Silky fabric slips through Draco's fingers as he hangs it on the clothes rack. Narcissus Clothing is his fashion business on Mainstreet where he hosts fashion shows, designs his own clothes, and has a tailoring service; it's October and his business is finally booming.

However, it's unusual for anyone to come into the store at nine on a Monday morning, so when the bells above the door chimes he's surprised. He turns around to find himself facing the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Draco has to consciously close his jaw so he's not gaping at the man.

"Wel- eh hem- welcome in! How can I help you this morning?" Draco asks, trying to prevent his voice from cracking.

"Hi! You tailor suits, right?"

Draco absolutely melts at the sound of the man's voice; sweet music like raspberry honey pours from between his full lips. It takes him a moment to realize that he's supposed to respond.

"Yes! Did you bring a suit with you, or are you looking to buy?"

Draco watches the man's strikingly green eyes sweep the colorfully organized shoppe as he responds, "To buy if that's alright."

"Perfect! If you go over to that podium over there I'll grab my things and be right over."

The man nods, causing his raven black hair to bounce messily on his head and it's all Draco can do to force himself to look away and grab his tools. Once he gets to the podium, the man is standing awkwardly next to it, looking at himself in the mirror with a funny expression.

"What's your name?" Draco asks, opening his box and pulling out his measuring tape.

"I'm Harry."

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you. What are you specifically looking for today, handsome?"

Harry looks startled at being called handsome, and a light blush dusts his freckled cheeks.

"Er... I don't really know. I'm going to my friends' wedding, but they're both a bit out of the ordinary, so the wedding... well, its butterfly-themed. We were all instructed to wear 'butterfly colors', whatever that means. Anyway, I don't own anything more brightly colored than a red and gold scarf."

Draco pauses. "Wait. You know Luna too?"

"I- yeah! We've been friends since Ginny introduced her to all of us... how do you know them?"

"Luna is one of the models for my fashion line," Draco says proudly, looking at Harry in the mirror. Harry is the first to look away when Draco grins.

Harry smiles, relieved. "That's great, now you know exactly what to dress me in!"

Draco nods, still taking in Harry's figure and style. His creamy hazelnut skin is smooth and nearly unblemished, save for a small scar peeking out from between his black birds-nest of hair. He would look fabulous in yellow, or maybe green, to match his eyes, Draco thinks. Of course, it needs to be a high-contrast color to accentuate his muscular figure, and he'll have to be careful to get the height measurements correct. Harry is a tall man.

A very beautiful tall man.

"Alright, extend your arms," Draco instructs, getting into his tailoring mojo. Or whatever you would call it. He sets out a pad and pencil and then takes out his measuring tape, turning around to face Harry, whose arms are extended in front of him, parallel to each other.

He has to stifle laughter.

"Harry, that's- oh Merlin. Here," he says, taking Harry's hands in his own and guiding his arms out to where they're supposed to be. He pretends not to notice Harry's blush or the way his hands are like warm stones in his own slender, cold fingers.

Draco measures Harry's wingspan, shoulder-to-arm length, height, hip-to-leg length, being careful to write down the measurements exactly as he takes them. Every time he gets close to Harry to take a new measurement, he feels the man tense and hears him inhale softly like he's slightly startled.

Draco is taking Harry's shoulder measurements - the man has very broad shoulders - when they lock eyes in the mirror.

Draco's head is just by Harry's shoulder, and you can see that he's slightly shorter than the raven-haired man. He rests his hands lightly on Harry's shoulders, cocking his head to the side and grinning. When Harry blushes for the umpteenth time that morning, Draco winks and returns to his measurements.

"How did you get into the fashion industry?" Harry asks spontaneously while Draco is measuring his (very nice) arse.

"Well, my parents were very prominent members of their corner of society, so I was raised with an appreciation of looking your best. I discovered that my appreciation went even further." Draco chuckles, a memory resurfacing in his mind that he hadn't thought of in years.

"Once, when I was little, Mother told me to get dressed for a dinner party we were hosting. She left me alone and came back to find me in one of her dresses - she's a bit on the shorter side, and I was a tall child - and I had just finished slicking back my hair when I told her I was ready.

"I remember her laughing so hard and telling me to stay put so she could get the camera, and she took a picture of me told me she thought I looked wonderful."

Harry chuckles, messing up the measurements that Draco wasn't really taking.

"So, were you allowed to wear it?"

"Of course I was! I got whatever I wanted, so if I was going to wear a dress then that's just how it was going to be. Mother even helped me pick out some jewelry to go with it- later that week she took me to get my ears pierced."

Draco smiles, recounting his mother holding his hands while he squeezed his eyes shut and let the beautician pierce his ears. He cried a little bit, though he'd never admit it, and he prided himself on the emerald-colored studs that he wore for three months afterward.

"That's amazing," Harry says, beaming at Draco. They lock eyes once more, but properly this time, and all of a sudden Draco feels seen in a way that he's never been seen before. Like Harry can see into his mind, his soul, and his every emotion.

It's powerful and shocking and exhilarating, and he can't look away.

He can only stay lost in those green eyes.

