Muggles ✧ Drarry

᥊᥊

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.3ᴋ
ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ: ᴍᴀʏ19ᴛʜ, 2021
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On the strange occasion that Potter was able to convince Draco of the idea, they would go out to lunch. (Not that it was difficult to do, it was just not so common.) They hardly ever left Wizarding London anymore, not since the incident with Nadia—that bitch!—which made this particular luncheon something...special.

They were back in Muggle London, after Potter had taken a record time of just less than twenty-five minutes to convince Draco that the chances of finding another muggle friend of Witch Weekly's chief editor and publishing assistant Cheryl Bell were slim to none.

With pleading eyes he had insisted that he would make sure they went to a small place with very few people as long as Draco agreed, and eventually, the Death Eater made of Unrelenting Stubbornness, well... he complied.

Now, draped with muggle clothing and a semi-permanent frown, the blond was dragged down a short, narrow street piled full of colourful awnings with bright letters on them to display what shoppe they covered.

"How do they get up to the topmost floor?" Draco asked when he saw someone pass by the window of a second story. "Are the shoppes two levels?"

Potter shook his head. "No, sometimes people live above their shoppes. Magic-folk don't really tend to do that so much because of how easy it is to floo or Apparate home after work, and it's also less dangerous to live in a residential area. Some muggles don't have a choice, and other's just prefer it." He pointed to where a woman was watering her plants in her window box as they passed. When she saw him, he smiled and waved, pretending that he wasn't about to use her as an example for something. "They use stairs," he mumbled as a sort of afterthought.

"Hey, Harry!" she called, tripping on what Draco could imagine was a slippery floor and almost taking a terrible tumble out the window. She caught herself on the box itself, but narrowly avoided crushing the blue primrose she had been watering. "Haven't seen you in a while!"

"Afternoon, Lucinda!" Potter called back, halting his steps. "New flowers?"

"Primroses," Draco muttered.

"Are they primroses?" Potter called up to her, and he clasped his hand into Draco's. A thankful squeeze left his warm palm and went to Draco's soft one; consequently the Slytherin smiled mostly to himself.

"Yes, they're primroses!" Lucinda called back. She tilted her head slightly to the side. "I didn't know you knew anything about flowers."

Potter just chuckled. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

Didn't Draco know it.

"Who's your little boyfriend?" the woman called down. She had short brown hair that got slightly swept up in a gust of short wind, and she tried to pat it down but somehow managed to spill water on her shirt in the process. "He's gorgeous."

Draco rolled his eyes at the woman's obvious clumsiness, and then once more at her lack of a filter. "Draco," he called up. "Pleasure to meet you."

"He's formal," Lucinda observed aloud. "Nice change of pace from the one who tried to hug me when we first met."

Draco was appalled to hear that information. "What kind of—"

"You should give him one of these primroses," Lucinda interrupted. "Looks like he's a good one to—

Potter interrupted her and started to drag Draco down the street. "Lovely seeing you, Lucy, but we must be off. We'll talk soon, yeah?" He didn't wait for a response, and just continued to pull the blond away.