Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s not that he’s avoiding Ron.

He just doesn’t really want to talk to him right now.

So that makes it all the worse when Harry comes home from work and Ron is in his flat, waiting. Harry doesn’t even notice at first, trying to get inside as soon as possible because he hadn’t bothered with a charm home from the Apparation point, and he’s soaked. He fucking hates the rain, how it makes everything he touches feel like slime. He’s wiping the water from his glasses and doing a half-assed drying charm at the same time when he hears someone clear their throat. He almost pokes himself in the eye in his haste to put on his glasses, but once they’re on, he doesn’t know what to do. Ron’s in his hall leaning against the wall, arms crossed. It’s the first time Harry’s seen him in nearly a week- probably the longest they’ve gone apart for years. He doesn’t look any different to Harry, but it feels like it’s been forever, and he doesn’t know how to explain himself. They stand there, not moving, staring at each other for a few beats before Ron breaks.

“You didn’t come to the Burrow Sunday,”

He doesn’t say anything else for a second, waiting for Harry to respond, but he still didn’t know what to say.

“Mum asked me where you were, I didn’t know what to say,” He sighs and puts his hands on his hips, finally looking something other than calm, “I get it if you’re feeling some kind of way, but you can’t not come home for Sunday dinner, that’s just not fair to her and Dad,” Ron never gets upset with him like this, and it leaves Harry feeling sweaty.

“I-”

“And even more than Mum, ‘Mione has been worried about you- you know how she is. And the last time you were like this, not coming home-”

“Ron, I’m not going to kill myself,” He interrupts, exasperated.

“I have a fucking right to be worried, Harry,” Ron snaps. “What’s going on?”

“I just needed some time to think,” Is the only thing he can think to settle on, even though he knows that he hasn’t had one rational, productive thought since last Friday. It’s like something cursed him and since he woke up that morning, his brain has been full of things he is really trying to not think about.

“About what, mate? Thinking so hard you can’t even Owl or eat Mum’s roast like you do every single other week?”

“Stop fucking talking about Mum!” He yells, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He doesn’t want to talk to Ron about this- thing. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it, and hopefully it will just go away.

“Did something happen Thursday? I told Zabini to contain himself… he’s a hell of an Auror, but has a history of getting out of hand on pub nights,” As they got older, Ron was really starting to sound more and more like Hermione.

“Nothing happened. Look, I don’t really want to talk about it,” He pushes past Ron and heads towards the kitchen, hoping he’ll be able to breathe better in there. Ron follows him, and he can feel eyes on his back as he looks at the pathetic offerings of his refrigerator. When he turns around, leaning against the closed door of the fridge with his week-old baby carrots, Ron is still staring at him quietly with his eyebrows slightly raised. “What?”

Ron sighs, long and tired. “C’mon, Haz. What’s going on? Why have you been avoiding me, us? If you don’t talk to me, my darling wife is going to Floo over to trade places. And she’s much less gentle than I am, the brilliant mate that I am,”

Harry can’t bring himself to laugh at the attempted joke. He doesn’t even know how to explain his state of mind the past five days. He shrugs, “I’ve just felt strange the past few days. I didn’t want to worry anyone, so I’ve just been trying to sleep it off,” He takes a deep breath, “I’ve been having some… thoughts, and I don’t understand why,” Ron looked a little stricken at that, so he musters up his courage and tries to explain. “I think- I think it was seeing Malfoy Thursday. I- I keep thinking about him, it’s like sixth year, I can’t stop, and I don’t understand it,” He looked at Ron helplessly, and watches as his expression goes from concerned to incredulous.

“You’ve been avoiding us because your crush on Malfoy is back?”

And Harry doesn’t know how to respond to that, because what even is he supposed to say. It isn’t like that, he doesn’t even know Malfoy. He just feels like he was up to something, and he had to spend the weekend trying to see what he’s been up to in the years since he’s last seen him. He just couldn’t get the picture of him out of his mind, the Malfoy he saw socializing with his coworkers from the Ministry, wearing a navy robe that looked so soft Harry couldn’t stop thinking about running his hands over it. It’s just- he hasn’t seen Malfoy since the trial, and he didn’t even see much of him then. He just had to know what changed, what had turned the scared, too skinny Malfoy into Current Day Malfoy, the one who worked with Ron sometimes and wore rings on nearly every finger. The contrast of the two just seemed too large for him to wrap his mind around, and he needed some time.

“I just- something is different about him. I don’t know what it is, and it’s going to bother me until I find out,” He can’t look at Ron, distantly realizing that he might actually be crazy.

Ron just sighs again in response. Harry forces himself to eat a baby carrot, then another. While he’s chewing, Ron says, “Of course he’s bloody different, it’s been nearly ten years since the war. Look, it took me a while to warm up to him, but he’s good at his job and has a few good jokes when he’s not being a prat,”

“He’s always a prat,” Harry grumbles, mouth still full, Ron laughing in response.

“He’s really not that bad these days. Did you even say hullo at the pub or did you just stare at him from across the room like every single meal for the entirety of our Hogwarts education?”

Seriously, Ron was turning into Hermione.

Suddenly angry, realizing that he was being backed into a corner, Harry snapped. “How can you say he’s not that bad after everything?”

“We were just kids, Haz,” He looks so tired, Harry realizes, “I don’t want to fight with you about this- whatever this is. I have to get home to ‘Mione and Rosie. But when you come to pub night tomorrow, which- please do come. When you come to pub night, you’re going to talk to Malfoy. About the fucking weather, I don’t care, but I don’t want to hear about your obsession. Do something about it. Or don’t,”

And with that, he Disapparates, leaving Harry in his own stunned silence. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that? Talk to Malfoy about the sodding weather? Yeah, right.

Except, just like the last few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about Draco. Malfoy. If he liked breaking curses, what he was doing this second, and also what Ron said. Your crush on Malfoy is back echoing through his brain, rattling him to his bones. He never had a crush on Malfoy. He can’t stand the guy, what he stands for. Stood for. So, maybe he had considered how attractive Malfoy is, but just in passing. Like how he did with Sirius before he could only see him as a father figure. It hits him that Sirius and Malfoy are related through Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, and suddenly he’s sweating and needs to get in the shower.

Even in the shower, he couldn’t stop picturing Malfoy last week, his cheeks rosy after a few drinks, laughing at something someone said. He’s soaping up his stomach when the back of his hand accidentally brushes against the base of his dick, and he can’t help the groan he lets out. Without thinking, he brings a soapy hand down to take himself in his hand. It doesn’t last long, images of Malfoy’s ringed fingers grasping his rocks glass, head thrown back in laughter rushing through his mind a mile a minute. Before he knows it, he’s done, watching semen slowly make its way from his shower tile into the London sewer system.

This… could be a bigger issue than he thought.

**

He manages to not think of Malfoy at all Thursday, probably mostly because the shop was so busy. Ollivander even left him to fend for himself most of the afternoon, as he had to go over to help with something over in Hogsmeade. That all changes the second he walks through the door of the Leaky, his eyes landing on Malfoy like habit, before he even has his coat off. He’s not talking to anyone, leaning against the far wall, staring into space and taking sips out of his wine glass every so often. Harry can’t help but make his way over.

“Uh, hello Malfoy,” He says, feeling incredibly out of place.

Malfoy doesn’t jump like Harry thought he might, just turns his head slowly until he’s looking right at him, eyes clear and just on the blue side of grey.

“Yes, hello. How can I help you?”

“I, uh…” He suddenly felt hot, like he had when Ron confronted him last night. “I heard you’re in the Ministry Quidditch Charity Game… thing,” Where the fuck did that come from? He thought, before remembering a comment Ron made two weeks ago, which he hadn’t given any thought at all to then.

“Yes, Potter, I am. Why?” Malfoy said, around a sigh.

“I just wondered what position you’re playing. You were a hell of a Seeker in school, but that was a very long time ago, do you even still play?” Malfoy is just looking at him with an eyebrow raised, “Uh, sorry,”

“We haven’t started practice yet, but I was shocked they are even allowing me to participate. I doubt they’ll let the resident former Death Eater be Seeker, though,” He takes a gulp of his wine, and Harry watches Malfoy’s throat work, distracted enough he misses the first few words when Malfoy speaks again, “-worthwhile cause, so I couldn’t not sign up.” He shrugs.

“What’s the charity? I don’t think you said,”

“Oh,” Draco said tilting his head, “War orphans. Or I guess more specifically, medical funds for war orphans. Working with St. Mungo’s.”

Harry hums. Draco Malfoy, raising money for war orphans? Voluntarily? By playing Quidditch? He didn’t get it.

“I have to go,” Harry mumbles, nearly running to the Floo.

He doesn’t realize until he has a fistful of Floo powder that he never bought a drink. He throws it in and walks through anyway. He takes a shower when he gets home, and the only thing his torturous brain can conjure up for him, no matter how hard he tries to think other thoughts, is a naked Draco Malfoy on a broomstick.

**

He does go to dinner on Sunday at the Burrow, mostly just to get Ron off his back, and for the tight hug Molly gives him when she sees him. He doesn’t talk much, but he does go to help Arthur with his model trains, a convenient way to avoid conversation. After, he stays in the back yard sipping his beer, trying very hard indeed to convince himself to go back inside. He’s only been staring at the stars for five minutes before there’s a cough behind him. Harry turns around, surprised to see Charlie, of all Weasleys, standing there.

“Hey stranger,” Charlie says.

It’s had to have been at least a year since they’ve seen each other. They two of them had gotten close, the summer that bled into fall that Harry spent in Romania after eighth year. They had shared a room, even messed around a bit. Once he came back to England, whenever Charlie visited, they couldn’t help but come together. It was easy, and Charlie felt like the only safe person for a while to Harry- close enough but kept at a distance.

Harry turns back to how he was before, looking up, but he can feel Charlie make his way closer, until there’s an arm draped across his shoulder.

“Hey, Charlie. You alright?”

“I think maybe you should be the one to answer first, mate. You seem rather off tonight. Everything straight?”

Straight? No, everything was decidedly not straight, and it seems that was Harry’s problem.

“Yeah, uhm, I don’t think I am,” He sighed, took another big breath in, “I actually think I’m gay. Or maybe just bisexual, but it hasn’t been a woman since… Ginny, really,” He cringed, not realizing it was true until he said it.

Charlie laughs next to him, “Harry, we were shagging for, like, half a sodding decade- did you really think you were heterosexual?”

“No,” Harry grumbles, “I just didn’t give it much thought,”

“But you’re giving it thought now?”

“I guess,”

“Why?”

And for that, Harry doesn’t have a reason that isn’t Draco Malfoy shaped. No way he’s telling Charlie about that thought process he keeps going back to. He can’t think of anything else that makes sense though, so he just shrugs.

“You know, Ron said you’ve been feeling out of sorts- have you talked to him about this? Or that Mind Healer you were seeing if you’re still going to that?”

“I’m not, but maybe I should again,” He sighs, “I don’t think I can talk to Ron about this,”

Charlie gives him a squeeze and a teasing smile, “And why is that?”

“He doesn’t want to know about who I shag. When he found out about us, when I came back from Romania, he nearly vommed,”

At that, Charlie laughs, short and loud, “I think that’s just because I’m older brother, and you’re you. If it’s not a Weasley brother, I think you’re fine, mate,” He chuckles again, “So, who’s the bloke that’s got you so twisted up?”

