Sunday Morning
20 September 2009
Draco's POV
I set down my comb and stared at my reflection in the mirror, ignoring its appreciative comments and shut my eyes.
Merlin, why was I so nervous?
It was just a date.
And Harry was my boyfriend, and I couldn't even count the number of times we'd fucked, so how could I even possibly be nervous?
We'd even navigated our way through not just one but two dinners with Mum at the Manor.
I smiled as I thought back to when I'd explained to Harry that she was expecting a "Mum-version" of our story.
"What?" he'd demanded, green eyes staring up at me as he'd curled around me, snuggling as close as he could, like he always did in his post-coital bliss.
"Merlin, Draco, what would we even tell her?"
"I assume she'll want to know how we met," I'd responded, trailing my left hand along his spine, my right arm wrapping further under and around him to pull him even closer.
"We could just tell her the truth. Then we won't have to remember all the details of a story later."
Harry had groaned and buried his face in my neck.
"Yeah, sure. That'll go over real well. Oh, gee, Narcissa, I was just looking for massive cock, and, as it so happens, your son has one, so it was bloody kismet, see?"
I couldn't help but laugh, despite thinking how absolutely mortified I would be if Harry actually had the gall to say that to Mum.
"I was thinking more along the lines of telling her we met through a dating app..."
"She's still going to wonder why we agreed to meet up, though," Harry had interjected, hands twining up to play with my hair. "That's the first thing anyone would ask."
I'd frowned in thought.
He was right, of course.
"We could still go with a selective version of the truth," I'd said slowly, thinking as I spoke, and Harry had eyed me warily.
"What?" I'd asked, giving him a quick kiss in an attempt to soothe his nerves. "Tell her the app pairs you anonymously with other users based on personality profiles and preferences and such."
Harry had snorted.
"Right, she's going to believe that," he'd joked. "I was desperately seeking a snarky blond with this unique, smokey, blue-grey eye colour... and I was having rotten luck finding that combination on my own."
"And you were so thrilled when the app led you to me, you decided to put our history aside because you just couldn't have enough of my beautiful blue eyes," I'd drawled, batting my lashes down at Harry, who'd giggled.
"Apparently not," he'd agreed, doing another one of his kitten-stretches up alongside me.
"I suppose you're right, though," he'd mused. "We should just tell her the truth but omit the embarrassing details. I'm sure she'll see through it, but I'm also guessing she's not going to press for those details, either."
Thankfully for the both of us, Mum had seemed quite taken with our story of a modern-day blind "date" (although, as Harry had predicted, she had raised a questioning brow when we'd called it a date and had refrained from asking any details as to what had happened on that first date), that had turned into a modern-day fling, and, was now well on its way to becoming something much more.
Which brought me back to today.
I'd planned an actual date for us, having told Harry to block his next day off for me to take him out on a proper date.
And, I suppose, partly to make up how late this first date was, and partly because I couldn't do anything in moderation, I'd gone and planned an entire day, beginning with a picnic in the park and ending, if we made it that far, with a nightcap at my favourite champagne bar.
I'd told Harry to arrive at my flat around eleven, and a quick Tempus told me that it was now 10:50.
I gave myself one last glance in the mirror, taking in my navy slacks, white t-shirt, and light blue cotton blazer. I loved that it was made out of almost a hoodie-like material, making it snuggly and comfortable without looking like an actual hoodie.
I couldn't help but grin as I made my way towards the reception, remembering my conversation with Harry regarding dress for our "date day."
"Harry, I said casual," I'd sighed, rubbing at my eyes as he'd asked one more time if jeans, a jumper, and trainers would be ok.
"I know," he'd replied. "But your idea of casual is quite different from mine."
He'd let his eyes trail over me, taking in my trousers and button-down, then looked down at his own jumper and jeans.
"And you want me to bring two outfits."
I'd rolled my eyes.
"You don't need to," I'd assured him. "It's just I wanted to spend the morning in the park and then take you out for dinner later, so if you wanted to bring something to change into, you could."
I'd paused, then grinned.
