Apples and Oranges [Drarry] ✔

Chapter 1: Meet and Greet

"I was less surprised I recognised him after all this time than by just how much he'd changed. If someone had told me it was an entirely different person, I would have believed them.

But it was as if the air shifted in a certain way when he walked, or the light shimmered particularly brightly when he smiled, and I knew instantly that my eyes weren't deceiving me. It couldn't be anyone else but him. The more I looked at him, the more my certainty grew.

We met again, after a decade of silence."

– Apples and Oranges, by Francis Gallagher

___

Well. Well. This certainly wasn't on today's agenda. This certainly wasn't in the plans. Harry didn't even know this was something that could happen today. He hasn't expected this. At. All.

He glances at his watch. This was supposed to be quick refresh-your-head walk. He is supposed to be back in his office in 15 minutes.

He is not going to be back in his office in 15 minutes. How in the name of Merlin's saggy ballsack is he supposed to turn around and go back to his office after this?

He's staring. Blatantly.

Fuck.

God fucking damn it.

Malfoy looks up.

He looks good.

He looks ridiculous. He's in a red gingham coat, first of all. Underneath the coat, there's a dark green sweater with something black printed on the front. It's lettering. Harry can't read it. The coat covers most of it. A white shirt collar juts out at Malfoy's neck so it doesn't really matter what his sweater spells out because all you can look at is his neck. Long. White. Neck. Stretching out from a white shirt that's underneath a dark green sweater with something black printed on the front that you can't read because it's covered by a red gingham coat. Malfoy's also wearing light blue distressed jeans. Harry can't see his shoes. Again, he looks ridiculous. Like a peacock. Like a poison dart frog screaming at you – what's that called again? Apoth... Aposemi... Apo-something. He knows that Hermione ranted to him about –

He's still staring.

Malfoy is still looking at him.

He looks ridiculous. (He looks hot.)

How is he not boiling in that outfit!? It's nearly June! It's sweltering out!

Harry briefly considers bringing him in for magic-use around muggles – because there is absolutely zero chance that there are no cooling charms involved with that outfit – if only for the inconvenience it would cause Malfoy. For the wasted afternoon. (Harry never really had to try to get a rise out of Malfoy. It has always been so startlingly easy.)

But he refrains. Because Malfoy seems to be busy with something. Something. Harry knows what it is – he's read the sign, he can read – but he's having a bit of trouble believing it.

Because what Malfoy seems to be busy with, what the sign said he was busy with (and Harry trusts the sign even though it claimed Malfoy was not in fact Malfoy, but a bloke named Francis Gallagher), is a meet and greet. Or more precisely, a live reading followed by a meet and greet. Because Malfoy wrote a book. That sells really well. Apparently.

They're still staring at each other – Harry can't look away.

Malfoy's like a shining beacon attracting his gaze. But not in any positive way, of course. More like a... car crash? That you can't look away from. Yes. A car crash. (Even though Malfoy doesn't look like a car crash. He looks hot.)