I have to post this in two parts, because apparently it's too long for LJ to handle all at once. I've been trying for over an hour *smokes a lot*. If you give me a minute part two will be posted.

Title: After Dinner Mints. Part One
Author: devon_may
Pairing: Harry/Draco, of course ;)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Draco has a dinner party, and Harry attends. Post-Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise. Don’t sue me. I’ll cry.
Word count: It’s rather long. Around 6,500.
A/N: For the First Time Challenge. Not at all angsty, which is very, very strange for me *points to icon* but it’s not exactly what I would call fluffy fluff, either. It is, however, a PWP. Unbeta’d, because I only decided to enter the challenge last night, and this is the last day. I don’t think there are that many mistakes, but please let me know if you find any :) Dedicated to dacro. Just because.

I hope this meets the Challenge requirements ...



‘Remind me why I’m doing this again,’ Harry grumbled, doing up the laces on his right shoe. They were his best shoes, because where he was going tonight, every little bit helped.

‘Because I need a date,’ Hermione replied, waiting rather impatiently by the door, dressed in a black skirt and cream blouse. She looked beautiful, and it had made her blush when he had told her so. ‘And because Ron couldn’t.’

‘It’s a such lovely feeling knowing you’re a substitute,’ he murmured. He got off the bed and approached the mirror, trying, futilely, to flatten his hair.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be an idiot, Harry. If it makes you feel better, I would have chosen you first anyway. I don’t think Ron would have coped very well. But marital obligations and all that.’

‘What makes you think I’m going to be any better?’ Harry asked, giving up on his hair. He passed Hermione and went into the living room, searching for his wand. He wasn’t taking any risks tonight; he didn’t much fancy coming home with two heads.

‘Well you agreed, didn’t you?’ Hermione replied, watching in amusement as Harry searched under the couch cushions. ‘That tells me that you’re at least prepared to give it a go.’

‘Hmm,’ said Harry vaguely, scratching his head. He knew his wand was in the living room somewhere. He crossed over to his desk and started rummaging through the files and quills. He supposed he should feel angry with himself for misplacing it, but couldn’t really muster up the amount of energy anger took.

‘And besides, you’ve seen him since the war and you haven’t come to blows. Which is more than I can say for Ron,’ Hermione continued. She picked up Harry’s wand off the mantelpiece and handed it to him with a slight smile.

‘Thanks,’ Harry mumbled, pocketing it.

‘It’s going to be fine, Harry,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m telling you, he’s a different person. Six months I’ve been working with him, and he hasn’t once called me a mudblood.’

‘That’s because you’re his boss,’ Harry pointed out. He slipped on his jacket and smoothed down his shirt. ‘Do I look all right?’

Hermione smiled. ‘Very handsome.’

He flashed her his best smile, even though he knew she was only saying that to speed him along. ‘Shall we go?’ he asked, offering her his arm. She took it with a grin.

***

The house wasn’t what Harry had been expecting. It was fairly small and cosy looking, like a cottage. There was a flower bed under the bay-window, although it was too dark to work out what was planted there, and vines were creeping up the wall and over the porch. Harry had been expecting to see at least one sinister gargoyle.

They stepped onto the doorstep and Harry went to ring the doorbell, but Hermione grabbed his hand, looking at him with a crease between her eyebrows.

‘Now Harry, promise me that –‘

‘That I won’t make any trouble,’ Harry finished, rolling his eyes. ‘So much for having faith in my maturity.’

‘I do,’ said Hermione. ‘But this is his home, and –‘

‘Why did you ask me to come if you’re so worried?’ Harry demanded.

‘Shh,’ hissed Hermione worriedly, glancing around. ‘All right, I trust you to behave.’

Harry snorted, and Hermione released his hand, allowing him to ring the bell. They waited for a few moments, shifting their weight nervously, and then the door opened, bathing them in light.

‘Hermione,’ said Malfoy, looking very proper in his suit trousers and grey shirt.

‘Evening, Draco,’ Hermione replied.

