In all of his years working as a street artist, nobody had ever him asked for his name. Plenty had come close, but none ever as genuine or truly interested in knowing it. So here sat the grey-eyed, blond-haired handsome man just nodding his head to Harry's answer like he hadn't just revealed something about himself to the man that he had never made known to any other customer before.

Harry picked up a piece of charcoal without even thinking about it, and started to sketch out the man, Draco-Harry reminded himself to call him.

"Are you from around here, then?" Draco asked, taking Harry yet again, by surprise. His customer, Draco, was actually asking him a question which meant that he was initiating a conversation between them. Well, that was certainly new.

"Yes actually. My parents have lived in Bath nearly all their lives but I had to move to London to complete my education. What about you?" Harry's eyes flitted up to look into Draco's for a few seconds before he continued with his sketching. He found it worrying, though, how his focus hadn't shifted from Draco. It was like he was sketching absentmindedly, eyes glazed and ears tuned into Draco's voice.

"My parents moved here from France sometime after they got married but before I was born," Draco said, and Harry was sure by now that he was paying absolutely no attention to the sketch or his sketching for that matter. Draco seemed to be thinking out loud when he said, "Bath, isn't that near here?"

"Well, it's a couple of hours drive from here." Harry informed him, brows furrowed as he tried and failed yet again to concentrate on sketching Draco to perfection. "So what do you do, exactly? Are you a uni student, do you have a job?"

When Harry's question was accompanied by silence, he worried that he'd gone too far, that he had gone way past the line that had to be drawn between the customer and himself. He had already crossed it with the questions he'd asked and answered but now he had perhaps gone a bit too far.

As Harry finally dared to look up, he noticed that Draco's shoulders were shaking. He looked up completely confused before it registered in his brain. Draco Malfoy was laughing. But what was he laughing at? Was it Harry or something else entirely?

"What is it? Did I say something wrong?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head at him, and Harry pretended to be annoyed and pissed off. He tried not to show how mesmerized he was by the scene in front of him and how much he wanted Draco to continue laughing, even if it was at Harry's own expense. "No, it's just-just that-I mean I'm pretty sure you aren't paying attention to what you're supposed to be doing. Have you even started with the sketch?"

Oh, so he had noticed. Harry huffed indignantly and looked over at his sketch which he had of course started with ages ago. It was an absolute mess. Draco was right, again.

It must have showed on his expressions because Draco took a quick look down at his watch and said, "You know what, never mind the sketch, I have to go. It was nice talking to you, though, and quite entertaining if I'm being honest. I haven't had a good banter with anybody for a shamelessly long amount of time. I'm going to have to thank Pansy for this." Although he muttered the last part more to himself than to Harry, he heard it anyway and felt his cheeks heat up.

Great. So Harry had not only blown up on the chance to talk to this man and get to know him, because he'd been so tongue-tied and taken with him, he had also wasted his time and was now flustered at the slightest hint of a compliment.

Harry forced himself to speak. "I'm sorry that I didn't get to complete the sketch, and that you don't have enough time for me to do that now. I would've liked to get to know you more. I mean, I enjoyed out talk too," Harry blurted out, being a lot more honest than he was supposed to. He could feel Draco's gaze on him.

"Look you don't need to worry about that sketch. I might come by some other time and get it done," Draco said with a shrug. He pulled his bag onto his shoulder, ready to get going.

"Could I instead, maybe-like get your number and just-so I could tell you when I finish sketching you, maybe?" Harry didn't know whether he was making any sense at all. He just knew that felt pathetic with the way that he sounded so hopeful right then. He felt his heart already starting to break at the thought of this interesting man outright rejecting him.

"Is this how you treat all of your customers?" Draco asked him. Harry's face had already started to heat up from the embarrassment and the humiliation, but it stopped when he noticed that Draco had an expression of incredulity on his face, not one of disgust or some equally negative emotion.

So he gathered his wits once again and decided to be brave just one more time. "Honestly, no. It's just you," he admitted. "I don't like leaving things unfinished."

"Are you referring to your sketch or to our little talk?" Draco asked and Harry really didn't know the answer to that. Draco smiled at that, giving his head a slight shake as he stepped forward and took Harry's hand in his.

Harry looked up at him with wide-full-blown eyes as Draco held it gently, took out a pen from his coat pocket, holding it's lid carefully between his teeth, and pressed the tip to Harry's palm. He wrote his number in a smooth gliding motion and then with another smooth motion, pushed the pen lid back in its place.

"Also, since you've already indicated that we will be meeting once again-" Harry's jaw dropped when he saw Draco shrugging his coat off and taking a small step so that he was standing next to Harry, draping the coat across his shoulders. "-you can give me back my coat the next time we meet."

The coat was warm and soft and fluffy, a complete contradiction to how Harry had been feeling. He felt so much better with the coat on, but he couldn't bring himself to accept Draco's offering. He couldn't have that on his conscience. "Draco, I can't-"

"Oh just keep it, Potter. You look like shit, like hell frozen over, so I'm just doing everybody a favour and making you slightly better to look at."

Harry narrowed his eyes, tempted to give a response that was just as biting, but he could feel the heat from Draco's coat surrounding his body already and he couldn't really bring himself to say anything like that to him. "Fine, Malfoy! I'll give you the sketch and your coat the next time we meet."

"You also owe me a coffee, Potter," Draco added. "For allowing you to waste my precious time, of course." Of fucking course! And the smug bastard was smirking at him again.

"Fine, Malfoy! It's a fucking date," Harry snapped out before he'd even registered the words. He turned around, curious to note Draco's response, but he was already gone to wherever he was supposed to go.

Harry huffed out a sigh of relief until he saw what Draco had written on the piece of paper where Harry had attempted to sketch Draco.

Your words, Potter, not mine. ;)

He was going to kill him. He was going to kill Draco fucking Malfoy.