Hey guys. So I was combing through my laptop and I found this short but sweet drarry story I did last year as a gift for tumblr for dralentine's day (our drarry valentine's day). It was a gift I've done for whatevermalfoy. I honestly forgot I did the story till I saw it again, and decided that since it's Valentine's day why not post it. Hope you like.

First Date

"Maybe this shirt will suffice? Or maybe this one? Wait. I know. The beautiful, emerald-green silk shirt mother sent me from her trip in Paris. I think it will do. It shows my loyalty to my house as well as a silent reminder of how much I love his eyes."

It took Draco about a good minute and four rejected shirts for him to realize that he didn't get a good response to his question. Annoyed, the young man stepped out from depths of his walk-in closet and out into his bedroom, frowning.

Pansy was sitting on his bed, swinging her entwined legs as she flipped through the pages of her magazine. Blaise was lying across it, hands behind his head, not at all trying to hide the fact he was admiring Pansy's backside.

Some friends. Draco scoffed. Here he was, going the last details of what was about to be one of the most important nights of his life, which was just less than two hours away, and what were his friends doing? Lounging about like lazy slouches. "Hello."

Pansy looked up from her magazine long enough to see the dark scowl on Draco's face and respond with an eye-roll. "Honestly, Dray," His scowl darkened at the usage of his childhood nickname. No matter how many times he told her to drop it, she still used it. "You're making a big deal out of nothing. It's just a date, not your wedding."

"I'm with, Pans, on this one," Blaise said. "Worrying doesn't start for me until date three. If I treat them good and still don't get love, then I seriously start to question their sexuality. And their eye-sight."

Without looking at him, Draco eyed his brown loafer lying underneath the bed and watched it as it rose from the floor and raced towards his friend's head. To his displeasure, Blaise had the reflexes of a cat that allowed him to dodge the shoe. However the same couldn't be said for the punch Pansy delivered to his arm, getting in a good hit.

"Merlin, Pans, that hurts." Blaise hissed, rubbing his bruised arm.

"That's what you get for being an arse."

As the two bickered over Blaise's choice of words and Pansy's abusive nature, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered his head, a soft groan hissing from his lips. With the way these two were going at it, he was most likely to get a migraine from his preparations.

Just what I needed.

"Look, Draco," Blaise said. "I'm going to tell you what my brother told me about dating nerves. When in doubt, pull the cock out and let the Slytherin do what they do best."

Draco was pleased to see that his other loafer made direct contact to Blaise's face, smacking the boy right across the head. "It's not just about sex, you nit."

If only it were that simple. If it was just sex that he was after then things would be much easier on his end. Sadly it wasn't the case. Well, it wasn't that he didn't want sex. Though he questioned a number of his choices and wants over the past few months, his attraction towards the emerald-eyed, dangerously-beautiful Saint Potter had never been up for debate. He was obsessed with tales about how he managed to live through the Dark Lord's hex as a child. He wanted nothing more than to have all to himself, even if it shifted from being a friend to a rival, but he never minded it much because attention was still attention. And, during the mix of arguments and sneers over the years, the need for him grew in heat over the years of their rivalry, up to the point where most of those he had taken to bed always seemed to have similar traits: dark hair that was always lighter to his raven mane and green eyes that were nowhere near close to the priceless emerald.

And as they say, nothing could ever compare to the original. But that was beside the point. He wanted Potter. He wanted him since he was eleven, and, if thing went right, his wish could finally come true.

Course, that dream would go along faster if he found the right set of clothes to wear. How was it possible that out of the clothes he owed, the thousands of designer shirts, tailor-made robes, he couldn't find a single thing that was worth an hour of this date?

Draco checked for the time. It was ten past six. Damn it. He told Potter he would meet him right in front of the train station at seven sharp, and he wasn't even dressed yet. Lovely.

"Are you two going to help me or mock my pain?" he asked his friends.

