desire .

Inheritance - Chapter Three

   Harry smiled in relief, then spotted Draco’s jacket in the crook of his arm. “Oh, sorry,” he said, taking it hurriedly from him and opening a door to a utility closet to hang on a peg. “Kick your shoes off too if you like,” he said, heading back into the kitchen to tend to the stove and oven where the delicious smells of dinner where gently wafting from. “There’s spare slippers if you’d like a pair,” he added, waving at the collection of footwear discarded haphazardly by the front door. “I hate being barefoot.”

   The kind of people Draco had hung around for most of his life would consider slippers to be the height of uncool, and the idea of wrecking your own kitchen with the flurry of activity Harry was currently employing in his quest to make their dinner positivity uncouth. But Draco was feeling a squirming in his insides at this simple, unabashed intimacy. Testing Harry’s homemade sauce and swapping his £300 shoes for Harry’s worn-in slippers felt special in ways a fancy restaurant could never manage.

   He was nervous all over again, his heart thrumming in his chest. He could do this, he wasn’t an average nineteen year old, compared to his peers, he was an adult in more ways than one. And honestly, what could he do to embarrass himself in front of Harry, who seemed as unpretentious as they came? But still, he struggled to find anything to say, so slipped his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. “Did you want to start with a beer?” Harry asked, turning and pulling the fridge door open on Draco’s left. “I’ve got this Belgium stuff that’ just delightful.”

   “Sure,” said Draco, and watched as Harry spun back around with two cold bottles, popping the lids off and decanting them into tulip stemmed glasses.

   Harry took a breath and stilled as he offered one to Draco. “Cheers,” he said, clinking their drinks. “Thank you for coming over.”

   “Thank you for the invitation,” Draco replied, taking a sip and hoping for some Dutch (or Belgian) courage. “Like I said, it’s not exactly been easy trying to meet new people.”

   Harry was already back adding butter to a hot griddle. “You’re life’s changed quite drastically I guess,” he said sympathetically, tipping the pan so the sizzling butter ran over all the ridges.

   Draco laughed and wandered into the sitting room area. He could still see Harry through the serving hatch in the wall above the corner sofa hiding under a couple of dozen throw pillows and fluffy blanket that looked so soft Draco couldn’t help but reach down and touch it. It sent shivers down his spine.

   “That’s a bit of an understatement,” he admitted, letting go of the blanket reluctantly and glancing over Harry’s floor-to-ceiling, room-length book cases. He immediately thought of the famous John Waters quote: “If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ‘em…” This made him blush and gulp down another mouthful of beer.

   “Morwenna must have seen something in you though,” Harry said thoughtfully, as he carefully added the two steaks that had been resting on the counter to the hot butter, making them hiss and spit in a mouth-watering way. “I’m guessing you’ve not had much experience running a company before, so there must have been another reason?”

   Draco sighed. “I only met her a few times,” he admitted.   How much did he want to admit about the nature of his family’s dubious business arrangements? “I guess she thought a lot of this company, and wanted it to go to someone who would give it their full attention.”

   Harry leaned his elbows on the partition between the two rooms and nodded. “That sounds like her,” she said. “She didn’t care about things like a person’s age, she cared about their heart, what she liked to call ‘gumption’. She liked people with fight and integrity.” He glanced at Draco, suddenly shy, and ducked back into the kitchen to poke at the steaks and stir his sauce again.