Chapter Text
“Are you really still doing that puzzle?” Hermione quipped, her eyes momenterily flickering away from an egg that was sizzling on the stove. “I mean, it’s been at least a week Harry.”
Harry drew his eyebrows together and felt a pout pull at the corners of his lips. Perhaps he had been stuck on this puzzle for a week, and perhaps it may have only been a one hundred piece puzzle, but at least he was trying to do something productive with his time. Only two weeks ago he had done nothing except slouch around on Ron and Hermione’s couch watching repeats of old cooking shows.
“It’s a hard puzzle, ‘mione” Harry muttered, fingers scrubbing at his chin in concentration. He heard a small sigh from her before she turned back around and continued with cooking their breakfast, cradling a single hand on her heavily pregnant stomach.
Now that Harry could finally concentrate, his eyes drifted between each puzzle piece and the puzzle itself, desperately searching for any more clues. His efforts quickly became futile as he let out a frustrated sigh and chucked his head back, deciding to settle his eyes on the pristine, white ceiling instead.
“Honestly Harry, you’re more of a drama queen than Ron, sometimes.” Hermione joked, aiming her greasy spatula in Harry’s direction. Suddenly, the sound of quick feet stomping down the staircase echoed around the kitchen. “Speak of the devil.”
Ron’s body came flying through the door, a draft of wind blowing into the room after him. He clutched a toothbrush in one hand and the Daily prophet in the other (not to mention the very appetising trail of white, frothy toothpaste that ran down his chin).
“I can't bloody believe it!” Ron spluttered out, toothpaste from his mouth forming projectiles as he spat across the kitchen. Harry saw Hermione’s nose scrunch up in the corner of his eye.
“Wash that toothpaste out of your mouth, Ron! That’s disgusting!” She scolded, batting her spatula angrily in his direction.
“Oh, sorry,” He apoligised, “read this, I’ll be back in a sec.” Ron chucked the Daily prophet in front of Harry before swiftly sprinting out of the door. Harry felt Hermione’s body move to linger over his in curiousity.
“What could be so important that Ron couldn’t wait to- oh” Hermione paused when her eyes met the headline on the front page.
MALFOY FOR SALE?
What? Harry read over the headline again. Last he’d heard, Malfoy had disapeared about five years ago just after his trial, thought to be hiding somewhere in eastern Europe. Harry read down to the actual article.
Five years after his mysterious disapearance, Draco Malfoy has been found selling himself on the street …..
Harry almost let a bubble of laughter in his throat slip out. How ironic. Malfoy - the richest twat in Hogwarts - was a now a prostitute. It seemed more likely that Dumbledore would release a sex tape than Malfoy become a rentboy.
...the young heir was seen on Friday the 6th of September to be accepting money from a young lady for his services (Shown on the right)
Harry ran his eyes over to the photo on the right of the page. He expected to see a run down, greasy-looking git, but instead he had the breath knocked out of him.
There Malfoy was, leaning against a lamp post, the small ray of artificial light shining down on him, highlighting his facial structure. His hips were jutted out in a way that looked like pure sex as the wind rustled through his thin, white top. His muscled chest was easily visible underneath the translucent material... Was Malfoy wearing muggle clothes? A pair of black, tight, ripped jeans clung indecently to his long, athletic legs and rested low on his hips. Harry found himself hypnotised by his body, but what stood out the most was the beam of platinum, blond hair which shone out like a beacon underneath the light.
Harry had hardly even noticed the small frame that stood in front of Malfoy, face hidden from view. They appeared to be a petite woman, probably in her thirties with a cloak wrapped around her lithe shoulders. The image moved to show her dropping a red, velvet bag into Malfoy’s outstretched hand. He replied with a perfectly straight smirk and an approving wink that, even in just a photo, punched Harry with a godly amount of sex appeal.
“Well, that’s… unexpected.” Hermione choked out.
“You’re tellin’ me!” Ron answered, swinging through the open door to slam into the kitchen. “At least the ferret got what he derserves, right?” He joked, swiftly kissing Hermione on the cheek and sitting down across the table from Harry.
For some reason, Harry just couldn’t force himself to pry his eyes away from the animated photo in front of him, instead choosing to watch Malfoy smirk over and over again.
“Don’t be horrible Ron, you have no idea what might have happened to him for him to resort to that.” Hermione scolded. Ron showed her a face of complete disbelief.