Pansy sighed heavily as she rolled her eyes, dropping her magazine on the ground. She pushed herself off the bed, shoved Draco to the side and ignored the glare he fired at her, and decided to take measures into her own hands, stepping in to Draco's closet. A minute later she appeared with a set of clothes in her hands and passed them off to the suspicious Slytherin.

Draco eyed the clothes. One of his favorite silver shirts made from the finest silk paired with a dark velvet vest and matching slacks with his new Italian shoes. At first glance he nearly dismissed the clothes altogether, until he did a more thorough examination, seeing the potential.

I knew there was a reason I kept her around, he thought, smiling at the smirk the girl wore proudly on her face before changing.

At seven 'o' clock, right on the dot, Pot-Harry was right where they said they would meet: Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. When he realized he only had less than a minute to get to the place, Draco grabbed what he needed and floo-ed. Not only was the boy on time, much to his surprise, but he also looked good. Incredibly good.

Draco's steps slowly paused.

Harry had always been good-looking; not even he could doubt it. No one could deny the boy's beauty with the wild mane of raven hair that were begging to be touched, his gorgeous face that was finely structured, and, of course, one of Draco's favorites, his bright emerald eyes that was the most vivid shade of green he had ever seen. However, the boy was no genius when it came to amplifiying his beauty with a few tugs of a comb and more suitable clothing. Tonight, though, Draco wondered if maybe the reason why Harry never really bothered with his appearance because he knew how it powerful it could be as a weapon.

His hair was still wild, but not quite as wild as it usually was. Harry finally put his magic to good use by casting a spell on his hair to make it everything slicked back and in place. A few strands were loose here and there, but Draco didn't mind it. Harry wouldn't be Harry if his hair was completely neat. Plus, trying to fix the stubborn strands himself would give him all the more reason to touch him. Draco was pleased to see that change wasn't only on his hair. Harry looked, well, what else could be he say other than amazing in a green shirt that made his eyes pop, a fine pair of slacks he was proud to say looked pressed and showed how toned his legs were, and completed the look with a silver tie.

Yes, Draco decided. That had to be why the boy didn't bother dressing up. Just casual, he was already beautiful. Groom-up, all smoothen up? The rapid patting of his heart pounding against his chest said it all.

When Harry looked his direction, Draco forced himself not to give into the weak-stumbling of his knees. A Malfoy down on his knees? His ancestors would be tumbling in their graves from the horror. Then again, he wondered if he could held accountable for stumbling when a stunning pair of eyes, eyes that always seemed to see everything and more whenever they looked at him, turned his direction.

You can do this, he told himself. You can do this. "Potter."

"Malfoy." His heart swelled at the sight of Harry's smile, a feature he loved as much as he loved his eyes.

"I must say, Potter, I'm impressed," he said. "All these years wondering and doubting, you proved to me that you actually do know how to use a comb."

He rolled his eyes, but the annoyance he was trying to project wasn't as strong as he hoped, given the slight smile Draco could see hanging by the curve of his pink lips. "Your sense humor never fails to disappoint me, Malfoy. Let's see if you can humor me again. This place," Harry turned to look back at the shop behind them, his eyes slightly dazed, as if he was half in the present and the other half in the past. "Is this the place where-"

"We meet for the first time, yes. Yes, it is." A rush of pleasure ran through Draco. He was pleased that Harry remembered it.

"I.." Not even a minute into the date, and Harry was already speechless. It had to be a sign that this date would be perfect. "I must say I'm surprised. I mean, it was so long ago. I'm surprised that you even remember it."

"Of course, I remember," Draco waited until the boy turned his direction, looking him straight into the eye as he said. "Every moment I found incredible, amusing, and life-changing, I make sure to take note."

And the fact that he remembered their first meeting…Draco decided to let emphasize on his words and the lingering silence followed behind them to fill Harry in on the rest.

By the sudden realization lighting the boy's brilliant eyes, along with the light shade of red coloring his cheeks, he knew that his words had just done. "I see."