"I'm not even planning on wearing a suit once the entire day if that helps."
I entered the reception to find Harry already there, lounging on the sofa, looking, for all the world, as though he belonged there.
Which, I supposed, if I were being honest, he did.
"Hullo," I greeted him, sitting beside him and twisting down for a quick kiss.
"Mmm," he replied, returning the kiss eagerly. "Morning."
Merlin, he looked positively snog-able, dressed in tan chinos and a dark green jumper. The wide plaid pattern of a maroon, dark green, and white button-down peeked out from above the collar, and he'd rolled the sleeves casually up his forearms, using them to hold the sleeves of his jumper at his elbows, ready to pull down should he need extra warmth.
"Ready?" he asked, sitting upright, bending his left knee so that it rested in my lap as he leaned forward for another lingering kiss.
"Mmm, yes, let's go," I agreed, rising before I got any naughty ideas of lingering with Harry on the sofa, divesting him of his clothing, and having my wicked way with him, date day be damned.
A few minutes later, after shrinking the picnic Bessie had packed, Harry and I were on our way.
"Where are we going?" he asked excitedly as we exited the flat and made our way to the lift.
"I thought we'd go pedal-boating on the Serpentine and have a picnic in the park," I replied, grinning. "Bessie packed us a picnic to enjoy after we've worked up our appetites. Sound good?"
I patted at my trouser pocket to ensure the picnic basket Bessie had painstakingly filled with both our favourites was definitely there.
"Absolutely," Harry grinned back.
We crossed the street and continued the short distance along the Louisa Duckworth walk, making our way to the little wooden boathouse along the banks of the Serpentine. A few minutes later, Harry and I were comfortably seated in one of the pedalos, pedalling happily towards the centre of the lake.
When I was sure we were far enough from shore and away from prying eyes, I reached a hand into my pocket and withdrew two shrunken water bottles, both filled with a mimosa mixture and cast with a cooling charm to ensure they stayed nice and chilled.
"Here," I offered, handing him an un-shrunken bottle.
"Orange juice?" Harry asked, taking the proffered bottle and taking a sip.
"Honestly, Potter," I chided, leaning towards him to kiss him just above the ear. "I hope you'd expect me to treat you better than that...."
"Draco!" he gasped, having taken a large sip of the drink and laughing. "Are we allowed to have alcohol out here?"
I shrugged.
Good question, honestly.
"I don't know," I replied. "Good thing we've only got water, then, hmm?"
I held up my bottle, which now looked as though it was filled with water, and Harry frowned down at his, which looked identical to my own.
"It's such hard work, pedalling around the Serpentine," I sighed, reclining in my seat and laying the back of my hand against my forehead. "We simply must both have our water bottles with us...."
"You're brilliant," he informed me, absolutely beaming as he took another smaller sip of his drink.
We spent the next forty minutes or so pedalling around the lake, sipping our "water," and people-watching.
Harry, at one point, had grinned over at me and then smirked over at another pedalo near us.
I'd nearly spit out my mouthful of mimosa as the pedalo began moving in a sort of lazy circle.
Not enough to worry them, mind, but enough so that they noticed and tried pedalling in all sorts of manners to get their boat moving correctly.
"Ready for a bite?" I asked once our hour was nearly up, steering our boat back towards the boathouse.
"Always," Harry replied.
A short while later, I had our picnic blanket out on the lawn overlooking the Serpentine, Harry leaning deliciously against me, despite there being ample room on the blanket for us both.
"What are we eating?" he asked eagerly as I began unpacking the basket, having surreptitiously glanced around to be sure no one was paying us any attention before unshrinking it.
"Bessie packed us some cheese and charcuterie and a baguette," I replied, unpacking the small cutting board, knife, and carefully wrapped platter with Dubliner Cheddar, triple-cream Brie, and Mozzarella with saucisson-sec, prosciutto, cornichons, and a few small dabs of chutneys to accompany it all.
Harry's eyes widened, and he reached out a hand to grab at a slice of prosciutto.
