#dralentine's day gifts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #28, @scventhhorcrux

I might as well split my soul and make this gift into the eighth horcrux. Happy Dralentine’s, @scventhhorcrux!

Our gifter says:

“It ended up being kind of the abridged version because I couldn't finish everything I wanted to BUT I hope you like it. It's full of love from me to... whomever you are~I wish you a very happy Dralentine's Day!”

May Contain Kumquats - Kumquats are strange. With a sweet rind and shockingly sour juice, they are quite different from most citrus fruits. They are also a particularly apt metaphor for a very strange eighth year at Hogwarts for Harry Potter and his growing friendship with one Draco Malfoy. 8k.

Tags: no smut.

May Contain Kumquats

Harry stretched his hand up, the light from the moon making it looked spectral. A tiny snake, tattooed in silver and green lifted its head, it's thread-like tongue flicked out and it uncurled from where it was wrapped around his thumb.

“Where are you going?” Harry hissed softly, dragging a fingernail across the flashing ink as the little snake crossed the back of his hand.

The snake lifted its head and seemed to look at Harry for a second then continued on its way. If the snake hissed anything back it was silent.

Harry shifted back so he was sitting higher on his pillow and could just see out of the windows were a fine snow was falling. Around him four poster beds had their curtains drawn, the snoring that inevitably must be happening was muted behind silencing spells. They might have been murder if Hermione hadn't suggested embedding permanent silencing spells into the heavy purple velvet curtains around each bed. The long, rather large room that was once an old classroom held eight beds, five Gryffindor's, three Slytherin's, although they didn't have a house anymore. The Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff''s had the other blokes dorm, the girls were split up in the same way. They all shared a single common room, another abandoned classroom located along the third-floor corridor.

Everything about their 'eighth year' was a little strange and surreal. They couldn't earn or lose house points or play on the house teams. They took some classes with the seventh years, in a strange mix of houses, and other times they had a class all to themselves. It almost made Harry feel detached from the whole experience of Hogwarts, students and yet not regular students, children and yet adults.

The snake wound its way between his fingers and curled happily around his middle finger like a strange thin ring. Harry turned his hand this way and that so the silver ink caught the light, “I thought an eighth year would be brilliant,” he hissed quietly to the snake, “A year to relax and have fun. Instead, it's just been...” he frowned, “boring. I miss the Burrow.” They had just come back from christmas hols, wishing he was back already was probably not a good sign.

There was a creak across the room and the soft sound of someone pulling on a robe, shuffling into their shoes. Before Harry had decided whether to pull his curtain closed, Malfoy's blond head appeared and headed straight over to his bed. Harry hurriedly pushed himself up, scrambling for his wand.

Malfoy scoffed loudly, “Relax, Potter. Cast a lumos would you?”

“Why don't you?” Harry asked warily, tightening his grip on his wand.

“Because you'll likely hex me,” Malfoy said dryly.

Harry hesitated and then lowered his wand, “I won't.”

“Very well,” Malfoy sighed and raised his wand in the darkness, a small blossom of light coming from the end.

Harry stared at the light and then up at the pale young man standing next to his bed. He waited for whatever Malfoy had come over to say but he just stood there shifting his weight.

“Well?” Harry prompted.

Malfoy sighed and absently pushed his hair back with his free hand, “I heard you... hissing.”

Harry blinked up at Malfoy and then realized with a start that Malfoy would likely be very familiar with parsel tongue, “Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to- I'll make sure not to do it anymore.”

Malfoy's brow furrowed slightly then rose with realization, “Ah, you're referring to him. No, you're fine. He sounded like a snake. You sound like a leaky balloon.”

“A leaky balloon?” Harry repeated, a grin creeping onto his face, “Really?”

“Quite,” Malfoy drawled, “As the last living speaker you could at least try to be more noble about the whole thing.”

Harry felt more than a little dumbfounded, and he thought his year couldn't get any more surreal. “If it's not the parsel tongue, then what is it?” He gestured with the question.

“I couldn't sleep and obviously you aren't,” Malfoy said dropping down to sit on the edge of Harry's bed, “What does 'fuck' sound like in parsel tongue?”

Harry stared at him for a second and with a mental shrug, lifted his hand into the light to look at his tattoo, “Fuck,” Harry hissed.

Malfoy's mouth twitched in the beginnings of a snarky smile, “What about 'shit'?”

“Shit,” Harry said.

“Arsehole.”

“Wanker.”

“Useless.”

Harry rose an eyebrow, “Useless.”

“I knew it,” Malfoy said with a grim smile, “He used that one a lot. Uusless,” Malfoy tried to mimic him.

