Author's Note: This is the final part and it's a tad longer than the others. I hope you enjoy.
Harry waited until he heard the door close and counted to ten before he looked up. His guard finally lowered, Harry let out a deep, shuddering sigh and waited as his schooled features melted into confusion and sorrow. He had no idea what had just happened. One minute it was business as usual and the next moment he was snogging Draco Malfoy, secretly hoping the blond would press it further than just a kiss.
He'd been catching his mind wandering in Draco's direction all week. Every time he saw the man his heart seemed to thrum louder in his chest until Harry was sure it would burst through. He had broken so many rules just by thinking about the man, not to mention the dozens he'd just broken with that kiss. Draco was his employee for Merlin's sake, and when did he start thinking of him as 'Draco' anyway?
Never before had he been so careless, and Harry hated that the blond Slytherin was the one to incite such tremors of passion within him. Baking was his mistress, it had kept him warm on many a lonely night when Draco Malfoy was probably out boffing some random elitist pureblood. He didn't understand why he'd allowed things to progress so far. He should have fired Draco the moment he noticed his feelings, instead of indulging them with sweet, hungry kisses.
Harry groaned aloud, running flour streaked hands through his already messy hair and he sagged against the oven. What was he going to do? Malfoy was an evil twat, but Draco was charming and kind and sexy and…. No. This wasn't going to work. He couldn't date his employee. It was ethically wrong and would change the dynamic between him and the rest of his staff, which was completely unacceptable. He didn't even know where this new man came from, what had happened to turn the snide blond from the week before into this gracious man who treated Harry as an equal.
But Harry wanted him.
His want was a strong, palpable force that threatened to bring him to tears. A frustrated growl emanated through the kitchen as he banished the idea of sobbing on the floor over Draco Malfoy, and Harry was only glad there was no one there to hear him breaking down.
Lunch on Saturday was peculiar.
Harry still hadn't decided what to do with the blond who was flittering about the front of the house as if he'd worked there for years. Draco was such a seamless addition to his team that he was loath to lose him, but he didn't know how they could possibly continue to work together now that their mutual attraction had been made clear. Still, he couldn't bring himself to fire the man just yet, and instead, watched him intently through the cutaway in the wall that separated the kitchen from the bar.
The 'First Kiss' tarts were being served for the first time that day, and so far they had received a good reception. Harry decided to keep the name Draco had come up with, which had obviously pleased Draco even though he'd said nothing about it. The moment he saw the addition to the menu he'd flushed and gotten the widest smile on his face that he'd yet to wipe off. It was adorable, and Harry wished he could put that smile on the man's face everyday, but quickly shook away the thought whenever it occurred. Besides, Draco might not have grinned so broadly if he knew Harry's reasoning for keeping the name. If he was going to force the man out of his kitchen and his life, Harry wanted something on the menu to remind him of their brief time together.
Harry had worked so late the night before, well into the morning hours, in fact, and he'd completed so much that he could relax a bit today. All of the baked goods were done and sitting under stasis spells, ready to be delivered to the customers upon order. He normally refused magic, but this bit allowed him less waste in the kitchen, so he begrudgingly used it.
When the first howl met his ears, Harry thought that someone had been hexed in the dining room. He bolted out of the kitchen to see what went wrong, but Draco was already at the woman's side, rubbing soothing circles into her back as she sobbed into his shoulder. When his gaze met Harry's the man shrugged lightly and gave him a look that was as confused as Harry felt.
"What happened?" Harry asked, when he made it to the table.
"She just took a bite of the tart and began wailing," Draco explained softly, the woman completely oblivious to their conversation as she continued to cry. Harry looked over and saw the 'First Kiss' tart, half eaten on the woman's plate and flicked is wand over it, checking for anything that might have injured the woman. He had been so distracted as he worked the night before that maybe something harmful had fallen into the mixture. That worry dissipated when he found nothing unusual, but he still wondered what happened to put the woman in such a state.
And then the same thing happened across the room and then to a man three tables away. Harry panicked. He couldn't understand what was happening but he wanted it to stop. "Draco," he pleaded, grabbing the man's sleeve as if it would be his saving grace. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"
"It tastes so good, but it's so sad," the woman sniffling into Draco's shoulder was now saying. "So deliciously depressing."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his voice frantic. "What's sad?"
"The tart," she answered through a choked sob.
