Drarry Oneshots

Don't Be afraid, Potter

Please Please Please Please Please. I'll owe you forever. Please!

Hermione's voice sounded in Harry's ear, made tinny and scratchy because of the static. He sighed and checked his watch.

'When do I need to be there by?' His voice held deep resignation.

Half an hour. Thank you so much Harry. I promise I'll make it up to you.

Her tone was distracted and she suddenly shrieked at someone in the room with her. Harry winced and held the phone away from his ear, Hermione's already-piercing voice turning shrill thanks to the distortion. Deeming it safe for his eardrums, Harry tentatively placed the phone back to his ear.

'Hermione?'

Yeah, sorry about that, Harry. See you in twenty?

'Yeah. Want me to bring you a drink?'

Like you haven't already done enough. Anything, so long as it has a lot of caffeine, or a lot of alcohol. Thanks!

Harry chortled. 'See you, Hermione.'

He hung up and threw some clothes on. It was his day off, and he had been looking forward to lazing around all day. He dashed out of the flat, revving his bike and driving to the nearest Starbucks. Ordering two espressos to go, Harry rung his boss and requested the rest of the week off. He had just enough holiday time, and as his boss was a good friend of his, he got the time off. Hanging up, he grabbed the drinks, thanking the harried-looking waitress and sped off on his bike again.

Wending through the traffic, flipping off all the angry horns from the stationary drivers, Harry made his way to the studio Hermione was working at. Pulling up, Harry parked next to a Mercedes-Benz, sneering at the expensive, sleek vehicle as his trusty bike sputtered before subsiding. Slinging his leather jacket over the seat and his helmet over one of the handlebars, he dashed through the door, clutching the coffees, smiling at the startled receptionist. She directed him to the right floor, glancing suspiciously at him. He mentioned Hermione, and her expression cleared.

Hermione was quite locally famous for being lovely to work with but extremely efficient and organised to the point of intimidation. He was hurried along and shoved inside a door identical to all the rest.

He blinked at the sight that greeted him. People were draped over various seats, milling around and snacking on ridiculously small bites of food. Obscenely attractive people. Harry had known Hermione was working with some models – even a couple of supermodels – but he had thought their beauty was grossly over exaggerated by photoshop and the like. He had been wrong.

Keeping his head down, Harry shuffled across to a clothing rack stuffed with glamorous and... interesting clothing designs and prototypes. Harry wasn't sure if that word was right for clothes, but he also didn't really care. He spotted Hermione's bushy head bustling around and waited for a lull in her conversation before clearing his throat. Her head snapped up, and she sent him a grin like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. He grinned back, handing her the drink. She sipped it, grimacing at the bitterness and heat, but shooting a grateful look over the lid.

'Finally! Please tell me this is Blaise's replacement. We've wasted half an hour already.' A snobby, upper-class accent sneered behind him. Stiffening, Harry twisted around to face the most insanely handsome man he had ever seen. He was also quite possibly the palest as well.

The man was lithe, graceful edges and fine, aristocratic bones belied by his height and posture. His platinum-blond hair was artfully styled and gelled so much it almost glowed under the fluorescent lighting. His mercury eyes seemed to be perusing Harry just as much as his own green ones were the man. Elegant features were twisted into a snarl of disdain, causing Harry to shrink down into himself, even as his cheeks turned red at the attention from such a gorgeous specimen.