Paranoid, Harry sneaks a look behind him. Through the glass, everyone- Weasleys and Weasley-adjacents- are chatting, sipping on tea and coffee. He takes a deep breath. Right. I fancy Draco Malfoy, and I think I have for a while, since we were teenagers… I could never put my finger on why he always had my attention. Now I know, and don’t know what to do. I don’t even know the bloke, and I find him annoying most of the time, but I also can’t seem to stop thinking about him. And he actually wasn’t bad when I talked to him the other day, but I ran out like an idiot-

He’s spent so much time in his head without realizing, only snapping out of his thoughts when Charlie taps his finger on Harry’s shoulder gently.

“It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?” He says, softly, rubbing Harry’s back in a way that reminds him of Molly.

He could feel tendrils of emotion rise within him. Throat tight, Harry just nods, and closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

He had thought of a million scenarios of how his next interaction would go with Draco, but none of them involved the man coming into Ollivander’s looking for a new wand.

“Malfoy!” Harry nearly jumps out of his stool behind the counter when he sees Draco come through the door, purple robe billowing around him.

“Hello, Potter,” He comes to a stop at the counter, tucks a piece of white blond hair behind his ear, “Small accident at work- my wand, it’s a bit-” He holds up his wand, which flops in his hand rather pathetically. It wasn’t the wand that Harry once had, that he had left with Andromeda, for her to give to her nephew.

Harry hums. “Let me see,” The wand feels much too soft to the touch, like an overripe vegetable, not a piece of wood and magic. “Can I ask what happened, exactly?”

Draco huffs, and when Harry looks up through the curls flopping on his forehead, Draco’s cheeks are pink. He’s looking off the side, his face twisted, almost like he’s trying not to smile.

“Like I said, a bit of an accident at work. I may have… dropped it. In a cursed handbag, of all bloody things.” He grumbles.

Harry hums again, turning the flaccid wand over in his hands. “Huh. A cursed purse. I’ve never seen anything like this before- what was the curse?”

“Oh, I actually don’t know yet, but I can’t really do too much about it without a wand. It’s alright if you can’t fix it, I figure I can just get a new one- hence why I came into this wand shop.” He gestured around them, his eyes shining when they met Harry’s, just for a second.

Trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach, he puts the wand down on the counter, “Well, I’m not really trained in wand repair, anyway. I can have Ollivander have a look when he comes in later. Until then though, I can get you a replacement, easy,” Malfoy gives him a small nod.

He goes to the back shelves, trying to see if there was a similar wand to start off with. It seems to be a pretty standard, utilitarian wand, English Oak with a Unicorn hair core. Harry went to look for that first, before grabbing another with a Unicorn hair core, this one the wood Poplar. At the last minute, he also grabbed a Pear wood wand with a White River Monster Spine core, one of the few they had in stock. It’s a bit of a shot in the dark, but he’s been picking up a few tricks since he began his apprenticeship with Ollivander years ago.

Harry makes his way back to the counter, laying the three wand boxes down. “Alright, let’s see how these work. This one,” he says, pointing to the one on the left, “is the same as the one you have now, but the other two might also be worth trying out,”

Malfoy goes for the Poplar wand first, holding it in both hands gently before grasping it tight in his wand hand. With a flick of the wrist, the box the wand was once in begins uncertainly floating in the air, only a few centimeters off the desk. Draco hums, and the box drops to the counter. He puts the wand back before picking up the one with the White River Monster Spine, an unruly core. Draco must know this, or at least know how rare such cores are, because he meets Harry’s gaze with an eyebrow raised when he reads the box. Harry gives a sheepish smile, and Draco opens the box.

He cradles the wand in both hands first, like he did with the first wand. When he puts it in his wand hand, poised to cast, the wand starts to glow. Harry watches with a fond smile- he knew it.

“I- What’s happening?” Draco says, hand frozen, staring at the wand illuminating a soft gold light.

“Well, Malfoy, it would seem that you’ve been chosen by this wand,” This was his favorite part of the job. Not everyone would walk in and have this kind of reaction, and it wasn’t necessary to be a good spell caster, but it was awfully satisfying when Harry’s hunch turned out to be true.

“Oh. Er. Well, I guess I have to get this one then,” Has Malfoy never shopped for a wand before?

Harry laughs lightly, “I guess you do,” He grabs the book under the desk to check the price, “Sorry that I have no idea how to fix your old wand… but that’ll be 10 galleons,”

Malfoy hands over a few coins and slips the wand straight in his pocket, ignoring the box still on the counter. “No worries, Potter, it was mostly a placeholder anyway. Thanks for the help,”

And just like that, with a flash of purple, Draco’s gone.



Harry thinks about their interaction all week… mostly because the shop isn’t busy and he’s curious how the new wand is. He debates back and forth whether it would be creepy to send an Owl to check in- they don’t Owl, and he only sold the bloke a wand. Merlin.

He wants so very badly to not leave his bed, to become a lonely, loveless ghost. But Ron comes through the Floo on Thursday and drags Harry back through with him to the Leaky.

It’s not all the bad, once he has a shot with Ron and is most of the way through his first beer. By the time he’s at the bar, hailing the bartender for his third, he’s feeling loose. That’s probably how he ends up half on Luna’s lap, talking drunkenly about which animals would make the best cross-species babies.

“Potter, I hardly think a Hippogriff and Hippopotamus would make a very good match- there’s a science to this and going by names that are similar is not it,” Harry has no idea where Draco came from, but there he is. He suddenly feels like he’s been caught with his hands in the cookie jar, so he springs up from Luna’s lap.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Is all he can think to say back.

Draco just hums, shooting him an unimpressed look, before turning to Luna. “Luna, my dear cousin, I just wanted to say farewell. I’m heading out for the night.”

“Oh Draco,” Luna sighs in her dreamy way, “Must you, so soon?”

“Yes, early morning tomorrow and all. I’ll see you Saturday though, yeah? Tea?” Harry just watches the interaction in confusion. He knew they were related somehow, but he didn’t realize they were close enough to get weekend tea, like it’s something normal.

He watches Luna nod, and Draco nod back before he slips away into the crowd. Harry doesn’t even realize he’s following until he’s on the other side of the throng, watching Draco shrug on his outer robes. Draco quirks an eyebrow, and Harry just smiles.

They stand there for a beat, Draco’s robes secured, and Harry staring.

“Is there something I can help you with? Or are you just here to stare? I mean, I know I look good tonight, but I never pegged you as an arse man, Potter,” Harry watches something sparkle in his eye, like a challenge, but Harry has no idea what the game is, let alone how to play.

“I, uh. Yeah, sorry. I wanted to- I wanted to see how your new wand is. If it’s- you know, if you’re having any issues, I can… I can help you, if you need,” He might not know the rules, but he knows that didn’t come out how he meant.

Draco huffs out a laugh anyway, “It’s all good, Potter. I appreciate your help the other day, and yes, the wand is satisfactory.”

Harry nods, feeling like the biggest dolt. Why hadn’t he thought of what to say? Why isn’t Malfoy being mean to him? Why did he feel like such an loon any time he got close to the bloke?

“Ok, that’s, um. That’s good,” He finally says, after probably too long of a pause. Draco gives him a look, like he’s confused, and Harry has to keep this conversation going, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, “I also- I also wanted to ask about the Quidditch game. If you know what position you’ll play- I can, um. Help you with that too… if you need,”

Idiot, He thinks, he knows how to fly a bloody broom. He’s been playing Quidditch longer than you’ve fucking known about magic.

Draco gives him another look, and this one isn’t so obviously confusion, because Harry knows what that looks like, but its like- slightly to the left of confusion. Perplexed.

“Hm. Are you offering Weasley and the Aurors these same services? That wouldn’t be very fair, for you give such attention to just one,”

“Oh, uh. I think Ron and the Aurors will be fine. You Curse Breakers, on the other hand… I know you know how to fly, but what about the rest of the team?”

At this, Draco sighs, “Okay, you have a point. We had our first practice on Tuesday, and it was like flying with a bunch of second years,”

Harry laughs, and before thinking, he says, “Well, let me know if you need any help,”

Malfoy gives him a strange look, like he just said he has an invisible third hand coming out of his head. After a second, he nods. “I might just take you up on that, Potter,”

And just like that, Malfoy walks out the door.

What did he just sign up for?

Chapter Text

It takes two weeks and three exhausting practices for Harry to finally tell Ron about his new activity.

“Wait… how did you even get involved, you fucking hate Ministry bullshit,” A beat passes, and then, “Oh, Harry. Malfoy asked you, didn’t he? That bastard,”

“Oh, uh. I mean, it was Malfoy, but I volunteered. He isn’t making me do anything,”

“Ah. So, this is… you courting him?”

He nearly spits out the tea he’s drinking all over Hermione’s pretty tablecloth, “No, what the fuck. No courting, no nothing. He said the team is shit, I offered to help. Friend to friend.”

Ron grunts but doesn’t say anything else. Hermione comes bustling back into the room and joins them at the table, “I finally got her to go to sleep. What’d I miss?”

“Harry is coaching the other team for the Ministry match, because Draco asked him to,” Ron batted his eyelashes at Harry, and if he wasn’t his best friend, he would definitely punch him in the face.

“It’s really not like that. I just think they have a disadvantage, facing the Aurors. Curse Breaking is just a more brain than braun career, and they have admin staff on the team too. Most of them didn’t play in school… so.” He shrugs, knowing that it isn’t convincing at all. Hermione and Ron exchange a look, and thankfully change the subject.

**

After the fifth practice, Draco comes up to him, still sweaty and wearing his leathers. Harry tries really hard to keep his eyes on Draco’s face. It mostly works.

“Potter,” Draco starts, still slightly out of breath, “The team is really looking up. We might even score once or twice at the match. Do you want to get something to eat, as a thanks?”

“Well, I’m not done yet- there’s another month until the game,”

Malfoy smiles like Harry hasn’t seen before, teethy and unbidden. “All the more reason to encourage you,”

Harry’s nodding without realizing, like he could turn down Draco initiating spending more time together. Draco gives him another smile at this, a smaller one.

“Great- let me just change. Wait here, and then we can get some food, I’m bloody starving,”

Harry nods again, still unsure how he got here, or how he’s going to act semi-normal alone with Malfoy. He has a tendency to lose his brain-to-mouth filter around him, not that he has much of one to begin with. Something about him, how he knew who he was but also knew that he’s different now, is like a drug to Harry, he can’t help but want more, all the time. Something is going on, and he couldn’t seem to satisfy himself since seeing him at the first pub night. Something inside him settled when he was around Malfoy, and when he wasn’t, all he could think about was the next time they would be together.

He doesn’t notice time passing, lost in his thoughts. It’s not until, some undetermined amount of time later, when Malfoy comes back, looking less like a wet dream, and more like… well Malfoy was still a wet dream on a normal day, Harry was realizing. But he was in his normal clothes, walking straight towards him. To go out to eat, together, alone. Not a date, not a date, not a date.

Right.

**

Surprisingly, at least to Harry, they end up at a Muggle restaurant. It was Malfoy’s idea; said he went there all the time and had a craving. Harry had agreed, thinking maybe he meant that Wizarding French restaurant that had replaced the ice cream shop after it was destroyed in the war. But they ended up in a Muggle Indian restaurant, in a part of London Harry hasn’t explored.

