Disclaimer: All things pertaining to Harry Potter do not belong to me, and this story is written only for enjoyment purposes.
A/N: So I'm getting reviews and messages and whatnot from people who point out that half the month has gone by and Harry hasn't made a move at all yet. But you see, Harry's hesitant and hides behind the anonymity because he isn't sure how Draco would react to the secret admirer, let alone Harry himself. I hope this explains the frustration I know some of you are feeling. Don't worry. Harry will get past that soon.
Chapter 15 — July 16th
Harry couldn't stand still. He couldn't help it — he was too excited. They were going touring today. It was all Draco's idea, and he absolutely refused to tell Harry what he had planned.
"Where are we going?" He badgered Draco for the tenth time that morning.
"I'm not telling you, Potter." Draco replied as the doorbell rang.
"Hello, hello!" Hermione twittered as she skipped into their room. "Draco, I have your gift. I ran into the bellboy and I told him I could bring it in since he's running late today." She leaned in close. "Might wanna look at it in private."
Draco nodded before he disappeared into the bedroom.
"Harry!" Hermione called out.
"Here!" Harry called out from the parlour, where he was double checking their backpacks.
"So…" Hermione said casually, "a book of gambolling magic history, eh?"
"He likes reading about weird magicks," Harry replied absentmindedly. A second after his reply, he realized what he had just admitted to. "Oh my god. I mean—"
"I know you, Harry. You can't hide stuff from me."
Harry gulped "How long have you known?"
"Actually I suspected that you fancied him since the Ministry's Christmas gala last year," Hermione admitted. "You looked so jealous when Draco and Theodore Nott accidentally walked under the charmed mistletoe. But I only realized the gifter was you a few days ago. You know, that day when you sent the snitch."
"How did you—"
Hermione cut him off. "Avril's handwriting spell. It threw Malfoy off your trail, but not me," she said proudly "I remembered your face when Avril showed it to us. You didn't seem very surprised. So I thought what if you were using Avril's spell to write the notes? Maybe the spell only writes in one font, so even if it was you casting the spell and not Avril, the words would look the same."
"Yeah, that's right. Harry mumbled. "Don't tell him it's me, please, Herm."
"You really like him?" He nodded furiously. Hermione sighed. "Alright. I'll play along. But don't get too distracted! You're here for work, remember!"
Harry smiled. "Thanks 'Mione."
"Granger, you ready?" Draco called out, strolling out from the hallway.
Hermione gave Harry a silent look before Hermione responded, "I don't think I'll be coming with you today."
"No," Hermione replied firmly, "I found an antique magical bookstore that I've been meaning to check out. I'll probably spend the whole day reading."
Draco merely shrugged and walked back towards the door. "Whatever. Hurry up, Potter."
"You're not coming with us?"
Hermione gave him a mock-exasperated look. "I'd rather not be a third wheel."
Harry smiled and gave her a hug. "Thank you."
"So where are we?"
"Wetland Park," Draco replied as he parked. "The muggles like it, apparently. Something about the importance of nature since it's so rare in the city."
Harry's brows drew together on his forehead. "But you hate the outdoors, especially since it's so humid."
"But you like it," Draco flicked his hand indifferently. When Harry didn't reply, Draco turned to look at him. "Oh, don't look at me like that! I'm not always a selfish bastard."
Harry snorted at him and got a soft punch in the arm in return.
"I do how to do nice things for others, you know."
"Sureee," Harry drawled. "So I ought to be thanking you for your kindness, then, shan't I?"
"Oh, you should," Draco laughed. "Shall we proceed?"
Harry nodded as they entered. It was a big glass building, full of bright, raw sunlight that was so terribly rare in Hong Kong. Little pamphlets and diagrams about plants and nature were displayed all around. Glancing to the left, Draco noticed a small souvenir shop and smiled. Perhaps they could take a look there later. His attention was drawn away, however, by a man approaching them.
"Welcome!" he waved. "Are you here for the dragonfly tour?"
"Yes, I think we are," Draco replied coolly, eyeing the man with what Harry recognized as distain. It was expected; the man was the exact opposite of Draco. He was short and dark, and the epitome of everything muggle. He wore what appeared to be designed after a Boy Scout uniform, and probably the reason why Draco's nose was wrinkled in disgust.
If the man noticed, however, he was undeterred in his excitement. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "We're just about to head off! If you'll follow me?"