“That’s it, the womans gone bloody insane, sticking up for a Malfoy!” Her glance fell to the floor. “At least Harry agrees, the prick got what he deserves right?”
The words seemed to fly over Harry’s head, he still couldn’t bear to bring his eyes away from the photo, endlessly evaluating Malfoy’s sudden hotness. How did he not see that back at Hogwarts?
“Uhhhh… Harry?” Ron nudged. Suddenly, Harry remembered where he was.
“Oh, sorry, what?” His eyes flickered up to meet Ron’s. Ron shot him a suspicious side glance.
“I was saying that Malfoy got what he deserved with that one.” Ron repeated.
“Oh right, yeah.”
Harry let his gaze fall back to the paper, noticing another photo that he could’ve sworn wasn’t there a second ago.
“Time for breakfast.” Hermione diverted the conversation after the smell of smoke began to fill the room.
“Thank god, I’m starved.” Ron praised.
Harry focused his eyes on the second photo. This time Malfoy appeared to be in a very expensive resturant with chandeliers from the ceiling and a large glass panel window next to his table. It was a side view of Malfoy smiling across at his date as he slowly raised his glass of wine to his mouth and took a sip.
Across the table from him was an older looking man - wait... a man... Does that mean Malfoy was gay? Harry definitely didn't feel a zing of excitement shoot up his spine at the thought. No, of course he's not gay, Harry. He's just doing it for the money. Anyways, he's taking an offer from a woman in the photo above. He must be straight.
“Look at that Harry, maybe you’ve got more in common than we’d first thought!” Ron joked, pointing to the photo Harry was just looking at. Harry stared back at the photo, wondering what Ron was talking about.
“What?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the photo.
“I mean that he bats for the other side.” Ron said, wagging his eyebrows.
“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “Malfoy’s sexuality – whatever that is – has nothing to do with Harry!” She said, slapping him around the back of the head. Ron raised a hand to pat at where he’d just been hit.
“Ow!”
“You deserved that.” She retorted.
“Thanks, but there's no needs for that, 'mione.” Harry interrupted, “I mean he’s not wrong after all, I am … gay” Harry paused, looking between Ron and Hermione, “and Malfoy appears to occasionally escort old men on dates. I can see the similarity.”
“Thank you, Harry!” Ron applauded, completely unaware of Harry’s sarcasm.
Harry considered asking Ron why he thought Malfoy was gay, but that probably wouldn't be the best idea. He wouldn't want them to think he had a crush on the git or something. And Ron's wrong, anyways. Malfoy is straight... Harry would surely be able to tell otherwise. He was gay after all.
When Harry came out about two months ago, he was quite surprised by how well received the information was from Ron and Hermione. Ron said that he supported Harry and that if that’s what Harry had wanted then he should be able to find a partner of any gender. Hermione, however, just told him she’d known for years.
Harry had come out to most of his close circle of friends, none of them had taken it badly. Some of the girls became weirdly excited and tried extremely hard to set Harry up on blind dates, but Harry wasn’t having any of it. The least supportive response Harry had received was probably from George Weasley. Harry had stopped by the Weasleys’ joke shop to help George set up the store, but when Harry told George he was gay, all George had said was, “Fair enough. Can you pass me that potion bottle?”.
At the time Harry had been relatively put out by the lacklustre reaction, but after being cooed over by the rest of his friends, Harry couldn’t help but wish all of them took the news a bit more like George did.
The room was filled with silence for the next few minutes whilst Hermione plated all the food up.
“It’s quite odd to see Malfoy again. I’d presumed he was dead.” Hermione began, she swiftly placed two full English breakfasts in front of Ron and Harry, only to put some fruit salad in front of her space.
“No,” Harry argued, beginning to butter a slice of toast. “He’s too smart for that.” Ron put down his slice to raise an eyebrow at Harry.
“Too smart to die?” He questioned, incredulously.
“Yes.”
“How can someone be too smart to die?”
“He just is.” Harry replied. “I’ve always pictured him hiding in some secret resort in France, but I definitely never thought he would’ve been a… ya'know… a rent boy.”, Harry felt a blush raise to his cheeks at the words.
“You can say that again.” Ron agreed, a disbelieving laugh dropping from his lips as he said it. “Speaking of which, a new case came in yesterday about a drug ring in France.” He digressed, letting the conversation lull into the usual topics.
