Story Notes:
Set a few months after HP&DH and probably heading toward EWE. A huge thanks goes to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
starlitshore for the quick and thoughtful beta! Written for the ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=3)
hd_canon_fest 2011 and first posted there.
Prompt: "Curiosity is not a sin.... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed." -- Dumbledore, HP and the Goblet of Fire
starlitshore for the quick and thoughtful beta! Written for the hd_canon_fest 2011 and first posted there. Prompt: "Curiosity is not a sin.... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed." -- Dumbledore, HP and the Goblet of Fire
[Prologue]
Harry Potter stared into his wine glass. There was a sheen of crimson along the inside, glycerin legs streaming down the curve of the glass to the bottom again and pooling in the dregs of sediment from a hasty pour by the waiter.
He hadn't wanted to be there either.
"Harry, say something."
He looked up to see Ginny watching him, her brown eyes full of concern. He shrugged. "What is there to say? You've made up your mind."
"And you've made up yours as well. We both know you're not going back."
Harry gave a half-hearted chuckle. "No, I'm not."
"I'll be Quidditch captain. It's my best chance of making one of the professional leagues next year. With no Quidditch last year, I'll need the time to get back into form. And I'd like to earn a few NEWTs while I have the chance." She twirled her wine glass slowly, pinching the stem between thumb and forefinger. "Harry…"
"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"
She closed her eyes briefly before casting them down at her glass. "You broke up with me first. It's never really been the same since."
That was true. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that everything was fine, it wasn't. Everyone expected Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley to get married and live happily ever after. That was how the story was supposed to end.
But it didn't seem to be happening that way at all.
"I'm sorry that I haven't been all that interested in…" He looked around and lowered his voice. "It's not you."
She pursed her lips and nodded, and his stomach twisted a bit. They hadn't talked about that, had both been avoiding it, but their problems in bed loomed over everything that happened between them.
"I think something is wrong with me," he said, voice lowered to a whisper. He'd cast a muffliato when he realized the direction the conversation was headed, but it was probably unnecessary. This was their place, a café they'd spent a great deal of time in this summer. They were tucked into a private corner, far from the other patrons. It was their table. God, how had they got to this point? He pressed a hand against his forehead. "I think I'm broken, somehow."
He'd wondered on more than one occasion if the part of him that had been able to feel desire and lust had been left behind on that train platform with the last bit of Voldemort's soul. Maybe he'd never really felt it at all. Maybe it had been Voldemort who'd churned darkly in his chest and wanted to fuck Ginny Weasley.
Ginny's eyes flicked back up to him, but she paused while the waiter cleared the dishes.
"Dessert?" the waiter asked. It was directed at Harry.
"No thanks. Just the check."
The waiter nodded and left with the dishes, winding his way back through the tables and toward the kitchen. He paused to check on another table, laughing with the couple sitting there. He had a nice smile, though they hadn't seen much of it tonight.
Ginny cleared her throat and he turned back to look at her. "You're not broken, Harry."
"You don't understand." There were some things he hadn't been able to tell even her.
The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but have you ever considered the possibility that the real problem is… you're not interested in girls?"
Harry gaped at her. "There's a right way to take that?"
"So that's a no?"
"I have no idea why you would even think that!"
"Oh, please. I see who you look at. You never notice the witches with their tits hanging out, but you'll check out the blokes in tight trousers every time."
"You'd prefer that I ogle every girl who walks by?"
"That's not the point, Harry."
"Just because I'm not interested in sex with you doesn't mean I'm--" He winced. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. Even though it was the truth.
Ginny paled visibly. "Right. On that note, I'll say good night." She pushed her chair back and stood.
He leapt to his feet. "Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that." He reached for her hand, and she let him take it.
"Actually, that’s the most honest thing you've said to me in a year. Apparate me home?"
"Come back to mine," he whispered, tugging her closer. "Let's not leave it like this."
She pulled her hand out of his grip and shook her head. "No, I think this is exactly where we need to leave it."
She waited while he paid the bill, to his relief. They walked in silence down Charing Cross Road. There was a public apparition point down by the theatre district and they waited quietly in the queue until it was their turn to step into the narrow alleyway and clasp hands. The twisting discomfort of apparition barely registered -- it was a fairly constant state of being for him lately.
Ginny dropped his hand when their feet touched the ground, but she didn't move away. She just stood next to him and sighed. Harry stared up at the Burrow and felt a stab of emotion. He'd always thought of this place as a second home, had always expected it would be where he'd spend Christmases, that they'd bring their children and--
None of that was going to happen. And it was all his fault.