"Then there's some roast chicken and crudités with bagna cauda because Bessie will insist we eat our vegetables," I continued, unpacking those as well.
"And, you'll be sure to want to save some room for the miniature treacle tarts she packed, I'm sure."
Potter was almost cross-eyed and drooling in anticipation, and I couldn't help leaning down to kiss him soundly on the mouth as I unpacked the bottles of still and sparkling water that rounded out our meal.
I flashed back to planning for our first dinner with Mum and smiled to myself.
"What does Harry like to eat?" Mum had asked. "What are some of his favourite dishes?"
It had struck me at that moment that I had quite a bit to learn about my boyfriend.
"I don't know."
I'd thought for a minute.
"He likes fish and chips," I'd responded after a moment, remembering how Harry had once tried to bring me dinner.
The look on Mum's face could have murdered actual dragons.
"Draco," she'd snapped. "We are not inviting Harry over to the Manor to serve him fish and chips."
I'd managed a small, guilty smile that she chose not to acknowledge.
"Perhaps, the next time he comes over, before adding another one of his shirts to your prolific sock drawer, you could ask him what sorts of real food he enjoys eating?"
"Mum, honestly," I'd sighed. "He's not picky. I'm willing to bet when I ask him, he'll say anything. But I do know he loves treacle tart. Make sure that's on the menu."
Bessie, of course, had made an absolutely sublime treacle when Harry had come over for dinner, and I had made a point of cataloguing Harry's reaction when she'd floated the gigantic tart out, serving him an absolutely absurdly large slice and the way his eyes slid shut in complete bliss when he'd tasted his first bite.
I nearly laughed when I pulled out the "miniature" tarts.
Clearly, I hadn't been the only one to notice Harry's appreciation for Bessie's treacle tart.
Of the two packed, one was, indeed, miniature and clearly meant for me.
The other was... well... it wasn't quite an entire full-sized treacle tart, but was damn near close.
Bessie's sloppy, all-capitals handwriting also indicated that this monstrous "miniature" was for Harry, just in case there had been any doubt.
"I think this one's for you," I told Harry, holding up the treacle in question and Harry made to take it from my hands.
"No, sir," I insisted, holding it just out of his reach. "You'll need to eat some proper food first."
Harry scowled at me but grabbed some more of the charcuterie and tore himself a piece of baguette, and began to eat, still leaning against me.
Harry, I was learning, was quite fond of eating while leaning against me.
What had been more of a surprise was that I, apparently, didn't mind.
Had anyone ever told me that at some point in my life, I'd not only be okay with a bloke all but using me as his chair back but that I'd actually enjoy it... well.
That person would be conveniently regretting having spoken in some other realm at this point.
Our picnic continued, both of us munching happily, conversation following the mundane and lazy as we chewed.
Later, as Harry impressively licked the last of his treacle tart from his spoon, sighing happily beside me, he grinned up at me.
"You grew up with Bessie making you food and feeding you chocolate cake all the time? How are you not, like, a thousand kilos?"
"A thousand kilos?" I demanded incredulously. What would that even look like?
"Merlin, Potter, I'd be dead."
Still, I couldn't resist leaning in to kiss him and decided I quite liked the combination of treacle and Harry.
"Mmm," I hummed. "Harry and treacle... my new favourite."
He laughed, still kissing me, twisting his body towards me so that he could deepen the kiss.
"So, is this the part where you take me back to yours?"
I mean... it hadn't been.
But my mind could definitely be changed.
"Is that what you want?" I asked, still kissing, wondering when, exactly, Harry had come to be seated in my lap, my hands running all along his back, and I vaguely wondered if there were rules about snogging and propriety so close to the Queen's bloody backyard.
"I want," Harry replied, this little post-picnic snog of ours really turning into quite the make-out session, "to do whatever it is that you've planned for us."
Reluctantly I pulled away from Harry and gently eased him from my lap.
"Well, the plan didn't involve taking you back to mine quite yet," I admitted sullenly, cursing myself for not having had the foresight to see that I'd most certainly have wanted to have my way with Harry by now.