Harry finished the rest of his breakfast in a comfortable silence whilst Ron told them about his new cases. He tried to listen, he really did, but when Hermione started rambling about a new, alternative (and healthier) way to give birth that she had researched, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes stray back to the article.
-
One week.
One week.
It had only been one week since Harry had seen Malfoy on the front cover of the Daily Prophet, but somehow the man had infiltrated Harry’s mind every second since. Everything around him brung his thoughts back to the blond.
The lights in a room would remind him of the streetlight Malfoy rested under, the kitchen tiles would remind Harry of his straight, bright teeth. Even the bloody tablecloth reminded Harry of Malfoy’s translucent, white shirt. Thinking of Malfoy was practically unavoidable at this point. So, Harry tried to distract himself.
Which is how he found himself now sat on the living room floor with the radio on full volume and a (still incomplete) puzzle resting before him. He had reasoned -in desperation- that if he played music loud enough, he wouldn’t be able to hear these ridiculous, incessant thoughts. However, Harry’s antics appeared to be driving a heavily pregnant (and hormonal) Hermione Granger to madness.
“Harry James Potter!” She screeched from across the room, “If you do not turn that bloody rachet down this instant, you will be sleeping outside in the garden for the next week!” Harry cringed at the volume of her shouting. If normal Hermione was scary when angry, pregnant Hermione was at least twenty times worse.
“Sorry.” He swiftly raised his hand and twizzled the knob of the radio to put the volume down.
“Just turn the bloody thing off!”, Harry immediately turned it off, with no hesitation. “Thank Merlin, I’d almost gone insane.” She joked.
Harry just smiled back at her.
“What are you doing today then?” She asked, dropping down next to Harry.
“Haven’t got anything planned at the moment.” Harry informed, reaching down to pop another puzzle piece in place. They settled in silence for a few seconds before Hermione shot him a disapproving look.
“Are you sure you can’t find something to do?” She asked, causing Harry to look away from his puzzle towards her. “Just so you’re not , you know, doing nothing here.”
“I mean, what could I do?” Hermione looked down to her lap at this, obviously a bit lost for words. Harry knew she was going to try to bring up the topic of him moving out again. It was becoming a recurrent conversation between them and Harry wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it.
“It’s just, maybe you need to, maybe, get a job, do something new.” Hermione suggested. Harry could see the silent signals between Ron and Hermione. They didn’t want Harry there anymore.
After all, Hermione and Ron were about to have a baby. They were going to be a family. They didn’t need Harry to be slouching around on their couch every single day, they needed to be on their own.
“Look, I’m going to go house searching tommoro- “
“No! That’s not what I meant at all, Harry.” Hermione quickly corrected. Hermione had always tried to pretend she didn’t want Harry to leave but Harry wasn’t a complete idiot.
“I know it wasn’t, but maybe it would be a good thing. I mean, I can’t live with you and Ron forever. I need to grow up and become an actual twenty-five year old man.” Hermione looked down to the ground in subtle agreement. “And you’ve got a baby on the way, I shouldn’t be here whilst you’re trying to build a family, I should really find a new place.” Hermione looked back up to Harry, he could see she was torn.
“Please don’t think I’m trying to force you to leave, I would be happy for you to stay-”
“It’s okay Hermione, I should leave.” Hermione slowly nodded.
“Perhaps it would be best.”
“Anyways, now you’re on maternity leave, you can help me house search.” Hermione’s face lit up. She’d always loved interior design; she discovered her love for it when her and Ron had first moved in. Harry had supposed their house was lovely, but he could hardly tell the difference between a good house and a bad house so, who knows?
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“I’d like that a lot.” Hermione grinned. “But, in the meantime, have you got anything else to do?”
Harry waved his hand over the unfinished puzzle in front of him.
“Apart from that stupid puzzle.” Her hands reached down to three of the puzzle pieces as she picked them up and swiftly clicked them into the correct places on the board.
“Hey! I don’t want your help.” Harry scolded, using both his hands to bat her's away. She neatly rolled her eyes. “Other than this puzzle, I’ve got a free day” He answered, “Want to go out for a drink?”
She replied by pointing a slim finger to her massive belly.
“Oh, yeah, sorry I forgot.” Harry apologised.
“Why don’t you firecall Seamus? You haven’t gone out with him for months.” Hermione suggested. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’ll go out with Seamus.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Then how about Ginny?”