"I do love you, Harry." Ginny's lips brushed his cheek and he threw his arms around her. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to swallow down his grief, but to no avail.
"I'm sorry," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I wish I could just…" He couldn't think of a way to say it that wasn't cruel.
"I know." She wiped her eyes and stepped back. "Goodbye, Harry."
He watched her walk into the house, followed her silhouette with his eyes until the door closed at last. She was beautiful, clever, funny, sexy -- why couldn't he just make himself want her again?
He sat in the tall grass and stared up at the stars for a long time.
*****
[Three months later]
Harry yawned as he stepped out of the ornate fireplace and into the great onyx Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He tucked a half-read Daily Prophet under his arm, took another sip from the paper Costa cup -- he was quite good at flooing with hot beverage in hand now -- and joined the flow of wizards and witches heading into the Ministry complex to start their work days.
He was barely spared a glance as he made his way through the crowd toward the queue for the rightmost bank of lifts. During his first week this walk had been like running a gauntlet of admirers, but the novelty of his presence had worn off surprisingly quickly. He scanned the paper while waiting -- he never could make heads or tails of the importance of cauldron prices, but he ought to make an effort at least -- and hoped the coffee would kick in soon. At last it was his turn on the lift. He even managed not to spill a bit of coffee as it jostled him about; it was a good start to the day.
"Level Two. Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
The grate slid open and he stepped off behind two men wearing the robes of the Wizengamot. They turned left; he turned right, down the corridor to the Auror offices. He could hear them bickering about some minutiae of a case under consideration, something they really ought not do outside their own offices. He rolled his eyes. This department was a mess. No wonder Voldemort had been able to take it over so easily.
He was about to round the corner when he heard one of them say "Malfoy!" -- not casually or even derisively, but in greeting. Harry stopped.
Then there was another voice added to the conversation, one that was so familiar Harry would have recognized it anywhere. He bent down, pretending he'd dropped something, and risked a glance over his shoulder.
"Yes sir, of course. I'll get that to you straight away."
"See that you do," one of the robed men replied with a grunt. They continued down the corridor with a blond-headed wizard following behind. None of them had spared at glance at Harry kneeling on the floor.
He dashed down the corridor, through the heavy oak doors that formed the entrance to the Auror offices, down another winding corridor, made a sharp turn to the left, and then burst into the trainee office dramatically. He paused just inside the door to catch his breath before blurting, "You're never going to believe who I just saw."
Ron Weasley looked up from his desk in the corner. "Lockhart escape from St. Mungo's again?"
Snickers came from the others in the room -- that had been an entertaining day.
"Draco Malfoy, actually."
"Really? Where?" Ron looked mildly interested.
"He was talking with two men from the Wizengamot, just now in the corridor."
"I thought his father's trial was done months ago." Edward Wimple's face was scrunched up as if in pain -- his customary expression of interest.
Ron leaned back in his chair. "What was he talking with them about?"
"Not sure." Harry tapped his coffee cup with his wand; it had gone cold in the long queue for the lift. "But it definitely sounded like he was working with them."
"With the Wizengamot? You're joking!" Ron's expression was incredulous. "Unless he was a witness against his father back in August, which I highly doubt--"
"He wasn't," Harry said. "I was there, and he said nothing the entire time."
"We don't know went on behind closed doors."
"True, but--"
"Oh, you three. He works for the Wizengamot office now." Belinda Johnson's exasperated sigh traveled all the way up to her eyebrows. "He's training as a legal assistant."
Harry, Ron, and Edward turned to stare at her. "How do you know these things?" Edward asked. "She always knows these things."
"You'd never guess the amount of gossiping that occurs in the witches' loo. I hear he's quite good."
"How did Malfoy get a position as a legal assistant?" Ron asked.
"The same way you got into the Auror training program, I'd wager," Edward said, and grinned when Ron responded with a single finger.
"Malfoy's father couldn't have had much clout from Azkaban," Harry said.
"I don't think there's anything suspicious there," Belinda said, her tone that of a person explaining something to dullards. "I think he was simply the best candidate."
"No," Harry and Ron said simultaneously.
"That can't be it," Ron added.
"I'll keep my ears open, since you're so terribly interested," Belinda said with a glance at Harry.
"I honestly don't care what he's doing here. I was just surprised to see him actually, you know, working." Harry settled at his desk and looked over at Ron, who nodded in solidarity.
