When You Say Yes

"You've got style, that's what all the girls say. Satin sheets and luxuries so fine. All your suits are custom made in London. But I've got something that you'll really like..."

- Dress You Up, Madonna

"Just how far down do you want to go? Well, we could talk it over a cup of joe, and you could look deep down into my eyes like I was a supermodel."

- The Refreshments - "The World is Full of Stupid People"

"So you're paying, right?" Draco said, his eyes covered with Armani sunglasses, his blonde hair glinting in the spring sun, waving in the breeze of the southern California wind. Harry had to admit that he looked good... even under all of the usual wards to keep unwanted admirers away.

"Um. Yeah I could pay." Harry took out a weathered wallet and carefully examined the currency inside. He looked back up to say that he wasn't quite equipped for an expensive meal but then jumped as he saw a car swerve to get out of the way of Draco's Porsche. The car had nearly taken both of them out. Draco, however, seemed not to notice. "Are you quite sure you have a driver's license here?" Harry asked, gasping.

"I've taken lessons..." Draco started as a Mercedes honked at him as they zoomed past. "There's really nothing to it, if you think about it. Sort of like flying... for some people, it just comes naturally."

Harry began to think of a snide comment but then thought better of it. "Why don't we apparate?"

"We can't."

"Why not?" Harry said, puzzled. "They do have apparition in America, do they not?"

"Well, technically yes, but after what happened in New York they have wards up all over the place to stop apparition for occurring. Something about 'national security.' Bollocks, if you ask me."

"I'm sure that they did, too, considering you're such a big star in Hollywood and everything..." Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Draco shook his head, unfazed. "No, actually, they didn't. You know, Hollywood is filled with wizards and witches. Mostly behind the cameras, not in front of them... But anyway, that's beside my point, and absolutely besides the point of your leaving England and coming to America to find me. In fact, we are both beside our points so thoroughly that we might as well have a nice shag."

Harry let out a small choking noise.

"You are such a stupid lamer," Draco said. "I wouldn't shag you with a 10 foot pole. I mean, considering mine's 11 foot and everything...."

"You're disgusting." Harry looked as if he had just swallowed a lemon.

"No, I'm clever, and witty, and very handsome. And I'm rich. God, Potter, you would think you would be all over me. At least, I would think that."

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"Are you deaf? I just said that."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco obviously had found his niche in Hollywood... a lot of egotistical people who would do anything to get to the top. He wondered briefly if American wizarding schools had their own versions of Slytherin. If they did, he was fairly sure that the majority of them would be in Hollywood.

Draco looked over at him in a sideways glance. "So, really, why are you here?"

Harry looked at him sternly and didn't answer.

"Are you trying to figure out whether you should tell me the truth or something that you think would be more likely to get me back? Because I think that the truth would be a much much better option. It would save us both a whole lot of trouble in the end."

Harry sighed. "It's your father..."

"Ugh. Isn't it always my father?" Draco made a face.

"Actually, yes. After the whole thing where he basically killed Voldemort and took all of his powers, it has been always about your father."

"Oh yeah.... I thought I heard something about that..." Draco had a far off look in his eyes. They were almost hit by an enormous SUV. Harry instinctively took the wheel and guided them to safety.

"Right, right. THIS is why I didn't exactly feel like discussing this with you when we were driving in a place where you quite OBVIOUSLY don't know how." He slumped back in the passenger seat.

"Okay, well, then. It doesn't matter anyway, we're here." He parked the car across three parking spots and sat in the car looking expectantly at Harry.

"What?" Harry began to get out of the car.

"You're going to open my door for me." It wasn't a question.

"WHAT?!"

"Yes, you are. And don't give me that face. I drove you here, it's the least you can do and open the door for me. And, also, judging by the amount of money in that shabby wallet of yours..." Harry made a stuttering sound, which Draco ignored. "...I'm also going to be treating for lunch. Quite rude, if you ask me, making me disrupt my schedule and forcing me treat you to lunch. Although," he paused, his eyes glittering, "with an upbringing like yours that's no surprise."

"Okay, that's enough, Draco."

"Drew, please, love, call me Drew."

"No, that's not your name."

"Okay, according to everybody around here, and even this fabulous birth certificate which I have had made up, my name is Drew Manchester and I was born on August 14, 1982. In London."

"You were born on November 4, 1980!" Harry said, practically shrieking. "And you were born in a creepy mansion off in the middle of some graveyard in Transylvania with lots of evilness lurking about, I would expect."

"Says you," Draco said. He looked like he was holding back the urge to stick out his tongue.