Harry’s so confused, and he wants to know how Malfoy knows this place, how much time he spends in Muggle spaces. But he doesn’t ask, just looks down at the menu. Malfoy looks at ease, and when he asks if Harry wants to share a few things instead of ordering their own dishes, Harry’s relieved, realizing he had just been staring at the menu, not reading.

“So,” Malfoy starts, sipping at the white wine he got the both of them, “Ollivander’s. How did that happen?”

“Uh,” Harry takes a big gulp of the wine, sweet and nutty on his tongue, “Well. I really didn’t know what to do after the war. I did nothing for a while- I almost didn’t come back for eighth year, but Hermione wouldn’t let that happen. So, I did, uh, go back. Sat for my NEWTs. After… I still didn’t know what to do. Did nothing for a while, again. I went to Romania for a few months, helped Charlie with the dragons. I went back to Scotland for a while, helped Hagrid raise a litter of Streelers, which destroyed half the Quidditch pitch before we rounded them up. Um. After that… more nothing for a while.” He takes another sip, just for something to do. Malfoy is still looking at him, like he’s actually interested, “Then, I was wandering around Hogsmeade one day, and popped in to say hello to Ollivander. He asked me what I was up to and offered me an apprenticeship. I thought it sounded cool, so I said yes. That was… five years ago now.” He chuckles, “Merlin, we’re old,”

Malfoy gives him a small smile in return, around the rim of his wine glass, “Proper geriatric, we are. They say your life ends the second you turn thirty,”

Harry laughs, “Right, right. I’m dramatic, I know. I just never really saw my life like this, I guess. I thought I’d be an Auror, like Ron. I just- after the war-” He cuts himself off, partially feeling like an idiot bringing up the war all the time, and also because he could see their waitress coming with their food, “It’s just not how I thought it would be,”

The waitress puts down three plates and three bowls of rice before retreating. Harry doesn’t finish his half thought, and Malfoy doesn’t say anything either. He watches as Malfoy builds himself a plate with rice, saag paneer, butter chicken, and chana tikka masala. Once he’s finished, Harry does the same, both still quiet.

It’s only once Harry’s chewing on his second bite that Malfoy speaks, “I didn’t think it would be like this either. I- I didn’t think I would survive, avoid an Azkaban sentence, let alone become a semi-productive member of society, work for the bloody Ministry. Believe me- as a child, a teen- I didn’t see myself like I am today,” Harry watches him take a bite, chew, and swallow before speaking again, “I think the war changed us all, made us into people we weren’t before,” Malfoy looks up from his plate, and their eyes meet.

Harry’s not sure he’s different, he just feels like he’s in two places at once. Like he’s here, but he’s also still partly back then, about to be killed by Voldemort any second. He doesn’t know how to say that, so he stays quiet, losing himself in the blue grey eyes in front of him. Malfoy gives him a small smile, like he did earlier on this pitch. It goes straight into Harry, like a knife.

“Maybe we should change the subject? I don’t much like thinking about those times myself, let alone talking about them,” Malfoy finally says, and Harry breaks out of his trance with a jerk.

“Uh, yeah, same, me too.”

Malfoy smiles again, going slightly pink. “I, er. Thanks again for helping us get ready for the match- believe it or not, it’s much more fun to play when your team actually understands what’s going on,”

Harry laughs, “Of course- it’s fun doing Quidditch again, even if I’m not on a broom. Strategy is the challenging part anyway, and I’m always looking for a challenge,” He smirks at Malfoy, surprised and fascinated when he sees the faint blush on his cheeks deepen.

Malfoy waits a breath before saying, “I am sure you are, Potter. You know, I-”

“Everything alright over here?” Their waitress interrupts, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

Harry’s still focused on Malfoy, the question not registering. What was Malfoy going to say?

“Oh, everything’s perfect. We’ll take the bill when you have a minute,” He hears and watches Malfoy talk to the waitress, but he can’t seem to move, to take his eyes off Malfoy.

Not a date, not a date, not a date.

It’s even harder when he turns back forward, smiling at Harry, flushed from the wine and eyes bright.

“Um, I was going to say. It’s nice seeing you in your element. Quidditch at Hogwarts was the best part of my week, most of the time, and playing against you…” He smiled, and Harry couldn’t help but return it, “that was really fun,”

“Right,” Merlin, Circe, and Salazar.

Not a fucking date, not a date, NOT a date.

The waitress brings back the bill, and Malfoy pulls a few paper notes out of his pocket. Harry doesn’t even carry around Pounds most of the time. But there’s Malfoy, counting out his Muggle money to pay for the meal they just shared. Harry feels a bit lost.

“Ready to get out of here?” And all Harry can do is nod and follow Malfoy out the door.

They decide to take a small walk together before parting ways, talking about Harry’s time in Romania and the weeks Draco spent skiing in the Alps, not using magic once the entire time.

“I flew there, in an airplane,” he says, shocking Harry, “It was my first time. I had bought a plane ticket from France before, but got scared and took the train instead,” He chuckles, but also blushes, like he thinks his own fear is silly, even though he overcame it. Harry hasn’t been on a plane. He tells Malfoy so.

“I don’t really understand how it works, and it scares me,” He admits.

“And you understand the mechanics behind Apparating, or Portkeys?” Malfoy shoots back.

Harry scoffs, “No. But it’s not like I particularly love those either. I’ve thought about learning to drive a car, getting my license, but I spend too much of my time in Wixen spaces for it to make sense,”

“You don’t like Apparating?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Not particularly. I do it, because I need to go places, but I always feel nauseous after. I’ve just never gotten used to the feeling, I guess,” They’ve reached some residential street, rows of quaint houses going on for blocks around them.

Malfoy hums and stops in front of one of them.

“Well, this is me,” He says.

Harry just stares at Malfoy’s face, at the building behind him, and then back again.

“You live here?” He whispers, “In a Muggle neighborhood?”

Malfoy shrugs, “Yeah. I just spent five minutes talking your ear off about how I take Muggle holidays,”

“I thought you did that, like. I don’t know. A holiday. Not that you’re living in a… Muggle flat,”

Draco chuckles, “I mean, I have a Floo. But it’s not like there are many looking to rent out to a Malfoy in Wizarding London. Much easier where no one knows what my name means. And it’s really not far from the Ministry,” He waves his hand in the air flippantly.

Harry’s still confused, but he nods anyway. Malfoy looks behind him- at his building, then back at Harry.

“Well, I’m going to go inside now. Goodnight, Harry,”

He doesn’t even notice the use of his first name, just nodding, unable to get his brain from focusing on Malfoy under the streetlights. It’s only when he turns around, making his way up the stairs when Harry snaps out of it.

“Goodnight. Thanks for dinner,” It’s the bare minimum, but he feels like he’s short-circuiting, like he should be doing something and at the same time like he shouldn’t be here at all.

Malfoy gives him one last look, smiling, before walking into his building and shutting the door behind him. Harry stands there for a bit too long before he finally convinces himself to move somewhere private to Apparate home, trying to hold down his dinner.

Chapter Text

The next practice, Malfoy corners him again. They go out to a pub and share an overflowing basket of fish and chips. They talk about Quidditch the entire time. The following week, they get Italian. The next, Thai.

Their last practice before the game, their third of the week, drags on seemingly forever. Harry was on his broom, hovering just out of bounds, and watches two of Malfoy’s colleagues do drills. One of them stumbles, almost falling off his broom, and Harry’s so tired, and fucking done for the night.

“Alright, great job everyone. I’m excited for Friday, and you all should be too. You’ve worked hard to get here, and I’m honored that you’ve allowed me to watch, to give some pointers. Rest up tomorrow, I mean it. We’re going to raise a bunch of money, and you’re going to beat the shit out of some Aurors!”

He puts his fist up in the air, and everyone follows, laughing. They all slowly descend, first to the ground, and then to the showers.

Harry stays outside, getting his things together, and hoping Malfoy would come out and whisk him off somewhere. He waits for a while, longer than he has before for Malfoy to come out. Curious, he decides to go inside and check on him.

He pushes the door to the locker room open slowly, the humidity from the showers sticking to his skin, even over here.

“Malfoy?” He calls out.

No one seemed to be here, the lockers and benches deserted. There was water running though, and it only sounded like one shower. Without thinking, Harry makes his way over to the showers, a hand reaching out to skim along the wall as he walked.

He looks around the corner, and there’s Malfoy. Completely naked, in the communal shower, facing the wall so all Harry could see is his back. He spends a minute, not sure what to do, just taking in the smooth pale lines, the muscles flexing as he works shampoo into his hair. He keeps looking at Malfoy as he rinses the shampoo out, suds cascading down his long legs. He watches as Malfoy braces himself against the wall. Not sure what he’s seeing, Harry takes another step, even closer. The muscles in Malfoy’s back are rippling, like they were before, but Harry can’t see what his hand is doing, the one not on the wall.

His heart is beating fast in his ears, and it doesn’t click until Malfoy makes a sound- something between a groan and a sob, that Harry realizes. Oh- Malfoy is wanking. He suddenly can’t breathe. It’s way too steamy in here, and this is completely an invasion of privacy. He takes another long look at the muscles of Malfoy’s back before he leaves, practically running to the Ministry Floos.

He doesn’t get much sleep that night.

**

If Malfoy is upset that Harry ditched their not-plans, he doesn’t say anything when they see each other at pub night the next day. Malfoy walks in, eyes finding Harry immediately from across the packed room. Harry doesn’t know if he’s upset Harry left, if he knows what he saw. Before Harry can say anything, Malfoy is next to him, already talking his ear off about the new Harpies’ Seeker, and the odds of her being any good against the Falcons’, who won MVP last year.

Harry just nods along. He doesn’t follow as professional Quidditch quite as closely as Malfoy seems to, but he feels especially distracted tonight. He’s actually interested in what Malfoy is saying, but he can’t get his mind off their own upcoming match. Yesterday’s practice was the worse since Harry started helping, and if they do that tomorrow, there’s no way they’re going to even score. He can’t let everyone down, he just can’t.

“Even your Ginevra has had a decent season, for all the time she spent on the bench. I read they might make her first-string next season, good on her,”

“My Ginevra?” Harry replies weakly, looking up from where he’s been ripping his paper beermat into tiny pieces.

Malfoy makes a sound between a scoff and a sigh, “You know what I mean, Potter. Should I discuss my theories on her likelihood of being the Magpie’s Seeker next season, or would you rather wallow at the idea of your secondary school lover having her own lustrous career?”

“Lustrous career- we didn’t even date six months, and we were teenagers,” Harry shifts his weight in his chair, feeling embarrassed suddenly, and like he needs to explain, “It wasn’t even really… ever like that- ugh. The Weasleys are my family, Ginny’s like a sister. A gay sister. And, uh, a great Seeker. Er. I, um, hope that they do make her first-string, she deserves it,”

He looks up to find Malfoy watching him, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Alright,” is all he finally says. He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, and Harry watches, suddenly reminded of his conversation with Charlie over a month ago.

It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?

“Well, regardless of the semantics of your relationship, Potter, she’s a damn good player, and the Magpies have had just a horrible season overall. Perhaps a change on the field will be in their favor for next season.”