"Speaking of working," Belinda said, "did anyone make any progress on the Parks case we're supposed to be researching? Or is it all down to me again?"
"She's worse than Hermione," Ron whispered a few minutes later, when Belinda and Edward were deep in discussion.
"Don't let Hermione hear you say that," Harry replied with a wink. "You remember how she gets when she's jealous."
Ron snorted. "She's got no reason to be jealous. I'm the one who should be worried, with her away at school."
"Surrounded by handsome young wizards in need of private tutoring?"
"Shut up."
"Joking, joking," Harry replied. He really ought not poke fun at Ron's insecurities. It was like picking low-hanging fruit sometimes.
*****
"I get that he needed a job," Harry said, aiming his wand at the target at the end of the firing range. He fired off a quick stunning spell and watched it light up briefly when hit. "The Ministry didn't leave them much, after all. And he's probably supporting his mother."
"She always seemed a bit high-maintenance," Ron replied, firing a stinging jinx at his own target. It lit up red.
"But what I can't figure out is why he'd want to go into the legal field. I mean, I suppose he's clever enough, but after his father's trial why would he want to go anywhere near the place?"
"Perhaps the trial was what made him interested," Belinda said. She paused to cast a disarming spell at her own target. "He likely spent a lot of time with the solicitors and decided it was a field that interested him."
"I suppose." Harry fired off three curses in quick succession, lighting up his and Ron's targets.
"Hey!"
"Sorry. But I suppose I'd always imagined him doing something more illicit, you know?"
"What, like being a rentboy?" Edward said with a snort. Everyone turned to stare at him and he shrugged. "Didn't you know? He's a shirt-lifter, that one. Takes it up the arse. Or whatever it is they do."
Harry saw Ron glance at him, but he kept his focus on his target.
"Nothing wrong with that," Ron said.
"There is if you're a pureblood," Edward retorted.
"I'm a pureblood." Ron turned to face him. "And I don't give a fuck what Malfoy does in his own bed."
"All right, all right," Edward said, holding up his hands. "I didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities."
Ron glared at him before firing off a hex that toppled his target over completely.
"Though it's definitely true that older wizarding families aren't typically known for their tolerance," Belinda said.
Harry snorted. "You think?"
"But things are changing," Belinda continued. She fired another hex at her target, making it glow purple this time. "And people seem much more likely to be accepting now than they were before."
"I'm not so sure about that." Harry's next curse made the target explode. They all ducked as pieces of it came flying toward them. "Sorry."
"Our time's up anyway," Ron said.
"What I mean is, these days everyone wants to go out of their way to prove they were nothing like the followers of You-Know-Who. So even if they're horribly homophobic, most people won't dare admit it for fear of being labeled a bigoted Death Eater." Belinda lifted her chin as if to punctuate the point.
"Perhaps that's why he wanted to train as a legal assistant," Harry said after a moment.
"Because he takes it up the arse?" Edward asked.
Ron rolled his eyes. "No, you dolt. Because he wants to set himself apart from his family's evil Death Eater past. Training as a legal assistant to the Wizengamot is a fairly unexpected career path for a Malfoy."
Harry couldn't keep the note of surprise from his voice. "Yes, exactly. Brilliant, Ron."
Ron raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry smiled.
*****
He wasn't stalking Malfoy. Not exactly. It was more like he was observing him, trying to get a sense of why it was that Malfoy was here.
So far he'd learned that Malfoy arrived at the Ministry complex by floo at approximately 7:45 in the morning, well before the ordinary rush. He wore the crimson robes of the Wizengamot clerks, and he carried a black dragonhide shoulder case. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, and he certainly got his share of sharp and disapproving looks as he moved through the large Atrium.
Belinda's sources had said he'd been in the position for approximately one week the day Harry first spotted him and that he was selected from a rather large pool of qualified candidates. Ron thought that cemented the theory that someone had hired Malfoy as a favor to his father, because surely (Ron had insisted over lunch one Tuesday) Malfoy was utterly unqualified for much of anything, having essentially stopped participating in his education halfway through sixth year. Harry had reminded Ron that the two of them were hardly different in that regard and Ron had rewarded him by gaping at him with a mouthful of half-chewed sandwich.
So for the sake of argument, Harry decided to assume Malfoy was selected at least partially because he met the qualifications for the position. Said qualifications typically included a few NEWTs, and his sources said Malfoy had none -- though no exams had been offered in the last year and several Ministry departments had exempted witches and wizards of their year for a variety of positions.
