of the lips and shook his head. “I’m not telling you because then you’ll try to jump ahead of the lessons.”

“I would not,” Harry lied, and it was clear he was lying because he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. Draco merely narrowed his eyes and didn’t bother to call him on it since they both knew the truth.

“As for the first step, you’ve sort of skipped ahead of it. You two obviously have the chemistry needed for a short term relationship, and based on my assessments, you have the qualities to make a lasting marriage should you both choose that route,” he explained.

“Why wouldn’t we choose that?” Harry asked, looking adorably confused.

“Occasionally, people make it partway through the program and decide that they aren’t ready, or that this match might not be the one they want. Sometimes, people have multiple golden matches and one suits them better than another. You and Oliver still have a long way to go before the nuptials.”

“I doubt I’ll find out anything about Oliver I don’t like,” Harry scoffed. “He’s in the papers all the time and there’s never been a scandal or anything,” he pointed out.

“You of all people should know that reporters can be bought, but that’s not the point,” Draco quipped.

“Then what is the point?” Harry asked, getting mildly frustrated by Draco’s double talk.

“The point is, you need to know the answers to all the big questions before you ’s step number two. You and Oliver are both fairly set in your ways and routine, you’ll need to see to what points you’re both willing to compromise to make the other happy,” he explained.

“For instance?” Harry looked like he understood, but he was merely trying to clarify. Draco smiled warmly at him and shifted back in his chair, elegantly throwing one leg over the other knee as he made himself comfortable.

“For instance, once you’re married, I assume you’re planning to keep your own last name. You’ll need to be sure Oliver is okay with that,” Draco gave as example but Harry merely shrugged.

“Isn’t it tradition to accept your partner’s last name as your own?” Harry asked, his face awash with something Draco couldn’t name. Perhaps he was already picturing his and Oliver’s monogrammed towels. The thought made him scowl deeply for a moment before he carefully wiped all emotion from his features.

“It depends on the blood status, usually, when it’s a gay marriage,” Draco explained. “If you and Wood decided to adopt, you’d have to decide which name the child took, if there is a reason to propagate a family line or not. Wood, for instance has brothers, where you are the last of the Potters’, so logically he would take your name.”

“I don’t know. It might be nice to leave Harry Potter behind,” Harry mused, looking rather bright at the thought of escaping the fame tied to his moniker.

“Seriously?” Draco asked, his brow knit with confusion. He had assumed Harry would want to keep the Potter line alive, even if it was through adoption. Plus, there was the fact of the name itself. “You’d honestly rather be Harry Wood?” Draco asked, trying to withhold his laughter and failing quite thoroughly.

“Merlin!” Harry gasped, unable to stop his own fit of snickering. “That’s dreadful isn’t it? I couldn’t possibly be Harry Wood, it’s too awful!”

“Thank Salazar you have some sense at least. I’m not sure I could keep a straight face if we ever met up again after the nuptials and had to call you that,” Draco teased, drowning in Harry’s lovely smile and exuberant mirth.

The brunet quickly sobered and looked at Draco intently. “What do you mean, if?”

“Pardon?” Draco asked, not catching Harry’s line of thinking.

“You said ‘if we met up again’ as if it’s unlikely,” Harry pointed out.

“Well, isn’t it? I just assumed that once this arrangement was over that you’d flitter off to your happy seaside cottage with Wood, or whatever it is you Gryffindors do,” Draco replied rather blandly.

“Right,” Harry sighed. Once again he’d found himself thinking of Draco as a friend instead of…whatever position the man seemed to fill in Harry’s life at the moment. Instructor, therapist, general thorn in his side? None of those seemed to fit, but friend didn’t either. “I bet you can’t wait until this is all over and you can be rid of me at last.”

“If I could only be so lucky,” Draco huffed. “Something tells me you plan to linger in my life long after I get you married off.”

“Like a bad smell,” Harry offered, a twinge of a smile quirking the edge of his lips.

“Exactly.” Draco’s own smile was soft, playful and a bit taunting all at once, making the flesh on Harry’s arm tingle and the thin, ebony hairs stand on end. Draco cleared his throat sharply and shook his head, knocking them both out of the trance they’d slipped into. “Well, I think I’ve proven my point anyhow. Certain things are sticking points, what if Oliver was insistent that you take his name? Is this a point you would concede on?”