Harry nods. Did Draco Malfoy just compliment Ginny Weasley?

Chapter Text

When Harry wakes up the morning of the Ministry charity match, it’s pouring rain. Harry fucking hates the rain, has since he was a child. It’s a silly fear he can’t seem to shake, especially as he lives in bloody England, where it rains more than it doesn’t. He tried to do some exercises about it when he was seeing the Mind Healer, but nearly two years of sessions didn’t stop his chest from feeling especially tight when it rains or keep him from flinching when he hears a loud boom of thunder. He didn’t think any of it was working, and he’s gotten used to the feeling, so he stopped going to see her after a while.

But stupid reasons for hating rain doesn’t stop life from needing to happen. He’s spent the past month training the Curse Breaker/Admin team to hopefully be able to beat the Aurors and help a bunch of orphans on the way.

With a deep breath, he Apparates from his bedroom straight to the Ministry pitch.

**

Of course, they lost.

Of course, the Aurors would win, Harry doesn’t know why he got his hopes up. The second he sees the Auror playing Seeker grab hold of the Snitch, it’s like a punch to Harry’s gut.

He let down everyone. He let down Draco.

There’s a rushing in his ears that drowns out the noises around him, everything dulled and fuzzy. He can hear cheers erupt around him, but he just sits on the bench, staring at his hands, the brown of them contrasting against his light wash jeans.

They’re supposed to go to the pub after the game, both teams, and he’s supposed to go too. However, Harry can’t seem to move, frozen in space. The idea of even going inside the Ministry to see the team makes a wave of nausea run through him. And it’s still fucking raining, leaving the air heavy and constricting how much he can take in every breath.

He gets lost for a second, his brain going from fuck the rain to fuck everything to you stupid fucking idiot in a dizzying circle. He doesn’t even realize his heart rate picking up, the cold sweat forming on the nape of his neck. He’s just lost in his own world, every time he’s let someone down flashing in front of his eyes. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Fred, Dumbledore… He can barely hear the sound of his own breath over the rain, shaky and loud.

He doesn’t know how long he’s sitting out there, but no one interrupts him for what feels like forever. He knows he’s alone. Everyone left him there. He knows. He failed them, and he should stay here in the rain until he’s washed away. He realizes with a start that he’s sobbing, weak noises coming out of him without him noticing. It just makes him cry harder, feeling so pathetic, crying over Quidditch and the weather.

He puts his face in his hands and wonders how long he can stay out until he gets sick. He deserves it. There’s some kind of protective charms around the pitch, but they’ve long worn thin. He thinks he hears a sound, one he didn’t make, but it gets drowned out by his thoughts and heavy breaths.

Harry nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand graze his shoulder. He ends up falling off the bench, scrambling on the ground. Malfoy looks back at him, his eyes wide and hair weighed down by the rain.

“Harry, what the hell are you still doing out here?” Malfoy says, softly, “Everyone’s at the pub, I didn’t know where you were-”

He closes his eyes, he can’t take the look on Draco’s face, concerned and almost… terrified. Because of him.

“I’m sorry,” He croaks, his voice betraying him. He takes a few deep breaths, hoping it’ll calm down his heartbeat.

Before he can speak again, Draco sits on the bench, and taps the seat next to him for Harry to take.

“What could you possibly have to apologize for?”

Harry scrambles to sit next to Malfoy, their hands nearly touching on the bench between them.

“We lost,” Harry says, because it’s obvious, and Malfoy scoffs.

“We were always going to lose,” He says it like that’s obvious too.

“But- but I said I was going to help, that we were going to win. And we didn’t. I failed,” He takes a deep breath in and holds it while squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to cry in front of Draco. Or at least, trying not to cry even more.

“Harry…” Draco says, softly. He’s been calling Harry that now- his real name. Right now, it hurts for a different reason than normal, “You volunteered to do this when you didn’t need to. And honestly, you did your best. Half the team hadn’t been on a broom since school, or at all. It’s not like we’re a star team, and it was just a fundraiser. The practices were a lot of fun, we bonded as a department, and raised money. That’s success to me,” Draco moved his hand slightly, until their fingertips were just touching on the bench.

Harry nods softly, feeling guilty because he knows he originally only volunteered to spend more time with Malfoy, like the selfish arsehole he is. He has to take a few breaths, but then he shrugs, “I guess. I wish it wasn’t raining. Maybe I wouldn’t be as upset if it was sunny,”

“Sure, but we do live in England, remember,” Malfoy replies, obviously slightly confused by this shift in conversation, but going along, “Sun is great for Quidditch, but it’s also a rain or shine sort of sport,”

“No, it’s just,” He sighs, takes another breath in, “I really hate the rain. It’s uh, to do with my- the Muggle relatives I was raised by,”

“What?” Malfoy says on an exhale.

Harry can’t look at Malfoy, staring straight ahead. He can feel eyes on him, though, watching, waiting for more.

“They just, they didn’t like me. Treated me horribly. It’s fine, I’m so lucky I got out when I did, but it still bothers me sometimes. I don’t do small spaces, I despise folding laundry, and the rain makes me feel sick,” Like that’s normal, getting upset by chores and the weather. He knows it’s not, that he’s not.

“Okay…” Malfoy sounds unsure, and Harry hates this, but knows he needs to give some kind of explanation, as childish as it is.

“I got locked out once, while gardening. It was an accident, but I got caught in the rain. I was um. Pounding on the windows. But it was my fault, and I should’ve brought a key out with me, they said. Left me until they went to work the next day. They liked how I was quiet for a few days, ‘cause I caught a pretty bad cold and had to sleep it off. If it was raining, anything I did, really, could be enough to be kicked out to the yard. I, um. I didn’t stay out the whole night, um, most of the time. It was just a few minutes sometimes, really not bad, but I just really prefer when it isn’t raining. I know it’s silly-”

“Harry, that’s not silly. At all. I had no idea- How old were you?”

Oh, he thinks, “Six or so, the first time,”

Draco takes a breath beside him, “I’m so sorry they treated you so horribly, you didn’t deserve that. I can’t believe no one took you out of there, not the Ministry or Muggle child services. You were a child,”

He finally looks up and makes eye contact with Malfoy, whose eyes are wide and shiny with unshed tears. Harry knows he can’t look much better.

“I made you upset,” Is all he can think to say.

“What? Harry, I’m upset for you. That’s absolutely no way to treat a child, no wonder you’re all over the place constantly,” Harry can tell it’s a joke, but he can’t do more than raise his eyebrows, “I knew you were raised by some Muggle relatives, but not that they were like that. I don’t understand… hm. Maybe we should get you out of the rain,” Draco finally says, decisively.

“Oh, um. Sure?”

Malfoy grabs his arm, and he promptly feels the deep pull of Apparation as he gets side-alonged somewhere. When he opens his eyes, he’s in the middle of a flat he’s never been to before. Draco drops his arm and walks away, leaving Harry alone in the space between the kitchen and den. He walks towards a large bookcase in the den, reading the spines- a mix of Wizarding and Muggle, fiction and non-fiction. A textbook called Wand Posture for Curse Breakers next to a paperback Muggle romance novel. Harry’s eyes scan the room, overwhelmed by how different it feels than Malfoy Manor. It’s homey, art spread across the walls. There’s even a television.

He’s pondering how exactly Malfoy got here- to working in the wizarding world, living away from his family- in a Muggle neighborhood, no less. He knows a lot about Draco now- how he likes his tea, and his favorite holiday destination, but standing in his flat for the first time, Harry feels like he’s intruding. He tries to put together all the information he knows, and still feels confused and bleary from crying.

Just then, Malfoy comes in, two mugs of tea floating behind him and an armful of fabric. He drops the heap on the couch, and now Harry can see that it’s a blanket and some pajamas.

“You should get out of your wet clothes. Er, Blaise left these here not that long ago,” he said, holding up a pair of flannel joggers, “and the rest are, um, mine. I hope that’s alright,”

There’s something in Malfoy’s voice that Harry doesn’t recognize, and when he looks up, he finds him blushing bright red.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Of course, thanks so much. We could’ve- uh. We could’ve gone to mine, but uh. Thanks. I’m going to… go change,”

Their eyes meet for a second, before Draco closes his eyes and nods once. “Bathroom is that door right there, next to the kitchen,”

Harry scrambles to the bathroom as quickly as he can, still feeling a bit like a deer in headlights. Peeling off his wet jeans is a harder task than he’d like to admit. He’s shivering by the time he’s naked, quickly throwing on the shirt Malfoy gave him. It seems to be for a band- one Harry hasn’t heard of. Tegan & Sara. Was it a Wizarding group? The shirt was soft, the yellow cotton and black screen-print obviously faded with wear and washing. He reaches for the trousers, before he sees something else in the pile… briefs. The briefs Draco left him are black, and shorter than he would usually pick for himself. The rest are mine, he hears in his mind. They’re definitely tight, once he gets them on, and he can’t help but try to catch his arse in the mirror. He hears Draco’s voice again in his head, mine, and he shivers. He puts on the pajamas and tries not to look in the mirror or think about it why Zabini left them here too much.

When he makes his way back into the den, Malfoy’s curled up in the corner of the sofa, flipping through the telly with one hand, and balancing his tea on his knee with the other. Harry just watches for a second, how the light flashes across the blond’s face. He’s changed into pajamas too- a dark green silk set.

“I can feel you staring,”

Harry jumps, “Oh, sorry,”

“It’s fine,” Draco replies, still flipping from channel to channel, “just come sit,”

So, Harry makes his way over to the couch, but he feels like there’s something he’s missing. There’s only the couch, and its not particularly big. It’s a deep purple-red, and velvet. Without realizing, he’s reached out and is rubbing his hand on the material.

“Sit,” Draco repeats, “What should we watch?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I have a telly, I just rarely use it,”

They land on a cooking channel, and Draco leaves it.

“You don’t use your television? Do you listen to the Wireless?” Draco was looking at him now, finally, his eyebrows arched up in disbelief.

“Er, mostly just for a Quidditch game every now and again,” He shrugged, “I have Magpie season seats, so I use those when I can. I didn’t watch television much at all before Hogwarts, never got into it. I like music though… I do puzzles. Sudoku,”

“Harry Potter likes Sudoku more than the telly,” He takes a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, “Alright, that just means I have a lot to teach you. Listen closely, Potter, because I am an expert in trashy television and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” He smiles, sticking out his hand, “Do you accept?”

Harry couldn’t help but smile and stick out his hand to shake. Then Draco goes into a monologue about reality television programs and all their glory. It goes on for quite some time, but there seems to be a lot that needs said, so Harry listens while half-watching someone bake the most beautiful cake he’s ever seen. At some point the episode ends, and Draco uses it as an opportunity to turn on another channel. The show is about American teenagers and their sixteenth birthday parties. Harry feels like he’s missing some kind of crucial context, but it is entertaining. Then, he flips to a show where two teams of people are stranded on an island, completing inane challenges. Then, a show where a dozen women are all dating one man.

He must fall asleep around then, because all of a sudden, he opens his eyes and it’s morning. He’s on the couch by himself, and it looks like he got tucked in at some point, a pillow under his head and everything. He looks around, taking in the den in the sunshine. There are some sounds coming from the kitchen, and Harry can’t help but follow curiously.

