Harry discovers Grindr and realises that he can screen his hook-ups according to his specific...needs.
What happens when he finds himself staring at Draco Malfoy when he arrives for his first foray into dating apps.
Started out as pure smut, but the...
"Blaise, we're meeting for pints again," Ron informed me, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"Care to join?" he asked, hands dropping to his desk, eyes looking at me expectantly.
"Sure," I replied, reaching to massage the back of my neck. "Who's we?"
"Me, you, Hermione, Draco," Ron listed off.
"I'm assuming we can convince Harry and Pansy to join. Any chance Anaïs will be able to find someone to watch the kids and come along?"
I shrugged.
"Probably... hopefully," I responded to each of his questions, already texting home, following up with a second text to Pansy.
"Where are we meeting?" I asked as Pansy's response pinged back almost immediately.
"The Magpie," Ron answered. "It's just round the corner once you get to Muggle London."
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I nodded as I forwarded the name and address to Pansy.
"I assume we're celebrating the Magpie's victory last weekend?" I grinned.
The team had played an absolutely brilliant match against Puddlemere, Harry, of course, swooping in with a spectacular dive at the end to catch the Snitch, ending the match and making it clear that Puddlemere was going to have to keep bringing their A-game if they had any hopes of winning the League Cup this year.
"Yep," Ron grinned back. "That's actually how we found it. Hermione dragged Harry and me there when he signed on with the Magpies, but it's actually a great place to get a pint. And their pies are to die for."
Ron knew I loved an excellent pie.
"Erm... Mione said Draco went home for lunch. And that this is the first time he's ever eaten lunch at home?"
Ron glanced up at me questioningly, as though unsure why his wife might be texting him Draco's eating habits.
I, however, knew instantly why Hermione was sharing this piece of information.
"He is not going home," I assured Ron.
"He's not?"
"I mean, maybe he is... but he's not eating lunch," I snorted, making a mental note to grill Draco relentlessly about his mystery man when we met up this evening.
"I'm texting that to Hermione verbatim," Ron informed me, thumbs flying across his mobile.
"Don't do that!" I protested, sitting up straight, jaw dropping.
"Why not?" he asked, setting his mobile down and looking back at me. "She can handle it. She's not a prude, you know."
"I know that, but..." I frowned and leaned back in my chair.