Harry seemed to understand my disappointment because he was grinning up at me, those damned eyes of his laughing at me silently.
"Well, what did the plan involve?"
"A walk through the park to work up our appetite again," I replied, beginning to pack up our picnic.
"Again?" Harry echoed, helping me pack.
"Mm-hmm," I nodded, closing the picnic basket and glancing around before shrinking it.
"For Tipsy Tea."
"Tipsy Tea?" Harry's eyes were sparkling, and he looked just as excited as I was at the prospect of a boozy afternoon tea.
"Malfoy, are you trying to get me drunk?"
I nodded and leaned down to kiss him again.
"Yes," I admitted. "Because the plan is to take you back to mine after tea so that I can have my wicked way with you."
"What have you got planned that you need to get me tipsy first?" Harry joked although he did look a bit wary, and I had to snigger to myself at that.
A sexual act so deviant that I'd have to get Potter drunk first?
Merlin, I was going to have to think about that for a bit.
"I don't have anything planned," I assured him as we stood and set off along one of the park's many walkways.
"Aside from tumbling with you naked into bed and sort of seeing what happens next, anyway."
Harry grinned and slid his hand into my own as we continued our walk.
"Have you received any owls from Teddy?" he asked suddenly, and I shook my head.
"Why? Are you worried?"
"No," he shook his head. "I assume it means he's getting on well. If there were a problem, I'm sure Hagrid or McGonagall would've told me."
I nodded.
"I know Aunt Andromeda's been sending him loads of sweets from Honeydukes."
"He's spoilt rotten, isn't he?" Harry mused, smiling fondly.
"He deserves it."
"I've been trying to decide if I ought to give him the Invisibility cloak for Christmas," Harry confided, grinning up at me sheepishly, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
"The what?"
"The Invisibility cloak," Potter repeated, turning back to face me, and I just about hexed him right there.
"You have an Invisibility cloak?" I demanded, still not moving to close the gap between us and Potter's face finally showed that he'd registered my upset.
"Erm... yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "Did... you not know that?"
"How the fuck would I have possibly known that?"
I saw Harry gulp visibly, and I shook my head and began walking again.
"I'm so bloody pissed at you right now, Potter," I informed him, scowling petulantly as we fell in step beside each other once more.
"Are you really?" Harry asked after a few moments, eyes darting up at me nervously.
"Yes!" I cried, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "No! I don't know!"
I stopped and frowned down at him.
"I mean, fifteen-year-old me is bloody seething but... twenty-nine-year-old me is massively impressed."
Harry couldn't stop the smug grin from spreading across his face.
"Explains how I got away with so much, doesn't it?" he asked.
"That's not what I'm angry about," I informed him, yanking his hand back to tangle my fingers with his once more.
"It's not?"
"No." I scowled again.
"Have you any idea how much better my teenaged wanking fantasies would've been if I'd known to throw a bloody Invisibility cloak into the mix?"
Harry nearly doubled over with laughter and had to stop to clutch at his sides.
"That's what you're angry about?"
"Of course," I replied, glaring at him. "You were Saint Potter. You didn't need the stupid cloak to get away with sneaking about the castle."
Harry just glanced up at me out of the corner of his eyes, a mischievous grin on his face, as we began walking once more.
"So... what sort of naughty kinks does that cloak add for you, hmm?"
I stared back down at him, incredulous.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked. "You could've snuck into my dorm, surprised me in the hallway, dragged me into one of the thousands of nooks. Merlin, you could have fit us both under that damned thing, and we could've done whatever we wanted, whenever we bloody wanted..."
"I could still do that," he informed me, smirking. "Sneak into your office...."
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," I drawled, rolling my eyes at him. "You know where I work."
"I could get in," he replied, smug as could be. "They'd let me in."
I was nearly halfway to drooling over the thought of Harry surprising me at work with an invisible blowjob beneath my desk when I sobered instantly.
"Don't," I instructed, clutching his hand just a tad more tightly in my own.
"Hermione's desk faces mine."