Draco’s standing in front of the hob, a spatula in his hand. There’s classical music on low, something with a large brass section. Harry watches Draco flip something in a pan before he turns around and they make eye contact.

“You were staring again,” His hair is rustled, maybe the most out of control Harry has ever seen. It makes him feel uneasy how much he wants to touch it. He has to make his hands into fists to resist the temptation.

“I guess I was. What are you cooking?”

“Just some bacon. I don’t have much of anything right now, I desperately need to go shopping. But there’s toast, and strawberries,” He turns back around, this time bringing the pan with him, putting the bacon on some paper towel already on a plate.

“Right, no, this is amazing. Thank you, you didn’t need to,”

Malfoy scoffs but doesn’t reply, sending the plate of bacon along with a bowl of already cut strawberries and some toast to the table with a flick of his wand. He still doesn’t say anything, just makes his own way over and sits down. Harry follows, cautiously taking a piece of toast, already soaked with butter.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” He finally says, mouth still half full.

“You can thank me after you’ve swallowed your food,” Malfoy says, stabbing a strawberry piece with a fork.

He swallows, “Right. Just uh. Thanks for last night. You didn’t need to,”

“You’ve been saying that a lot this morning, and the day just started. You’ll run out of gratitude if you don’t slow down, Potter. But really, it’s no problem. You were upset, and it was actually really sweet how you fell asleep watching TV, so,” Harry can’t seem to look up from his plate, but he can almost imagine the pink on the cheeks across from him.

“Right. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to be a mess about it. I’ve been getting better about it, the not freaking out bit. You shouldn’t have seen me like that,”

At that, Malfoy laughs, “You don’t need to apologize for having emotions. As embarrassing as they are, they’re very natural. I sometimes have them myself, I must say,”

“Not like I was last night at the pitch, though,”

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks, Potter, don’t worry,”

Panic attacks?

“I- you have?” He finally looks up and finds Malfoy is the one looking very intently at his plate.

“It’s been a few years, but yeah. Especially as a teenager, all the time. I was… quite stressed for the better part of a decade,”

“Stressed?” He repeats without thinking.

“Stressed. I’m sure you remember the war we were both involved in, on opposite sides, no less?” Harry can’t help but flinch, “Right. Well, I was being prepared for that since I was nine, ten. Maybe even earlier. By the time first-year rolled around, I was already on edge, waiting for some other shoe to drop. And it just kept getting worse. Sixth and seventh year- I couldn’t go a day without panic, like my brain was trying to kill me before the Dark- He could. Um. So yes, I understand what that feels like, and I know it’s not particularly enjoyable,” He still won’t meet Harry’s eyes.

“You- you were that worried about it?”

“Yes, I was ‘that worried’ about it,” He snaps.

“I, um. I didn’t know,” Harry feels stupid, like he should’ve seen, should’ve done something.

“I wasn’t particularly showing it off, was I? I didn’t even spend time with my friends that year, really. I could barely- never mind,” He takes a deep breath, “The point is, I get it, it’s fine,”

“Right,” Harry says, not sure how he’s supposed to respond.

They eat in silence for a few minutes longer.

“Right,” He says again, “Um. I was curious… if you don’t mind. Um. How did you… end up here? Like,” he gestures at the room around them, unsure what he’s even asking.

“One wouldn’t expect a Malfoy in a Muggle flat?” Harry nods, “I don’t even notice much anymore, especially once I installed the Floo, what, two years back,” He’s not looking at his plate anymore, but off somewhere behind and to the left of Harry, “You do know I was on magical probations after the war, yes?” It doesn’t sound like as much of a question as it should.

“Um, magical probations?” He must sound really lost, because then Malfoy finally meets his eyes, a surprised look on his face.

“Yeah, I would’ve thought you’d have heard about it… in the Prophet, through the grapevine, or what have you,”

Harry scoffs, “I don’t read that shite,” He scowls, “And I’m not as much as a gossip as some think- even when it comes to you,”

Draco doesn’t laugh, “Alright. Well, I prohibited from casting for five years,” He takes a long sip of his tea.

“Five yea-” Harry thinks back now, to when he spoke at the Malfoy trial. He remembers suddenly that he didn’t stay for the sentencing, “That’s a bloody long time,”

Draco does laugh at that, barely, “Yeah, I suppose. That’s how I know so much about Muggle things- I lived like one. I almost didn’t come back to the Wizarding World; thought about permanently leaving the Isles, even. I didn’t, obviously,”

“Obviously,” Harry repeats, dazed, “Why didn’t you leave?”

“It just didn’t feel right, I guess. I traveled, but I couldn’t not come back,” He sighs, “I spent some time with Mother in France right after the trial, thinking I would stay with her, but… I’m sure you heard my father killed himself not long into his sentence in Azkaban,” That, Harry had heard, so he nods, and Draco sits up straighter, “Mother wasn’t the same after, I couldn’t take it. And like the coward I am, I ran away,”

He doesn’t say anything for long enough that Harry says, “You think coming back to London was cowardly?”

“Uh, yes. I left my mother to mourn her husband, her old life, on house arrest in the French countryside, so I could come back to London and what? Go out to Muggle gay clubs?” He scoffs, sounding tired, “I know she didn’t want me to leave, but I did anyway,”

“You needed time,” Harry says, trying not to think about what Draco did in these clubs. He knows he needed time after the war. He barely left his bed for months and had to be all but dragged to Scotland by Hermione in September. Eighth year was all but a blur. So was the year after that. He can’t imagine having to spend those years isolated with Narcissa Malfoy.

“Time,” Draco repeats, “Sure,”

“But you stayed,” Harry insists, remembering the question he had asked earlier.

“I took my time coming back, but once I did, yes, I stayed. The only place that made sense to go back to was London. I showed up to Pansy’s door one day and she was kind enough to let me sleep on her couch for a few weeks, until I got a job. I told Mother I would be back, but I think I knew I was lying, even then,” He makes brief eye contact with Harry, seemingly making sure he was paying attention- before looking away again, “Eventually I got this place, and I realized I didn’t want to give it up. I liked travelling, but I really liked coming back to somewhere that was mine. I was building a life for myself, without the burden of my family. I liked being ordinary, riding the Tube and all. I had a normal job, some friends to go out with,” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear a thought, “My Aunt showed up one day, with my old wand,” He meets Harry’s eyes, “You didn’t need to return that, by the way. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you destroyed it,”

“Why would I?” He had never even considered the possibility.

Malfoy scoffed, “Because that wand almost killed you? I don’t know. I didn’t want it. Once she left, I snapped it in three, threw it into the river,”

“You- you threw your wand in the Thames?”

“Yes. It was my Grandfather’s wand. I- I couldn’t bear the thought of casting with it, especially after five years of nothing,”

“But the wand you brought into the shop…”

“Was a loan from the Ministry. I was just using loans, until you sold me this,” He said, twirling his wand in his fingers before setting it on the table again, “I thought me coming back was… temporary, but I think I’ve come to accept that I’m back, maybe forever,” Draco giggles then, and puts a hand over his mouth like he didn’t expect that to happen, “Isn’t that funny?”

“Isn’t what funny?” Harry asks, confused. He thought they were having a serious conversation; he doesn’t get where the joke was.

Draco keeps giggling, and Harry just waits for him to finish. Once he calms down he says, “When we were younger, did you ever expect that I would leave the Wizarding World- live a normal life in “Muggle London” … I didn’t even hear the word Muggle for years! Would you think that I would not want to come back?” He exhales sharply, a ghost of a chuckle, “It took me over two years at the Ministry, and three damaged loan wands before I got my own sodding wand. For two years, I really thought one day, they’d fire me, I’d pick up and go back to my life,” He hums.

“Oh, um. I guess not. I can barely understand you without magic now,” Harry says finally, overwhelmed with the ease that Draco has, telling him all of this, how different this conversation is than anything they discussed in school, “How did you… your job at the Ministry? You- you liked living without magic, you said,”

“Hmm. It wasn’t exactly the plan, for me to work at the Ministry. Kingsley actually came into my work one day, I almost didn’t recognize him,” He chuckles softly, “Something had happened, and the spell looked a lot like what I did to that cabinet…” He sighs, “I still can’t believe it, but they wanted my help. I told him, ‘I didn’t finish my education and I haven’t touched a wand in years- I’m as useful as a squib,’ but he said they needed my expertise, as stupid as it sounds. After that, I was offered a consulting position, and then a permanent position. I had to take my NEWTs nearly seven years later than I should have, which was fucking impossible after not touching a wand for years and years. But they gave me the job right after. I find breaking curses quite rewarding, and I realized I did miss magic once I got it back. So, here I am,”

“Here you are,” Harry parrots, feeling suddenly like he’s out of his depth.

Chapter Text

He leaves not long after breakfast, head still reeling by how normal and even good it felt to talk to Malfoy. They had spent over twelve hours together, and Harry felt almost giddy with it, with the things they had told each other in the past day. He feels like he knows an entirely new side of Draco, one he didn’t know existed until just now. They had talked about so much the last few weeks- their favorite subject in school, politics, making bets about Quidditch games. But something has shifted. He still has so many questions- ones he didn’t want to ask in fear of being laughed at. Draco mentioned going to gay clubs- that thought couldn’t seem to leave Harry alone. Did he have a whole hoard of gay Muggles he hung out with, got drunk with, danced with?

He tries not to think about it. Draco and he are finally friends of some kind. They eat dinner, tell each other about their lives. Open up to each other about their lives. He doesn’t want to ruin that- something he never thought he would have. Not just a friendship with Draco... but something so easy, which his relationships usually aren’t. He wouldn’t have thought that it would take Draco Malfoy to teach him what an easy friendship was like, but it didn’t have the same expectations he still felt when he saw his old friends from Hogwarts, or tried to make new friends, who knew who he was and couldn’t let it go. He tried to make friends with Muggles, hoping he’d feel freer without the Savior bullshit, but he just felt like he was lying constantly to not break the Statute.

But he keeps thinking about Malfoy. Malfoy, dancing in a dark club, shirt sticking to his skin. Some stranger’s hands on him, someone else’s lips. It fills Harry with an emotion he doesn’t recognize, deep in his gut, making magic fizzle out to the tips of his fingers. He wanks about it, and feels immediately guilty, unable to look himself in the mirror when he finally goes to wash his hands, the cleaning spell he used still leaving him feeling sticky.

He doesn’t get out of bed Sunday until an acceptable time to head to the Burrow, still feeling like a voyeuristic arsehole, tossing off to someone who’s become a friend. He knows it’s not even the first time he’s done it, and that just makes him feel worse.

He goes straight to Ron, who’s in the kitchen watching Hermione put a cooling charm on a six pack, Rosie on her hip. He stops short, lets both of them look over to him.

“Did you know Malfoy couldn’t use magic for five years?” He was hot when he walked in, ready to know why he’s been in the dark for nearly nine years about Malfoy’s life. No one thought to tell him anything, and that just hurts.

“Sure,” Hermione answers before Ron can, like that’s common fucking knowledge.

“You-” Harry starts.

“Why are you asking us?” Ron finally says.

“I…” He can feel his magic getting a bit out of control, zapping him from the inside out, giving him gooseflesh, “Why did no one tell me?”