“It’s just a name, nothing to end a relationship over,” Harry rebuked as if Draco were insane. “If I have to be known as…Harry Wood,” he added, barely containing his laughter at the name, “then so be it. I doubt you could tell me anything that would turn me off of him.”

“What if he doesn’t want kids?” Draco asked, his voice lowering in stark contrast to his quirked eyebrow. He’d taken Harry’s words as a direct challenge, knowing from previous conversations that having children was important to the Gryffindor.

“Well, I-I,” Harry stammered, clearly looking for some argument, but they all died abruptly on his lips.

“See,” Draco huffed victoriously, “it’s not all so black and white. You would consider dumping Oliver right this moment if you discovered he never wanted children, wouldn’t you?”

“I might,” he admitted, “but you did the personality tests on us, surely there would be a red flag raised if he didn’t want kids,” Harry pointed out.

“But it’s still something you need to talk about. What if his idea of wanting kids is someday in the very distant future, or just that he likes kids but doesn’t necessarily need any of his very own?” Draco mused. He hadn’t conducted the interview himself, so even Draco didn’t know exactly the response Oliver gave to the question. If he was going to lose his soul mate to another bloke, then dammit that bloke had better be worthy.

“Do you want kids?” Harry asked, looking genuinely curious. The question was so out of the blue that Draco gaped like a fish for a moment before clearing his throat.

“I’m not the one you should be asking,” he pointed out.

“We’re friends, aren’t we, Malfoy?” The Gryffindor looked so vulnerable as he asked, just a hint of it in those big, brilliant eyes, but it was there nonetheless, even if nothing else about his posture or expression betrayed that fact.

“I seem to recall you saying, very recently even, that you have no friends by the name Draco,” he corrected, looking rather smug.

Harry blushed, a pink tinge to his cheeks to show his embarrassment. “That was a little overly rude, perhaps,” he conceded.

“How magnanimous of you,” Draco replied dryly. “I can now sleep soundly at night since hearing your eloquent apology.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a right bastard,” Harry laughed, shaking his head.

“Several people on many occasions, sometimes multiple times, why?” he asked, smiling sweetly. Harry could only chuckle and continue to shake his head. The blond knew he was a prat, relished in the fact even, but he also had a healthy sense of humor about it.

“Is it odd that I’m beginning to find your obnoxious behavior sort of endearing?” Harry leaned forward; glass of water in hand as he said it and nearly dropped said glass to the carpet at Draco’s expression. The blond’s grin was fierce, yet tender all at once, and Harry found himself wondering how an enigma like Malfoy had existed all this time without Harry have being made aware of it. Sure he’d known Malfoy most of his life, less so in the years that passed since Hogwarts, but there was something within the Slytherin now that wasn’t there back at school. Some deeper knowledge of the universe and his place within it seemed to loom in the depths of those fathomless eyes.

Harry had the incredible urge to lean in and kiss those smirking lips but instead lifted the glass to his mouth and drank heavily from the water within, replacing it with a muttered spell when he’d drained the cup. Draco eyed him curiously, no doubt wondering where the sudden and extreme thirst had come from, but didn’t mention it. “You’ll get over it, I’m sure,” he said instead, staying on topic.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agreed, chanting Oliver’s name in his mind as he watched Malfoy flick his tongue out and wet his bottom lip. How did such a simple gesture look so erotic on the man? “So, how should I approach all this stuff with Olli? I mean, I can’t just bombard him with a million questions, can I?”

“Excellent,” Draco mused. “It’s good to see you’re paying attention and asking clever questions. No, you can’t just bluntly as him if he wants kids like you did with me just now,” Draco pointed out and laughed. “Well, you could, but it might put him off more than it did me.”

“And he might just avoid my question altogether like you did,” Harry countered with a smirk sosneaky, it didn’t belong on a Gryffindor’s face.

“Yes, I want kids,” Draco replied with an indulgent smile and an exasperated huff. “As a Malfoy, heirs are important. But aside from that, I’ve always imagined having a little girl to spoil, though that will do very little to propagate the Malfoy name.”

Harry’s face softened drastically at the wistful gaze Draco met him with. He didn’t know how he knew, but from that one expression alone, Harry could tell Malfoy would be a great father. He could see there was already affection building in his normally icy gaze for this person who didn’t even exist in his life yet.