This, for some reason, only made Harry laugh harder.
"Don't tempt me," he giggled. "I'd be invisible. Hermione be damned."
"I swear to Merlin, Potter," I growled. "You even think another second about subjecting me to a secret blowjob with Granger seated just across from me, and I promise you, I will bend your sweet little arse over the railing overlooking the entry hall at the Manor and eat you out until you're screaming so loudly you won't even care that Mum and Bessie and all the other elves are down below watching."
Harry stopped and turned to face me, eyes wide.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, already have done," I assured him, tugging at his hand to keep him walking.
"I suppose I got off easy, just being fucked in the drawing room before dinner," he muttered, shaking his head but leaning into me so I knew he wasn't actually upset.
"Draco, what are you doing?" Harry had asked as I pressed him up against the wall of the summer drawing room, one hand already reaching to caress Harry's hardening length through his trousers.
"We can't," he'd gasped, mouth working to kiss back despite his words, hands clutching at my shoulders, although he'd seemed to be caught in a battle between pushing me away and pulling me closer.
"Seriously, Draco," Harry had mumbled, hips still pressing into my palm as I ran my other hand up his back, hand pulling gently at the hair at the nape of his neck to arch him further into me.
"You're not going to fuck me in the manor just before we have dinner with your mum," he'd managed to breathe out between kisses.
"Then you should work on not looking so damned fuckable all the time," I'd replied, tightening my grip on his hair and angling his head so that I could kiss him even more deeply.
"We've already been through this," I'd explained, still kissing at Harry's mouth between phrases.
"The very first time we met. You're a damned tease, and I can't help it if I fall prey to your wiles."
"But I told you," he'd protested helplessly. "I'm not teasing."
"Mmm, but you are. You do," I had insisted, mouth travelling to kiss and suck along his neck.
"Maybe you don't realise, but your eyes," I'd lifted my head to glare at him accusingly.
"I've already told you all about your eyes," I'd sighed, leaning back down to continue kissing him.
"And this mouth of yours," I'd added, licking into his mouth and all but swallowing his groan.
"Just begging to be loved and kissed and used. Not even sure if you prefer I plunder it with my mouth or with my cock."
Harry had just groaned and pulled me closer, kissing me even harder.
Next second, I had found myself with my trousers vanished and Harry's mouth wrapping longingly around the tip of my cock, and I'd closed my eyes, groaning and threading my hands through his silky hair as I'd given in to the sweet suction of his mouth.
Of course, Mum had known immediately what we'd been up to as soon as we'd sat down, and I'd never been more acutely aware of just how wrecked and properly shagged Harry always managed to look for hours after, well... after he'd been properly shagged.
I gave a shake of my head to clear my thoughts as we continued our walk around the park and checked my watch to see that it was nearly two pm.
"Time to head to Tipsy Tea," I informed Harry, angling him towards the nearest exit of the park. "We have a reservation for two-thirty."
"Why do you keep calling it tipsy tea?" he asked.
"It's actually called Tipsy Tea," I replied. "Mr Fogg's Tipsy Tea."
"And they just serve a tea where they try to get you drunk?"
"Mm-hmm," I replied. "It's lovely, actually. Beautiful location, solid tea service. Just so happens their teas are all alcoholic."
A short twenty-minute walk through Mayfair brought us to Mr Fogg's Residence, where Harry and I were quickly seated at one of the smart tables surrounding the dark brown, round leather couch in the centre of the room.
Even though there were three other chairs sat round our little tea table for Harry to choose from, he sat next to me on the leather couch, which was just barely large enough for both of us.
Not that I minded, obviously.
I picked up one of the menus and held it up so Harry and I could both look at the boozy teas on offer.
"I'm having the 'To Pour Around Four,'" I informed him.
It was a concoction of Hendrick's gin, rose liqueur, jasmine syrup, pomegranate juice, fresh lemon juice, and raspberry purée, all topped with Veuve Cliquot.
"Okay," he agreed, eyes flicking down to where my bottomless tea choice sat on the menu.