“Tell you? You spoke at his trial, why would we think you didn’t know? Anyway, I thought the two of you recently-”

“Ronald, that’s about enough,” Hermione interjects, giving him a look before handing him a beer, chilled and open. She turns back to Harry, “What’s brought this on, Harry?”

“I just…” He can feel his neck getting warm and he hopes Ron doesn’t see, “I, um. No reason, I guess. I just didn’t know, and I feel like I should’ve, probably,”

“Probably,” Ron snickers, and Hermione slaps his arm.

Harry still feels twitchy, like he’s going out of skin. Hermione and Ron aren’t much help at all.

“Is Charlie here?” Charlie would have something good to tell him.

Ron gives him a strange look, and Hermione slides a beer on the counter towards him, “No, one of his dragons is giving birth, couldn’t miss it,”

He grabs the beer, icy in his hands, “Oh,” He thought dragons only laid eggs, but he guesses there’s a lot about dragons he doesn’t know. He spent most of his time in Romania scooping dung and sitting in fields trying not to drink himself to death, “Well, I’m going to go say hullo to everyone,” He points his thumb behind his back and slowly retreats to the other room.

He hugs Molly and gets into a conversation with Arthur about the merits of Wi-Fi versus Ethernet. Harry had set him up with computer not long after he started at Ollivander’s, and he was endlessly fascinated by the Internet and all its crevices. After a long meal, Harry ends up in the back, looking up at the stars like he did all those weeks ago. So much has changed, but he’s still thinking about Draco, and still as confused as ever. Just like that time, someone opens the door and comes to stand next to him.

“How’s it, Hazza?” Ginny says, taking a pack of Marlb Golds out of her pocket, “You want one?”

It’s been a while, and he probably shouldn’t, but he nods anyway. He hates the way they smell between his lips unlit, but once he’s lit it with a wandless charm, the smoke is like a welcome old friend.

“Are you going to get in trouble with your coach for smoking?” He asks around the ciggie.

Ginny chuckles, “I hope so. Anyway, season’s over,” she shrugs, “And what’s a holiday without some vices?”

“Fair enough,” He says on an exhale. Takes a drag, then another, “I’m having a bit of a crisis,”

“Oh, I love a good crisis,” She replies, honestly sounding excited by the idea, “Is it the gay kind? Those are even better,”

He gives her a look, the first real one of the evening. Her hair is shorter than the last time he saw her two weeks ago, cropped close to her head.

“What makes you think it’s a gay crisis? I already know I’m gay,” He grumbles. She knows too much for her own good, always been able to read Harry like a book.

Ginny laughs, in the raspy way she does, “Am I wrong? How would you classify this crisis?”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be… classified, or whatever. Ugh,” He ashes his cigarette, “I don’t know how to talk about this,”

“Well, you know you can tell me anything - I love you no matter what,” She says, confused but saying the right thing, like always. “I can tell you a secret too if you want,” She adds, going a bit pink.

“Oh?” They did this a few times when they dated. It’s how they came out to each other, realized they weren’t compatible like that, “Let’s do that, then,”

“You first. I’m not giving this juicy secret up for free,” She seems fascinated by the fag in her hand suddenly.

“Oh,” He didn’t have to say it out loud last time, to Charlie, “Er. I… I might have developed feelings for,” He closes his eyes, “Draco Malfoy,”

A beat.

“I’ve been sleeping with Pansy Parkinson,”

A beat.

They break into laughter at the same time.

“That’s hilarious,” Ginny says between giggles, “Who’d have thought,”

“How’d- Parkinson? Really?” Harry asks, confused. He didn’t know they even knew each other.

Ginny goes pink, “She might have come after me for an autograph, and I… had left my quill at my flat,”

“Right,” Harry replies. His cigarette is finished, and he doesn’t have anything to do with his hands now.

“Malfoy, huh?” She pulls out another cigarette, offers the box to him.

He grabs one, “Ta,”

“You know, I can’t say I’m surprised,”

He pauses, a flame coming out of his finger, halfway to his mouth, “What?”

“You’ve always been very focused on him, is all,” She answers, like he wasn’t right in being concerned all those years ago.

He sighs, which extinguishes the charmed flame, “We’ve been spending time together, recently. We get on well, and I’m not going to lie and say I don’t think he’s fit, but I just… I know he’s gay, but that doesn’t mean I should just-” He groans, wanting to throw himself off the nearest cliff, “I can’t tell if I really like him, or if I’m going crazy,” He finally says, “I feel like I’m going crazy, anyway,”

Ginny laughs again, “Oh, love, you’re fucked,”

He shifts, uncomfortable in the knowledge that he most definitely is, “What do I do, Gin?”

She doesn’t answer straight away, taking a long drag and letting it go. Harry still hasn’t lit his.

“You loon. Tell him how you feel,”

“Well, what about you and Parkinson, then?” He deflects, twirling his still unlit cigarette in his fingers.

He watches a blush rise on her cheeks again, “Not sure what you mean. I’m going inside now,” And with that, she vanishes her half-finished cigarette and leaves Harry alone.

Chapter Text

Thursday rolls around, and Harry immediately looks for Draco when he walks into the Leaky. He’s nowhere to be found, but Ron waves him over. He ends up talking with Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus for a while until he finally sees Malfoy walk in with Cho, the both of them still in their Ministry issued Curse Breaker robes. Harry watches the two of them make their way to the bar, chatting. Ron is talking in his ear about… he hasn’t really been paying attention. Seamus seems to think it’s hilarious enough, pounding his hand on Ron’s shoulder a few times. Harry can’t take his eyes off Draco, his long fingers undoing the clasp at his throat to reveal a tong torso, longer legs in the most well-tailored grey suit Harry has ever seen.

He’s feeling a little too warm, regretting his turtleneck suddenly. It was cold earlier, he swears. At some point, Luna wanders into their circle and starts talking about her work, which Harry can’t help but be fascinated by. He listens to her talk about the latest Fairy Rights campaign, and soon it’s only the two of them and Hermione, the rest leaving to talk elsewhere.

“You know, Luna, my boss was telling me how at the board meeting, there was talk of them opening a non-human wing at St. Mungo’s,” Hermione says.

“Oh, that would be absolutely prolific!” Luna replies, nearly swooning at the idea.

Harry feels like he’s being watched, and when he turns his head just slightly, he finds Draco looking right at him. A smile takes over his face without realizing, and his feet are suddenly moving, bringing them together. It’s been nearly a week since Harry left Draco’s flat last Saturday, and they haven’t talked. Harry started a dozen different letters, none of them good enough to Owl over. It was the first week they didn’t have Quidditch practice as an excuse to see each other, and it slid by like molasses. Now, though, seeing Malfoy’s features get clearer as he walks through the crowd, he feels like he’s taking his first cold drink after walking through a desert.

“Oi, Potter! Just the lad I wanted to see,” Draco says, once Harry’s close enough. Him and Cho are by the bar, sipping matching cocktails. It can’t be their first- Draco’s face is already flushed, splotchy across his cheeks. The wide grin he gives Harry sends something thick and warm through his veins.

Cho laughs from her place next to Draco, turns toward Harry, “Harry, tell Draco to come off it. He’s saying that you broke his wand,”

He can’t seem to take his eyes off Malfoy, how he’s evading looking at either of them. He raises an eyebrow, “I sold him a wand,”

“That was only after you damaged my Ministry issued wand,” Draco waves his hand around, wrist flopping in front of his face a few times. He’s got four rings on tonight, every finger shining under the dim lights of the pub.

“I…” What did he walk into? “You told me you dropped it in a cursed handbag,”

Cho chokes on her drink, “Is that right? Deputy Curse Breaker Malfoy, why didn’t you take that damaged wand to the Ministry wand repair?”

Draco is looking very intensely at Cho, eyes sharp and drink forgotten at his elbow. “You fucker,” he says through his teeth.

“Wait, the Ministry has a wand repair?” Harry says at the same time, feeling like he’s barely following this conversation.

Cho gives him a very wide grin, “Oh, Harry,” She stands up from the stool, grabs her drink, “I’m going to go say hi to Luna now. Bye!” Suddenly, she’s gone.

“What just happened?” Harry asks, trying to find her in the crowd among everyone else. She really seems to have disappeared.

“Chang is a menace is what just happened,” Malfoy mumbles.

Harry turns around just in time to watch Draco down his drink in one gulp, throat working and mesmerizing Harry. Draco puts his glass down on the bar and turns completely towards Harry in his seat, his back leaning against the edge of the bar.

“I should tell you something,” Draco’s wringing his hands together in his lap, his long fingers wiggling around each other like a tangle of worms. Weird visual, Harry. Focus. “That time I came into your shop…” He sighs, crosses his arms. No more worms, “I didn’t come in to get my wand fixed,”

Harry’s confused. He feels like he’s been confused since he walked over here, since he left Draco’s flat last week.

“Oh. Well, I didn’t fix your wand,” He says, going through what he remembers from Draco coming into the shop, “I didn’t know how. I just sold you a new one,”

“Right,” Draco replies.

“But you said- you said it was time for you to get a wand anyway,”

Draco clicks his tongue against his teeth, “I did say that,”

“What-”

“I just needed an excuse,” Draco says, louder than before. He looks around, self-conscious, before continuing, “I needed an excuse to see you again, talk to you. I was very confused when you approached me here the first time, asking me about the charity game…” He takes a deep breath, looks right at Harry, “And I wanted to talk to you again,”

“You…” Harry isn’t confused anymore, his brain just seems to be malfunctioning, “You bought a wand from me just to talk to me?”

“Erm,” Draco chuckles, “I suppose. It was more like – I did want a wand, and Weasley mentioned you working at Ollivander’s,” He runs his hand over his face, “This is so embarrassing,”

“But- I talked to you again. I basically forced you to make me coach,” There’s something on the tip of his tongue…

“That, I will admit, took me by surprise,” Draco’s fidgeting with one of his rings now, “But, I just wanted you to know that- my intentions were not entirely… pure, when I came into Ollivander’s that day,”

Not entirely pure…

“Draco,” Harry says, slowly, “I only went up to talk to you about the charity match because Ron told me to ask you about the weather,”

“The weather?”

“That’s what I said,” This is all starting to make sense finally, “He told me that I needed to talk to you because he was tired of my obsession. With you,” He adds after a beat, just to make sure he’s understood.

“Your… obsession? With me?”

Harry laughs at Draco repeating him again, “You know, I’m usually the one who does that,”

Draco shakes his head, “I’m just confused,”

“Oh, so was I,” Harry says, “But I’m starting to get it figured out, I think,”

He takes a step closer, so he’s in Draco’s space. He rests their foreheads together, and they both inhale sharply when Harry puts a hand on Draco’s waist under his suit jacket. His torso is warm under Harry’s hand, even through his dress shirt. They breathe the same air, Harry not having a clue how to verbalize what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking. His hand moves from Draco’s waist to the small of his back.

“Harry,” Draco prompts quietly, exhaling shakily.

Draco’s hand sneaks up Harry’s chest, traveling to rest on the nape of his neck bringing him even closer.

“It’s always been you,” Harry mumbles against Draco’s mouth, and that’s enough.

They come together easily, kissing softly. They come apart after an endless amount of time, breathing heavily. Harry’s heart is beating so loud in his ears, he fears he’s dreaming. Malfoy reaches out his other hand, three silver rings shining in the light. Harry watches as the hand lands on his bicep, moves up to lace with the fingers of the hand already holding him close.

