Chapter Text
Ever since Harry had taken Draco up on his offer to tutor him in Potions, they’d grown a little closer.
Harry understood why others kept their distance from Draco—he was intimidating, sometimes mean with his words, but Harry saw the soft underbelly. He was trying, in his own way, to be kind to Harry.
The slytherin's insults landed on everyone but him. They met at an unpopular corner of the library, away from all the attention. If Harry looked tired, Draco would insist they take a break. If his hands trembled from going too long without food, Draco would scold him in a low voice before swiftly bringing him a snack. “Eat. Now.” He’d press closer to him, watching Harry eat, resuming the lesson only when he was satisfied with feeding him. A little suffocating at first, under his intense watch as he ate, Harry figured his friend was just particular about it. It became something he found strangely comforting.
Another thing that had been on Harry’s mind as of late—his newfound discovery that he liked... feeling small. Just like the way he could tuck himself into Draco’s side while they worked.
It was safe.
Draco could be bossy at times, but it didnt scare him the way others used to boss him around.
Well… except for the moment Harry showed him the hat Cedric had given him. Seeing his friend like that did scare him a little.
Draco muttered something under his breath. His face went blank, eyes narrowing, and Harry knew something was off.
Instinctively, he slipped into his softest voice, thanking the older boy for the birthday drawing, praising his artistic skill, tossing out every compliment he could think of in the moment to appeal to his ego. It only made Draco's face grow red, his brows knitted with a complicated expression.
But suddenly, he pulled Harry into a tight hug, promising to get him "anything he wanted." It made Harry chuckle into his chest.
He was joking… right?
Though, he learned quickly that Draco didn't have endless patience. Clearly the slytherin wasn't used to this sort of thing either. He went over every little step Harry didn’t understand—but sometimes he made it really hard to focus. Harry couldn’t help but get distracted and lean into the touch when the older boy’s fingers were playing with his hair.
"Potter, pay attention,” Draco would snap, though his voice lacked any real bite. Then his hand is pulled away from his head, leaving him flustered.
But when Harry finally managed to get something right, Draco would reward him with an approving pat on the head, as if he’d just trained a very clever pet.
To Harry, it had started to feel like the highest praise in the world.
| |
Harry’s seat had recently been moved to the back of the class, where he could feel less exposed. It was all thanks to Draco’s suggestion to shuffle the seating chart, giving Harry the chance to choose where to sit. Professor Snape, surprisingly, had agreed without question.
Since then, school had felt lighter. Especially now that he no longer felt the crushing pressure to get everything right on the first try. The calming draught helped when he got overwhelmed, and he was allowed to keep a small vial with him, just in case.
He was still a bit jumpy around professor Snape when he would be his usual uncompromising self. Slamming books shut, docking points for tardiness, quickly stalking across the classroom... But he didn’t single Harry out. Didn’t call on him in front of everyone.
In fact, when no one was looking, he’d quietly tap the page number Harry had lost as he passed by.
The professor didn’t need words to know when he was feeling anxious. He just seemed to notice every detail about him. When his shoulders drooped, when his quill was gripped too tightly, when he stared off at a page too long...
Discreetly the professor would walk around the room. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, a hand would rest on his small back, caressing.
Up…
then down…
the same rhythm as that night in the hospital bed, grounding him, telling him without a word that he was doing okay.
The back of the classroom had become Harry’s safe spot. The lights were a little dimmer there. The sounds a little quieter. No eyes on him except the teacher's.
Today, though, it only added to Harry's sleepiness.
Last night, he was up late eating candies that Neville gifted him from Honeydukes. He and his roommates had shared them on the dormitory floor under candlelight, laughing at the weird sounds they made, daring each other to try the next one. The one that blew steam out of Dean's ears sent Harry into a fit of laughter so strong he nearly rolled off his bed.
He hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but gosh he had fun. So much so, that he didn't even noticed it was well past midnight.
He struggled to keep his puffy eyes open, blinking rapidly, trying to follow the lecture. But Professor Snape’s voice—deep and rumbling—wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. His voice worked like a sedative, making his head tip over before he picked it back up again.
Their eyes met, and Harry flinched upright.
The professor's eyes lingered on him for sevral seconds, making Harry want to shrink into himself. The man flicked his wand toward the blackboard, and began playing a charmed animation on how to steep a potion.
Then he moved slowly through the classroom, hands clasped behind his back, looking stern as always. When he reached Harry’s desk, he paused behind him, robes blocked out the light from the door.
Harry felt large hands settle on his shoulders.
They gave his shoulders a small squeeze, then began softly thumbing his shoulder muscles. The massage made Harry’s head too heavy to hold up. It tipped forward again, giving access to the back of his neck. Snape’s thumbs followed without pause, pressing firmly, releasing stress he didn't even know was there. It took everything in him to surpress a contented sigh.
All while they were in the classroom, just out of sight.
The voices from the video faded into a distant hum as his eyes fluttered closed.
Something reached around and shut his book with a quiet thump, placing it in front of Harry like a pillow. Then a large hand returned to the back of his neck, firmly guiding his head down until it rested on the cover.
His limbs went boneless when the warm hand stroked his head. Slow and protective.
Within seconds, he was sound asleep under his professor’s hand once again.
| |
"wow..."
The rare autumn sun stretched warmly over the castle today. Students roamed freely, savoring the unexpected warmth on their day off. Some sprawled lazily on the grass, others used the time to fly on the training grounds.
Harry walked along the bridge toward the forest. The air was still a bit chilly, but much better than the past few weeks. The breeze was actually enjoyable, especially from the wooden viaduct. Made even better with the breathtaking view of orange and red trees.
