@drarrymicrofic | switch | slight nsfw | au
Luna always seemed to have just the right advice. Harry's life lately consisted of work, attempts to reignite his passion for guitar and a lot of cozy yet lonely evenings.
– It's like I'm running in circles and nothing makes sense yet it's still and fine.
– Sometimes it's good to switch things up a little. Try going somewhere you've never been or a new hobby.
– Any place you can recommend?
– There's a witchy bookstore with great pastries in the north central part of the city, opened half a year ago. Whenever I feel shitty their hot chocolate works wonders.
It's 9 am on the weekend and while most people peacefully rest in bed he's already up and strolling the streets, taking pictures of moments. Trail of thought inescapable – back to the beautiful blonde man he met at Theo's club BDSM party two months ago. The event sadly was an anonymous one. No names, no contacts exchanged. He didn't find a note on the bedside table and social media gave him nothing. Oh what a night it was! His grey eyed muse had the most beautiful voice – both speaking and moaning, whispering, begging. Harry loved obedience that came from safety and the desire to give pleasure. Always played into rewarding such with gentleness and caring leadership, pushing the partner to the edge but never too far.
His muse was a perfect match – strong-willed, gentle, powerful, enchanting and gorgeous. Everything felt right, from soft giggles when they've escaped the club to a goodnight kiss after.
He honestly should have woken up first and cooked breakfast after that good of a session and sex, but oh well. Here he is – alone and miserable in his longing. It's ridiculous really, he never felt that way about a person he just met.
A blackbird on the umbrella someone left near the store, an elderly couple sharing a croissant... speaking of pastries, there's the witchy bookshop Luna told him about. It's quite early, is it open?... He's in luck today it seems.
The place is giving magical library with a hint of alchemical study vibes. As a fantasy lover, he's totally in love. The range of authors and genres is honestly remarkable – quantum physics, mythology, culture and language, biochem, herbalism, energy work, tarot... Speaking of cards. A particular deck catches his eyes and he doesn't think twice. It's been years since he used one but teenager Harry was at it every day and quite successfully so. Mom is a little witchy after all... Okay, maybe not a little but he never got too deep into the craft. Just basic protection, cleansing and cards.
His stomach makes a sound worthy of a whale. That's what you get for not being hungry before leaving the house. Time to pay and eat.
– Excuse me, where's the checkout for the book section?
He looks up and freezes when the man behind the counter turns around. It's him. Harry's gaze drops to the name tag: Draco. Suits him.
– ... Near the entrance, but you can pay here too. What can I get for you?
There's no way Draco didn't recognise him. There's a strain in his voice, not a scared or angry one, more anxious than anything.
– What would you recommend? I'm in the mood for a sweet drink and some savoury breakfast.
Harry smiles softly and the storm in grey eyes calms down. He notices a hint of redness in his ears and cheeks and oh, gods, it takes everything in him to bite down the grin. The memories are rushing in, huh? He's so sweet behind the facade. Harry always found it interesting how special preferences translated to everyday life – Draco was like that during the scene too: a gentle touch paired with clear guidance and he softens immediately, listens even if defences are still up. He's extremely guarded actually, but that time seemed like a "don't want to use my brain" night. Harry gets it, having had a fair share of his own. Draco finally regains some self-control, scanning his books and deck.
– Then I would recommend our seasonal lavender and orange peel hot chocolate, smoked cheesy chicken sandwich and almond croissant.
– Delicious, – Harry admits, looking him right in the eyes, – let's do that. I’ll take a seat.
Draco has already switched to a more workplace suitable persona yet Harry can sense the mix of amusement and irritation on his skin.
– That would be… thank you. There's a cozy spot near the window there, don't worry about the cold – you’ll be right next to the heater.
– Such a warm welcome has already defeated the last frostbite.
Harry smiles again but this time Draco only politely returns the gesture and resumes to his work.
Once the hot chocolate and food are placed before him however, everything changes. They're alone here except for the two workers in the front of the bookstore. Nobody can hear what they're talking about.
– Harry. Harry Potter. Sorry, I didn't properly introduce myself – you were gone by the time I woke up.
– It's fine, – Draco shakes his head, long hair in a thick braid, couple of strands in the front, silky and magnetic, he wants to run them through his fingers so badly, – I wasn't polite either. I’m Draco, the owner of this place.
– Do you always work the bar or it's just an incredibly lucky day?
– The latter, usually I’m managing the whole thing, looking for independent authors. The deck is a beautiful one, by the way. How did you find this place?
– A friend recommended it to me. Luna Lovegood, she comes here for the chocolate. Speaking of…
The third sip explains everything. That's some actual magic – the balance, the aroma, an overwhelming feeling of comfort. Like being wrapped up in a blanket during a cold night.
Draco smiles for the first time today, sincere and content.
– Wait until you try the food. Luna is one of our regulars, I’ll give her a discount next time. Who knew you two were connected?
– Didn't foresee it in your magic ball?
– … Is that how you believe divination always works? And here I thought you’re an experienced reader.