His brain may be melting.

“Er- Do you want to come back to mine?” He whispers, not wanting to break their bubble.

“Do I- of course I want to come back to yours,” Draco shakes his head, “Harry Potter,”

“Draco Malfoy,” He can’t believe his luck, “Would you stay the night?”

Draco doesn’t answer, just shifts closer. Harry lets himself be pulled. Their lips meet, again. And again, and again. Harry’s a bit dazed when they break apart. Draco makes a sound in the back of his throat, pushes his hips forward. Just as Harry realizes what’s poking him in the hip, he remembers how they’re very much in public.

“Merlin,” He says, can’t help but press his face to Draco’s neck and breathe him in, “Hold on,”

Arms tighten around Harry’s neck, and he can’t convince himself to let go of Draco’s waist just for the amount of time it takes to grab his wand. In a second, they’re in Harry’s bedroom. Once they land and get their footing, Harry’s being dragged into a searing kiss.

“Did you just wandlessly Apparate us here? Salazar, Harry,” Draco’s on him again so fast he can’t answer, not like it’s a big deal that he’s decent enough with wandless magic to Apparate them down the street, “I need you to fuck me. Right now,” He says between kissing Harry’s lips, face, neck.

Harry lets himself be dragged to his own bed, Draco pushing him down and wasting no time crawling in his lap. They end up kissing again, Draco rocking in his lap slightly. Harry bites Draco’s lip, getting a groan in return. Encourages, he moves to bite and suck Draco’s neck, the idea of his mouth leaving bruises on the pale skin sending a thrill through him.

“Harry,” Draco gasps, “Let me suck you,”

Confused, Harry disconnects himself from the tantalizing skin in front of him, “I thought you said…?”

Draco doesn’t answer, just hums, moving down Harry’s body until his face is in his flies. Harry watches Draco press a kiss to the clothed bulge there, their eyes still locked. Harry takes in a shaky breath, tangles his fingers in Draco’s hair.

“Okay,” Harry can deal with this.

Draco doesn’t hesitate, then. He unzips Harry’s jeans, slides them down his legs as far as he can with rough movements, and without making Harry move. Harry watches, fascinated by Draco pulling down his pants for him, the way he smiles at Harry’s mostly hard cock knocking against his own thigh.

“I’m going to suck you,” Draco says, determined this time.

Harry can’t say anything back, he just keeps watching. Watches Draco poke out his tongue and give experimental kitten licks to the tip of Harry’s dick, lapping up the wetness there. He grabs the base, licks a stripe from the bottom to the top, and back again. When he finally swallows Harry down halfway, Harry sees stars. He’s already struggling not to squirm, feeling like his insides are lava. Draco keeps moving, sloppy noises coming out of his mouth from around Harry’s now slick cock.

It’s getting a little too intense too fast, it’s so good, and Harry squeezes Draco’s shoulder in warning, “Draco, fuck. I’m close,”

Draco comes up in one movement, a trail of saliva still connecting them. Harry watches that as Draco says, “Thank Merlin, it’s time for you to fuck me. And you better be good, Potter, or I’m leaving,”

Harry nods, not sure how he got here or how to make sure Draco doesn’t leave, maybe ever. He has no idea how his face looks, probably something wild. Draco looks absolutely edible, the most beautiful thing Harry has ever seen, and he’s in his bed, taking off his clothes, just for Harry.

“Stop staring and take off your kit,” Draco says, snapping Harry out of his train of thought.

He does just that, stripping possibly the fastest he has in his entire life. Before he can get settled again, Draco is pushing him down into the mattress again with a hand on his chest. Draco has his legs on either side of Harry’s torso, all long pale lines. Harry puts his hands on the thighs wrapped around him, rubbing up and down.

“I’m going to finger myself, get myself ready for you,” Draco says, suddenly yielding a bottle of lube, “I’m usually more of a pillow princess but,” He leans down to whisper in Harry’s ear, “I’ve been waiting for this one for a while,”

Harry just nods, dazed and not sure what to do with his hands. They roam Draco’s flank, up his side, before they land on the small of Draco’s waist, supporting him, squeezing. Draco leans into his hands, shifts his weight so he can easily reach behind himself. Harry wishes he could watch, wishes he could see Draco opening himself up for him. It takes too long and no time at all, but eventually Draco’s right hand reappears, shiny with lube. Draco takes Harry’s dick in hand, lines it up with his entrance. He slides down slowly, a hand coming to rest on Harry’s stomach.

“So good, Harry,” Draco says, “Feels so good,”

“You- you too,” White hot zaps of pleasure go up his spine.

Draco sets a slow rhythm, first just rolling his hips before moving up and down, working himself on Harry’s dick however he sees fit. It’s driving Harry crazy, the slow pace, the rough, wet drag of it. He curls his toes with it, let himself soak in the feeling. Tries desperately not to take over, as much as the desire to flip them over is burning in his veins. He didn’t expect Draco to take control like this, but he can’t help but find it unbelievably arousing, him just taking what he needs from Harry.

Suddenly, what Draco said earlier creeps into his mind, delayed by the fog of lust, “You’ve been waiting for this? For my cock in you?” He asks, trying to keep his breathing under control, snaps his hips up once.

Draco stills, not at all what Harry was going for, “It’s been torture,” He says, deadpan, “You’re not doing your job,” He looks down behind him, at where they’re joined together, still, before looking back at Harry.

Harry can’t help but laugh, snaps his hips up again. Draco resumes bouncing, not as energetic as when they started. Harry helps him out, not remembering what it was he was going to say in response.

“Been waiting for you to get your act together,” Draco says eventually, gasps when Harry makes a particularly hard thrust, “Didn’t think it’d take me telling you about my plan for this to happen,”

“So, the wand was a plan?” He replies, taking one hand off Draco’s waist to wipe his brow before replacing it, squeezing, “I guess it worked, because I was going out of my head the way I couldn’t stop thinking about you,”

Draco hums, throws his head back for a few seconds, still barely bouncing, making Harry do most of the work… not that he minds. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, the sound of heavy breaths and skin slapping taking up space.

“It worked, it worked,” Draco says after a minute, breathless, mostly just shifting his hips, “because I’m yours, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Harry hisses, grabs onto Draco’s hips tighter, helping him bounce faster, harder, “You’re mine,”

“Yours,” Draco repeats a few times every few bounces, dragging his nails down Harry’s chest. The words devolve into whines, gasps, “Feel so full,”

Harry realizes they haven’t kissed in a while, and he needs to fix that immediately. He grabs Draco by the neck, brings him closer. He tries to start a kiss, but they mostly end up panting in each other’s mouths, moving together. It’s so good anyway, Harry really can’t complain.

“Mine,” Harry says again, into Draco’s mouth before going to bite at his neck, “Been thinking about this too, me and you,” He admits into Draco’s ear.

Draco shifts his hips slightly, never stops moving. Another whine leaves his lips when Harry picks a spot on his neck and sucks, “I know,” Is what Draco finally says, the prick. Harry decides to ignore it, focuses on keeping some semblance of a pace.

“Baby,” Harry says, grabbing Draco wherever he can, “You feel so good,”

“Don’t call me that,” Draco says, shaking his head, “Or- ah, ah, or I’m gonna cum,”

Harry groans, something burns in his chest, “Want you to come riding my cock, baby,”

Draco whines and it’s like music to Harry’s ears. He keeps chasing that sound, snapping his hips off the bed, trying to push any buttons he can, make Draco come undone. He starts saying anything he can think of… praise, things he thought while wanking, and some new ones. It only takes a dozen thrusts before Draco gasps, cums all over Harry’s stomach, fluttering deliciously around his dick. It doesn’t even take a minute for Harry to follow, shooting off while panting into the soft skin of Draco’s neck.

Draco ends up laying on Harry’s chest, the two of them still connected, breathing heavily for a few minutes. When he catches his breath, Harry shifts slightly, keeping Draco draped on his chest, but his cock sliding out.

“Wow,” Harry says, still not sure he’s awake, that what just happened was real.

Draco hums, pushes his nose into Harry neck, “That was nice,”

Harry laughs, “Uh, yeah. I’d say so,” Draco shifts slightly, pushes his nose harder into Harry’s skin, “Would you, uh. Would you like to go on a date or something, sometime?” Harry finally says.

“Harry, we’ve already been on, like, five dates,” Draco huffs, “You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“Oh,” He guesses he hasn’t, thinks back to all the hours he spent convincing himself that everything between them was platonic, “I didn’t realize that’s what that was,”

“Sure,” Draco says and then yawns, “I’m going to sleep now,” He drapes Harry’s comforter over the both of them and falls asleep just like that, still on top of Harry, his cum drying between them.

**

He somehow convinces Draco to stay the night again Friday, and they spend all of Saturday in bed, fucking and napping. It’s pure heaven, and Harry never wants to go back to real life.

“I have to go to the Weasley’s tomorrow, Sunday roast,” Harry says at some point, when the sun is already setting out the window. The golden light makes Draco glow something amazing.

“You go every week, yeah?” Draco says, turning on his side to face Harry.

“Yeah, I try to,” He replies. He can’t help but lean in, give Draco a small kiss.

“Want me to come with you?” Draco says against his lips.

“You-” Harry pulls back, looks at Draco. His eyes skitter around the room, avoiding Harry, “What’s going on?”

“Ugh, nothing,” Their eyes finally meet, just for a second before Draco closes them, “I just- I’m very serious about this, you. I know how important the Weasley family is to you. So, I’ll come if you want. Come to dinner, the Burrow,” Draco opens his eyes again, looks back at Harry, expectant.

“Oh, um,” I have to say the right thing here, “Wow. That- that would be really nice, Draco. And uh, just so you know… I’ve never felt like this before, ever. I guess that means I’m serious as well,”

Draco hums and goes a little pink. Harry watches it spread, fascinated.

“Okay,” Draco says, and leans in for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Harry’s on the tail end of repairing a Poplar Phoenix Feather wand when he hears the bell above the door go off.

“Just one second!”

“It’s me,” A familiar voice calls out.

Before he can blink, there’s a weight pushing into his back and he can feel Draco’s magic surrounding him along with his arms, around Harry’s waist.

“Hey, baby,” Harry says, pleased. He secretly loves when his boyfriend visits him at work, especially since Ollivander left him in charge of the Diagon Alley location, once the man finally retired – on his deathbed, no less.

Draco just groans against his shoulder blades. Harry can feel him shift, a pointy nose poking into vertebrae. It just means Harry can feel it even more when Draco lays his face flat against his back and says, “I hate my job,”

“No, you don’t,” Harry responds, still sanding the wand in front of him, looking for imperfections, “You’re in the middle of that research project on using Muggle blood tests to detect bloodline curses. You love that kind of stuff,”

“Well, maybe I just hate Shacklebolt. He hasn’t let me touch that project in weeks, has me running around all across the Isles,” He sighs, squeezing Harry’s middle, “Maybe I should go private- I’d never have to deal with red tape, meathead Aurors, or Shacklebolt’s condescending platitudes ever again,”

Harry hums, “You could go to the private sector, if you want to,”

Draco just mumbles something into his spine that he doesn’t catch. He’s quiet for a minute and then says, clearer, “Are you almost done?”

“Almost. Just gotta rub some polish on,” He reaches for the polish on the shelf, Draco refusing to let go and moving with him.