After watching Malfoy cross the Atrium from behind a copy of the Prophet, Harry got in the queue for a lift, timing it so that he'd be a half-dozen people ahead of Malfoy in his own queue and arrive at Level Two just before Malfoy did. He would then park himself behind a large potted Didentricula and watch as Malfoy exited the lift, strolled down the corridor toward the Wizengamot offices, popped into the loo for a minute or two, and then continued on around the corner and out of sight.
Harry wasn't yet sure what happened after that, as he hadn't yet worked up the nerve to wander down there and find out. What would he even say? Hi, Malfoy, I just happened to be strolling by this area I'm technically not supposed to be in and was wondering--
"Do you watch him like this every morning?" Ron's voice in Harry's right ear startled him and he whirled, wand pointed at Ron's chest before he'd even blinked.
"Bloody hell, you gave me a fright."
Ron, to his credit, hadn't even flinched. "And you're giving me a bit of concern. Please don't tell me you fancy Malfoy."
Harry's mouth opened and closed again and he felt a bit of color drain from his face. "Ron, I--"
"No." Ron held up a hand. "I don't want to know. Really, I don't. I'm fine with you being--" he made a vague gesture with his hand "--but I really don't want to know the details."
"I don't fancy him! I'm just curious about why he's here, that's all."
"Oh, right. That explains all the sneaking about."
"I'm not sneaking." At Ron's long look, Harry relented. "All right, I'm sneaking. But that's because it's Malfoy. I can't just go up to him and ask why he's here."
"Why not? The war is over, Harry. We're supposed to forgive and reconcile and all that shite, right?"
"I know I said that, but--"
"It's not like it's the first time you've become completely obsessed with Malfoy." Ron's raised eyebrows almost seemed smug.
Harry sighed. "It's not like that."
"Well, it certainly looks like it, mate. Go talk him already, or let it alone." He turned to head down the corridor to the Auror offices, and then paused. "Just my opinion, of course. But Hermione agrees with me."
Ron and Hermione had been incredibly supportive these last few months, but he was mortified by the idea of them discussing the possibility of him having a crush on Malfoy. Which he most certainly did not have. "Fine, I'll talk to him."
Ron gave him a tight smile before walking on.
Harry leaned back against the wall of the corridor. He wasn't sure why the idea of talking to Malfoy filled him with such dread, but Ron was right that it was something he needed to get past.
He just had to think of something to say besides, "Malfoy, what the fuck?"
*****
"Are you hungry?"
Harry looked up to see Belinda perched on the edge of his desk. "I suppose."
"Want to go grab a bite to eat? Everyone else is gone for the day. It's just us workaholics." She grinned and crossed her legs. She'd worn an unusually short skirt today. Her style was more typically trousers.
"Yeah, okay. Give me a few minutes to finish this report."
Ten minutes later they were in the lift, Auror robes slung over their shoulders. "I hear there's a fantastic pub not far from here. Muggle, but the food is good. I've even got some Muggle money, in case you haven't."
Harry smiled. "Sounds great, actually."
They stopped to transfigure their robes into approximations of Muggles coats before leaving the Ministry by way of the visitor's entrance.
"It's a telephone box, isn't it?" Belinda asked. "I've always wanted to see a real telephone. How do Muggles put their voices through it without magic?"
"It's not as complicated as you might imagine." Harry swallowed down the memory of the last time he'd used this particular entrance.
The pub was lively, full of Muggle businessmen downing pints and talking about sport. He and Belinda bought pints of ale at the bar and ordered some food to share, and found a relatively quiet corner to squeeze into.
To Harry's surprise, Belinda didn't talk about work. Instead, she chattered about her younger sister's latest letter from Hogwarts ("The students are helping with the rebuilding as part of Charms and Transfiguration, you know,") her cousin who'd just come back from Barbados ("It's completely lovely! You should see his photographs of the beaches,") and her parents' concern about her living on her own ("Honestly, I'm almost 20 years old!"). She kept bumping against Harry in the tight space and he backed himself into the corner to give her more room, but it didn't seem to matter. The pub was growing ever more crowded.
"Want to get out of here?" he asked when beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.
She grinned at him. "Yeah. Where do you want to go?"
They ended up walking through a nearby tree-lined square. Belinda had looped her arm through his and was watching him as they walked. He was starting to get paranoid that he had mustard on his chin.
It had grown dark long before and he was tired. He'd hoped she would get the hint when he yawned, but she didn't. Finally he stopped and she turned to look at him.
"So… it's getting late."