Unfortunately, balance does not seem to be one of Harry's fortés because he sways to the side and pitches into Draco, who has to drop his measuring tape and catch him.

"Merlin, you have the balancing skills of a three-legged stag. It's a miracle you've survived as long as you have," Draco says, hoisting the squirming Harry back up onto the podium.

Harry nods in agreement, chuckling a bit. "Yeah, I've had more strange near-death experiences than I'd like."

Draco nods as if this is something any normal customer would say and then does a double-take. "Pardon?"

"You're taking a long time with my measurements," Harry deflects, glancing at his watch.

"Have you got somewhere to be?"

"No, but you've probably got customers waiting outside, or... something," Harry finishes weakly.

"Well, lucky you, I'm actually just finishing up. Then we can pick fabrics and you can come back in a few hours to pick it up." Draco tries not to sound disappointed by how earnest Harry is to leave. He thought that there were certain vibes between them, but...

He shakes those thoughts from his head, double-checking his measurement sheet and heading to the silks aisle, which he had just previously been stocking.

"Since the wedding is butterfly-themed, I figured- Harry?" Draco turned around to find that Harry was not, in fact, following him like he'd hoped. This boy might be cute but he's blind as a bat.

He sighs and backtracks, beckoning to Harry and waiting for him to catch up.

"Like I was saying before I realized that you haven't a clue how to follow cues," Draco says, sending a teasing smirk to a blushing Harry, "I was thinking that a nice turquoise-blue color would suit you. What do you think?"

"Er- sure? I don't know anything about fashion, so whatever you think will go best. Honestly, I'm just like a barbie doll."

That was the wrong thing to say, and Harry realized this as soon as he saw the mischievous smirk and devilishly glowing eyes of one Draco Malfoy.

"So I can dress you up?"

Harry backpedals, "No, not that's not what I meant, I don"t have all day Draco-"

But it was obviously too late.

That's how Harry ended up spending the next hour and a half being dressed up in more fabrics and colors than he thought possible. Draco ended up making him change into skin-tight shorts and a tank top, to 'better estimate how the clothes will need to fit. Which was true, of course, but Draco was also looking forward to seeing Harry's muscles.

"You know, I was really set on this turquoise, but midnight blue suits you very well too..." Draco says for the umpteenth time that morning.

He really does get into the mojo of designing outfits. The color varieties and possible combinations fascinate him, and he's never satisfied until he finds one just right for his client.

"Draco, seriously, haven't you got other clients? I don't want to take up all your time, I feel bad."

Draco waves him off, burying himself in a rack of purple silk. "Pah. I called in my assistant, Pansy, to man the desk and take orders for me. We'll be fine."

Draco is about to huff and discard his fruitless search through the purples when something small catches his eye. Just a sliver tucked between two others, but Draco immediately knows. That's the color for Harry.

Excitedly, he pulls it out, discovering that there's probably enough to make a suit jacket and pants from. The shimmering purple is almost holographic, changing color depending on the angle in which it's viewed, and captivating Draco.

"Harry, I think I've just the color for you."

He turns hastily pulls the other fabrics off of Harry, throwing them over his shoulder, and sets the bolt in Harry's outstretched arms.

Perfect.

It's like watching a stream be united with the river, sparkling and seamlessly blending into one greater whole. Like cresting a peak and finally getting that once-in-a-lifetime view that leaves you breathless. Like falling in love.

"You're beautiful, Harry," Draco unintentionally mumbles.

Once more, they lock eyes, and Draco takes slow steps forwards. He gently takes the bolt out of Harry's arms and then turns to face him, eyes full of wonder. How can such a beautiful man even exist in this world?

He reaches out, tenderly placing one hand on Harry's cheek. Leaning into the touch, Harry's smile melts Draco's heart totally and absolutely, and he closes the gap. Their lips meet gently in a peaceful kiss filled with hope and fascination and beauty, and Draco thinks he'd never like it to end when Harry puts his arms around the former's neck and pulls him in closer.

It's not heated, not passionate, not sensual, but it's soft, and curious, and beautiful. Draco pulls away and shamelessly looks into Harry's eyes finding a gaze matching his own wonder.

"You're beautiful, Harry," Draco repeats.

Smiling, Harry says, "Have you got a date to the wedding yet?"

"Are you asking me out?"

Harry laughs. "Obviously, nitwit. And you say I'm the one who can't read cues..."

"Hey!"

Harry pecks Draco on the lips again and uncoils his arms from around the latter's neck. "But I am going to need a suit to go to the wedding, so if you want a date you're better get cracking."

"I never agreed to go with you," Draco teases.

"Are you saying you just kissed me like that to not go out with me?"

Draco beams, turning to Harry. "Of course not, beautiful."

He melts for the umpteenth time that day at the sight of Harry's smile and knows he's truly in deep.

"So you're okay with this purple?"

Harry frowns. "Are there such things as purple butterflies?"

"Are there- Harry!" Draco cackles, bending over and clutching his stomach. "Harry, there are butterflies in every color, you toad."

"But... purple?"

"Apatura iris, or the Purple Emperor. You'll look exactly like it."

Harry nods. "Okay."

"Cutie," Draco mumbles, shaking his head. "Now are you going to keep me company while I sew?"