The snark is almost attractive, damn it. Harry smirks, nodding towards the chair.
– I also read expressions and tone quite well, some call it professional distortion.
Draco sits opposite, relaxed and calm. It seems the startle has passed and now they're on equal footing, which only makes the conversation better.
– Are you in counseling, med field or something?
– Good guess, try again. I'm curious if you’d get it. A hint – I do work with people a lot on a daily basis.
Draco accepts the challenge. Scans him for a few seconds. Harry frowns – there it is again, the piercing gaze suitable for anyone but the bookstore and café owner. Someone has a story. Normal people would think he's a teacher or a social worker, even desire for control makes sense. Fits the profile. Draco takes a careful look at his left shoulder that is slightly lower than the right, and looks around to analyse the table he has chosen. Then initiates eye contact and within seconds Harry feels a wave of tension, the chilling one, making him lock in immediately. Draco smirks. Oh, he might actually get it right, that would be the first.
– Either you're an investigator or a part of the security service. Probably something to do with organised crime, if I had to take a guess.
Harry manages to control his expression. Of course the guy he actually liked for the first time in years is not so simple.
– What gave it away? The eye contact just now?
– Your flat, – Draco shrugs, voice quiet yet stable, – never gave it much thought until you challenged me, but there's as much personality there as convenience and ability to quickly dispose of everything and be gone. Or make it seem boring.
So he's smart, with an eye for detail, beautiful and has a willpower to match his? How is that fair!
– Please tell me you're not one of ours, I wanted to take you out on a date.
Harry sighs, defeated. Draco blinks, suppresses a laugh.
– Not anymore, I only consult from time to time now.
The ID slided to him on the table almost makes Harry choke on hot chocolate. Agent Draco Black indeed. But the number and lack of a second stamp suggest he’s an expert, not a part of an active team. Anymore. The ID hides in Draco's pocket.
– You counsult… Forensic expert?
Oh, shit – is probably written in his eyes because Draco lets out a laugh. So an almost retired agent with a small business to his name… Judging from his character, either a conflict with the higher ups (half of it that is, Draco's still a consultant which is telling of his skills) or mental health problems. There's always a third option – disappointed in the system but can't put down the “craft” completely. Profiling in particular is one of the most addictive specialisations.
Before he manages to come up with an obscene joke about choosing wisely who'd satisfy your sub needs better, Draco gets up.
– I’m free after eight pm today or on Sunday. Tell me if you need to reheat the sandwich.
There’s a number on the card Draco left on the table. Handwritten, with a heart. Nothing changed drastically – he's still the sweetest in some context. Maybe it's for the best that in other ones he isn't – every attempt to build an equal, profound relationship failed because he felt a huge power imbalance. Something tells him, it's worth a shot this time. Draco's worth taking a risk.
– I’ll pick you up at eight thirty for dinner, send me an address.
He sends Draco a message and walks out, croissant in hand – he's definitely visiting Luna to buzz in her ear about the encounter. Without some details, of course. The reply forces a stupid grin onto his face. Nah, he’ll give it his best – that's one in a lifetime chance, he doesn't need the cards to tell him that. He feels it.
Hello again handsome, be a good boy for me and add my number. Won't survive losing you again.
If you weren't all that, I’d block you immediately. Make this world a peace offering and don't hit on people like that.
I’m only interested in you, sweetheart. Steak or fish for dinner?
He's taking him to a nice place first anyway, but it's good to know he's not the only one hungry. However a date needs to happen first, a proper one – there's a much better way to make an impression than the one he chose that day at the party. The store gave away a lot of his owners’ preferences too, so they're going to hear some live instrumental music and have amazing meat dishes tonight.
– Morning, Hannah. Can I make a reservation for the evening? For two. The best table you got and some fancy dry red recommendations will be cherished.
Draco shows up in black silk shirt that has an opening in the back and Harry almost forgets his manners for a few seconds. Asshole. He knows what he's doing for certain.
– You seem distracted, – Draco says with a smile in his voice, – I should be a better date it seems.
Long pale fingers wrap around his wrist on the table and Harry realises he's losing this round completely. It's a rematch of the party, isn't it?
– Didn't know you had that bratty side to you.
– Delighted. I was only distracted by your beautiful neckline and shirt, don't take it close to heart.
A kiss to the wrist melts Draco in seconds. He hides it well but Harry notices and for now leaves him be, time to enjoy the moment – food and music are top tier today.
In his eyes, however, nothing compares to Draco. His strong, beautifully arched back and shaky thighs marked with hickeys, honey like moans warming up his soul. The way he sighs in pure bliss, kissing him gently after they both collapse on the bed exhausted. Harry brushes his cheek with a thumb, something light and hopeful stirring in his chest.
Sometimes it's good to switch things up a little.
Wait a minute... Did Luna actually mention the witchy bookshop by accident?
The suspect of organized crime is currently asleep on his pillow.
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
kaledo-art
snowghoul
stormborns
tangentwithtanner
gummygunk
izzy806
