Flower Shop Boy | Drarry

Of Flirting & Dra-Malfoy

Malfoy isn't singing when Harry allows Lavender to practically chuck him into the shop, and he can't help but think that the girl is far too strong for her own good. In a strange sort of way, it reminds him of Hermione, reminds him of that quiet fierceness that's there - hidden underneath layers of femininity and intelligence, sure - but still there nonetheless.

This new revelation leaves Harry with a bitter taste in his mouth, and he shakes his head, trying to rid his tongue of the bitterness.

He's shivering, he realises and dripping melted snow onto the hardwood floor of Malfoy's Blooms, and his hands clench into fists. Harry wonders if he should bother with a few cleaning spells, just to save Dra-Malfoy the trouble. 

Don't look so surprised, one must have seen it coming. Harry is a hero, after all, and no matter who the civilian - or ex-Death Eater - if he, the hero of the Wizarding World, is to drip on someone's dignified floor, then he, Harry Potter, has a duty to be worried about rotting the wood.

His thoughts ring hollow in his ears, and Harry turns his attention to Malfoy. It takes him a bit to realise that Malfoy isn't doing much of anything a few moments after Harry has allowed Lavender to practically chuck him in in such an undignified manner, instead the blond is perched delicately on a wooden bench in the corner of the shop.

The bench reminds Harry of the outside, painted a tiresome pale green - mint, his mind supplies - and tucked into a corner so dark that Harry wonders if this is all part of Malfoy's plan to ruin Christmas for curious passers-by by scaring them like it's Hallowe'en. "Erm..." Harry coughs.

Does one cough when near an ex-arch-nemesis? Harry wonders if he should resolve to buy a few books on the subject; as it seems he'll be ending up in this situation far more times than he'd ever anticipated.

Malfoy's head snaps up from the small book in his hands, and Harry lets his eyes roam over those bony fingers, long and grasping withered pages of what Harry now assumes is a sketchpad. The shorter man smiles slightly, and Harry almost subconsciously follows the movement with every rise and fall of his heart.

"My dearest Harry, you've come back to me." Malfoy closes the leather bound journal with a slight snap - magnets? - and Harry almost chokes as the git begins to stretch out languidly in front of him. Today, Malfoy looks nothing less than beautiful, dressed in a plain white shirt, the pretty brown chinos and a lilac coloured translucent kimono. "Did you miss me?"

Harry is sure that he once upon a time he could use his tongue and mouth to form something called worfs, or aords, or something of the sort, but with the way that Malfoy's shirt has risen up slightly to expose the pale expanse of his soft, lean stomach, Harry realises that today will be a monumental day. 

It will be the day that Harry's words escape from his mouth that's - admittedly - hanging open just the slightest; the day that Draco Malfoy is wearing a damn kimono and his top button is undone. It is the day that Draco Malfoy has one of those dandelion wish flowers clinging to the back of his left ear; the day Harry splutters till he can form sentences no more.

He's fucked. Well and truly doomed.

"What? No! No, Malfoy, I didn't miss you. Er - um, why would you...uh think that?" Harry peers at Malfoy as the blond's expression drops.

That taut stomach pulses ever so slightly, before that blasted shirt falls down to cover the pale skin. "Harry, I thought we already went over this. My name is Draco. "

Harry knows that; he really does, but he isn't sure his body does. Hot flashes sing through his limbs, encasing his bones and seeping into his veins like poison. A really delicate, almond-smelling poison. "Yeah, yeah I know - but like...it's just um, weird for me. To say that."

Malfoy - Draco - glides from his bench and into the light of the shop. Harry's eyes fall immediately on the Slytherin's freckled face, gaze sliding over the man's nose and cheeks. He feels something surge in the very lower part of his stomach when Draco is suddenly in front of him, pretty little hands clasping the front of his jacket.

This is new. Very much so; and Harry wonders why on earth he isn't hexing the life out of Malfoy.

"Harry, it's not that hard to say my given name. I won't bite." Malfoy's rosy lips spread into a smile that reminds Harry of a shark, all teeth and no humour. "Much. I won't bite - much."

Harry's stuck, his breath lodged in his throat as a warm body, so full and so Draco, invades his personal space. Merlin, he feels so soft.

Their knees bump against each other, chests falling and rising and grazing and pulling apart. And suddenly the world very much seems to shrink to accommodate only two wizards on all of the Earth. Draco leans in, and Harry notices for the first time how he seems to have grown into that nose that had seemed all too pointy at Hogwarts. Now the softly rounded flesh pushes against Harry's jawline, running across the stubble that dots it.

Harry practically melts, allows his body to fall forward and slips into Draco's embrace. He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, or what has possessed him, but Harry also finds that he doesn't mind. He wants this. So much more than he ever could have imagined. Hips grind into his, and Harry bites at the exposed skin on Draco's neck - it's taunting him, he thinks, daring him to lose all control and become positively animalistic - to stop himself from moaning.

Is this indecent? Rubbing against your ex-arch-nemesis in the middle of his flower shop? Right where any incoming customer can see? Perhaps, but Harry's too focused on the heated flush that marks Draco's once flawless skin, watches it seep underneath the first translucent layer of flesh and travels down the blond's neck. It's beautiful. Draco is beautiful.

What the fuck is happening.

"Maybe I -"Harry breathes in thick scents of sweetened almonds, lips brushing against Draco's ear as he murmurs. "- Maybe I want you to bite."

-

oh shit y'all! told you the wait was worth it!