𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐅𝐔𝐋

Part 2

Harry told Ginny that he had something to deal with and that he wasn't likely to be back for dinner. She wasn't to worry if he wasn't back during the night, actually, he'd said. It wasn't something that frequently happened, so Ginny nodded her head and kissed him on the cheek before taking their baby girl, Lily, with her back to their home.

Draco told Astoria that he had a few projects to catch up on at work. That was all that he needed to say before she rolled her eyes and Apparated away. Astoria wouldn't have cared for whatever it was Draco was doing provided his projects kept the money coming in. He had to pay for her needs, after all, and her needs were quite expensive. Even though Harry had given them every last Knut of Draco's original inheritance from Lucius, Astoria really knew how to burn holes into pockets. They weren't in any trouble financially, but it was time to divorce the stupid woman and he knew it.

But that was all shoved to the back of his mind the moment he turned back around and saw Harry staring up at him. He was alone, standing in his nondescript robes with his hands shoved in his pockets, eyeing him with those massive emerald eyes. A shiver ran down his back and a small smirk found its way to his lips. The smirk just about faltered when he saw Harry lick his own lips, unconsciously, then he cocked his head to his left. A simple nod was Draco's response and they Apparated away.

They'd both agreed in their letters that it would be best for them to meet in Muggle London. So by the time they met up in the small coffee shop in a hidden alley, both had gotten rid of their robes and were in jeans and shirts. Draco had on an extra layer of a blazer, but that was quickly shrugged out of when they sat down together. Quickly, Harry noticed that they'd also removed their wedding bands.

Just looking at him had the sparks returning to Harry's body. Merlin, Draco was beautiful. He might have aged and now resembled Lucius more than ever now, but there was still that gorgeous side of him that was obviously his mother's genetics.

And from the way Draco was eyeing him up just as much. Deep inside him, Harry hoped that Draco was just as pleased as he was.

The coffee shop really was small. Looking around, Harry guessed it was a place mainly used by Muggle university students or even artists looking for inspiration. Every piece of furniture was industrial. The chairs were iron, the tables were old work benches and the large art decorations were made of wrought iron, broken tiles, mirrors and glass.

Harry took this all in before he'd spoken a single word to Draco. It wasn't until a worker came up to them and asked them for their order that either opened their mouths to speak.

"Short black, thanks," Draco said crisply, barely looking up at the waitress. She was dressed in all black with a white apron tied around her waist. That was all that he saw, and Harry was sure of it. He'd have a much different look on his face if he saw that their waitress had half her head shaved with the rest dyed bright red.

"A strong latte, please," Harry requested. She smiled at him and jotted this down. She then left them alone.

Harry shifted in his chair, aware of how quiet he and Draco were now that they were face to face. He almost couldn't believe that this was the same man who quite openly wrote about how badly he wanted Harry's cock inside him.

Draco, too, shifted a little and rolled his sleeves up his arms. Harry's eyes were instantly drawn to the tattoo etched into Draco's skin and he recalled his own written words to Draco based on that Mark. He'd secretly (though, those secrets weren't secret to Draco-Harry's bared all when he wrote to him and Draco did the same to Harry) longed to trace his tongue around every groove and indentation. He wanted to bite it. He wanted to make it red and bruised and mark Draco for himself. It would be the ultimate win over Voldemort. Voldemort had managed to claim such a beautiful being and Harry wanted to make his own claim over the last thread of power that bastard had left on the blonde. He was getting hard in his jeans, again, just by looking at the dressed man.