"Food can't be sad," Harry protested with an indignant huff, and took a bite of the remaining tart on her plate just to prove it. He felt nothing at all, just as with all of his food, although that all changed when he looked at Draco, the desperate feelings of loss folded over him once more, but that had nothing to do with the pear and goat cheese tart in his mouth.
More and more customers began sobbing and Harry's panic grew. If word got out that his food was causing people severe depression, his café would have to close. "What do we do?" Harry asked Draco and the blond looked lost for a moment before suddenly nodding curtly and fleeing the restaurant. Harry gaped after him and wanted to scream. How could Draco abandon him like this now?
He didn't have long to wonder about it though, before the blond returned with his robe pockets stuffed with vials of purple liquid. He bustled from table to table, administering the potion to each wailing guest and removing the plates of uneaten tarts from the remainder of the tables until finally the restaurant was calm once more. Harry sighed in deep relief and grabbed Draco's hand, squeezing it tightly within his own. "Thank you so much," he whispered, and Draco practically preened at his side.
"It was nothing. I just ran down to the Apothecary and bought up all the Pleasant Potions he had on hand. Your customers will be happy well into dinnertime," he explained, but Harry's gratitude didn't waver.
"It was more help than I could have rightly asked for," he whispered and sighed as he surveyed the dining area filled with slack-happy faces. "We need to get them out of here and close the doors for the rest of the day until I can figure out what happened."
So the staff spent the rest of the following hour escorting the customers from the restaurant and spelling a sign to tell people they were closed for the rest of the day. "If the Daily Prophet catches wind of this debacle I'm finished," Harry sighed when the last customer was gone and the doors were safely locked.
"I wouldn't worry about that," Hermione said as she Apparated into the kitchen. She was one of the few people that the wards were keyed into, and she didn't often use the privilege, but Harry was happy to see her now. He'd Owled her the moment he realized they'd had to close. "Luna's already printing an article in the Quibbler on how a shipment of spoiled strawberries had kept your menu too limited to finish out the day. The Prophet won't bite on a story so small," she assured.
"Thanks, Mione," Harry sighed and let himself sag into a chair next to Draco. His friend eyed them both curiously as she took a seat across from them.
"So, I'm no longer needed to test and name your dishes. It seems I've been replaced," she huffed and Harry winced.
"It's not like that Mi," Harry explained. "Draco was there, and I let him taste it. I would have thought you would like the name."
She shot him a cheeky grin and nodded. "I did, I did," she replied with a knowing smirk. "Very cute. Tell me, Malfoy, how did you come up with it?" Malfoy didn't respond, but rather glanced at Harry, who flushed dramatically, giving Hermione all the answers she needed. "I thought as much. I knew he couldn't possibly stay on too long before you were snogging in the coolers. Frankly I'm impressed you both held out as long as you did."
"We were not snogging in the coolers," Harry protested, but Draco was grinning ear to ear and Harry was no longer able to conceal his own hapless smile. "Fine, we kissed, but it wasn't in the cooler, and it's not going to happen again."
Harry didn't know whom to answer first, because both Hermione and Draco had asked the question simultaneously. "Because it's unprofessional," he replied, deciding to split his gaze between them and stare at the menu instead. That way neither felt left out and he didn't have to look at either one directly. "Besides, I have more to worry about right now than snogging. How am I going to fix this?"
"Well, it's certainly not going to happen right this moment," Hermione huffed, clearly put out by the non-action happening all around her. "My suggestion is to remake the tarts, you should be able to see where things went wrong."
"I suppose that means kissing Draco again," he scoffed, but his stomach stirred and shifted even as he proposed it.
"If you like," Hermione quipped with a wink.
"And what about me?" Draco blurted. "Does no one care what I want? What if I have no intention of kissing Harry ever again?!"
"Good," Harry huffed indignantly. "You shouldn't want to kiss your boss."
"Well, I don't!" the blond sniped, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Fine!" Harry shouted and stormed off to the kitchens, slamming and locking the door behind him.
"Fine!" Draco shouted in response and fled in the other direction, out the door and into the street.
"Well, that went swimmingly," Hermione muttered.
Harry stirred his new concoction with bitter strokes, angrily whipping the batter with a frenzy as he muttered curses about insidious blond's and their need to manipulate others. He wished the entire incident could be pushed from his mind, but he couldn't even look at a pear tart without thinking of the ignorant blond tart who had stormed out on him earlier that day.
