Harry Potter was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and it didn't matter that he usually had to fight for it - whatever it was - but he enjoyed the chase, and then finally having a chance to enjoy the fruits of his labor.
Whether it was the latest broom for a quick round of Quidditch, or to spend the day with his friends, or if he saw a house that he wanted to own, he would do anything to get it and have fun in the process.
And of course, being Harry Potter, money was certainly no object.
There was a new restaurant in town. It went by the name of "Come And Get It", and while Harry was by no means a shy man, he wondered what the bloody hell was on that menu. The rumors were that you could order anything, and it would be served or they would close their doors!
He contacted them shortly after their opening and attempted to make reservations, only to be told that they were fully booked for the next six months.
He would have to come back later, or leave his name, and if there was a cancellation, he would be contacted immediately.
And of course, he never used his name to earn him things, because that would be tactless and totally not his style, and so he relented. Telling the Maître D that he would be waiting for his call.
Every Friday night he made it a habit to walk past the restaurant and watch the patrons arrive and leave, afraid that they had forgotten him. But it seemed that their tables were always full, leaving no space for even a bowtruckle.
His life went on. There were days that he saw Malfoy and his cronies in town purchasing what looked to be like new clothes on more than one occasion, and he had to admit that the man had become quite beautiful.
Not that he never was, it's just now that he was smiling and he looked happy. Something that Harry never thought he would see on the face of the Slytherin.
Harry, on many occasions, wondered what the blond man had been up to and what had happened to him after the war. He remembered that he had spoken out at their trials, granting Draco the freedom that he had never felt in his earlier years.
He also remembered the way that Malfoy had thanked him with an endearing hug, his sobs wetting Harry's shirt. His arms wound tight around Harry's neck, and his body wrecking with shakes.
And there were days when they did run into each other, that their interactions were quite awkward. With Malfoy blushing and Harry bumbling, it seemed that they couldn't string two words together when they were in each other's company.
And Harry found it frustrating. He wanted to know why Malfoy would blush but he also wanted to keep looking at him when he did. His cheeks would get this light pink glow, and light up his eyes, as if he were coming alive for the first time in a long time.
He wanted to see more of it.
Harry was a very sexual person. He believed that touch was important, being starved of it for most of his life, and found himself wanting to grace his fingers slowly over Malfoy's cheeks, and of course if he were allowed, other areas as well.
Being sexual didn't mean that he fucked everything that moved, it meant that he was a warm and sensual person, always wanting to make sure that his lover received anything they wanted. He and Ginny had never worked out, and when one day, he was given the opportunity to find himself being loved by a man, he never wanted to look back.
He was more of a giver than a taker, and often had flashes of Malfoy writhing in ecstasy on his bed, drenched in sweat, while he was inside him. Kissing his stunning body with his tongue, and mapping out his form, committing it to memory. Not that he knew what the blond looked like naked, but he would love to find out.