Harry felt very flustered. "Says everybody in the wizarding world! Says your father! Says your mother, for God's sake, and I think at least SHE would know... I mean, other than the Transylvania bit, but still."

"Not like I talk to them or anything. And for that matter, not like you talk to them either. So really, how would you know?"

Harry gave Draco a simpering look. "Ugh." He walked out of the car and opened the door for Draco. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"That's part of what makes you love me as much as you do."

Harry shook his head. "You never knew when to quit. Glad to see some things don't change... Unlike your name."

"You like my new name, admit it."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"What part of me throwing myself at you made you think that?"

"Um."

"God, Potter, let's just go inside already. I can feel the sexual tension building between us and it's not a pretty picture."

Harry watched Draco as he sauntered (yes, sauntered) into the restaurant. He felt so confused. He had thought he had removed Draco out of his system and seeing him again would maybe flash one or two emotions back into him... but in all reality, he wasn't quite sure if this was the Draco he had come to know and to know all those years back at Hogwarts. This Draco, or Drew, was more confident, more flamboyant... more everything. Harry didn't know whether to cheer or mourn this change in his past love.

He followed him into the restaurant.

"For two, Mr. Manchester?"

"Yes. Cheers." Draco had put on a whole different demeanor. It was as if he had become another person. He was calm, cool, collected... not the least bit snippy or irritating, Harry observed.

As soon as they sat down, a snivelling looking waiter approached their table, saying nothing but raising his eyebrows expectantly and eagerly at Draco.

"Right, then, what would you like, Harry, old boy?" Draco smiled at him and patted him on the back while they sat down.

"I don't even... I mean, I haven't even looked at the menu."

"The steak here is GREAT," Draco said loudly and gave Harry the "OK" sign with his fingers and a wink. "Really great. When I was with KATE," he made this especially loud, and a few patrons turned around and gawked at the famous movie star who was sitting at a table near them, "...here the other week she ordered the chicken with marsala sauce and she regretted it when she saw my meal. So, really, I would recommend the steak. You like steak, don't you Harry?"

"I like steak fine."

"Two steaks, then... medium rare." Draco looked at the waiter as if he were trying to place him. "Lenny, is it? Or Benny?"

"Jacques."

"Jacques. So close." Draco laughed loudly and snapped his fingers in an aw shucks sort of motion. "Thanks Jacques." He handed the waiter their menus and Jacques scuttled away quickly.

Harry looked at Draco with surprise. "You've changed."

"And you should pick your jaw off the table. And that's bollocks that I've changed. I'm exactly the same person I have always been."

Harry lowered his voice. "Except you're not a wizard. You've abandoned your family, England, and the whole wizarding community."

Draco followed suit, keeping his voice at a whisper. "Well that's not exactly true. As I said, Hollywood is filled with wizards."

"I would think that wizards would have better things to do with their time than entertain Muggles."

"Think of Hollywood as a diversion tactic. The more fantasy worlds they see on the screen, the less likely they are to believe that we exist. The more we offer them, the less they will go off and take for themselves. You see what I mean?"

"That makes sense... in a convuluted sort of way."

"For example, I saw this movie about a boy wizard attending school called Pigcysts in England. Now, you see that on the same screen that you see aliens and movies about the future... You're just not going to think that it really exists. I mean, on the forefront of your mind, yeah sure, but in the back of most Muggles' minds it would never exist, not in a million years. That's Hollywood."

Harry tried to sort all of this out. He cracked a smile. "They really had a movie about a boy wizard? Pigcysts?"

"Yeah," Draco said, chuckling to himself. He looked down at the table. His blonde hair moved into his face messily. He looked up at Harry with a pondering look in his eyes. "Harry."

"Yeah?" Harry said, his voice caught in his throat looking at the man sitting across the table from him. It had been 5 years. Draco was older, manlier... better looking and seemed to have more of a sense of himself.

"Why did you come here? Really."

"I said, it's about your father."

"You could have made any other Auror take that assignment," Draco said in hushed tones. "Why did you accept?"

"I told you that I still cared about you the night that we..." Harry broke off, feeling the words "broke up" die on his tongue. "The night I last saw you," he said hastily, buttering himself a slice of bread.

"I see."

"And plus, I had never been to America."

"It's okay," Draco shrugged. "The weather is bloody brilliant, though. You should try going to Malibu sometime. The private beaches are amazing. And by the way, be careful, Potter. You're going to kill that bread."

Harry looked down at his slice and saw that he had accidentally cut a hole right in the middle of it.

"You're nervous." Draco asked imploringly. "Why?"

"I'm not nervous." Harry sat up straight. "Why the fuck would I be nervous to come and see you?"