To be fair, Harry knew he had done storming of his own, but he was in too much of a snit to care. He was the boss here, and he had to maintain a professional atmosphere or else the whole bakery would be shot to hell and he couldn't have that. In lieu of trying to form a relationship with other people, because none of them saw him as any more than the Gryffindor Golden Boy and War Hero, Harry had formed a relationship with his decadent desserts.
So, instead of trying to remake the tart that had gone terribly wrong, he decided to make something he was familiar with. His dark chocolate molten cakes had never let him down, and he knew the recipe so well that he could likely make them in his sleep. There was no possible way anything could go wrong with it, and he could reopen later that day with a fresh new batch of goodies.
"You're being ridiculous, you know that right?" asked a voice from behind him and he didn't even bother glaring directly at his best friend. Hermione and Ron were still the only people he ever confided in and they alone knew that the tabloid stories of him with mysterious suitors were completely falsified. Harry didn't date. He didn't have time for it, nor did he trust anyone enough to try.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he huffed, renewing his angry pace as he poured the mixture sloppily into the baking pans.
"Sure you do. Someone finally comes along that you share a connection with and because you're scared, you pushed him away," she explained insightfully as she was known to do.
"I'm not scared. I'm merely trying to look at the situation as his boss and a business owner," he replied curtly, filling the molds with the chocolate that would serve as the molten center before slamming the pans into the oven.
"Why don't you try looking at the situation from the perspective of a man who has needs," she countered, but Harry just huffed and made himself busy cleaning up. "Harry, it's been years since you and Gin broke up and you haven't dated anyone since."
"I don't see how that's your business, Mione," Harry hissed, tossing the bowls and spoons into the sink and spraying them heavily with the industrial nozzle.
"Because I'm not your friend?" she asked, her tone injured.
"You know that's not true. You're my best friend, Mione." He turned around to offer her a comforting look, only to find a triumphant grin on her face.
"Then it's entirely my business," she corrected.
"You're as bad as he is," Harry grumbled. "It's still my life. I can live it how I please."
"Of course it is, Harry. I just don't like seeing you so upset," she soothed, stepping up behind him to knead his shoulders gently. The touch was just enough to melt away some of Harry's tension and he sighed heavily.
"I like him, I really do, but it doesn't seem right. He works for me and he's…he's Malfoy for Merlin's sake," Harry groaned, letting his head fall back on his friend's shoulder.
"He's not the same entitled prat that he was in school, Harry." The words echoed through his mind and he nodded. Harry had already seen as much or else he never would have kissed the man to start with.
"I know. I just…I don't think I know how to date someone, and what if it all blows up?" Harry asked, filled with conflicted emotions.
"That's the chance we all take when it comes to love, Harry. It doesn't always work out the way we want it to, but when you meet that special person that fills the void in your heart, it's worth the leap of faith, I promise." He turned in her arms and their eyes met, her warm chocolate gaze soothing away the last of his anger. "Does Draco do that for you? Does he fill the void?"
Harry thought about Draco's time at the restaurant, the late nights they'd shared, the way he seemed to pick up and click into place at the Phoenix Ashe like a puzzle piece. Everyone adored him, everyone respected him and the café ran like a precisely honed clock until that morning. "He fills the void in the bakery," Harry whispered, unsure if that counted.
"Well, the bakery is your heart, Harry," Hermione beamed. "Now you just have to show him the rest of you."
"Please tell me you're not referring to my getting naked for him," Harry sighed, pulling away and giving his friend a patient grin.
"That's not exactly what I'd meant," she murmured, "but now that you mention it…."
Harry rolled his eyes and tossed his friend a towel. "Help me dry these, will you?"
Hermione chuckled as he grabbed the towel and moved to Harry's side, carefully drying each pan in companionable silence using no magic whatsoever.
The doors to the Phoenix Ashe Café opened later that day with a new line of desserts that Harry felt wildly confident in until a certain blond came sauntering into his kitchen. "What are you doing here?"
Draco gave him a slight sneer. "Here I had thought you don't mix business with pleasure, Potter. Was declaring my lips unfit to kiss your way of telling me that I'm fired?"
"No," Harry huffed, clenching his fists defensively. "Of course not. And I never said you were unfit to kiss," he added with a sigh.
Draco's eyes flashed before he averted his gaze, falling instead on the new set of menus. "Either way, I'm here for my shift as usual. Hermione told me you were set to reopen tonight. I thought you had requested my presence, but clearly I was mistaken." With that, the blond glided from the room and into the bar to meet with the wait staff, leaving Harry feeling like a heel.