Harry snorted, “That was awful.”

“But you could tell what it was supposed to be!” Malfoy said triumphantly.

“Sort of,” Harry said. “... Riddle swore in parsel tongue?”

“Riddle?” Malfoy's brow furrowed.

“Tom Riddle,” Harry explained, “That was Voldemort's real name.”

“Tom Riddle,” Malfoy repeated blankly, “Tom. Really? TOM.”

Harry snickered and nodded, “Yeah, he hated it. Especially, his last name because it was from his muggle father.”

Malfoy froze and then leaned forward, “Are you saying- All that pureblooded bullshit and he was a half-blood? He-! That fucking hypocrite,” he seethed.

“You supported a lot of that pure blooded bullshit,” Harry said coolly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “Yes, well I was an idiot. Bravo for pointing that out.” He did a little golf clap.

There was a rustle across the room and they both froze, looking over at the noise.

Malfoy leaned close and said quietly, “Walk with me?”

Harry gave him a confused look.

“Or we could pull the curtain,” he pointed to the curtains around Harry's bed.

Apparently, just quitting the conversation wasn't one of the options. Surprisingly, Harry wasn't feeling inclined to end it either.

He pushed back his duvet and grabbed the heavy winter cloak off the end of his bed and pulled it around his shoulders and sliding on his trainers. Malfoy was already waiting by the door and Harry followed him out.

As the door clicked closed behind them Harry asked, “When did you hear Riddle swearing?”

“Whenever your lot messed up his bullshit plans,” Malfoy said as they headed down the dark cool hallways, “It was always a good sign to fuck off before he picked someone to crucio for the failure. He always did, demented fuck.”

Around them, the portraits slept in their frames. The castle torches were unlit so the only light came from Malfoy's wand.

Harry felt torn between amusement, unease, and relief. No one talked about the war, especially around Harry, like they were afraid a single misplaced word would shatter him. “Why are you telling me all this?” Harry asked.

“Why not?” Malfoy arched an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged, “I'm not really your friend.”

“You understand, though,” Malfoy said and added in a lofty tone, “My mind healer tells me it's better to talk about these things. Keeping them locked inside gives them power over you.” He watched Harry with apprehension.

Harry realized with a start that Malfoy though he was going to mock him for having a mind healer but Harry also thought that before this year he might have. Instead, he asked tentatively, “Is it helpful? Having a mind healer?”

Malfoy relaxed, looking hopeful and maybe a little excited. “Very,” Malfoy said adamantly, “I've been seeing one all summer, she comes up to the castle on the weekend for my appointment now, I had to convince McGonagalll to allow it. I very nearly had to grovel.”

Harry grinned.

Hermione had suggested Harry start seeing a mind healer right after the war but had dropped the idea after Harry had said no. Ever since he had wished she would bring it up again, too nervous to do so himself. With Malfoy, though, he was hardly going to give Harry shit for something he was doing himself, was he?

“Is it hard to get a mind healer? Is it embarrassing to talk with them?” Harry asked.

Malfoy's smile grew and it looked both strange and wonderful on his face. Harry realized he hadn't seen Malfoy smile since the school year had started.

Most of the Slytherin's hadn't come back for the eighth year. Blaise and Pansy had transferred to Beauxbaton's. Nott, Goyle, and Millicent had returned but Harry hadn't seen the Slytherin's talk to each other much, they mostly kept quiet and avoided trouble, even Malfoy. Now that Harry thought of it, that was another part of the strangeness of the year he hadn't noticed.

Malfoy said crisply, “It's not hard, I think my mind healer would probably start seeing you if you wanted. I found it a little uncomfortable at first but it's quite reassuring to know they won't share anything you tell them. Doctor patient confidentiality, as you know.”

Malfoy glanced around and waved for Harry to follow him down the hall. Curious Harry followed Malfoy to the top of the staircase. Malfoy sat down on the top step next to the railing. Harry just barely managed to step on and grab the railing before staircase began to move.

Malfoy turned and leaned over the edge of the stair, watching the castle go by beneath them, “I've wanted to do this since first year but felt it was too ignoble,” He said as he glanced up at Harry, “which is stupid. I think I'm going to try and do everything I've always wanted to.”

Harry sat down next to him, leaning over the edge and staring down to the main floor below for a scant few seconds before the staircase stopped on the other side.

Harry turned and leaned his back against the railing, his knees pulled up so his feet didn't push into Malfoy, “Was that your mind healer's idea too?”

Malfoy sniffed, “No, it was mine. Thank you very much.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, faintly amused.

