ONE

"I'll be right back, I'm going to the loo," Harry mumbles to Ron, sliding across the black leather seats and making his way across the main dance floor.

Harrow Heights is one of the- scratch that, the most popular club in Wizarding London. It's also the most unique, with an inner layout similar to that of The Burrow, only about ten times bigger. With party rooms, private rooms, gambling tables, the main dance area, a restaurant, a stage for live bands and karaoke, and way more alcohol than is probably legal, Harrow Heights has made a name for itself. What happens in Harrow stays in Harrow.

So it shouldn't be surprising to Harry that he bumps into someone he knows almost every time he comes here, which isn't very often, but still. Only, he didn't ever expect to run into Draco Malfoy.

Literally.

Drunk Harry is heading down a dimly lit hallway which (hopefully) leads to the bathrooms when he collides with a boney being, bouncing off of them and into the color-changing walls. Who decided that it would be a good idea to put color-changing wallpaper in a place where ninety-nine percent of the people are plastered?

"Sorry, my bad!" Harry exclaims, looking up to see who he accosted and locking eyes with none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Potter?"

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

Draco rolls his eyes and relaxes quite a bit. "I'm having a party, obviously. We are in the hallway for the party rooms."

Harry looks around and discovers that they are indeed in that party hallway. Not going to find the toilets down here, he supposes.

"Oh."

They stand in the hallway, staring awkwardly at each other for a moment before Draco speaks. "Well, I'll see you around, Potter."

He's gone about ten feet before Harry calls out again. "Wait! Malfoy! Er- happy birthday."

He watches Draco's expression fly from confused to suspicious to wary and back to confused again, ending with slightly pink cheeks as he thanks Harry and hurries down the hall.

As Harry tries to find the bathrooms again, he only has one thought on his mind: how does he know when Draco Malfoy's birthday is?

TWO

The next time Harry and Draco meet is at the same club roughly two months later, but this time on the main dance floor. Harry didn't want anything special for his 23rd birthday, only to be with his two best mates in the whole world. So Ron and Hermione took him out.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are standing on the dance floor, bopping in time to the music, when Ron suggests that Harry go dance with someone. Harry shakes his head, but Ron and Hermione share a glance that tells him this won't be the end of it for them. An hour later, he's danced with two boys and a very tall woman that could probably crush his skull between her thighs, and he's having a blast.

When Harry turns around into the arms of a man slightly shorter than him with striking blonde hair and starts to grind against him, he thinks nothing of it. But the man looks up at him and Harry realizes he has his crotch pressed against Draco Malfoy's. He tries to stumble back but Draco catches his arms.

"Are you going to keep following me to this club, Potter, or will you finally grow out of your obsession with me?" Draco says into Harry's ear, continuing to dance with him.

The mixture of alcohol, hormones, and confusion does wonders to Harry's brain, and all of a sudden he's a stuttering, incompetent fool. More than usual, of course.

"Who says you're not following me?" He chokes out.

Draco's laughter pollutes Harry's brain and without thinking, he wraps his arms around Draco's neck and pulls him closer, creating more friction between them. They keep dancing until the song ends, and Draco whispers, "Happy birthday, Potter," into Harry's ear.

And then he's alone on the dance floor.

THREE

Draco awakes a few mornings later to his owl, Gwen, bonking her head into his shoulder. There's a brown paper package on his desk that definitely was not there the night before, and he can only assume it was delivered this morning.

But from whom?

He stretches and rubs two hands down his chiseled face, sighing contently. Nothing like waking up to a sunny Saturday with a package on his desk.

Draco gets out of bed and feeds Gwen before sitting at the mahogany wood and opening his package. It's not wrapped very well and the twine around it is coming loose without much prodding, and when Draco opens it he only discovers a perfectly cubic cardboard box.

Cocking his head, he pops the top open and pulls out the contents.

It's a mug.

Draco frowns, confused until he turns it around and sees what's written on it. The words surrounding a very grumpy cat face read, 'I don't like morning people. Or mornings. Or people.' and Draco laughs. That's actually a very accurate description of his personality, considering he just woke up and it's one in the afternoon.

There's also a crumpled-up piece of parchment inside the mug.

~Happy late birthday, you great big grumpy cat. Hope you think it's funny, not insulting.~

There's no signature at the bottom, but Draco would recognize that chicken-scratch handwriting anywhere. Harry Potter sent him a birthday present.

As he makes a cup of coffee with his new mugs, he ponders this. Sure, they danced at the club a few nights ago, but they were both absolutely plastered. It couldn't have meant anything to Potter.

Even if it did mean something to Draco.

