#fluff #wrong-number #texting
Malfoy opened the door in a silk robe. Harry nearly choked.
“What are you doing here?” Malfoy asked.
Harry blinked. “You asked me over.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Potter, I did no such thing. Why would you – “
Harry pulled out his phone for the evidence and showed it to Draco.
Now it was Malfoy’s turn to choke. His face went beet red. “That wasn’t meant for you.”
Harry eyed the silk robe. “Clearly.”
Malfoy tugged the robe tighter over his chest and crossed his arms. “But you came.”
Harry shrugged. “I was curious.” And hopeful.
“Come in, then.”
“My intended guest clearly isn’t coming so it’s not like I have anything better to do,” Malfoy said, avoiding Harry’s eyes.
“Charming,” retorted Harry. The offer wasn’t particularly convincing. He had known the text was too good to be true. He made to turn away.
“Wait, Potter,” Draco said, stopping him, “I didn’t mean – Look, I’m sorry.” He sighed, like he really didn’t want to have to say it: “I’d like you to stay.”
Now that was more like it. Harry stepped inside and followed Malfoy into the Sitting Room. He kept his eyes high, trying not to notice how short the robe was from behind. It didn’t appear as if Malfoy was wearing any underwear.
“Can I get you a drink?” Malfoy asked, once Harry had sat down.
Harry gulped. The robe appeared even shorter from this vantage point. “Sure.”
Malfoy disappeared into the Manor and appeared minutes later, two glasses of firewhiskey in hand. He passed one to Harry and then took a seat on the armchair opposite, crossing his legs demurely – which was a necessity in his getup.
Harry took a large swig of his glass. “Aren’t you going to change?”
Malfoy’s raised his eyebrows. “You have a problem, Potter?
“No,” Harry squeaked. Yes, actually squeaked.
Malfoy laughed at that, but he did pull down on the hem of his robe to cover his legs a little further. “I don’t usually – I’m not usually this forward,” he explained.
“Must be someone special.”
Malfoy frowned. “Not not really. No at all. I’m actually glad I – “ He stopped himself, his eyes darting to Harry sharply. “Well, I just mean it’s probably best I didn’t text them.”
“Instead, you got me.”
“I certainly would have dressed differently if I’d known. You wouldn’t see me like this until at least the second date.”
Harry held back a smile. “So is this a date now?”
“It could be,” Malfoy said, his eyes on his firewhiskey as he swished it around in his glass like it were wine.
“But is it?” Harry pushed.
Malfoy looked up. “You tell me.”
“You’re the one who answered the door half naked.”
Malfoy’s lips quirked up. “So, I’ve already lost some of my dignity tonight. I’d say it’s your turn.”
Harry downed the rest of his firewhiskey. “It’s a date,” he decided.
‘You always were the brave one,” Malfoy said, following Harry’s actions and finishing his own firewhiskey. He placed the empty glass down and moved his hands to the tie of his robe. “So if this is a date, I guess I can show you what’s underneath the robe now.”
“I – er – um – I – “ Harry spluttered, his face heating up at the thought.
Malfoy laughed and dropped his hands. “Calm down, Potter. I’m only teasing. Not until the second date, remember? Tonight we talk. And eat. How do you feel about soup? It’s the only thing I can cook.”
Harry relaxed. “Perfect.”