“A girl would be perfect,” he found himself saying before he could stop his lips from moving. He took another long gulp of water and avoided Malfoy’s gaze for a moment while he recuperated. He was treating this like he was on a date with Malfoy, when he was supposed to be getting dating advice for his relationship with Oliver. What was he doing? “I wonder what Oliver would prefer?” he mused aloud, trying to cover his burgeoning and completely insane feelings for the blond.

“Well, you’d have to ask him that, of course,” Draco snapped, recovering quickly as he took a deep breath. It was fairly obvious that the blond was getting annoyed with Harry’s penchant to veer off track. Harry wondered briefly how appalled the man would be if he were to learn Harry’s daydreaming centered around him?

“So, how does one broach such a big topic on the third date?” he asked instead of enlightening Draco on his other thoughts.

“Typically one doesn’t, but you’re seeking the fast track and Oliver is a sure match, so it’s probably a safe topic since we already know you both agree on the fundamentals at least. My suggestion would be to take a day trip to a park, or spend an afternoon with Luna and Ron’s kids and invite Oliver along. The conversation can’t be forced and bringing up the topic of kids should feel organic even if it isn’t.” he explained.

“I can ask him to Luna and Ron’s for lunch tomorrow,” Harry mused aloud, already thinking of how the date might go. Draco explained how to invite him, and what to say if Oliver couldn’t make it for some reason.

It all made sense to Harry and he nodded as Draco went on, giving him pointers on how to bring up the trickier topics and still make them seem casual, all the while Harry was mentally berating himself for noticing how pink Malfoy’s lips were, or how seductively large his hands were – which was hard not to notice since he tended to use them quite often as he spoke, making wide, sweeping gestures with his long fingers during his instructions.

“Well, hopefully I won’t find out anything too detrimental,” Harry sighed when Draco seemed as though he was winding down. His stomach gave a violent growl and only then did he notice what time it was. The sky was darkening outside and he’d gotten there at noon, or just after as Draco would doubtless point out. How did so many hours slink by without his noticing? “Wow. I should really get out of your hair, I suppose. I’ve been here all day.”

“Hmm” Draco mused, staring out the same window that had occupied Harry’s gaze a moment before. “Yeah, I suppose we should really eat something. Do you have dinner plans already?”

“Oh, I-I,” Harry stammered, caught slightly off guard by the question. Earlier that day he might not have hesitated, but was it appropriate to go out to dinner with this man now that he knew he was at least slightly attracted to him? What would Oliver think if he found out? The likelihood of being photographed if found dining with Draco Malfoy of all people was almost a sure thing. “I figured you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Right,” Draco sighed, letting his shoulders fall back to rest heavily in his armchair. “You are quite the nuisance. It’s probably best we eat separately. Besides, what would Oliver say if he discovered you out with a devastatingly handsome man like myself? It would be hard to convince him that this is simply a business arrangement, especially since he doesn’t know what I do for a living.”

The thought mirrored Harry’s so completely that it gave him a moment of pause followed swiftly by a bout of guilt. Wasn’t he the one who called them friends? Now he was finding excuses not to dine with the blond, as if he were some leper that Harry couldn’t be seen in public with.

“I don’t have plans actually,” he said at last, despite his better judgment. “Would you like to go out?”

Draco pursed his lips into a smug pout and shook his head. “I don’t need your pity, Potter. I’m perfectly capable of finding a dinner date. I’ll speak with you next week to see how things go with Oliver tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered, already feeling bereft of the man’s company. He stood and offered his hand, which Draco shook very formally, his long fingers brushing against Harry’s palm as they parted ways at the door. “Goodnight then. Sweet dreams,” he offered and Draco closed his eyes lightly, blocking Harry from seeing the emotions that rolled through that shadowed gaze.

“Goodnight, Potter,” he replied at last and shut the door softly, yet firmly behind him.

Harry stood on the landing for a moment, wondering why he felt the urge to knock, completely unaware that Draco’s back was pressed into the wood of the other side, his head lolled back to rest uncomfortably against the door. Simultaneously, both men tore themselves away from Draco’s entryway and went about their evening, trying to dispel the contentment and other confusing emotions they had felt together all day long.

Author's Note: Well, I think you all know me well enough by now to realize that I plan on dragging all this out, hm?