The two friends did as he asked, along with a few other people gathered around him. They entered a small room just off to the side, where the man introduced himself proudly as 'Billy' and then proceeded to present what must be his co-workers, for they were all wearing the same uniforms. Draco didn't bother to remember their names; he didn't care about this. He did miss the Manor's gardens back in Wiltshire, but parks, in his imagination, at least, were no replacement. Still, he had decided to come to this muggles' idea of nature because he knew Harry would like it.
Merlin knew what he had been thinking when he made that decision, but over the past few days, Draco had come to terms with the fact that there was something growing between Harry and himself. He had considered Harry as his secret admirer before, and had found himself strangely unopposed to the idea. Still, the whole secrecy part of the plan really didn't seem like Harry — he would have expected Harry to come right out and ask him out, not that he expected Harry to fancy him.
Of course, Harry might fancy him and not be the secret admirer. That was the most probable situation, Draco thought. Sometimes it seemed like Harry was sending subtle signals at him, such as that day when they made the wax hands, but then at other times it seemed as if they were only meant to be friends. Draco wasn't too sure how he'd feel about that, if Harry only had friendly intentions and wasn't the admirer at all. His own brain seemed to be sending him mixed signals! At times he felt so happy with Harry that he just wished he wasn't misinterpreting what was between them, but then he would feel torn, as if he owed his mystery admirer something. The admirer, as far as Draco could deduce, was certainly Draco's type. Perhaps even more than Potter was, as far as Draco knew.
He sighed. It was all so complicated; his thoughts all mumble-jumble up in his head. For now, though, he would resign himself to a day of sunshine and dragonflies.
Many hours later, Harry and Draco were at Ha Pak Nai, enjoying the sights of the wizarding town. As Draco had chosen a muggle place for the morning, Harry thought it only fair to return the favour by insisting they visit a wizarding area in the evening, at least until Draco was ready to reveal whatever else it was he had planned. Ironic, it was.
They had taken dinner at a little, yet upscale, restaurant in the middle of the town. Plates that had been piled high with seafood of all types, a specialty of the district, were now empty.
"That was wonderful," Harry groaned. "I don't think I could eat another bite."
Draco nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't say no to a drink, though." He tossed a few galleons onto the table, and a few firewhiskeys flashed onto the table. He nudged a cup towards Harry, "Common, let's play a game or something."
And it with that challenge, and quite a number of drinks later, that they finally decided to leave.
They left in a bit of a daze, stumbling out of the door. Harry even ran into a short girl. She looked a bit unusual, since hair had a blue shine to it, but he pushed that thought aside. This was a world full of glamour charms and magic, was it not? He didn't have time to apologize, however, as Draco's exclamation drew his attention away from her.
"Come on," Draco shouted, grabbing Harry's hand, pulling him along as he ran. "We're going to miss it!"
What they must look like, two men running down the narrow road as if their lives depended on it. A car driving down the road honked and they jumped to the side in sync, just barely avoiding being ploughed over. The driver flipped them the bird, but neither saw it — they had already ran past him. Hand in hand, they blew through the district, hair ruffled by the warm wind, clothes wrinkled from exercise.
"We made it," Draco gasped, doubled over, exhausted. They looked up at the same time, glanced at each other's flushed faces, and burst out laughing.
"That was bloody brilliant," Harry giggled. It was then that he turned and caught sight of what they were there for. "Oh," he breathed.
Draco sat on the corner of the cliff — and wasn't that proof enough of just how drunk he was — pulling Harry down next to him. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
And it was. The sun was a perfect circle of fire, slowly descending into small hills and mountains in the distance. Layers of clouds all swirled together in a jumble of orange, yellow, and gold. The oyster farm looked like black rocks in the middle of a shallow pond — the water reflected the sunlight, and the rest of the ground cast shadows on itself. The colours all overlapped each other, so precise it was as if it was the deliberate work an artist. As if the sky was the canvas and someone had used the most delicate paintbrush, streaking line upon line of the most precious dyes along the cloth. Yet this scenery was something that could never have been caught and created by any artificial colour and paints. No, this was the work of something so much more, something that couldn't even be captured with a camera — only the uniqueness of the experience itself could do it justice.