“I’m not going to get back with Ginny” He was immediately, softly slapped in the arm.
“Of course not, you idiot. I mean, it would just be a good thing to actually talk to the girl. You used to be really good friends.”
Harry paused to think for a second. Maybe meeting up with Ginny would be a good thing. She was always up for a good night out and she might even distract him from Malfoy for at least a few hours.
“Okay then.” Harry half-heartedly agreed.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“That’s the spirit!” Hermione appraised.
“I’ll floo her later.”
“You won’t regret it Harry.” Hermione patted his back, jumping up and away from the sofa.
And that was how Harry found himself kneeling in front of the floo about three hours later.
“Ginny?” He shouted into the fire, “GINNY!”
A clang and a bash echoed around the room until, in an instant, her body slammed through the door.
“What’s the emergency!” She shouted, stumbling over her own feet, she looked extremely panicked with her fiery red hair shot up at odd angles. “Harry?” She paused.
“Umm, yeah sorry. I just… I thought I’d call.” Harry rambled. Ginny’s previous posture was abandoned for a more relaxed one, seeing as Harry wasn’t near death.
“So, no emergency then?” She asked.
“No.”
“Thank Merlin.” She chucked her hands onto her chest in relief. “I was about to have a heart attack there!” Her large smile seemed to brighten the room in an instant.
Harry suddenly remembered why he used to love Ginny. Well, perhaps it was more of a sisterly love than one that brimmed with romance, but still, his heart ached slightly at seeing her again.
Harry laughed awkwardly as she settled down her nerves for a second.
“So why did you call me?”
“Oh, umm, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to… go out tonight… and, maybe, have a drink.” Harry stuttered out. Ginny stared at him blankly for a second. Then let her eyes drift as she thought about it.
Ginny really had grown into a beautiful woman in her adulthood. Her previous carrot hair had darkened to slightly more auburn red shade and her face was slightly more feminine than in her youth. She was a very pretty young girl, but in adulthood, each of her features had matured to give her the face of a beautiful, young woman.
“Just the two of us?” She asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Yeah but, not like a date or anything.” Harry confirmed. His palms had become suspiciously sweaty. Ginny paused to think for another few seconds.
“I mean, sure. What do you want to do?” She agreed. Thank Merlin, one step into being an adult.
“I guess we could go down to the pub.” Harry suggested. Her mouth formed a delicate pout, which contrasted the mischievous look in her eyes sharply.
“Hmmm… A bit boring don’t you think.” She rejected. Harry felt his heart drop slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, why don’t we do something more fun?” She chucked her arms out around her in emphasis.
“Like what?”
“Like maybe, I don’t know, go clubbing?” She beamed. “There’s a really cool place that just opened up,”
“No.” Harry disagreed, “I don’t like clubs, I can’t dance.”
Harry had a sudden flashback to last time he went clubbing. He’d ended up drinking to the point that he was flat out drunk and had apparently tried to dance on the club tables before being kicked out by security. Not that Harry could remember any of this though, but he’d been made fun of because of it at least one a week for the past ten months.
“We could go to a gay bar, if you want?” Harry bristled for a second, he was comfortable with his sexuality and everything (although it was a relatively new revelation) but, he definitely wasn’t used to it being thrown around in conversation. He also couldn’t stand the teeny, tiny, juvenile part of him that still thought being called gay was an insult.
“I don’t know…” He said, rubbing a hand on the back of his head.
“It’ll be fun!” She encouraged. “We could do both if you want, go to the pub and then to the club?” She suggested, snickering slightly when she finished the sentence. “That rhymed.”
“Yeah, maybe that’d be fun.” Harry agreed, he supposed if he really didn’t want to, he could always just say he felt ill and not go through with the clubbing part.
“Yes!” She celebrated. “It’ll be really great to finally spend some time with you Harry.” She said sincerely, she looked genuinely thankful.
“You too, Ginny.” Harry replied, maybe he had been ignoring her the past few months, he could be a real, self-centred git sometimes.
“So, it’s settled then?” She asked.
“Settled.” Harry agreed.
“I’ll come ‘round at eight thirty, yeah?”
“Yeah, that’s good.”
“Cool, See you then.” She waved.
“Will do, bye.” Harry waved back, flashing her a quick smile before pulling his face out of the fire.
Now he had a good few hours to get ready and attempt not to think about Malfoy.