"As much as I do enjoy going down memory lane and making you red, Potter, I do believe we have somewhere more fitting to be." He held his hand out, though he couldn't shake off the nerves that were pinching his stomach. He couldn't help but remembering the first time he offered Harry his hand and was rejected.

He was never more relieved to feel Harry's hand in his. The boy's hand was warm, soft. Draco used his thumb to brush against the smooth skin, feeling Harry trembling slightly from his touch.

"I," Harry cleared his throat, trembling a bit. "Where exactly are we going?"

Draco tightened his hold on the boy's hand; as if he were afraid it would slip away, and opened a portal for them. He smirked at the confused frown on Harry's face. "It's a surprise."

The surprise? Italian food. Draco knew that in order for him to win over Harry's heart, he had to be different from the other admirers. He needed to take a different approach in the courting process that didn't involve clothes or gifts. Harry was given more than enough clothes to cloth every orphan in London, so that was out. He could have easily gotten a fine gift that wasn't clothes, but it didn't seem enough. He figured his gift needed to be something close, something that went outside the box that would touch the heart. What was closer to the heart than the stomach? He knew Harry loved food, and thanks to a conversation he overheard at the library Draco knew he favored Italian.

"Even though I never really tried it before. I mean, I barely seen all of London, much less the rest of Europe," he told Granger and her Weasel. "Still though. I'd like to."

Draco took it upon himself to make Harry's wish a reality. He didn't just make reservations at any Italian restaurant, but made them at the best five-star restaurant in the country itself. He may have to used bribery, a few threats, and hexes to avoid the month-long wait, but in the end it was worth it. More than worth it actually as he saw the pure surprise on Harry's face as the portal led them to the front entrance of the restaurant.

"I can't-this is-" he breathed. "This is incredible."

Draco smiled at him, taking his hand and leading him into the restaurant. "Just wait until you've tried the food."

The hostess led them to a private table in the far back, where she lit two candles for them and served them champagne while they waited for their waitress.

The astonishment in Harry's eyes didn't fade away. "I can't believe you actually did this."

Draco tried pulling off a modest smile, he knew too well the praises only inflated his pride. "What can I say? The best only deserve the best."

Harry's response was a pair of blushing cheeks. Draco sipped his champagne, satisfied.

The rest of the night went well. The restaurant lived up to its reputation as being the best of Italy, each bite and taste nothing but amazing, each bite turning into a full-course meal, each meal becoming seconds. Their cups were practically never empty, filling themselves with red wine the second the last drop was gone. Conversations flowed easily as the two talked about everything from their favorite moments at the school, the teachers they liked and the ones they hated, their friends and families, what they planned on doing after graduation.

It was all going so well that Draco was sad to see it end.

He put on a calm, cool face as he signed off the check, leaving the waitress a nice tip for her services. He put that face as he conjured up another portal to transport them back to Hogwarts. He kept on that face as he walked Harry back to his rooms, not paying one bit of attention to the astonished stares people aimed towards their direction.

"I must say, Malfoy, you never stop surprising me. The restaurant, the food-it was all wonderful."

Wonderful enough for there to be a second date? Wonderful enough for them to be a them? Wonderful enough for a kiss?

"I'm glad you had a good time."

Harry's eyes were as bright as his smile. "I did," he nodded. "It was perfect."

"It can be again. If you want it to be that is." By some miracle Draco managed to get the words out in a clear voice, hinting that such a thing was possible. That he was more than willing to make it possible.

Harry didn't answer so much in words as he did with his lips. He cupped Draco's face gently in his hand and pulled him into a kiss that caused every cell in his body to flare, as if he were being licked by flames. Sweet, delicious, addicting flames he wanted to taste over and over again.

"Yes." Harry murmured against his lips, stealing one more kiss before he smiled at him and retreated into his room.

Draco stood in the hallway, staring at the door with a bemused smile on his face he couldn't contain.

The date, the night, the kiss. It was all perfect. Just as he hoped it would be.

Only better.