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Being Weird

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"It's really weird that you're my best friend and Malfoy is Pansy's best friend and yet the two of you have barely met since we've started dating."

Ron was getting ready for the big dinner with the family as it was the night before his wedding. Harry stood behind him and Ron was rambling on to Harry's reflection about him and Pansy and their dating life, and everything else under the sun. Ron was obviously nervous so Harry just let him talk. It was the least he could do for his best friend.

"I just hope the two of you won't start anything at the dinner tonight or worse, the wedding!" Ron said.

"Pansy told you to say that to me?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ron nodded sheepishly.

"Ron, you've said so yourself, me and Malfoy, we haven't been around each other at any of your events. I've had dinner with you and Pansy and you've had dinner with Malfoy and Pansy—we've kept our distance. By your accounts, Malfoy is a decent bloke now—"

"I only said that in front of Pansy so she wouldn't make me sleep on the sofa," Ron argued

"So are you saying he's not a decent bloke?" Harry asked.

"No, he's alright. I mean, you know, for a Malfoy."

Harry laughed. He ran his hand through his hair and took a long and deep sigh. "Mate, it's your wedding. I'll be on my best behaviour, and Malfoy, being a Pureblood wizard and all, I am sure will be doing his best to make his best friend look respectable. You've got nothing to worry about."

"You promise?"

"For Merlin's sake!" Harry struggled to keep his tone even. "Yes. Nothing weird. No fights. I'll barely look at him if that'll make you feel better!"

"I just—I really like her, you know! She's the one."

Harry chuckled again. "Well, I bloody well hope so. You're marrying her tomorrow."

*/*/*

An hour later, everyone was seated around a huge round table at Alain Ducasse, the finest restaurant in wizarding London. Malfoy had made the reservations and it was the only wizarding fine dining restaurant that had a table big enough to accommodate both the Weasley family and the Parkinsons.

As promised, Harry barely looked at Malfoy who was seated directly across from him. Besides, most of the night, Harry was busy speaking with Charlie who sat on his left and Fleur who sat on his right.

The trouble had really been when they'd moved from the banquet hall into the wine cellar. The restaurant hosted a private party for them in the cellar with a variety of desserts and the best quality of wine.

The place was cramped and everyone was moving about. Harry wasn't in the safe confinements of his friends restricting him from dealing with Malfoy.

At first, he'd brushed elbows with Malfoy to and from their way to the loo. Then, he'd reached for a bottle that sat at the bar at the same time as Malfoy and their hands brushed together. Harry felt an electric shock travel up his arm to his spine. This was more difficult than he'd anticipated.

He nodded at Malfoy, his lips forming a thin smile, and walked away.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked him a minute later.

"Nothing. I am being cordial."

"You're being weird," Ron said. "And that's me saying it, so that's something."

"I'm not being weird. You told me to keep my distance and that's what I am doing. I bumped into him — literally — so I nodded and walked away. How am I being weird?" Harry realised he was being defensive so he decided to calm down a bit.

"I'm just going to go outside for some fresh air."

"Harry, it's snowing outside," Ron told him.

"I know, I'll place a warming charm. It'll be fine. I'll be back in no time."

"Alright, when you get back, I want you to tell me why you're being weird."

Harry scowled at Ron who only scrutinised him with a look and walked away. Harry made his way out of the cellar and up the stairs to the back patio of the restaurant.

*/*/*

Harry sighed with relief to find the back patio empty. He really needed to get it together.

"Oh, I see you got the same idea."

Harry snapped his head towards the right side of the patio and found Draco sitting in the corner, smoking a fag.

"I've been trying to avoid you all night," Harry said, walking up to Draco and pulled up a chair next to him.

"I know. You're being weird."

Harry groaned with irritation. "I wish everyone would just stop saying that."

"Well, you are."

"It's easy for you. I can't—"

"You can't what?" Draco asked, handing his cigarette to Harry who took a puff.

"I can't act all distant and aloof. I can't act like I hate you too. When all I want to do is touch you and hold your hand and—" He stopped for a moment to scowl at Draco. "I know, I'm being a girl. Whatever." He rolled his eyes and took another puff of the cigarette.

"You think it's easy for me to act like there's nothing going on between us? That I don't want to jump your bones when I see you wearing that perfectly tailored suit, knowing fully well how hot you'd look with it on the floor?"

Harry didn't say anything.

Draco took the cigarette and murmured a spell that destroyed it into thin air. He grabbed Harry by the neck and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss. Harry whimpered into Draco's mouth, partially from the coldness of the evening, and partially from the way Draco was making him melt.

After Ron and Pansy had announced their engagement, Harry had reached out to Draco. A cordial meeting that was only meant to be about grabbing a drink and trying to be genial had turned into a night that consisted of the best sex of Harry's life.

They were stoic and stiff when the first drink had arrived; the conversation, polite. By the third drink, their knees were bumping as they continued their talk about nothing and everything under the sun. By the fifth, Draco's fingers were interlacing with Harry's, and by the seventh, Harry discovered the taste of Firewhisky on Draco's tongue.

They'd ordered an eighth drink, but had left the pub and Disapparated to Harry's flat before it's arrival. Harry had barely managed to throw a few Galleons on the counter.

Draco spent the weekend at Harry's and it was as if neither one of them ever looked back since. They had met again, and again, and again.

Meanwhile, their friends had no idea. Ron and Pansy continued to believe that the reason Harry and Draco were avoiding each other was because they still held some sort of a weird animosity from their school days.

It was easier to keep the affair a secret than to announce to everyone that they actually were in some sort of a monogamous-sex-relationship. They'd never really defined what they were doing, but both parties involved were equally aware that the other wasn't doing it with anyone else.

It worked for Harry. He saw Draco whenever he wanted and vice versa and there was little to no drama.

"Maybe we should tell them," Draco said.

"Tell who?" Harry asked, panting as he unwillingly pulled away from Draco's embrace.

"Pansy. The family. That you and I—"

"Tonight? The night before Pansy's wedding? She'll never forgive you," Harry said. "You'll ruin her wedding by making it all about you and Harry Potter—"

"Merlin, you sound just like her," Draco said.

"We should get back in there. I mean I'll go in first. Let's just pretend to be like we are for a couple of more days. I don't want to be blamed for your coming out story and how you ruined your best friend's wedding."

"Alright," Draco said standing up and he pulled Harry towards him again. They kissed for a while, Draco's hands wrapping around Harry's waist and Harry's hand squeezing Draco's arse.

"Okay we should really stop," Harry said. "Before we get in any trouble."

"Fine. Go back in."

Harry turned to leave the patio and reached the door that led to the main entrance of Alain Ducasse.

"And, Potter?" Harry turned to look at Draco. "Stop being weird."

THE END