‘And Hermione’s date,’ Malfoy continued, with a sly smile at Harry. He looked back at Hermione. ‘No wonder you wouldn’t tell me who you were bringing.’

‘Yes, well …’ said Hermione awkwardly. ‘Happy birthday, by the way. Did you get the books I sent over?’

‘Yes, I did,’ Malfoy said charmingly. ‘Thank you. And why are we having this conversation on the doorstep? Come in, come in.’

He ushered them into the hallway, raising an eyebrow at Harry as he passed. Harry, remembering his promise, fought the urge to sneer.

In a very gentlemanly manner, Malfoy relieved Hermione of her coat, and she said, ‘Is everyone here already?’

‘No, you’re the first,’ he replied, holding out his hand for Harry’s jacket. Harry hurriedly took it off and handed it over, not missing the way Malfoy’s eyes flicked over him from head to foot. Interesting, thought Harry, raising an eyebrow. Malfoy’s own eyebrows raised a fraction, acknowledging this. ‘Well, come on through. Wine?’

‘Oh, yes please,’ said Hermione as they followed him into the dining room. The table was set for seven people, with Malfoy, presumably, at the head. Harry wondered who else was coming to this dinner party, and thought it was a little strange that he had invited Hermione, considering that this celebration seemed to be a private one.

‘Red or white?’ asked Malfoy, indicating the bottles set in coolers in the centre of the table. ‘Oh, you only like red, don’t you?’ he said to Hermione, selecting a bottle. ‘Potter?’

Harry cleared his throat. ‘Red’s fine,’ he half-mumbled.

Just as Malfoy poured the wine, a woman entered the room carrying a basket of bread rolls. She smiled vaguely at them, did a slight double-take when she looked at Harry, and placed the basket on the table. Malfoy didn’t acknowledge her presence, but rather handed Harry his drink, and with a small smirk, clinked both their glasses together.

The woman left, and Hermione said, ‘Who was that? You hired serving staff for tonight?’

‘Yes,’ drawled Malfoy. ‘Just the one. She’s my chef-cum-waitress. I wasn’t going to be doing all the work on my birthday, was I? Have a seat, both of you.’

He gestured to the chairs on either side of where he would be sitting, and Harry didn’t know how he felt about being next to Malfoy all evening. But he didn’t want to be rude, so he took the offered chair with a slight nod of thanks.

Malfoy pulled out Hermione’s chair and helped her into it, before taking his own seat, sipping on his wine. ‘So,’ he said, looking at Harry, ‘how are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Harry, hating the fact that he didn’t seem to be able to give more than two-word answers. ‘You?’

‘Quite well, thank you,’ Malfoy answered. ‘Surprised to see you here, though.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Draco,’ Hermione said. ‘I really should have told you who I was bringing. But he didn’t agree until earlier today.’

‘Don’t apologise.’ He looked at Harry and said, ‘I didn’t say it was a bad surprise, did I?’

Just then, the doorbell rang. Harry swallowed. ‘Oh, excuse me, would you?’ Malfoy said, getting up.

He left the room and Hermione leaned across the table, whispering, ‘See? He’s not so bad now, is he?’

‘No,’ said Harry thoughtfully, hearing the muffled sounds of voices coming from the hallway. ‘No, he’s not.’

***

Malfoy certainly knew how to hold a successful dinner party. He played host expertly, and there was never an awkward moment between the guests. Hermione had spent the past hour chatting to Ruby and Sam, who were apparently co-workers of both her and Malfoy. There were another two men present who seemed to be quite content with chatting amongst themselves, as apparently this party was the first time they had seen each other in months, and they were catching up.

Harry had sat mostly in silence, listening to the conversations, drinking wine and eating. He had to admit that it was relaxing, and the fact that he had Malfoy right next to him didn’t bother him at all. Except, of course, when Malfoy kept knocking their knees together. And when his hand kept brushing Harry’s, his fingers straying towards Harry’s wrist, Harry felt an odd tingling feeling that he’d rather not analyze. Malfoy had been watching Harry for most of the evening, even when he had been holding conversations, and he had kept Harry’s wine glass topped up. Harry didn’t know if he was annoyed or intrigued, but he didn’t say anything about it.