"Do you have a preference between the Tropical Tincture or the Drunken Duchess?"
The first consisted of green tea infused well through with passion fruit, mango, and vodka, then mixed with Aperol, lavender & orange syrup and topped off with passion fruit and lime juice.
The second took a mixture of vodka, blackberry liqueur, cranberry juice, lemon bitters, sugar syrup, and a dash of lemon juice, all rounded out with champagne.
"I'd imagine they're both wonderful," I conceded, studying the two descriptions on the menu. "But maybe go with the Tropical Tincture. We can share, and mine is already lemony."
A short while later, we were still comfortably nestled together with two pots of boozy tea and Mr Fogg's signature half-birdcage tray of tea-time treats set on the table before us.
"How did you find this place?" Harry asked, chewing on a mini brioche stuffed with salmon, soft cheese, and arugula. "It's bloody top."
"A friend," I replied and nibbled at a ham sandwich with piccalilli and rocket on brown bread.
"A friend, hmm?" he asked, grabbing a spinach wrap and smirking up at me and I couldn't help but roll my eyes affectionately.
"He might've been a bit more than a friend," I admitted, taking another bite of my sandwich and glancing down at Harry nervously.
"Is that a huge first-date faux pas?" I asked.
Now it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes at me.
"There have been other men in your life before me?" he asked, mock horror etched on his face as he turned to stare up at me.
"And here I am, the epitome of piety and innocence, having practically saved myself for you," he added, turning to face forward and tilting his teacup full of boozy tea to his lips so demurely that I burst out laughing and nearly sprayed my own sip of tea all over the table.
"Harry," I was still chuckling and wiping my eyes. "Merlin, I'm not sure the words piety or innocence are even allowed to be mentioned in the same sentence as you...."
"Have you had a lot of boyfriends, though?" he asked, glancing up at me again, the apprehension in his eyes very real this time. "I mean, you know, like actual relationships?"
"A few," I answered with a shrug, thinking to myself that someone as prone to snuggling and wearing his heart in his eyes as Harry had probably had several of his own.
Harry's face fell a little, and I frowned down at him speculatively.
"Why?" I asked carefully, taking another sip of tea. "Does that surprise you?"
He shrugged and snuggled a little more closely into my side as he picked up one of the gooey chocolate caramel brownies, and I braced myself for the onslaught of moans that would soon be spilling from Harry's lips.
"A little," he admitted taking a bite.
To be fair, most people were surprised to learn that I did curiously well with romantic relationships.
"I'm complete rubbish at them," Harry confided, his voice suddenly very small as he nibbled at the remainder of his brownie.
"Oh?" I took another, admittedly, larger sip of my tea, then refilled my teacup from the pot. "Why do you say that?"
He shrugged as he refilled his teacup and took a sip, thinking for a bit.
"I guess I sort of tend to avoid intimacy," he said finally, cradling his teacup with both hands, still leaning against me.
"I mean, not, you know, physically, obviously," he clarified, grinning up at me suddenly, clearly having no clue the havoc his words were wreaking on me. "I love me a good time... best part about the whole thing, really."
What the bloody hell did that mean?
Was Harry only looking for a good time?
"So... emotionally then?" I ventured, taking another gulp of tea and mentally re-planning the rest our date day accordingly.
He nodded, still snuggling into me like an oblivious fool, and part of me really wanted to pull away from him and stop playing an adorable couple for the time being.
"Yeah," he sighed and grabbed a cucumber sandwich. "I guess at some point, I just started pulling away whenever things started getting serious."
Harry paused and chewed thoughtfully.
"Honestly, the past couple of years, I've even given up on getting that far... mainly been slutting it up."
This was, you realise, not the most promising thing to hear from your boyfriend of only a few weeks.
Even more so from your boyfriend of a few weeks, whom you'd had a thing for since you were teenagers.
"What about you?" he was asking. "How do you do it?"
How did I do it?
What the fuck was Harry even asking now?
"Do what?" I frowned, trying to keep my face as neutral as possible.