The café was filled faster than Harry could blink and before he knew it, the molten cakes were flying out of the kitchen and onto the patrons' plates. He was in his zone, humming away to the music playing in the kitchen as he plated his desserts and sent them out with a distant Malfoy. He vowed to talk to the man properly once the dinner service was over, but now was not the time.
It wasn't until he started hearing raised voices from the dining area that he was alerted to anything being wrong. He immediately removed his chef's hat, tossing it aside as he made his way out, brushing his hands off on his apron as he looked for Draco's trademark coif.
Even without the white-blond hair Malfoy would have been easy to spot as he was standing between several screaming customers, wand raised in a defensive stance. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?" he shouted.
"This gentleman, and I use the term gentleman loosely, just started attacking this other bloke," Draco explained. "And then their wives got involved."
"I am not his wife. I'm his lover," the blonde woman to Draco's left bit out and Harry tried to stifle a laugh at the random comment.
"Okay, well I'm sure whatever dispute you have with one another can be settled in a civil and orderly manner," Harry interrupted.
"That's exactly what I told them, but they don't even know each other," Draco huffed, his wand still leveled.
"What?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused.
"We've never met this couple in our life," the blonde woman repeated for Draco.
"Then why are you fighting?" Harry asked dumbfounded.
"I just looked over," the woman's 'lover' replied, gesturing to the other couple, "and suddenly I wanted to punch him in his fat face!"
"My face is not fat, you bloated sack of lard!" yelled the other man and Harry's gaze flicked to Draco, who shrugged elegantly.
"Who the hell are you calling bloated?" the man's wife argued, looking as if she might launch herself across the room and strangle the other man. Harry was about to stop them and tell them to take their bickering outside, but another couple started fighting across the room, this time with each other.
"I knew you were cheating, you prat!" the woman shouted, tossing her drink in the man's face. "I should have confronted you the time I found lube in your pocket!"
"Well, if you weren't such a frigid bitch, I wouldn't have to fuck the copy boy!" the man yelled back.
"Copy boy?!" she screeched. "Father told me you were bent, but I always blew him off!"
"Yeah?" the man yelled. "Well, so did I!"
The café looked utterly aghast at the statement and Harry shot Draco an apologetic look before shifting over to the new bickering couple. "Okay, okay, there is a time and a place for these conversations…or maybe not…but either way, this is not where you should be discussing your affairs." Wincing at his bad choice of words, he continued, "It's not fair to the rest of the patrons. I'm going to have to ask you to-"
"Sod off, you prick!" shouted a new elevated voice and Harry looked over to see yet another couple fighting.
"Merlin, what the hell is going on here?" Harry grumbled to himself as he cast a Patronus and sent it to Hermione. It looked like he would need to shut the place down again, but he couldn't understand what was happening in his popular café.
Hermione was there in a flash and together with Harry, Draco and the rest of the staff, they managed to wrangle all the disgruntled customers outside and locked the doors securely behind them. Again. "I'm ruined, Mione!" Harry sighed, sagging against the cooler door. "Insanely emotional outbursts twice in one day? The Prophet will have a field day with this."
"We'll figure something out," Hermione soothed, patting Harry on the head.
"I've got loads of contacts at the Prophet, Potter. I can pull some strings and make sure a none of this gets printed," Draco confirmed.
Harry winced at the use of his surname but shot Draco a warm smile regardless. "Thanks, Draco. You've really been a lifesaver."
Draco beamed for a brief moment before returning his stoic Malfoy mask. "Of course. I work here too after all. I can't allow the café to be slandered in the press."
"Of course," Harry sighed, sinking to the floor until his head rested uncomfortably against the frigid metal of the cooler.
"Well, I'm going to get back to Ron and leave you two alone," Hermione chimed in, already halfway to the door. "See you later, Harry. Malfoy," she added, tipping her head as she ducked out of the kitchen using the back door.
"I should be going too," Draco announced and made to leave, but Harry stopped him with a pleading look.
"Wait, please stay," he rasped and watched as Draco paused and slowly turned to face him.
"Why?" the blond asked simply.
"I'm sorry about earlier today, about what I said. It's just…I'm afraid to open up to anyone," Harry breathed, having never said that aloud before. It was just common knowledge between he and his only two close friends but admitting it to Draco felt somewhat freeing.