‘So,’ Malfoy said suddenly, wiping his hands on his napkin, ‘how’s life treating you?’

‘Can’t complain,’ Harry replied, fiddling with the end of the tablecloth.

‘I noticed that you’re still not married.’

‘Neither are you,’ Harry countered slightly defensively.

‘No,’ Malfoy agreed. ‘Although when the law changes I’m sure I’ll find a man who I’ll be able to put up with for the rest of my life.’

Harry felt his stomach jolt. Malfoy was looking at Harry, who got the feeling that he was waiting for a reaction. Harry, throwing caution to the wind, said, ‘Me too.’

Malfoy smirked in a self-satisfied sort of way.

Malfoy’s attention was taken away from Harry the next moment; he had been pulled into a conversation about Quidditch with his other guests. Hermione glanced in his direction as she reached for the wine bottle, and she gave him a small smile.

‘Of course, if you want to talk about real Quidditch, you’re better of asking Harry,’ Malfoy said. ‘He’s the real player here.’

Up until this point Malfoy’s friends had barely noticed him, whether intentionally or not. But now he found himself the centre of attention, discussing Quidditch moves and famous games he had attended over the past few years. At least it was a subject he found easy, and not once did he hear a question that he was normally asked, usually something to do with Voldemort, often along the lines of what it was like to kill him. Although occasionally he got a, ‘Is it true that you can see his skull through his skin?’ or something similar.

‘I have a signed picture of him on the wall in the landing,’ Malfoy said, once Harry had mentioned his love and admiration for Jesse McGerrick, England’s current Seeker. ‘I could show it to you, if you like.’ He paused to take a sip of wine. ‘Once you’ve finished eating.’

Currently, Harry was eyeing Malfoy’s plate. They had had a choice of either a pasta meal or chicken, and Harry had chosen chicken, because he had never eaten pasta in his life and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself by choosing it and then having to ask for something different because he hated it. But the food on Malfoy’s plate was tempting him and making him wish he could have taken the risk.

‘Do you want to try it?’ Malfoy asked quietly.

Harry looked up; apparently Malfoy had been watching him again. He felt himself blush slightly and said, ‘Um …’

Malfoy scooped some up with his fork, making sure to catch a generous amount of the white sauce, and held it out to Harry. ‘Here. You’ll like it,’ he said, once more knocking their knees together.

Harry stared, and Malfoy raised an eyebrow gently. ‘If you would prefer to use your own fork, be my –‘

Harry leaned forward and closed his mouth around Malfoy’s fork. Keeping his eyes locked with Malfoy’s he pulled back slowly, the pasta falling onto his tongue, touching his leg to Malfoy’s and keeping it there. When he leaned away completely Malfoy continued to watch him for a moment, before saying, ‘Good?’

Harry chewed slowly, swallowing with slight difficulty. ‘Very.’

Malfoy half smiled and then scooped up more pasta, putting it straight into his own mouth. Harry didn’t miss the fact that he was practically devouring the fork that Harry had just had his tongue around. Harry knew what Malfoy was thinking, and he wondered whether it was a new thing, or if Malfoy had been thinking it for a while. After all, they had crossed paths a few times in the last couple of years and Harry had sometimes wondered why Malfoy looked at him differently to how he had at school.

Malfoy laid his fork down, apparently full, and took a sip of wine. ‘Come on then,’ he said to Harry. ‘I’ll show you that picture.’

‘Oh, er –‘

Malfoy stood up gracefully. ‘Excuse us for a moment,’ he said to his guests, pulling gently on Harry’s arm.

Harry stood up awkwardly, smiling shiftily at everyone. He caught Hermione’s eye and she offered him a vague frown. He shrugged slightly and she blinked, turning back to Ruby, the frown more pronounced.