"Get close to a bloke and, you know, be in a relationship, all the while knowing you're keeping the most important part of yourself from them," he explained, shrugging. "You don't feel bad about it?"
Harry pulled away and twisted to look up at me.
"I'm assuming you only date muggles, too. I mean, the Prophet would jump all over the news that you're gay just as much as they would me."
"Erm... yeah," I replied. "Not to mention, not many wizards were interested in me after the war."
"Didn't you feel like you were living a double life? Like you were lying all the time?" he asked, and I realised that Harry's issue with intimacy had nothing to do with actually being emotionally available and invested in another person.
It was the opposite; sweet Harry felt bad that he had to lie about being what he was with his muggle significant others.
Suddenly I remembered Mum's little lecture on compartmentalising and it made a lot more sense.
"Have you ever told someone?" he asked.
Ugh.
That was, to be honest, the nightmare about dating muggles.
Eventually, you got to a point in the relationship where you either had to make the life-altering decision of telling them that you were a wizard or ending it.
"Once," I replied.
And it had been a fucking disaster and not something I felt ready to fully open up about quite yet.
"I never have. The few blokes I dated where I maybe thought I should, I would just start hyperventilating and freak out and then eventually I just started making sure I'd get out and move on before I got too emotionally attached."
He paused and glanced up at me again.
"How'd you do it?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, you know, the usual," I managed. "Sat him down, told him we needed to talk, and blurted it out."
I shut my eyes, remembering the disaster that had been.
"I'm guessing that didn't go over so well?" Harry speculated, taking in my expression.
"No. It didn't."
Thankfully, Harry seemed to take the hint and mumbled a quick "Oh," before downing another gulp of his tea.
"Let's not talk about other boys right now," I suggested, pulling Harry back towards me and bending down to plant a kiss just behind his ear.
"There's a reason things never worked out with any of them, and that means we get to be here, together, now, enjoying the booziest tea in all of London," I continued, reaching for Harry's teapot and filling his cup.
"And besides," I added, plucking the second chocolate caramel brownie from the tray and bringing it to his mouth. "You've another caramel brownie to eat."
"That's yours," Harry reminded me, although he continued to eye the brownie hungrily.
"Trust me, I'd much rather watch you enjoy it," I assured him, smiling to myself as Harry acquiesced and leant forward to take a bite, making sure to brush my fingers lightly with his lips as he did so.
Bastard.
"Mmm," he groaned, mouth returning to lick at a stray crumb balanced on the tip of my thumb, and just like that, all thoughts of past relationships and any other blokes flew from my mind, and, probably also partly in thanks to the tipsy tea, my brain's sole focus became getting Harry back to my flat and into my bed.
"Harry," I murmured in his ear, watching as his eyes slid shut and his mouth gently plucked the remainder of the brownie from my hand.
"Hmm?" he asked, eyes fluttering open to send me a positively lustful half-lidded stare.
"Do you remember what I told you I'd planned next on our date?" I asked, nuzzling his neck and then tracing along the curve of his ear with the tip of my nose.
"Tumbling naked into bed," he replied immediately, turning his head to capture my mouth briefly with his own. "And seeing what happens next."
A short while later, Harry was nestled against me, sated and sleepy, in the steamy, scented bath we'd drawn following our mid-date tumble into bed.
"Hmm," Harry hummed happily. "Do we have time for a nap?"
"Of course," I replied, just as sleepy, arms wrapping around him and lazily standing us to get out of the tub.
"A nap was definitely part of the plan."
"You're going to spoil me," he informed me as I floated a towel from the heating rack over and wrapped him in its fluffy softness.
Well, obviously, I thought to myself.
That was the point of having a boyfriend, wasn't it?
"It's not spoiling if you deserve it," was all I said aloud as I wrapped myself in my own warm towel and guided us both back to the bedroom.
"What are we doing after we nap?"
"Watching the sunset and then dinner," I replied as we fell into bed, and my arms automatically reached out to wrap around Harry and pull him close.
I set an alarm for 17h30 and was asleep almost immediately.