Draco's haughty mask faltered and a bit of the real Draco shined through. "You think I'm not scared? I'm terrified. I've never had a job before, I've never needed to, I still don't need to, but I enjoy it. I enjoy being needed and having a bit of control and I enjoy spending time with you."
Harry stood up on shaky legs and closed the distance between them. "And I didn't mean what I said about not wanting to kiss you," Harry added. "I enjoyed kissing you very much."
Scoffing, Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course you did, I'm an excellent kisser."
"That you are," Harry confirmed, his eyes blazing as Draco leaned in and captured his lips.
Harry melted into Draco's touch, completely lost to the feel of those lips against his own. It was better than any dessert he'd ever concocted, which only made him wonder how much more delicious the Slytherin would be covered in chocolate.
With that in mind, Harry fumbled for the nearest table, producing a pan with the remnants of his molten cake filling. He dipped a finger into the cooled mixture and held his chocolate covered finger up to Draco's lip. Grey eyes clouded with lust as Draco leaned forward and sucked Harry's finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling with delicious promise.
Harry's head fell back with a groan from just the feeling of Draco's hot mouth around a single digit; he couldn't even imagine the pleasures that awaited him if he pushed this further. Suddenly the thought of stopping seemed extraordinarily dim, so he extracted his finger, only to replace it with his mouth, devouring the last hints of chocolate from Draco's tongue.
His body seemed to take over from that point, leaving his mind out of the equation as he started undressing the Slytherin right there in the middle of his kitchen. If Draco had any protests, he didn't voice them, but Harry suspected by the way his fingers worked frantically at Harry's chef's jacket, that he was feeling the same. Their lips only parted for the brief amount of time it took to slide Draco's cashmere jumper over his head and toss it into a pile with his trousers and Harry's uniform.
Fully clothed in his usual designer apparel, Draco was stunning, but here, nude and full of lust in Harry's kitchen, the man was exquisite. Harry stepped back to look at him properly and realized that someone should carve his likeness from marble, and even then it wouldn't be as brilliant as the real thing. "Beautiful," he whispered, feeling the words fall short of what he truly thought.
A smug grin curled the corners of Draco's lips as he cast his own appraising gaze. "You're not so bad yourself, Harry," he commented with a wink, closing the distance between them, his fingers digging into Harry's hips as he angled the brunet over to the cold metal prep table. "Chocolate," he ordered, and Harry nodded to the pan. "Bend over," he demanded again and despite the slight irritation at being ordered about, Harry obeyed, splaying his body against the table and wincing against the icy steel.
Behind him, Draco slathered a liberal amount of the chocolate on his fingers and pressed it into the crease of Harry's arse, making the Gryffindor squirm. Sticky fingers clenched down on his cheeks, spreading them wide before a hot, wet tongue slid into the cleft, teasing Harry's entrance with each passing stroke. The sensation was incredible, and Harry rutted against the movement, craving more, which Draco freely gave.
Draco's fingers sought his entrance, rubbing his fingertip against the tight hole, making Harry whimper. When the first finger breached the tight ring of muscle, pushing deep inside of Harry with slow precision, he thought he might die of pleasure. But then the digit began to work in and out of him, fucking his channel with practiced ease and then a second finger was added, making Harry keen as they crested over his prostate.
"Draco," he rasped, his voice a strangled cry and the sound of it made Draco pick up his pace until he removed the fingers completely, leaving Harry feeling empty and frustrated. But before he could grumble over the loss, he felt something much thicker resting against his entrance.
"Harry," Draco breathed, his voice as trembling as Harry's legs, "I'm going to fuck you until you never want to fuck anyone else."
Harry almost laughed, because he'd never wanted to fuck anyone else before now and he couldn't imagine ever being with anyone else after this, but he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the pleasure Draco was offering. "Yes," he whispered instead and immediately felt the head of Draco's cock inching its way inside of him slowly, but surely.
The burn and the pressure and the feeling of tightness flowed through him like a sugar buzz, making him giddy and intoxicated all at once. He found himself leaning back into Draco's pelvis, matching the force of his initial thrust and driving him impossibly deep. Harry gripped the edges of the counter as Draco began to move, his pace strengthening with each new plunge and soon, Harry was writhing and slamming backward, greedy for more of the delicious friction.