‘Come on,’ Malfoy repeated quietly.

Harry followed him out the room and into the hall, traipsing after Malfoy as they went up the stairs. Harry felt strangely nervous, even though he knew there wasn’t any reason to be.

‘This is it,’ Malfoy murmured, stopping in front of a framed picture on the wall.

Harry peered at the picture; Jesse waved at him and Harry gave a small smile, tracing his finger over the signature.

‘So you’ve met him?’ Harry asked.

Malfoy took a step closer. Harry could feel warm breath on the back of his neck. ‘Yes. Two years ago in London. I was there to – Harry, are you seeing anyone?’

Harry exhaled a breath slowly, trying to calm down his erratically beating heart. He turned around to face Malfoy, looking him in the eye. ‘And if I wasn’t?’

‘Well,’ Malfoy replied quietly, taking a step forward. Harry couldn’t help but back up, and he felt Jesse’s picture frame digging into his shoulder blade. ‘It would mean you were free to … have some fun.’ His fingers brushed over Harry’s hips. ‘Am I right?’

Harry wet his suddenly dry lips. ‘Malfoy, do you realise what you’re saying?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Malfoy said, eyes raking over Harry’s form for the tenth time that night. ‘But the question is: Do you realise what you’d be missing if you didn’t at least give it some thought?’

Harry didn’t say anything. Instead he studied Malfoy’s features, looking for some sign of deception or games. All he saw were glazed eyes and a mouth that was open slightly, framed by glistening lips.

‘Well?’

Harry leaned forward before he even knew what he was doing. ‘I’m giving it thought.’

Malfoy half-smiled, his eyes fluttering closed, his breath ghosting over Harry’s lips. What are you doing? Harry’s brain screamed at him, but Malfoy’s nose nudged his, and his hand rose to hold Harry’s waist, and Harry parted his lips, imagining he could already taste Malfoy on his tongue …

‘Draco? Your waitress wants to know if she’s free to go,’ a voice called up the stairs. Harry recognised it as Hermione’s and his head snapped back away from Malfoy.

‘Fuck,’ Malfoy whispered, blinking.

‘Draco?’ came Hermione’s voice again.

‘We’re coming,’ Harry called quickly before she started up the stairs and saw them standing the close, Malfoy’s hand still on his waist.

Harry dodged sideways out of Malfoy’s way and walked towards the stairs.

‘Harry?’ Malfoy said, somewhat sharply.

And this point was what the whole night had been leading towards; the leg brushes, knee touches, conversations about partners, and the kiss that didn’t quite happen – this was the final mark. And Harry’s answer would cross that line, or bring the whole thing crashing down. He knew what he wanted to answer, but he was afraid of the consequences. Malfoy was looking at him searchingly, awaiting a response, and when he licked his lips and tilted his head in that questioning way, Harry answered with a simple, ‘Yes.’

He turned and headed down the stairs before waiting to see if Malfoy would respond, meeting Hermione in the hallway and taking her back into the dining room, trying to ignore her curious eyes. He sat down heavily at the table and poured a glass of wine, drinking it as fast as his throat would allow.

‘Are you all right?’ Hermione whispered to him, sitting down slowly.

‘I’m fine,’ Harry replied, gasping a bit and wiping his lips on the back of his hand.

‘But –‘

Malfoy came back in and Hermione snapped her mouth shut. She smiled at him instead. ‘You send her home?’

Malfoy rolled his eyes, taking his seat and nudging his arm against Harry’s as he reached for the wine. ‘Silly girl looked dead on her feet. She only worked for four hours.’

‘I think that was the same girl we had at hour anniversary last year,’ Ruby said. ‘Remember Sam? Where’d you get her from, Draco?’

Harry tuned out the conversation, a little fascinated by the way Malfoy’s mouth moved when he spoke. He was thinking, over and over again, if he was making a big mistake tonight. This was Malfoy, and he didn’t know if it was worth -

‘Shall we go?’ Hermione said, leaning across the table, and Harry tore his attention away from Malfoy’s mouth and his doubting thoughts. ‘It was a lovely meal, Draco. Thank you.’