Harry turned slightly, the sight of Draco in the sunlight making his breath catch. His blond hair had caught in the sunlight, and was in the iridescent orange glow, giving off more of a honey colour than the white-blond it usually was. Draco must have sensed Harry's attention on him, because he turned, nearly bumping noses with the brunet as he did so. Harry could smell the alcohol in Draco's breath — or was that his own?
Both just sat there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes silently. It should have made Harry uncomfortable, being so close to Draco when he didn't know what his partner's reaction might be, but Harry couldn't have felt more content despite it all. The only thing that could possibly surpass the wonderfully giddy feeling in him, Harry thought, would be if he were to lean forward and kiss those sinfully pink lips.
And in a whim of Gryffindorish rashness, he did.
Panic licked at the edges of Draco's mind, screaming at him, asking him what the hell he was doing, kissing Harry Potter. Somewhere inside him, a tiny voice was trying to remind him of all the reasons why he really shouldn't be doing this, but it, along with the rest of Draco's conscious thought, was drowned out into the kiss. Nothing had ever felt as delightful, as right, as kissing Harry. That by itself should have been wrong in all sense of the word, but he was too far gone to care. Adrenaline was running through his veins, he was so drunk he probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning, and he could not have stopped kissing Harry if his life depended on it.
Harry's lips were soft, warm, and just a bit wet. Every small bit of suction seemed to steal a little bit of his breath away from him. It was like Harry was a dementor, drinking in Draco's soul and slowly driving him insane with pleasure. He felt his arms lift of their own accord and gripping onto Harry's shirt, holding on as if it was the only thing grounding him.
His theory was reinforced when he felt Harry's tongue touch tentatively at his bottom lip. Draco was sure he had died and was floating up to heaven, because nothing should feel as wonderful as this. And then he opened his mouth just a bit and then Harry was there, everywhere. It was terrifying and thrilling and not the least bit sobering — a few more of these kisses and Draco was sure he would pass out from drunkenness.
However, Draco's mind refused to shut up for long, and somewhere by his sixth exploration of Harry's mouth, it started shouting at him about the necessities of air. He pulled away slowly, eliciting a tiny whimper from the brunet. Draco knew exactly how he felt, shock and contentment and sixty other emotions were whizzing through him. He knew he'd be lost if he gave in. Perhaps he already was, but he couldn't be arsed enough to try and figure it out.
Harry had dreamed for days on end about what their kiss, when it finally happened, might be like. He had expected it to be rough, like a fight of a different kind of passion from they've always felt about each other. He had not expected it to be sweet, for Draco to taste like chocolate and firewhiskey and something else so unique Harry couldn't describe it. He had not expected to be able to let down his guard and just feel. Most importantly, however, was that he had definitely not expected Draco to return the kiss.
The kiss was everything Harry hadn't expected, yet everything he could possibly have wished for.
It was Draco who pulled away first, but before Harry could even wonder if Draco regretted something so perfect, the blond leaned in and rested his forehead against Harry's, putting his mind to rest.
"Bit cliché, isn't it," Draco laughed quietly, "Snogging in the sunset?"
Harry gave a small breathlessly chuckle of his own. If Draco could make jokes, perhaps not all hope was lost. "That only applies to couples."
"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" Draco teased, bumping Harry's nose gently with his own.
"Would you want to be?" he whispered, afraid to say how he truly felt, despite having been the one to initiate the kiss in the first place. All he could think about was how much he hoped that Draco wouldn't regret this once he was sober again.
Draco didn't answer, just leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on Harry's lips again. "Common, we should go back to the hotel," he said, returning to normal volume. "'m tired."
Harry followed quietly after Draco, mind still whirring with unasked questions.
When they finally stumbled to the car, Harry hesitated. "You really shouldn't drive without a sobriety charm."
"I don't want a sobriety charm," Draco whined. "You drive."
"I'll drive," Harry affirmed. He smiled softly as Draco plunked himself into the passenger seat of the car. It was almost uncomfortably quiet in the car, until Harry couldn't stand it anymore and glanced over at the object of his affections to find him asleep. His lips twitched fondly at the sight of Draco in the moonlight; he was really quite the drunk.
When they finally arrived at the hotel, Harry had to practically carry Draco into the lift and through the door.
"Ngghhh," Draco groaned as he plopped down on the bed. Harry shook his head fondly and helped Draco take his shoes off. Taking one last look at his love, he turned and descended the steps to the parlour where he, exhausted, collapsed on the couch and dreamt of sugary kisses and golden sunsets.