Chocolate & Pastry (Drarry)

Chapter Two

Potter came over to his house after work. It was strange to see him in Draco's space like this. The afternoon sun streamed in the kitchen window, sending soft shadows dancing on the walls as the trees outside moved and swayed. Potter leant against Draco's kitchen counter, a mug of steaming tea in his hand, and he seemed to be assessing Draco's ceiling with the intense focus of a grand war master.

"I don't understand how they're getting through the wards," he said finally, turning his piercing stare onto Draco.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over Draco's head, shattering the moment. He forced himself to pay attention again.

"Yes, well." He waved a hand airily. "I might be letting the wards down once or twice to let them."

Potter's eyes crinkled in amusement. "You're letting them egg your house?"

"I'm controlling how and when they egg my house, and thereby teaching them the value of consequences."

"You egg them back, don't you?"

"Yes."

Potter laughed—head thrown back, eyes bright, fill-the-room-with-sunshine kind of laughter. Draco had never seen that in his house before, and certainly not from Potter. He was caught by the tiny crinkles of happiness around Potter's mouth, the warmth of his eyes.

"So, this was entirely a ruse to make them think we're bonding," Potter said, taking a large gulp of tea and sighing with satisfaction.

"You already knew that, though." Draco smiled over his mug.

"At first. But then I saw the broken egg shells beneath the window and figured it was fifty-fifty."

"Adds to the charm."

"You're mental."

Something warm and soft curled in Draco's chest at the way Potter was looking at him—gentle, almost affectionate.

"What's the next step for our relationship, then?" Potter asked. "The security charms are a great excuse for me to spend time here, if we can drag this out. How about I install the same protections that Barkley ended up with?"

"Does that take time?"

"We'll have to get some ingredients. You know, go out in public, be seen together—bonding." Potter waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"How scandalous." Draco couldn't help but smile.

Potter leaned back against the bench and looked thoughtful. "What do we want people to think when they look at us?"

"I don't follow."

"You know, what look are we going for? Are we secretly pining for each other? Is it a slow transformation from friends to lovers?" Potter winked. "Angry sex?"

Images of Potter spread out on Draco's silk bedsheets, his hands tied above him with slender white ropes, hit Draco full force out of nowhere. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"We need it to be believable," Draco said slowly. "We've only just started attempting to be respectful around each other; we can't jump straight into amorous behavior. People will just think we're under a love potion."

"See, that's why angry sex is an option."

The Potter in his mind writhed against the ropes, arching away from the bed and begging Draco for more even as his eyes flashed in defiance.

Draco's cheeks flushed, and he looked away. "I don't think that will work for what we want." He cleared his throat. "Even if we do ignite rumors that we're... together—"