"It is." She stepped closer to him. With her close-cropped hair and angular face, she almost looked like a boy, if he squinted.
"I really ought to head home."
"Want some company?" She gave him a sly smile, and he finally understood.
"Ah. Well, the thing is--"
His words were cut off by her lips against his own and he froze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. He didn't want to shove her away, but he didn't want to reciprocate either.
After a moment, she pulled back and looked at him. "Sorry. I got a bit carried away."
Harry sighed. "No, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's--"
"Right, of course. You're not interested. I mean--"
"Belinda, you're a lovely girl, but I'm not really…" He paused, not certain he wanted to tell her this.
Her eyes widened. "Oh! So… you really are gay, then?" At his startled look, she shrugged. "There's a rumor going around, but I hadn't put much stock in it, to be honest. I suppose I should have just asked you instead of making a fool of myself."
"A rumor?" His head was spinning. He shouldn't be surprised, as gossip columns had always made fodder of him, but the idea that people knew was just-- ugh.
"I think people started talking after you and Ginny Weasley split and she moved on to date someone else and you didn't. I mean, you're probably the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding World right now, but you haven't been seen with any witches at all."
"I suppose I could have made it less obvious." He scrubbed at his forehead with his hand. "Look, I'm not exactly ready to make this public, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything." Fat chance of that, her being the Gossip Queen of Level Two. He could obliviate her. Highly unethical, but effective.
She smiled. "I won't. But if anyone asks me directly, I'm not going to lie. And you shouldn't either. You coming out would be a pretty big deal, you know. It would probably help a lot of people re-evaluate their prejudices."
Harry snorted. "Or it would make me a fresh target all over again. No thanks."
"Thanks for the chat and all anyway. See you tomorrow?"
He nodded and gave her a small squeeze, and she turned and walked away.
If he'd had any doubt before, he had none now. He'd just been kissed by an attractive witch, a witch who would likely have gone happily to his bed if he'd even hinted that was what he wanted, and he hadn't liked it much at all.
So yeah. He was gay. One hundred fucking percent queer.
After glancing around to be sure no one was watching, he turned on the spot and apparated home.
*****
He'd meticulously planned his approach to Malfoy. After much thought, he'd decided a natural sort of accidental meeting would be best. He'd first thought he could jump in the queue for the lift just behind Malfoy one morning, hiding behind a paper so he could appear completely preoccupied until the moment he looked up in the lift and said, "Draco Malfoy, what a surprise! I had no idea you worked for the Ministry as well."
But he'd quickly realized a more private meeting might be conducive to actual conversation. The lift scenario could result in a simple nod and small talk, with no real information exchanged. And doubtless the other occupants of the lift would be very interested in a conversation between two famous wizards who were so recently on opposite sides of the war.
Many other meeting spots were considered and rejected before he finally settled on the mens' toilets near the lifts. He would wait for Malfoy to make his morning trip to the loo, go in a few moments behind him, and then proceed with the same "surprise" conversation. If he was lucky the bathroom would be otherwise unoccupied and they'd have a few moments to chat. It was practically foolproof.
But of course, on the particular morning he'd decided to make his move, Malfoy didn't go in the bathroom as usual. He kept on walking and disappeared around the corner.
"Shit," Harry muttered. Now he had to spend another entire day thinking about this and obsessing about how the conversation might go. He'd imagined it would be cool at first, even stilted until Malfoy realized Harry was genuinely interested in Malfoy's career plans. In some versions of his fantasy encounter, Malfoy had even asked him to meet for a drink sometime.
That, for the record, was pure fantasy. Not going to happen, and not really even something he wanted. Really.
And so Harry was caught completely off-guard later that afternoon when he emerged from a stall in the bathroom near the Auror offices to see Draco Malfoy glaring at him.
Malfoy raised his wand (a new one, Harry's brain noticed, apparently in complete denial of the fact that he was about to be hexed) and pointed it at Harry's chest.
"I don't know what you're up to, Potter," Malfoy said, his face contorted in an angry scowl, "but stop following me around. Stop hiding behind bushes and watching me go to the loo. It's fucking creepy, and if you so much as look at me again I will hex your balls off. Got it?"
Harry felt his face flush in embarrassment, but he could do nothing but stare back at Malfoy in response.
"Pathetic," Malfoy said, and stalked out the door.
Harry exhaled once the door had swung shut. "That went well," he muttered at his reflection in the mirror.
Shit.
*****
"Is he still looking?" Harry asked, pretending to be very interested in the paper.
