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Title: Chapter 15: In Which Harry Talks To Hermione And She's Right As Usual
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling and associates are the legal owners of these characters and settings. I am writing for pleasure not profit
Warnings: None?
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 777
Summary: Harry and Draco are colleagues, who become friends who become... A simple love story about two not so simple boys.
Author's Notes: This is my first Drarry fic, and also my first Drarry series... obviously! I hope I'm doing it right. This fic is also available on AO3 Enjoy!

Chapter One
Chapter Fourteen

“You’re supposed to be helping me,” Harry groans and Hermione looks at him witheringly.

“I think you’ll find that you’re supposed to be helping me,” she points out, gesturing to the pile of vegetables on the kitchen table. Harry sighs, picking up a peeler and a potato. He could probably do this with a spell, or even ask Kreacher to do it, but Hermione likes peeling by hand. She says it reminds her of the fact that she lived 11 years as a muggle.

“What should I do? He’s knows I’m gay, and I’m nearly 100% sure he’s been flirting with me for the past few weeks, but nothing has happened!” Harry wails, gesturing with his potato. Hermione nods silently and Harry watches her. Usually she would have said something. She always says something. “Hermione?”

“What do you want me to say Harry?” she asks, her voice soft as she peels carrots, “There is nothing I could say that I haven’t already said to you.”

“Tell me what to do!” Harry begs, opening his eyes wide and leaning his head close to her. She glances over at him and he grins up at her. He knows that she’ll give in eventually.

“Carry on peeling.” She smiles at him and Harry carries on peeling his potato slowly. The great thing about Hermione is that she can’t help getting involved. Harry glances at her through his eyelashes. She has to be thinking of a plan. Thinking of a plan is what Hermione does. Behaving rashly and getting into trouble is what Harry and Ron do.

“Have you tried just telling him that you like him?” Hermione asks, putting her peeled carrots into a large pot and pulling a large bag of parsnips towards her. Harry groans and rolls his eyes.

“Yes!” He feels his voice getting high, heat rising in his cheeks. Hermione sits in silence, calmly peeling parsnips. Harry feels the tension building, the silence making his skin itch. It doesn’t take him long to break. “Well maybe not in those words.”

“Harry,” Hermione sighs and Harry feels his pulse pick up.

“It’s not my fault! I just… I can’t just tell him!” Harry whines. He can’t. He looks down at the potato, not really seeing it, images of Draco with his long legs and elegant fingers and perfect, full, pink mouth washing through his brain. He feels his cock start to harden at the thought of those lips against his, his tongue sliding into Harry’s mouth. What does he taste like? Are his lips soft, or firm? Does he push back, does he nip, where do his hands go?

There is no way that Harry can just tell him.

“Harry, how can you expect Draco to know that you want him if you won’t even tell him?” Hermione finishes the parsnips and puts them into the pot with the carrots. She stands and walks to the hob, filling the pot with a quick Aguamenti. Harry feels the irritation rising in his chest.

“Because I’ve been so fucking obvious about it Hermione!” He groans and puts his potato and peeler down on the table before running his hands through his hair. Maybe he should have talked to Ron about all of this. Except Ron would have told him to talk to Hermione. Because normally Hermione gives really good advice.

Harry looks up when he feels her move towards him. She crouches in front of him, her eyes warm and full of concern and Harry feels bad for her. It must be annoying to have him constantly talk about it. At least when he has had other boyfriends it’s been easy. They all wanted a bit of the chosen one.

“Listen to me Harry.” Her voice is stern and Harry bites back the sarcastic comment. “As obvious as you make it, and as much as Draco knows you like him, and as much as Draco might like you, he is never, ever going to make the first move.”

“But–“

“No. He won’t Harry. He’s a Slytherin. He’s all about self-preservation and so even if he was 100% certain, he wouldn’t risk it.” Her eyes open wider and Harry feels his shoulders slump. “He just won’t.” Hermione sighs, rubbing at Harry’s thighs a little.

“I need to make the first move, don’t I?” Harry breathes and Hermione gives him an encouraging smile. Harry nods, a warm sense of dread and determination settling in his stomach.

Dread and determination are good, he reminds himself. He lived through the war on dread and determination. If he can face death, he can face making a twat of himself in front of Draco.

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