Malfoy mirrored his position on the other side of the staircase, “She did think it was a good idea though,” He took a deep breath and dropped his head back looking up at the ceiling, “She said that I ought fully enjoy my youth because I lost so many years of it to the war and being a stuck up prat.” He dropped his head and slid his feet forward until the toes of his shoes nudged Harry's trainers, “You too, Potter,” he said meaningfully, “We'll never have another year like this.”

Harry felt a little startled. It seemed like everyone was so invested in studying and the NEWTs and growing up. Hermione was obsessed with revisions, Ron was always talking about whether he would go into the aurors or start working with George at the shop. Neville wanted to apprentice with Sprout, Luna was planning to work part time at the Quibbler and part time searching for her creatures. They were all looking at the future and everyone just assumed the same for him, that he would become an auror, go back to dating Ginny, settle down, house, marriage, kids, ect; he wasn't even sure how far down the rabbit hole went.

Malfoy was the first person to say what Harry actually felt, that he want more time to just be a kid and have fun. He didn't want to have to make decisions, not anymore, not after a lifetime of fighting and sacrifice. Harry had found himself thinking a lot about his dad and the maurders and how they just did all these amazing reckless things, not all good and not all bad, but they were kids and they acted like it and Harry desperately wanted that.

The staircase started to move again and they both leaned over to watch. Harry did his best to let himself get wrapped up in the wonder of it again like he had the first time he had been on a staircase as it lurched and moved. He looked over at Malfoy as Malfoy looked over at him and they shared a silly grin before both looking back over the edge.

“I think,” Harry said as he sat back against the banister, “that I'd like to talk with your mind healer, if you don't mind.”

Malfoy nodded, “I'll owl her and see if she can stay after to talk with you this saturday.”

“Thanks,” Harry said gratefully.

Malfoy looked down at his hand clasped tightly together, rubbing his thumb against the pale skin until it started to turn pink.

Harry wondered why Malfoy was nervous and shifted his weight, suddenly feeling a little uneasy himself, “What is it?” He asked, to break the silence.

“Well,” Malfoy took a deep breath and stilled his hands, “One of the things I've always wanted most of all, more than anything else, is to be your friend.” His whole face took on a pink flush that only grew redder as he went on, “I know it's not that simple or this simple-” he gestured to the two of them, “-for that matter but I want to apologize for the things I've said and done in the past, for being a prat and a complete fool who learned too late to think for himself and ended up doing unforgivable things as a result.”

“Are you going to apologize to Ron and Hermione too?” Harry asked.

Malfoy sneered almost reflexively but it quickly faded, “Yes, I intend to write a letter of apology to anyone I've hurt.”

“Write a letter?” Harry's eyebrows rose.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “I can only be expected to debase myself in very particular cases.”

“Am I a special case?” Harry tried not to grin but his tone was still teasing.

“You always are, aren't you?” Malfoy said loftily but with a similar teasing edge.

Harry gave a short laugh, “Well, apology accepted then.”

Malfoy started, his eyes going wide.

Harry went on, “I've been wanting to apologize for almost killing you in sixth year and I suppose, also, for being just as much of an arse to you as you were to me during school.”

“....That's fine,” Malfoy said stunned.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, “Well, not really, but you forgive me?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Good.” Harry let out a breath of relief and leaned forward, holding out his hand, “Start over?”

Malfoy swallowed hard and took Harry's hand still looking bewildered. Draco's grip was loose and his palm was sweaty with nerves.

As if their handshake had disturbed its sleep, the silvery snake tattoo lifted its head, tongue flicking out. Malfoy tilted his head, his grip tightening slightly without him seeming to be aware.

“A snake tattoo?” Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow.

Harry turned his hand over so Malfoy could see it clearly.

Malfoy's eyes widened slightly in surprise, “Silver and green? A Slytherin snake?” His gaze shit up to Harry's.

Harry just gave a little shrug, not able to stop the little smile. Only three other people knew about the tattoo, Ron and Hermione, whom he had shown, and Luna who just seemed to notice those sorts of things. But no one knew why he had picked it.

“Why, Potter?” Malfoy asked.

Harry shook his head.

His eyes narrowed slightly, “But a Slytherin snake?”

“Not telling.”

Malfoy's brow furrowed and his mouth turned down in a pout, “Do Granger and Weasley know?”

“No one knows,” Harry said.

“Oh,” His face relaxed and his grip loosened, both of them pulling their hands back, “well, that's not so bad then.”

Harry grinned uncertainly, “So it's fine if you don't know so long as no one knows?”