"I can think of several reasons."

"Oh, fine." Harry slumped back in his seat and scowled. "Why aren't you nervous to see me?"

"Because I have the upper hand in this matter. Seeing as you broke my heart and everything." He stirred his drink with its straw like it were a potion that needed brewing. Draco said this so nonchalantly that Harry couldn't help but feel his stomach tighten. He had spent the past 5 years trying not to think about Draco, where he was going, what he was doing. And now that he was confronted with this... this man... this man who was so foreign and different from the boy he had once loved that he couldn't help but feel a bit out of place.

He cleared his throat. "So where are you living? And who is this Kate bird you keep talking about?"

"Hollywood Hills. She's another actress. When I first came to Hollywood I experimented with the whole straight lifestyle and I started dating this big name actress who you've never heard of because you're completely oblivious but anyway... she was really big and it was sort of through her that I made a career. I got a couple of movies and I became really quite big myself, got a good name and whatnot... and then these tabloids said that I..." Draco looked up and noticed the waiter approaching with two gigantic steaks. "... have a tremendous fucking cock. Hello Pierre!"

"Jacques," said the waiter with a wide grin.

"Right... Thank you very much for the wonderful service," Draco said, extracting a 20 dollar bill out of his jacket's pocket and shaking the waiter's hand. "You've been a real great guy. Can we get a bottle of your finest wine?"

Jacques gave a simpering smile to Draco and left the scene, returning soon after with a bottle of wine and poured glasses for both men.

"Thanks again, you've been great." Draco flashed him a wide grin. "Now please leave. Cheers."

Jacques gave him a funny, confused smile and walked away quickly.

"Anyway, like I was saying. I had this..." he waved his hand... "I guess you would call it an affair or something, but it was gay sex any way you look at it. So she and I broke up, and my career was already in full swing and the public adored me. The tabloids got a hold of the gay thing and I had to deny it all, of course. You can't be sex symbol for all the little girls in America if you like getting it up the arse." This lovely sentiment made Harry choke on his drink. "Basically, I got stuck being a Hollywood star and here I am. Blah blah blah. Same old shit story... Kate is my decoy girlfriend, a really lovely girl who is becoming less and less lovely with every article done on her, but that is the Hollywood machine, you know."

"I see," said Harry slowly.

"Now that I've updated you, why don't you update me?"

"That's not exactly a fair trade. You didn't tell me where you went before graduation."

Draco's face paled. "That is..." he paused, "most definitely... a story for another time."

"Oh. Okay. Well... I mean, I moved to Hogsmeade and Ron and I had a nice little flat for us, but then he moved out to get his teaching degree and lives with Hermione now. I, uh, well I just sort of do my Auror business..."

Draco was looking very bored. "God, man, I don't want to hear about you and your stupid friends. I want to hear about the juicy bits. Cut out all the boring shit."

"You want to hear that after I broke up with you I never found love again, don't you?" Harry said, hearing resentment creep into his voice. Draco looked down quickly into his plate. "Well it's not true. I did find love. And with a woman. And we were engaged."

He hadn't expected this to impact New Draco (Drew) as much as it did, but it visibly struck a nerve.

"Oh. Who was it?" Draco asked, his voice stiff and hard.

Harry sighed. "It was Ginny. And then it was Samantha. And then it was Teresa. I'm shit, absolute shit when it comes to relationships."

"I'm already well aware of this fact." Draco chuckled bitterly. "And you mean to tell me that you fell in love with all of these women?" He looked as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Then why propose?"

"Well, I really did love Teresa. But I proposed to them because I thought it was the proper thing to do. Because they seemed like they were the best things for me. Pretty, smart, attractive, funny..."

"What was missing?"

"I dunno," Harry said. He felt genuinely lost when it came to the topic of his past girlfriends. He felt like a complete loser, and he didn't quite know why he was bearing his heart and soul to Draco, of all people.

Draco looked as if he had The Question on his lips: Do you think it was because you're actually gay?

"Don't even say it," Harry warned, giving him a menacing glass over the top of his glass as he sipped it.

"Say what?" Draco asked innocently. "That maybe it was because they were missing an appendage?"

"Fuck off. And it's not. I had just as much fun in bed with them as I did with y--"

"Ah ha. I see. Yeah, you were never really the most physical type. You're much more emotional. I always suspected that it mattered much more about the personality with you, rather than their sex or their body or what sort of clothing they wore." Harry looked up to see if Draco was being sarcastic, but he seemed to be serious. Draco smiled, "I always respected you for that."

"Is it purely physical for you?"