“I’ve got something better for you to rub,” Draco grumbles into his back.

Harry scoffs, “Yeah, okay,”

They stand in silence as Harry finishes the wand. He’s surprised Draco is standing still for this long, as he’s usually fidgeting with something- twirling a ring, tapping his foot. But he seems to be perfectly content with his face smooshed into Harry’s back as he works.

It doesn’t take long before Harry puts the wand down and says, “Okay. Done,” one hand resting on Draco’s clasped on his stomach. He turns around slowly, until he’s face to face with his boyfriend, “Hi,” he whispers, kissing the tip of Draco’s nose.

“I’ve been here for twenty minutes,” Draco says, pretending not the preen, “I’ve been very patient, and I think I deserve a nap before dinner. And a bit of a cuddle,”

Harry chuckles, “Oh, you do, do you? A pre-dinner cuddle, I think that could be arranged,”

Draco lays his head on Harry’s shoulder, give him a squeeze. His lips move against Harry’s neck softly when he says, “Side-along me,”

“Spoilt,” Harry says, but does it anyway.

They land in Harry’s bedroom, Draco swaying slightly and gripping tighter to Harry to get balance. He lets go, leaving Harry cold. Harry watches him strip to briefs and get into Harry’s bed, which he had never made from the night before. Draco usually complains about that, or comments about the general state of his room, which is perpetually in a tip. This time, he just quietly settles under the covers, bringing the comforter up to his chin. Harry takes off his jeans and slides in too. Draco pushes his face into Harry’s chest, groans softly into his t-shirt.

He takes a hand, lays it on the back of Draco’s neck, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nap,” Draco says, not really an answer.

He just sets an alarm charm for an hour, shuffles even closer to Draco.

When the alarm goes off, flicking Harry in the nose, he wakes with a start. Draco’s already up, and laughs, which stings. He tells him as much.

“Oh, stop, you oaf. I don’t know why you use those charms anyway,” Despite his words, Draco throws an arm across Harry’s belly and snuggles close.

“How was your day?” He has to ask and hopes Draco’s still drowsy enough he won’t get snapped at, and just get to the reason.

Draco hides his face in Harry’s neck and breathes for a minute. This usually doesn’t happen when Draco’s upset- the few times he let Harry see him truly upset, he was sharp, cutting, like he was in school. Harry doesn’t know what to do with this version of Draco.

“Shacklebolt just called me into this… this meeting today,” He finally says, “He’s been getting, er. There’s been some complaints about me,” Harry furrows his brows. That doesn’t sound right.

“That can’t be right,” Is what he says.

“They’re not even- ugh. This is so awful and pointless,” Draco presses his face into Harry’s neck harder, like he wants to merge them together.

Harry just tangles his hand in Draco’s hair, waits. Presses a kiss to the top of his head in case he forgets Harry’s right there.

Draco eventually sighs, “Shacklebolt said that he’s gotten over a hundred complaints about me in the past four years. He said most of them are… not pertaining to job performance, but that he had to talk to me about it,” Harry just massages his scalp, “It’s not like I didn’t know people don’t want me there, but I like my job. I paid my price, literally and metaphorically,”

“I know,”

“I know you know, you git,” Despite his words, he’s still pressed against Harry, the two of them connected all the way down. Draco’s hand on Harry’s stomach goes up and down with his breaths.

“I’m being supportive,” He pretends to be wounded.

“I know,” Draco sighs, rubs his cheek against Harry’s shoulder, “I should just save everyone the trouble and leave. Quit,”

“You really like being able to help the Wizarding public,” They’ve had similar conversations, once or twice.

Draco groans, “I’m aware. Shacklebolt told me that some of the complaints are… they’re about the Mark,” A pause, “He said it might be best for me to ‘refrain’ from rolling up my sleeves in the field, like half my job this time of year isn’t standing in the sun out in the sodding countryside somewhere, physically fighting with agricultural curses,”

“You’d think people wouldn’t complain, when you’re there on behalf of the Ministry to help,”

“You’d think,” Draco says, short, letting his calmness slip. He runs a hand through his hair, takes some deep breaths.

Harry hums. He really not good at being supportive, but Draco is always so comforting to him, so he has to try.

“You could quit,” He says, even though he was saying the exact opposite earlier.

Draco chuckles and shoots him a look, obviously thinking the same thing.

“Or, maybe not,” He amends, “You’ve been thinking about it though,” They talked about it last not even a few weeks ago.

“But where would I go?” Draco asks, pulling on a loose thread coming out of the duvet cover.

“You could open your own firm- decide for yourself what jobs to take, maybe even publish your research,” Harry says, reaching out to tangle his fingers in Draco’s, “No meathead Aurors,”

Draco squeezes his hand, bumps his nose into the bottom of Harry’s jaw, “I know you love me, Harry, but you’re probably one of the only wizards around here who would hire me for my services. Don’t let those dick goggles of yours cloud your vision,”

Harry scoffs, “You’re a wanker. You would get customers if that’s what you wanted. I’ve never known you to back down. Anyway, you really could do anything you want. Could go back to a Muggle job; you liked working in that museum gift shop. Or something else – you were good at potions when we were in school, you could do something with that,”

“I was only good at potions because Severus made me read all these books about it,” He groans, “I used to essentially present an oral book report whenever he came to the Manor. Proper traumatizing,” Of all the things Draco’s had to do, had others do to him, Harry doubts it’s textbooks that were traumatizing.

“I’ve read plenty of books, and I was still shite in school,” Harry says, making Draco drop his hand and give him a light smack, “Ow! That wasn’t necessary. I was going to offer to be your sugar daddy, but I don’t think I want to anymore,”

“You’re no help,” Draco mumbles, rubbing his hand on where he had hit Harry, the barely-there pain quickly disappearing.

“Probably not,” He agrees, “I can at least help you feel better,” Harry amends, pushing Draco onto his back.

Draco goes willingly, sinking into the bed. He leans down for a quick kiss, trying not to get distracted. He does, a little bit. Eventually he breaks away, goes for Draco’s neck to give light kisses. He makes his way slowly down Draco’s body, starting from his neck and kissing down to his chest, stomach, thighs. He lingers, sucks bruises, and keeps Draco firm on the bed with his hands. When he gets low enough, Draco’s fingers find their way into his hair, a sigh on his lips. Harry continues to take his time, dragging his teeth across flesh, pleased when small bumps follow his trail. He ignores the cock in front of him, half hard and enticing. The fingers in his curls tighten and try to pull him in a certain direction, which he ignores. He moves lower, blowing on the skin below Draco’s balls at the same time he drapes one of Draco’s legs over a shoulder.

“You’re very beautiful, baby,” He kisses the expanse of milky thigh in front of him, “Especially from here,”

Draco chortles, but still blushes, “From that angle especially, huh?”

Harry hums, sucks a bruise into the inside of Draco’s thigh. Then he turns his attention to Draco's hole, using a thumb to hold him open. He uses the thumb to prod at it a little, before leaning in and giving it a lick proper. He gets lost in it, in the sounds Draco makes above him, hand never leaving his hair.

Harry’s face is wet with saliva, going up and down Draco’s pubic bone to lick at his hole for a few minutes, nipping at his pnermeum and giving soft kisses to his dick before going back the other way. When he sneaks a look at Draco’s face, he’s bright red from the prolonged stimulation, never enough to send him over the edge. His fingers not in Harry’s hair are tangled in the sheets, knuckles almost white. Harry slowly pushes one of his fingers in, watches Draco’s hole bring him in after minutes and minutes of just his tongue. He swirls his tongue around the digit, enjoying all the little sounds Draco makes, like he can’t make up his mind to moan or gasp.

“H’rry,” Draco says, sounding more drunk than Harry has ever heard him.

Harry replaces his tongue with another finger in Draco’s arse before answering, pushing them in but then keeping still, “Yes, baby?” Draco looks amazing, spread out for him and flushed.

Draco can’t seem to sit still, shifting his hips on the sheets. He takes his hand out of Harry’s hair, and Harry watches place it on his chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple. Harry’s mesmerized, pushes his fingers in a little more.

“You’re doing that thing again where you won’t let me cum,” Draco whines, like he doesn’t love the attention.

Harry hums, tries not to smile like a loon at his demanding boyfriend, “Well, I’m just taking my time,” It’s what he says every time.

Draco groans, “You’re impossible. Hurry the fuck up, Potter,” It’s probably supposed to be biting, but it’s really not.

Harry smiles anyway, starts wiggling his fingers. The reaction from Draco is gorgeous, the way he arches his back, closes his eyes tight when Harry makes contact with his prostate.

“You’re so difficult,” Draco tuts at that, an objection, “But that alright, because you’re all mine, aren’t you? No one else gets to see you so pretty for me, the way you beg so good for my fingers,” Harry can’t seem to stop, the words falling out of him as he watches his own fingers go in and out, scissoring and curling, “Take me so good, so good for me,”

“Harry,” Draco says, long and on a whine, “Please,”

Harry keeps moving his fingers, goes to lick a stripe up Draco’s dick, so pretty and right in front of his face, “Can’t help but take my time with you, even though we’ve got the rest of our lives together,” Draco seems to get more desperate at that, pushing down on his fingers and making something in Harry burn. He’s so damn predictable. He adds a third finger, twists them around. More words just seem to fall out of him, coming out around where his mouth is still pressed to Draco’s skin, “Love you so much, my sweet boy, all mine,”

Draco lets out a moan, throws his head back and cums all over his stomach. He stays like that for a second, even after Harry removes his fingers, trying to catch his breath.

“I hate you,” Is the first thing he says.

Harry laughs, “Sure you do,”

“I hate how you do that every time,” Harry lays his head on Draco’s chest, feels the words come out in vibrations, “It’s getting old,”

“Make you cum by talking about how much I love you? That’s not getting old at all,” He replies, running a finger through the mess on Draco’s stomach.

“Ugh,” Draco responds, “Do you need any help down there?”

Harry looks down at his own dick, hard in his pants. He considers it, Draco’s hand on him, pulling him off all sweet and loose like he always is after an orgasm. It’s quite tempting, so he scootches himself up a little farther. He settles his head on the pillow, nose to nose with Draco.

“Hi,” Draco says.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, “Wanna kiss a little?”

“If we must,” Draco says, but he’s leaning closer, lips brushing against Harry’s.

They end with their legs tangled and kissing softly, Harry’s hand over Draco’s on his dick. It doesn’t take long because Harry does love when Draco’s all soft like this, making little noises in the back of his throat. When he comes, he catches Draco’s bottom lip in his teeth and doesn’t let go until he can see straight again.

“That hurt, you imbecile,” Draco says, sitting up and searching for his wand with one hand, lost in the covers. He finds it and casts a cleaning spell on his hand and stomach before turning back to Harry, the smile on his lips that says I'm kidding and I love you.

So he says the first thing that comes to mind, "I love you,"

Draco reaches out to him, puts his hand on where his shoulder meets his neck, "I love you too," He says, leaning in for a passionate kiss

Draco deepens the kiss, and who is Harry to object, even though he's just orgasmed. Then, out of nowhere, Draco bites his lip, hard.

"Ow!" What the fuck?!

Draco hums, pleased. "Payback," he says, already heading towards the bathroom. Harry can't help but follow.