"I, for one, am terribly proud of you, Draco," Pansy said, leaned over the arm of the plush red velvet armchair sitting on the edge of the tailor's work area.

Draco rolled his eyes, letting his arm drop as the small neat old man moved his measuring tape from Draco's chest down to his legs, "You're not my mother, Pansy."

She snorted, "Oh heavens no! If I ever had a child like you I'd have left you out in the cold to die of exposure."

"Charming," Draco said blandly, he glanced down at the old man, "I will need a suit in nine days time, will that be possible?"

"Jasper is a miracle worker," Pansy said confidently before he could answer, "That's why I brought you here."

The old man, Jasper, didn't look up from his work, nudging Draco's leg to measure his inseam, "I foresee no problems with that time frame."

Draco took the opportunity to admire Jasper once more. He was just a short old man with fussy grey hair but his suit, with its many layers all carefully fitted and tailored, did things for the man. It created lines and shapes that made Jasper look tall, long of leg, and impossibly elegant despite the fact that he was a head shorter than Draco. 

Draco had seen muggle suits before but none that looked like Jasper's. One look at the older gentleman had stolen all the hesitation from Draco when Pansy had steered him into the shop.

Jasper stood, folding up his measuring tape and nodded to the other chair beside Pansy's, "I shall return momentarily."

Draco dropped into the velvet chair and stretched out his legs with a sigh. Even being in the shop, knowing what he was getting the suit for, sent a thrill along his nerves. He laced his hands together and squeezed.

Pansy stood, sliding their chairs against one another so she could lean over and put a comforting hand on his arm, "Don't fuss about it Draco."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered.

She smiled at him like he was daft and shook her head, "It's your dream date. What's to worry about?"

"But it's not. I paid for the privilege of a dinner across from Potter, he probably won't even talk to me," his hands started shaking slightly and he pressed them between his knees to still them, "I'll be lucky not to end up with a broken nose by the end of the night."

"He spoke with you after the auction. So, it won't be that bad." Pansy said. "If you really think it's doomed from the start you're hardly going to enjoy it, are you? Just relax and play out your weird little fantasy."

Draco half smiled, "Oh really? And what is my weird little fantasy?"

Pansy rolled her eyes and shrugged, "Fuck if I know, probably something utterly sappy. Really, if people knew what a gormless romantic you were your reputation would be in tatters." She sniffed, her lip curling in distaste, "Pining after the same rather unappealing boy for years? Dreadful. After this date you can have a good cry, we'll all get together to get utterly pissed and you'll be able to move on," She patted his arm, "I've met the perfect man for you. His name is George, he's greek."

"You are a true friend," Draco drawled sarcastically.

Jasper returned with a rack full of suits and impatiently waved Draco back to the center of the room. He held up suit after suit, shaking his head at most of them and narrowing it down to five different suits in several colors, "Which do you prefer?" He asked coolly.

Pansy tapped her finger on her lips, "I think... the pale grey, with a blue shirt to bring out your eyes."

Jasper nodded, "And a tie in the same grey. Sir might also consider a waistcoat in white rather than a matching piece. "

Draco had to agree, the colors were good on him but well... "Yes, that I will put a rush on that suit in particular but I think I should like all of them."

Jasper smiled faintly, "Yes, sir. And would sir be interested in viewing more waistcoats and dress shirts to further extend his wardrobe?"

"I would," Draco said, flicking through the rack of clothing.

"Well, if nothing else you'll come out of this whole thing looking fabulous," Pansy tittered.

Draco raised an eyebrow and conceded, "There is that."

Draco stared at himself in the mirror, minutely adjusting the grey tie for the thousandth time, forced himself to walk away and went to his desk where he checked the letter that had the address of the muggle restaurant again. He twisted around to check the tempus he had cast earlier and then recast it to make sure it was correct. It was an hour before the reservation. He had promised himself to leave at a half an hour. Only thirty minutes more to wait. Only.

Draco checked the letter again, rereading the apparition coordinates that he already had firmly memorized which were a ten minutes walk from the restaurant. So if he left a half an hour before the reservation he would get there twenty minutes early, which would not be unseemly but if something were to go wrong he would have that twenty minutes as leeway. He was pacing. He stopped himself and squeezed his hands together. He went back to the mirror.