‘Oh, you’re quite welcome,’ Malfoy replied. ‘We’ll have to do this again sometime.’

‘Oh yes, definitely,’ Hermione agreed, smiling. She looked back at Harry. ‘So, are you ready to go?’

Harry looked at Malfoy, who was studying him with a very vague smile and glittering eyes. Harry felt a flutter of excitement in his stomach. Screw it all. He’d worry about it tomorrow. ‘Actually,’ said Harry, looking back over at Hermione, ‘I think I’m going to stay for a little while.’

‘You are?’ said Hermione, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. ‘Why?’

‘Because we were discussing Quidditch and I have some books he’s interested in,’ Malfoy half-lied, his hand brushing Harry’s as he reached for his wine again, and Harry thought that maybe he did that on purpose. Harry felt another thrill.

‘I’ll see you home first,’ Harry said to Hermione. ‘You’ve had too much to drink for apparating.’

‘Excuse me?’ said Hermione indignantly. ‘I’m not drunk!’

‘I never said you were. Are you connected to the floo?’ he asked Malfoy.

‘Yes, in the living room. I’ll show you.’

Hermione said good bye to Ruby and Sam, and Malfoy excused himself. They went into the hall where Malfoy helped Hermione into her coat, his eyes darting to Harry every few moments, who was also having trouble looking away, and then they went into the living room.

‘Thank you for coming,’ Malfoy said, kissing Hermione on the cheek.

‘I had a great time,’ Hermione replied. ‘I’ll see you Monday. Oh,’ she said, ‘and don’t let Harry drink too much more. He gets horrible hangovers.’

Harry rolled his eyes, and Malfoy said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after him tonight.’

Harry could almost feel his pupils contracting. ‘Come on,’ he said hurriedly to Hermione. ‘Let’s get you home. Ron’s going to kill me as it is.’

Hermione snorted and reached her hand into the pot Malfoy held out for her, retrieving some floo powder. She threw it in the fire, stepped into the flames, and waited for Harry to join her. Harry looked at Malfoy. ‘I’ll, er –‘ he began awkwardly.

‘I’ll be waiting,’ Malfoy said quietly, smirking. ‘Malfoy Lodge will get you back.’

Harry swallowed, nodded, and stepped into the fire, wrapping his arm around Hermione’s waist. He had one last look at Malfoy’s lust-filled eyes, and then Hermione shouted out their destination.

They stumbled out of the fireplace and into Hermione’s front room. They could already hear Ron’s snores floating through from the bedroom. Hermione giggled quietly, and then held a finger to her lips as though it had been Harry making the noise. Harry smiled, amused at her tipsy-ness.

‘Thanks for coming with me,’ Hermione whispered, taking off her coat.

‘Welcome,’ Harry replied. Satisfied that she had come home safely, and that Ron was here, he said, ‘I’ll be off then.’

He reached for some floo powder, but Hermione grabbed his arm. He looked down at her to find her frowning in concern.

‘Harry, be careful,’ she said very seriously, and in a complete contrast to her attitude a moment before.

‘What?’

‘I’m not an idiot, Harry. I’m an observer. I saw what was going on tonight, and I know what you’re going back there for.’

Harry knew he must be red. ‘I, um …’

‘Just be careful,’ she repeated. ‘It could get messy.’

‘It’s – er – it’s just the one night, Hermione,’ he explained uncomfortably, feeling very embarrassed. ‘Just some fun.’

Hermione sighed, obviously worried. She released his arm and forced a smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. ‘Then have fun,’ she whispered. ‘If anyone deserves it, it’s you.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, smiling. He threw in the floo powder and stepped into the fire.

‘Good luck,’ Hermione said.

Harry took a deep breath and said, ‘Malfoy Lodge.’

End of Part One. Part Two.