But he shakes those thoughts from his head. He should send a thank-you note, because that's the polite thing to do, and not because his heart skips a beat at the thought of correspondence with Harry.

~Thanks for the mug, it really does suit me. I wonder how you knew...
If you should choose to send me any more gifts, however, I should warn you that I like ragdoll cats the best. And I also like coffee.~

That should do it, he thinks, tying the note to Gwen's ankle and sending her on her way.

His heart definitely does not skip a beat when he receives a note back less than two hours later.

~That was a very conflicting clue. What do you want, a ragdoll covered in coffee? Coffee made of ragdoll fur? You're a very confusing man, Draco Malfoy.
If you like coffee so much, you should just go to the Cat Café on Mainstreet. Around 11 o'clock tomorrow. If you'd like.~

Draco doesn't know why he's grinning so widely. Maybe it's because he might've just gotten asked out by Harry Potter. Maybe it's because he's going to get free coffee and cats.

Whatever the reason, he responds, ~I'm amazed you think I'll be awake that early. Well, maybe I will be for you.~

FOUR

Draco shows up for their date on Sunday at 11 am with a late birthday present for Harry that he thinks his raven-haired idiot will absolutely love. Or hate. It's a fine line, really.

Harry is late, which he should've expected. He's definitely the kind of guy that would make plans and then spend ten minutes convincing himself to walk out the door and actually commit to said plans, so Draco orders himself a vanilla latte with hazelnut and a raspberry scones and waits patiently.

"Sorry I'm late, the tube was- hey, you ordered already!" Harry says, frowning.

"It's not my fault that you were-" he checks his watch, "-eleven minutes late. I woke up early for you and you couldn't even be bothered to be on time. At least I had the cats to keep me company or I might've abandoned you."

Harry harrumphs and plops down into the chair across from Draco, running a hand through his wind-swept hair. Draco takes a moment to admire Harry's white tank top, flannel, and jeans which reveal his abs and wonderful arse.

Not that Draco's been looking.

"What are you going to get?" Draco asks as Harry hails the waitress.

"Black coffee with caramel swirled in, if you can, thanks," he says, giving the girl a polite smile and turning back to Draco's abhorred expression.

"You drink black coffee? With caramel? I'm leaving," he jokes, although he's got two cats fighting over his lap and one slung around his shoulders, so he's not going anywhere.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's in that bag."

Draco grins wickedly and hands it to Harry. "Why don't you find out?"

It's a coffee mug that says 'Me, sarcastic? Never...' and Harry actually laughs when he reads it.

"Happy late birthday, 'you great big grumpy cat.' Now we can drink coffee out of our matching bitchy mugs."

This sends Harry into further fits of laughter, and Draco beams. Harry really does have a nice laugh. When the waitress comes back, he pours his coffee into his recently acquired mug and takes a sip, making the stupid face Draco's ever seen and he loves it.

Maybe they have a chance at this.

FIVE

The next year, one of the many presents Harry gets his blonde boyfriend for his birthday is a mug. Bright, sunshine yellow with thick black letters that read 'I'm a ray of fucking sunshine'. Harry thinks it's hilarious. Draco just glares at him.

There's also a stupidly sweet card, cat cufflinks that match the actual two cats they have together, and a Weasley sweater in dark green with a large grey 'D' on it. They both pretend not to notice the way Draco's eyes gloss over at the last one.

"The cats are going to love this stupidly soft sweater," Draco says, patting the couch beside him for Pickle and Buckbeak to hop up.

"You're supposed to love it too, nutcase."

"I do."

Harry beams.

"I have something for you too, actually," Draco says, standing and heading to their room.

"What? It's your birthday, you're not allowed to gift me any gifts today. That's my job. Come back here!"

It's useless because Draco disappears behind the door and reappears a few moments later with his hands behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

Harry gives him a look. "That's an awfully suspicious thing to say to your boyfriend."

"Oh shut it. And shut your eyes. Please?" The look on Draco's face just makes Harry shake his head and do what's asked of him. He's suddenly hyper-aware of the leather chair he's sitting in, the cold floor beneath his bare feet, and the sound of Draco walking closer.

He pauses in front of Harry, and for a moment, there's silence. Then...

"Open your eyes, Harry."

Harry looks down to find Draco on one knee in front of him. There's a thick, gold ring with three small emeralds inlaid sitting inside a velvet box in Draco's hands.

"Harry James 'Great-Big-Grumpy-Cat' Potter, will you marry me?"

The cold ring slides onto his finger and warm lips are pressed against his, then his forehead, then his previously empty ring finger.

He said yes, of course.