He straightened his tie, tugged on his white waistcoat, smoothed the collar of the pale blue shirt and turned his head in the mirror to check his hair in case a strand had moved in the last five minutes of frantic pacing. He was still too thin, too sharp and far too pale, but looked he looked fairly good, as good as he ever would.

The door cracked open and Jasly his house elf stepped inside with a bow, "Master Draco? Harry Potter is here to see you."

Draco froze. He flicked his wand and recast his tempus. He wasn't late. Unless he had been told the wrong reservation time?

"Where is he?"

Jasly stepped back from the door, "In the entrance hall."

Draco checked his appearance one last time and hurried down the hall. At the head of the stairs he saw a flash of black hair and slowed, stopping at the top step.

Potter was standing near the bottom of the tall curving staircase looking up at one of the many Malfoy family portraits scattered around the vast estate. His hair was... neat. It was tight on the sides and pushed back from his forehead in a neat sweep, the loose curling strands giving his hair an enviable natural height. That was enough to render Draco speechless but Potter was also wearing a black blazer with a thin black tie and a green dress shirt the same colour of his eyes. He looked stunning.

Draco swallowed hard and looked down at himself. He nervously buttoned his jacket closed before placing his hand on the banister and walking down the stairs with a practiced calm he didn't feel in the slightest.

Draco said coolly, "I was under the impression that the dinner reservation was for seven,"

Potter's head snapped around. His eyes widened and he stared at Draco as if hypnotized.

It made his heart race and Draco wished for the millionth time that he wasn't so ridiculously affected by Harry-sodding-Potter.

Draco's brows twitched upwards, "Potter? Is something wrong?" he asked, descending the last step and crossing the remaining distance between them.

Potter jump like he had been stung and shook his head briefly, "Sorry, what?"

"I understood that the reservations were for seven," Draco repeated stiffly.

Potter swallowed hard, "Right. Erm, they are."

Draco sighed, "Then why are you here?"

"To pick you up?" Potter said hesitantly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Draco blinked in surprise, "I wasn't aware that was part of the arrangement."

"It's not," Potter went to run a hand through his hair and pulled it back at the last second, nervously curling his fingers into a loose fist at his side, "I thought- ....I thought maybe it'd be nice?" He shifted his weight again, "It's been five years andmaybe we could... we could..." He floundered and bit his bottom lip.

Draco couldn't remember ever seeing Potter so anxious, it was strangely calming. He let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Potter sucked in a breath. "A fresh start!" he finally managed to blurt out with an impressive amount of enthusiasm.

Potter chewed his bottom lip again which was already looking chapped and much abused, putting Draco in mind of other things those lips might have been doing. He forced himself to look away before he flushed; unlike Potter, it would show starkly on his pale skin.

He remembered Pansy's suggestion to pretend, which had seemed stupid at the time, but it seemed no more foolish than Potter's fresh start. Nice indeed. Why not indulge in the dream for one night?

"To a fresh start," Draco held out his hand, his other arm automatically crossing the small of his back out of habit. Potter hesitated for a moment before shocking himself back to reality and take his hand. Potter's hand was large and strong and Draco could feel callouses that were strangers to anything his own hands had ever known.

Feeling bold, Draco asked impulsively, "May I call you Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened, "Sure, that would be, I mean it's my name so- It's fine." Harry took a deep breath and continued more certainly, "Would Draco be alright?"

A pleasant little shiver went down Draco's back at hearing Harry say his first name, "Yes, I would like that," he smiled faintly.

Harry eyes widening slightly and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Draco shook his head in mild amusement and looked Harry over again now that he was closer. His faint smile grew to a grin, "Jeans and trainers?"

"They're new," Harry said quickly, looking away in embarrassment, "The dress code was just for a jacket and tie so I- well..."

The jeans were new, well fitted, in blue so dark they were almost black and paired with new red and white canvas trainers. Draco let out a huff of amusement, "It suits you. You look very fine indeed."

"That sounded like a compliment," Harry said faintly.

"It was," Draco raised an eyebrow, "Shocking, I know."

Harry let out a relieved laugh, like a bubble had been popped somewhere inside him, "I was half afraid you'd end up dressed like a bit of a clown," he tensed and then blurted hurriedly, "What I mean is, a lot of witches and wizards have no idea how muggles dress so when they try and blend in.. it, er, can be," he swallowed hard, "....a mess."