"Glaring is more like it," Ron said. He handed some coins to the pastry vendor in exchange for a large cauldron cake. "You should have just talked to him."
"I know, I know. I didn't think he'd notice me following him around." He risked a glance in Malfoy's direction; he was now engaged in conversation with someone in the lift queue.
"Everyone noticed, mate."
Harry winced. "I'm such an idiot. Why did I think he'd be friendly to me at all after everything that happened in the last decade?"
"Maybe because you're both--"
"Shhh, not here!"
Ron sighed. "He's getting on the lift. Can we go now?"
They made their way to the trainee office in silence. Harry knew he should just let this thing with Malfoy go, but he couldn't. It was like sixth year all over again, only without the feeling of impending death and despair. He just knew there was something about Malfoy he was supposed to figure out.
*****
"You like him," Ginny said, smiling at him over her sandwich.
"I don't like him. Why does everyone think I like him? Just because we're both gay doesn't mean we have to be boyfriends." Harry took a large swig of butterbeer and waved his wand. The responding glow of the muffliato was somewhat reassuring. The Hog's Head was full of students today, all enjoying a Saturday in Hogsmeade as if the last year hadn't happened at all. It was a bit much to process.
"You're completely obsessed with Draco Malfoy. It's a reasonable leap from that to thinking you might have a crush on him."
"I've been obsessed with him before in a completely platonic way!"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I seem to recall I had to jump you in public to get your attention that year."
Harry stared into his butterbeer. "I admit there may have been more to that than I understood at the time."
"So I suppose the question is, what are you going to do about it?"
Harry smiled tightly and pushed his empty plate aside. "Nothing. He's made it clear he wants me nowhere near him."
"Does he know you're gay? That might change his mind."
"This is Malfoy we're talking about. He's always hated me. Even if he's occasionally acted almost-sane, he's never going to like me."
"Then let it go. Stop obsessing over him. It's clearly a lost cause." She drained her butterbeer and smirked at him in a clear challenge.
Harry sighed. "I love you, Ginny, but sometimes you make me crazy."
She grinned. "Just talk to him and get it over with. Ask him out. The worst he can do is say no."
"Actually, no. There are so many things he could do that would be worse."
"Like what?"
"He could say yes." Harry looked up at her with raised eyebrows.
She laughed.
He later realized it was the first time he'd heard her laugh since sixth year.
*****
Malfoy didn't typically eat lunch in the Ministry's café, so when he walked in with Blaise Zabini (in the pinstriped robes of the Department of International Magical Cooperation), Harry nearly choked on his sandwich.
"Are you all--" Belinda began, but then raised her eyebrows in realization. "Ohhhh. Fancy that?"
"Ha," Harry said, reaching for his bottle of pumpkin juice.
"I don't think he saw you. If you wanted to catch him by surprise, here's your chance."
Harry watched as Malfoy and Zabini stood in the queue by the counter and chatted casually. Both paused to laugh, and Harry felt an odd twinge at the sight of Malfoy's face lit up with pleasure.
Oh, hell. He did not have a crush on Malfoy. He was just curious about… something. That was all.
"Right," he said, pushing his chair back. "I'll be right back. Be prepared to mop up the pieces if necessary."
Belinda snorted as he stood. Everyone thought this was no big deal, that he should just relax and talk to Malfoy, like they were old friends or something. How could they all have forgotten that every single time Harry had ever talked to Malfoy, it had been tense at the very least, and at worst they'd hurled deadly hexes at one another?
Why the hell was he doing this again?
He forced himself to cross the busy café and joined the queue at the counter, figuring he might as well order a pastry as a cover. He wracked his brain trying to think of something to say.
At last Malfoy and Zabini turned away from the counter with purchases in hand and started walking away. They hadn't seen him. He was missing his chance.
"Malfoy!"
The entire café went quiet, to his horror. Malfoy and Zabini turned to stare at him.
If his invisibility cloak had been within 5 miles he'd have accio'd it.
"Right," he muttered. "Hi. Just wanted to say… hi." He attempted a smile and was sure it looked more like a grimace of pain.
Malfoy's expression, a mix of shock and confusion, didn't change. "Hi, Potter," he said at last, and nudged Zabini with an elbow. The two of them all but fled the café.
Harry forced himself to buy a pastry, ignoring the odd look the cashier gave him. He returned to his table, not making eye contact with anyone, and shot a pre-emptive glare at Belinda.
"I thought it went well," she said, grinning.
"Shut up." At least the pastry was good.