“I'll find out eventually,” Malfoy said confidently. “When did you get it, or is that a secret as well?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“This summer,” Harry said, rubbing his thumb over the snake, it had gone back to sleep, “Ron got royally pissed and dragged me into a tattoo place and said I had to get one with him. I only did it to make him shut up, but I'm rather pleased with it.”

“And Weasley's tattoo?” Malfoy smirked, “Don't tell me he got it on his arse.”

“Almost!” Harry said, “I managed to convince him to just get it on his arm. It's nothing exciting, just Hermione's name on a banner, it waves a bit,” he illustrated the movement with his hand.

“Well,” Malfoy drawled, one eyebrow twitching, “hopefully their relationship lasts then or that might be quite an unfortunate decision.”

“You sound like Hermione. She totally went off at him for it. Said it was irresponsible.”

Malfoy nodded, “Granger was always the only sensible one out of the lot of you.”

“Hey!” Harry protested with a laugh and relaxed into an easy smile. He felt ridiculously at ease, having a surreal conversation with Draco Malfoy sitting at the top of a moving staircase in the middle of the night.

Harry thought, maybe, he wouldn't have any nightmares tonight. For once, he was actually looking forward to getting back to bed and to the next day even though he had double potions first thing in the morning. He felt, in fact, how had rather hoped he would feel when he first returned to Hogwarts.

Harry caught Malfoy yawning and found himself yawning in response. He stood up and offered his hand to pull Malfoy up, “Come on, lets head back.”

As they stood the staircase gave a lurch. Without thinking, Harry jumped to the landing, dragging Malfoy with him before he got pinned between the railings.

Malfoy stared at the stairs in shock, looking a little pale, “Are you trying to get me killed?” he said in a strangled tone.

“I didn't exactly think about it, I just did it.” Harry shrugged, “It worked out alright didn't it?”

“That,” Malfoy said with flat distaste, “Is the most Gryffindor sentence full of Gryffindor nonsense I have ever had the displeasure to hear.”

Harry laughed, “Sorry, Malfoy, I'm afraid being my friend means a lot of Gryffindor nonsense.”

“I regret it already,” Malfoy said but with a smile on his face. “Now let's get back, we do have classes tomorrow after all.”

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

Harry slept well, really well, just like he'd hoped. He didn't see Malfoy when he was getting ready or at breakfast though he looked for him. He smiled faintly when Malfoy stumbled in late, grabbing a few pieces of toast and gulping a cup of coffee with an inhuman amount of sugar in it.

Hermione was wrapped up in her notes but Ron kept shooting him funny looks all morning. He finally spoke up as they were headed to their double potions with the other eighth years that morning, “Hey, mate, you alright?”

Harry's brow furrowed, “Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?”

Hermione's head lifted from her notes and looked over at Harry with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

Ron scrubbed a hand over his forehead, “You've been quiet.”

“So?” Harry said.

“There's nothing wrong with being quiet,” Hermione said but looked Harry over more carefully.

“It, kind of, reminded me, just a little bit of how you were in sixth year,” Ron said doing his best to look certain while looking pretty uncertain.

“You're not obsessing about Malfoy again, are you?” Hermione immediately asked.

Harry hesitated which was exactly the wrong sort of thing to do.

“Are you, Harry?” Hermione pushed, sounding slightly alarmed.

Harry sighed, “It's not like that. I swear.” He let them go ahead of him into the classroom and looking for Malfoy's blond head in the room.

“It is!” Hermione sighed with absolute dismay, “You can't do this again! It's not healthy for-”

“Potter!”

Harry leaned past Hermione's shoulder and saw Malfoy waving him over. Before Hermione's lecture could continue, Harry skirted around her and went over to Malfoy's work table.

“Sit,” Malfoy said imperiously with a gesture at the bench beside him, “If you work with me, you might even learn something.”

Harry felt a small smile of relief cross his face and quickly dropped his bag next to Malfoy, sitting beside him, “I hope you're a good teacher then because I am rubbish at potions.”

“You did well in sixth year,” Malfoy pointed out.

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “That, yeah, I had a...used potions book that had been owned by a- a potion master of sorts and I lost the book so...”

“At the very least you can follow instructions,” Malfoy said as he opened his own textbook to the potion they would be brewing today.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Harry said with relief and stood when Malfoy gave him a list of ingredients to fetch from the potions stores. On his way past he saw Hermione and Ron staring at him. Ron looked a bit like he had taken a bludger to the face. Harry knew he'd have to explain after class was over but he wasn't sure how. The apology he was sure they'd get, but his feeling of well...

Wanting to be friends with him too.

