'𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍

Chapter 2

For the next few days after the strange encounter, Draco mulled over the strange piece of paper, which, for reasons he didn't want to face, he had kept in his pocket. He pulled it out from time to time to study Harry's surprisingly careful scrawl. Underneath the address, neatly penned, was the date and time of dinner as though he'd been prepared, even before they'd met, to invite Draco to dinner.

"Or to invite someone to dinner, at the very least," Draco muttered, scrubbing his face with his hands. It was late Saturday afternoon, and steadily advancing towards the time on the invitation. Maybe he'd just been a convenient choice. Maybe Harry was lonely, and had wanted someone to accompany him for dinner. Maybe he had decided to give the slip of paper to the first person he could convince to come over. Maybe he'd honestly just been looking for someone test out his new cooker on.

Draco uttered a frustrated curse and smoothed his fingers over the slip of paper again. It was late Saturday afternoon and the only alternative was dinner alone, at his table for one, pretending he didn't want to see Harry again, that he wasn't burning with curiosity to find out why Harry Potter had invited him for dinner.

He lunged for the Floo powder.

Which was how he ended up, ten minutes before six, standing in Harry Potter's bachelor pad after being spit out by the Floo. The place was dark; maybe Harry hadn't returned yet. He registered vague surprise that Harry would leave his Floo unlocked, but his attention was quickly diverted to the table in front of the fireplace. It was laden with mouth-watering dishes, almost brimming over with food, as though Harry had been absolutely sure he would come.

He was inclined to feel insulted by this but he caught sight of the plate of carefully baked gingerbread cookies and forgot to care. He drew closer to the cookies with something approaching awe. They had to be freshly baked. The spicy scent of the ginger and the sweet aroma of the biscuit were wafting out deliciously from the plate, tendrils of temptation calling out to him. Draco felt himself weakening. It would be rude, but -- surely Harry wouldn't notice if he popped just one of them into his mouth. Just one.

Before he was fully conscious of moving, the spicy tang was melting on his tongue and he was closing his eyes to fully savour the taste. It was heaven. He reached out for another one.

"Still spoiling your dinner by starting with the desserts first?"

Draco thought he might have a heart attack. He whipped around, just barely managing to keep himself from choking on a crumb of gingerbread that went down the wrong way.

"Potter!" he snapped, coughing a little. "Haven't you learned anything about sneaking up on people like that?"

Harry, standing with two wine glasses balanced awkwardly in his hand, had the grace to look somewhat abashed. "Sorry. I'd forgotten how much you hate sudden surprises."

"It's fine," Draco muttered.

Harry's words seemed out of place -- calling back a memory of a time when they had been much closer, when they could read miles into each other's expressions, anticipating instinctively what the other was going to say or how he might react. Draco forced himself to shove that nostalgia away. It was inappropriate, given the way it had ended.

Harry was watching him curiously but didn't comment on Draco's change in expression. "Here," he said instead. "Would you care for some wine?"