"Oh Harry~"
"Reporting for Harry duty!~"
Fred and George caught up with him, grinning like it was their favorite part of their day. Without warning, Fred reached down and scooped Harry up off the ground. That phrase, "Harry duty", kept popping up lately. It sounded funny every time, and a smile crept onto his lips.
There was an even better view at Fred's eye level, above the railing. It made him a bit jealous of his height, but being held like this was nice too.
A perfect compromise. Harry thought to himself as they made their way toward the stone circle on the other side.
He could spot Hagrid not far off, (the man was huge!) busy playing the flute by his hut. Harry waved both hands as high as he could, hoping the giant might see him. He wasn’t actually sure if Hagrid noticed, but the sight of him made Harry smile nonetheless.
Harry loved enchanted fireworks or anything that sparkled. It was the first time he’d seen them at his birthday party, all thanks to Fred and George’s creativity. Apparently you can even touch them, like they demonstrated to him after they ate the cake.
Today, he assumed he’d simply watch them play a game of catch with the fireworks, until Fred said,
“Alright, now how about we teach you how to have a bit of fun?”
Harry looked up at them, confused.
George has a mischivious look in his eye. “The Weasley way?”
“The Weasley way,” Fred's grin widened.
Before Harry could respond, Fred tightened his grip under Harry’s armpits, then suddenly raised him up high, twirling him around in the air. It was probably the first time Harry had ever been that high.
He feels weightless, giddy, disoriented and dizzy, all at once.
“ahh! okay okay fred put me down!!” Harry whines, while unable to contain his giggles.
Fred lowered him to his chest and wrapped him in a tight hug, completely engulfing the boy. Harry made a strained whine as his legs dangled limply in the air.
“My turn!”
Fred abruptly tossed him toward George.
Harry yelped before he fell into George’s chest with a rough landing. Harry wrapped his arms tightly around his neck.
“you two like playing rough…” Harry complained, pulling back slightly but still smiling, feeling safer in George’s arms.
“Awww, sorry mate. We’ll try not to be too rough with you,” Fred teased, rubbing Harry’s back for a moment before ambushing him with a headlock.
He wasn’t squeezing hard enough to hurt, but just enough to keep Harry firmly in place.
“this is unfair! i’m outnumbered!” Harry cried, slapping at the arm around his neck.
George’s hand snaked up his waist.
“Tickle tickle!”
“nnn-noo!”
Harry tried to free himself but he was locked in place by the headlock. He instinctively squirmed in their grasp. The tickling forced the laughter from his lungs, which only egged the twins on to tickle him harder. It was no secret that the boy’s laughter was like a drug.
“ahhaha! stop ugh! ah!” Harry’s eyes watered.
“Say we’re the best brothers ever, and we’ll let you go,” George teased.
“okay okay! you’re the- ugh best brothers ever!!” He choked through his laughter.
“Who?” Fred joined in the torture by tickling his stomach with his free hand.
“youuu! please!” Harry wailed.
“Don’t know who that is.”
“I think we’ll break him if we keep this up.”
Harry had no idea who was saying what anymore, his senses all jumbled.
“fred and george are the best brothers ever!!” Harry gave his final plea, and the twins dropped the attack, fully satisfied.
Harry doesn't think hes ever laughed that much in his life. He was totally spent, his head falling limply onto George’s shoulder.
“Maybe that was too much,” George said softly.
Harry’s hair was slightly damp, sticking to his forehead with sweat.
They carried him toward a nice patch of grass to lay on. As Harry calmed a little, he could hear the faint sound of a flute drifting through the air, between the rustling of leaves.
Harry landed gently on Fred’s chest, face still flushed from the roughhousing.
But before the boy could roll off, George crawled over them and layed himself over Harry, completely sandwiching him between their larger bodies.
He whimpered at the sudden weight, and Fred groaned beneath him with a laugh that vibrated deep into Harry’s chest.
“heavyyyyyyy.” Harry’s voice was muffled in Fred’s chest as he laid stuck between them in defeat.
Heavy breathing filled his ears. Strangely, he didn’t dislike this. He might even say he felt comfortable. There was no way he was getting up, so he let himself sink into it, relaxing all of his useless muscle.
Harry could feel their thumping heartbeats in his head, and his own racing between them.
Thunk... Thunk... Thunk…
His eyes closed on their own. It was so good it was almost frightening—too much comfort to be allowed at once.
His mind felt like it was melting, slow and thick. Thoughts dissolved one by one into a sweet, sticky haze. It melded together before finally slowing to a peaceful stop.
Every muscle relaxed, heavy and inescapable.
“You alright there Harry?”
A distant muffled voice broke through the haze.
“Harry?”
He felt George scramble off him, slightly panicked.
A warbled “uh-huh” was all the noise he could muster from his lungs before he went back into his wonderfully dreamy state.
“Bloody hell- we might’ve actually broken him.”
George fixed his fringe and gently rubbed circles in his back for sevral seconds.
“... feel tingly,” Harry mumbled.
“Yeah?” Fred’s hand slid up from beneath, cradling Harry’s head against his chest.
George draped himself on his back again, settling himself comfortably but not crushing him—leaving enough room for Harry to breathe fresh air.
Harry’s brain almost switched off entirely. His mouth gaped, and he was on the verge of drooling, utterly surrendered. He could feel eyes burning into him but he didn’t care. He’d never felt more relaxed in his life.
The faint scent of pine and dirt mixed with the subtle musk of the twins’ skin around him.
The distant flute melody drifted to him like a lullaby.