"Yes, I do recall seeing a few quite tragic outfits myself on occasion," Draco said, "Quite frankly, it might have been a complete disaster if it wasn't for Pansy introducing me to a quite patient and talented muggle tailor." He looked down at himself and felt another little surge of pride, "It is quite remarkable what muggles can make without magic isn't it? I have to say I'm fairly enamored with all the different pieces and styles one can get for a suit."

"Pansy Parkinson?" Harry's brow furrowed, "You're still seeing her?"

"She's a good friend. Her girlfriend arranged-" Draco broke off before he admitted to the depths of desperation he stooped to have this opportunity. He went on without missing a beat, "Pansy is seeing Astoria Greengrass? She was three years below us."

Harry shrugged but seemed more relaxed.

Draco cast tempus for probably the hundredth time that day, "Shall we go?" He nodded towards the time.

"Uh, sure. This place has anti-apparition wards around it right?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. He was keyed into the wards and could apparate out of them if he pleased but he was in no hurry. They walked side by side out of the entrance hall and down the long sloping path to the gates, white gravel crunching underfoot.

Neither of them spoke and the silence would have been almost comfortable if it weren't for Harry's anxious fidgeting with his jacket and hands.

"Is something the matter?" Draco asked.

Harry twitched guiltily, "Oh, no. No, in fact, everything is very... nice." he finished lamely.

"Nicer than you expected I gather?" Draco said, one side of his mouth curling up, "Were you expecting the hedges to eat you? Or perhaps to find the walls painted with blood? And to complete the picture I would be dressed in all black with a whip or something equally dreadful and tasteless?"

"A scythe?"

Draco looked over at him.

Harry shrugged, "If you were looking to suggestions for something dreadful and tasteless."

"Yes, a scythe, why not?" Draco smirked.

Harry smiled faintly, still looking off balance, "The grounds do look nice and the house. It doesn't look like, err, from before and it seems... nice."

Draco stared at Harry and then raised an eyebrow. He appreciated the fact that Harry was going out of his way not to offend but since he managed to stick his foot in his mouth anyway it felt like a bit of a lost cause. He paused at the gates and looked back to the Manor, the grey stones rising over lawns manicured to green velvet with perfectly shaped hedges and immaculate rose bushes that were always in bloom. A few windows in the Manor glowed with light but the building seemed sedate and quiet in the growing dark.

"When I was young, my parents would throw massive balls and dinner parties nearly every fortnight," He said, his voice distant with memory, "It seemed to make to building come to life, floating candles and fairy lights, sparkling wines on silver trays moving around the room as the guests danced, twirling and laughing in a swirl of colorful silk robes and heady perfume." He took a deep breath, "The war took all that away, tainted it. For a long time I felt that-" the name stuck painfully in his throat but he forced it out, "-Voldemort living here killed the Manor. I wanted to burn the whole place down."

"But you didn't," Harry said.

"No, I didn't," Draco smiled ruefully, "Can you smell dark magic, Harry?"

He jumped a little at the sound of his name, "Smell it? Not really. I think?"

"I can," Draco sighed reaching out towards the gate and watched them swing open at his touch, "Come on," he gestured for Harry to follow as he stepped past the black wrought iron and through the wards surrounding the vast estates.

"What does it smell like?" Harry asked, hurrying to catch up.

Draco's lip curled at the memory, "Sharp and metallic. It's not noticeable at first but it accumulates. It made me quite nauseous."

"But then, the manor?" He gestured back at the quiet building, "It must've reeked."

Draco nodded, "Bleach."

"Bleach?" Harry repeated blankly.

"A muggle cleaning solution, it gets rid of the smell. Bleach also smells quite unpleasant but at least it fades over time." Draco paused, "It also made the stonework brighter than I've ever seen."

A smile crept onto Harry's face, crinkling the corners of his eyes, "So the manor isn't dead anymore?"

"Only sleeping, I think," Draco said softly and then asked, "Shall I side-along us or would you prefer to do it?"

Harry hesitated, the dimming light of dusk picking up the gold undertones in his skin and highlighting an expression of nervousness, for what Draco did not know. He reached out and wrapped a strong hand around Draco's forearm, "You side-along us."

Draco took a deep breath, the heat of Harry's hand was like its own sun. "Hold on," he said, his voice rough and beyond his control. He took comfort in the fact that apparating would hide how much a single touch affected him and they disappeared with a pop.