"Well, obviously not purely. But I do require absolutely drop dead gorgeous suitors, if that's what you mean."

Harry rolled his eyes. "God..." he said. They sat there silent for a few moments before Harry smiled. "So does that mean you think I'm drop dead gorgeous?"

"Well, you know, I have gained more perspective, better taste over five years, what with my fame and notoriety," Draco said with a smirk. This made Harry frown. "Oh shut it you stupid git. You know what I think about your looks."

But that could have changed in five years, thought Harry. And wait a minute, why do I even care about what Draco thinks about me? I've changed, moved on, and... God he looks good in that shirt.

"Anyway, when are you going back?"

"They gave me a week."

"You think that's going to be long enough?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"What makes you think that I'm going to let you off that easily?" asked Draco, a wicked grin creeping onto his face.

"I just figured that the last shred of decency in you would allow for you to come back with me to England and save the world," Harry shrugged. "But maybe that was just foolish thinking."

"Ah, yes, maybe it was," said Draco. "And maybe it wasn't. You still haven't given me enough information for me to make an educated decision. I'll tell you what: meet me at my hotel room tonight and we'll talk more about this. But as it is," he checked his watch. A Rolex, Harry noted. "I have to get going." He raised his voice again. "It was just great talking to you, again, Harry. And I'll be sure to have that check for charity on your desk by tomorrow morning. I don't want the little children in Somalia to go one extra minute without having food in their mouths." Harry looked around at the other patrons in the restaurant who had been obviously straining to hear what they were talking about. They seemed satisfied by this conclusion.

Harry just stared up at him through his glasses and gave him a small, hard smile. "You are so full of it, Malfoy," he said in a whisper.

"Manchester," he corrected Harry, automatically. Draco gave him another wicked grin and threw his American Express on the table along with a card that had Emily's cell phone number on it. "Make sure Jacques gets a good tip, then keep it. Buy yourself a decent wardrobe... It's not in my image's best interest to be hanging out with somebody who looks like they're straight out of English boarding school." He looked up and down at Harry's red polo shirt and shabby tan trousers. "Always a Gryffindor at heart, aren't we Harry?"

Harry looked down and his face flushed. "I just like the colors is all."

"Sure, whatever," Draco said, getting up and putting his leather jacket on.

Out of his left pocket he pulled out a tiny mobile. "Anyway, use this." He shoved it into Harry's hand. Harry began to protest, when Draco stopped him. "No, no. It's fine. I have another one right here." He pulled a second mobile out of his jacket and gave it a small, playful wave. "That one," he pointed to the one in Harry's hand, "is for my personal calls. This one is for my business calls. Call Emily first, tell her you'll meet her on Rodeo. Then call Steve and tell him to pick you up. We're at Morton's in Downtown Los Angeles. He'll know where that is."

"Morton's in Downtown Los Angeles," Harry repeated. "Got it."

Draco stuck out his hand for a handshake. Harry accepted. It was the first time in five years they had touched each other. Harry could feel something funny, if oddly unsettling, course through his system. He couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"I'll see you tonight. And I expect to be fully impressed by the time I come back." He gave Harry a wink that was so imperceptible that Harry wondered if he had actually seen it, or imagined it.

Harry watched as Draco exited the restaurant, overconfidence wafting off of him like heat. He looked around briefly, noticing the stares of the other patrons at the restaurant. They looked as if they were trying to figure out if he was famous or if he was just a charity case for their beloved Mr. Manchester.

Jacques came back with the bill, which Harry paid, goggled at the $150 bill briefly, then gave the waiter a $40 dollar tip. He felt like he did when he first discovered his parents had left behind a small fortune for him and was able to actually buy almost whatever he wanted. But Draco, who had always had more than he did and spent it all on himself, was actually being generous for once. He felt confused and pleasantly surprised at the same time.

He did as Draco told him to, first calling Emily, then Steve. He waited outside, propping himself against a light pole on the side of the street until a limo drove up.

"You the guy who called?" Steve asked. He read from a card in his lap. "Harry Potter?" He was in his mid-twenties and was a golden shade of tan, with a closely cropped blonde head and sparkling blue eyes. Harry smiled to himself briefly. Even Draco's limo driver was attractive.

"Yeah, that's me," Harry said and got in the car.

"Where to?"

"Um... Rodeo."

"Of course, where else would you be heading?" Steve playfully slapped himself on his forehead.

This gave Harry room for pause. "What do you mean?"

Steve looked at him thoughtfully in his rear view mirror. "You're new, huh?"

Harry sat up straight. "I've known Dra-ew for about 12 years. So, no."