By the time Draco reached around to fist Harry's cock, Harry was already close and just three tight strokes from that perfect, pale hand sent him over the edge. His cock erupted like a volcano cake, his release coating Draco's hand and the damp tile floor below them. Harry would have cleaned away the mess at once, but he was still swimming in the after effects of his orgasm and the intense feeling of being filled as Draco shouted and came inside of him, his hips pumping frantically to milk the last of his own climax.
Breath coming in heavy pants, bodies sagging against the metal table, the two men stayed there, drinking in the air and the faint scent of chocolate mingled with sex. "That was…fantastic," Harry rasped at last.
"It was rather brilliant, wasn't it?" Draco asked, his smug grin still firmly in place, practically preening even though he was nude, sticky and spent.
Harry smiled, slowly getting up and stretching, feeling a pit form in his stomach. What now? Would things at the café become awkward? Draco's smile fell abruptly when he glanced over to see conflict riddled across Harry's face and he moved to grab up his discarded clothes, flicking his wand over each article to clean them and smooth the wrinkles away.
As he dressed, Harry wondered if he should say something, but his tongue felt heavy and stuck to the roof of his mouth as if he'd taken a bite of his peanut butter pie. He was at a loss for words and just stood there like a block of ice.
"I should probably go," Draco said at last, looking pristine and no longer rumpled, like nothing had ever transpired between them and Harry wondered if that was the way Draco wanted it. Forgotten.
"Right," Harry muttered, feeling suddenly vulnerable in his naked state and scrambled to fetch his own clothes, not bothering to clean them the way Draco had. He was just going home after all. He could clean them then while he berated himself for fucking his co-worker despite the warnings in his head.
"Well," Draco began, gliding slowly to the door. "I'll be off then. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, tomorrow," Harry confirmed and watched the disappointment flitter across the blond's face before the mask slid into place and he turned and left Harry alone in the kitchen. Harry just stood there, staring at the place Draco had just vacated until he finally tore his eyes away, cleaned up the evidence of their encounter and went home to sulk.
Harry was tense the next morning as he worked on his new recipe. He'd had fun with the blond the night before. Some might even say too much fun, but now that daylight was streaming into the café windows, Harry wondered if he'd made a mistake.
He'd never before let his guard down with another person the way he had with Draco last night, and he had to admit that he was already falling for the blond prat, only, he had no idea how Draco felt. Was this just another conquest to him? A fun fling until the Slytherin grew bored and moved on? Would he simply leave Harry or the café too? Would Harry be able to work with him anymore even if he did stay but their 'relationship' fizzled out?
His mind was so abuzz with questions that he didn't hear the door open or the lithe steps behind him until a shout was given just beside his ear.
"Harry," Draco gasped, leaning over to watch the man closely as he stirred the mixture. "You're using magic."
"I most certainly am not," Harry scoffed, but his eyes fell to his hand and even he couldn't mistake the glowing shimmer that seemed to flow from his body and through the spoon now that he was paying attention. He tried to stop it, even shouted a 'Finite' spell, but the power continued to flow from him to the tart filling. "I can't make it stop."
"It's raw magic, Harry," Draco whispered in awe. "I've only seen it a few times before, but I've read all about it. It latches onto your emotions and casts itself without any incantations. I've never heard of it doing this, though."
"Doing what, exactly?"
"Fusing with food. It's taking your emotions and adding them as ingredients in your desserts, probably because you don't use your powers enough," Draco lectured.
"So, what? The tarts made people upset before because I was upset, and the cake was making people angry because I was angry? That's nonsense," Harry huffed.
"Is it?" Draco countered. "Is that really so hard to believe in a world where a seventeen year old boy bested a wizard with ten times his power? Or a world where dragons could be bought on the black-market, or a world where a Slytherin could be in love with a Gryffindor?"
"So, it's not so hard to believe, I suppose but…what?" Harry balked, thinking he had surely heard mistakenly.
"I've tried to ignore it, Salazar knows it's a hundred kinds of wrong, but I'm in love with you, Potter, and I'm tired of you ignoring it too," Draco said, stepping in closer to the brunet.
Harry grinned, unable to help himself. "And what if I don't return these rather strong feelings you have for me?" Harry asked.
"Then I'll have to modify your memory so that you do," Draco sneered mockingly. "I want you, Potter, and not even your famous Gryffindor stubbornness will stand in my way."
"Is that right?" Harry breathed, fully aware that the space between he and Draco was closing up rapidly.
"I'm always right, Harry. You should get used to that, because you'll be dealing with it for a very, very long time," Draco threatened before he leaned in to capture Harry's lips.