Cersei Saint smiled slightly as she stepped into the hotel room, pausing in the suite's doorway as she tried to figure out where Harry was. Most boyfriend/girlfriends would have just walked in, but they weren't dating, no matter how much the public wanted to believe she was dating her most popular novelist. But because they seemed so determined to believe it, and Harry took care of her like Draco did, for a few hours she was willing to forget that she really wasn't dating him.
"Potter?" She asked sounding amused as she walked through the living room of the suite, knocking on the bedroom door before walking in. Not even bothered as he finished buttoning up his dress shirt, smiling slightly.
Cersei looked pretty glamorous herself. The gown was a brilliant black that made her soft skin glow almost white, her dark hair, so dark that it had blue highlights shown around her shoulders. Her eyes were even more extraordinary. A soft charcoal gray, framed by dark eyelashes, her makeup done just so that her eyes seemed even bigger, even more like a baby doe. In high-heeled shoes she was almost as tall as he was, studying him with a soft smile.
While she didn't feel for him that same desperate passion that she had had with Draco, she still cared for him, because he had been there in those first days after Draco died. Shaking her head to get rid of the thought, Cersei smiled slightly, "Come on. If we don't hurry, we're going to be late." She said grinning widely. Because it was their last day in the States, and she wanted a true New York moment, and that meant seeing a play on Broadway.<|im_end|>
Harry smiled as Cersei walked in, his head tilted a little. "Thanks, Cer," he said, gently taking her fingers and kissing them before finishing the last of his buttons. He never seemed to notice that she liked him, but he did, and he loved her just as much as she loved him. He never did anything about it though, he could never betray Draco like that. "I know we're going to be late, I'll just time turn us back an hour if I take too long," he teased, grinning a little. They both knew he had no such thing; he was only a novelist, after all. In fact, he was one of the most famous novelists in the world, the creator of the biggest romance erotica to hit both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. He made more money than Lucius Malfoy did, much to the Malfoy lord's disgust. He smiled as he carefully pulled his hair back into a low ponytail, which was the only way to keep it under any real control. He stroked the stubble on his cheeks and chin. It wasn't a beard, but it wasn't five o'clock shadow either - it was the perfect in-between that women loved.
"alright, I'm ready," Harry promised smiling as he took her arm, ever the gentleman, and led her out into the hall and down the street towards the theater where they were showing the Broadway musical Cats. Harry loved the show, and he was certain that Cersei would too; she just loved felines. He smiled as they gave their tickets to the attendant and were shown to their seats, Harry settling comfortably into his chair happily as he leaned back on the soft cushioned seats and settled his hands onto the small table in front of him. His heart fluttered as he gently settled his hand onto hers, smiling at her. "Draco would have loved this play..." Harry spoke often about Draco, the world knowing that Harry and Draco had started a tentative friendship after their sixth year. No body or parts had been found except a few strands of hair and a lot of blood.
He grinned again. "I told you we weren't going to be late." He stated as most of the crowd swarmed into the theater, a very familiar figure walking in. Tall, slender, pale skin, silver blond hair, eyes that were as silver as the ring on his finger. His own suit made his perfection even more perfect as he moved past Harry who froze, swallowing thickly as he glanced at Cersei, making sure she hadn't seen him, hoping desperately that not-dead-in-the-least Draco Malfoy sat as far away from them as possible so Cersei didn't notice him. Then, of course, Draco sat right in front of them, not at all aware of people who knew him being so close. He had run to America, New York City, for a reason after all, so no one would know who he was. Harry hoped desperately that she didn't notice him, or worse, he noticed them. The lights already dimming to let the show begin, Harry could find an excuse to leave right?... terrible stomach ache maybe? No, he had used that one to get out of going to that stuffy Gala? Maybe he could start a fire? No, she would know it was him; what the hell was he going to do!?<|im_end|>