Steve's eyes widened. "Wow, that's the longest I've heard yet. No, I mean, new to the States."

"Oh. Yes."

"So he probably wanted to show you a good time, make you look good. We meetin Emily?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"He called me. Also I have to babysit a lot of you guys."

"A lot of -- what?"

"Listen," Steve said and turned around as soon as they got to a stop light. "No offense, or nothing, but I get guys like you all the time. Fresh out of anywhere, looking to get in good with a movie star, and Drew is a nice guy and he helps you out. But don't fool yourself, kid, he's not looking for anything but a good fuck. You may have known him for a long time but that's not going to help you anymore than it did me. Now don't get me wrong, I like the guy, and he gave me a job and some auditions. But I really don't think it was for anything more than the fact that I give mean head. So, what I'm sayin' is... don't fool yourself into thinking that this is gonna be your big break. Pretty faces like yours are a dime a dozen and Drew knows that. If you're looking for true love or a sure fire way to get in the business, let me just tell you now that you're dealing with the wrong guy.." With this, Steve turned back around and accelerated into the green light.

Harry stared angrily into the rear view mirror after this and didn't say a word until they drove up to Rodeo. He couldn't tell if he was angry at Steve or Draco. Steve because he had blatantly written him off for no reason or Draco because he had given Steve a reason.

Steve parked the car on the street and started reading Variety.

"So what now?" Harry asked.

Steve pointed outside to Emily who was talking away rapidly on her mobile.

"Cheers," Harry muttered, not meaning it, and exited the limo.

"NO, I have specific instructions from Mr. Manchester that there will be NO red or yellow M&M's in his trailer. Do you understand me? Listen to me, this is nothing new. If you had actually researched into Mr. Manchester's past demands on past movies through one of your contacts you would have known this. I'll just tell you one thing: if you want a pleasant working environment, then you are going to comply with me, okay?" Emily looked up and saw Harry approaching. "Listen, I gotta jet but just get that message across, alright?" She snapped her mobile shut. "Good afternoon... Harry, is it?" Harry nodded. "Okay, Harry, let's go get you some new clothing..."

He felt stupid, scuttling along behind Emily, who, despite her short legs was surprisingly fast. At points he had to jog in order to keep up with her. She talked a mile a minute about her past with Draco, like how long she had been working for him (2 years), how she had gotten to working for him (a friend of a friend of a friend), and how much she enjoyed his company and what a swell guy he is ("Ohmigawd, he's just, like, the BEST!"). Harry wrote it all up as meaningless flattery but he was impressed by her shopping skills. They made their way through several boutiques and shops along Rodeo Drive when Emily became very frustrated.

"Harry," she said, while they were in the Dolce and Gabbana store, where Harry was trying to look not-too-disgusted with a pair of jeans with fur-lining and a purple leather vest. "Now I'm not exactly a personal stylist or anything, but Shelia's busy with Drew right now, so you're going to have to deal with me. But can I ask you a very personal question?" Her face was etched with lines of worry.

"Well, it depends," he said, unbuttoning the vest on his way back into the dressing room to try on a long-sleeved black shirt with patches studding the front.

Emily lowered her voice. "What's your favorite color? Or colors?"

Harry laughed and came back from behind the curtain. "I like red and gold."

"Okay, Harry, we're going to get you something in red then. I can tell that this," Emily motioned to the contents of Dolce and Gabbana's store room, "definitely isn't your style," she said, smiling. She became serious once more. "Can I ask you another personal question?"

"Sure."

"Did you and Drew ever... have something going on?"

Harry dropped his smile. "What."

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to offend! I was just curious. And please don't tell him that I asked you. He doesn't like anybody to know too much about his personal life. It's just... he never mentions past boyfriends, ever, and he never has anybody serious in his life. I guess I just started thinking because of the way he looked at you. It's so different than anything I've seen with him before." She sighed. "And plus, he has never once had anybody visit from England before."

"Nobody?"

"No one, I swear, I thought that he had run away from home or something and didn't tell anybody where he was going."

"He didn't," Harry said. Emily gave him an odd look but said no more. She whisked him out of Dolce and Gabana and took him onto Wilshire. She blabbed on about her own life, asking Harry for advice on what to do with her boyfriend who was an emotionally retarded bastard. Harry responded, giving her advice from his own past loves, a numerous amount. For every question, he would respond with a anecdote with a different girl's name. Emily seemed satisfied with Harry's sexuality and asked him if he would be interested in going out for coffee next week, which Harry politely declined, citing his potential departure date. Throughout this whole thing, however, even in the middle of Emily throwing herself at him, all he could think about was Draco.