Sixth year had been an obsession but his interest, his curiosity about Malfoy was still there. If Malfoy wasn't going to be an arsehole, or at least a total arsehole, why shouldn't Harry try to be friends with him?

Harry did his best to follow instructions and listened as Malfoy began waxing poetic about the basic building blocks of brewing and how knowing them well was key to all good potions. Harry had to admit he ended up learning some very basic, first-year potion stuff. He cursed Snape internally for never bothering to go over it with them while he dutifully wrote it down in his notes for when he inevitably ended up forgetting half of it anyway.

Their blood replenishing potion turned out perfect and they went their separate ways after that, Malfoy to Ancient Runes and Harry had a free period before lunch.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

“Malfoy apologized and asked to be friends and it's gone well so far,” Harry said as soon as they stepped out into the hallway, hoping to head off the worst of the interrogation.

Hermione actually stopped walking, her eyes widening, “I-”

“He what?” Ron said.

Harry sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, “Apologized to me. Asked to be mates. It's been alright.”

“Apologized.” Hermione repeated faintly.

Ron was staring at him owlishly.

“He says he's going to apologize to both of you as well,” Harry said.

Hermione's brow furrowed, “You're not saying he's changed, are you? Because I don't believe it, even for a second.”

Ron nodded in agreement, “He's a slimy prat.”

“Well, he's still Malfoy but he's trying,” Harry sighed.

“I don't like this,” Hermione said warily.

“It's like you've gone back to stalking but with the Ferret's permission. Stalking up close,” Ron looked over at Hermione.

She raised her eyebrows and twitched her head meaningfully while Ron's brow furrowed and completely failed to comprehend.

It became fairly clear to Harry, though, as the day went on. Hermione had apparently decided that he had only taken an interest in Malfoy again because they hadn't been paying attention to him. All day and into the next couple days, he found himself book ended by Ron and Hermione everywhere he went, in class, in the library, the common room. Malfoy kept his distance and with good cause since they glared at him every chance they got. He did send an owl to Harry, with a time on it.

He managed to slip away from his friends on Saturday to meet up with Malfoy's mind healer after lunch. The mind healer was a very quiet, very tall woman named Miss Forkful. She had a very calming demeanor and was very easy to talk to. Harry asked to keep seeing her and they set up weekly appointments for the foreseeable future.

Malfoy was waiting in the hall outside, leaning against the wall. He perked up when he saw Harry, “Did it go well?”

Harry nodded, “I'm going to keep seeing her.”

“Excellent,” Malfoy said with an echoing nod and then faltered.

Harry stared at him curiously, “Is there something else?”

“O-Oh, well,” he said a little too nonchalantly, “I was planning to present my apologies to Granger today.”

“That's good.”

Malfoy laced his fingers together, squeezing them nervously and going out of his way to look anywhere but at Harry.

“Do you want me to come along?” Harry asked once the silence had stretched out a little too far.

Malfoy sneered, “I certainly don't need your help, Potter-” he stopped himself, clenching his hands together and took a deep breath before trying again, “...but I would appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Harry shrugged.

They walked back, checking in the library on the way and then the common room where they found Hermione and Ron working together at one of the many tables in the large common room. There weren't many other eighth years in the room having mostly congregated in the library for revisions so there were very few people who witnessed the incident.

Ron saw Malfoy first, shaking Hermione shoulder to get her attention. She looked up and immediately squared her shoulders and pushed her hair back from her face with a grim look. She stood and walked around the table to meet Malfoy, crossing her arms over her chest.

Malfoy fished around in his robes and pulled out a sealed letter and a something small, that as he resized it, turned out to be a gift basket of fancy fruit.

Hermione did not take it well.

Before Malfoy could even fully offer it out to her, Hermione furiously shoved it back into his chest, “How dare you!” she hissed, “I-” she clenched her jaw, her wand tight in her hand, half a breath away from a hex when she glanced over Malfoy's shoulder and saw Harry.

Hermione glared at both of them, spinning on her heel and putting all her papers and books into her bag with a few wand flicks. She made sure to bump against Malfoy's shoulder as she stormed out of the common room, sending a few apples flying and nearly upsetting the pineapple. She paused to glare at the fruit basket as she went by, muttering heatedly under her breath, “I hate kumquats.”

Ron looped his arm around his papers and dragged the whole lot into his bag in a jumbled mess, rushing after Hermione and leaving Harry and Malfoy confused, for entirely different reasons.

“I think... the fruit basket was a mistake,” Harry said carefully.

Malfoy slowly turned on his heel to look at him and raised an eyebrow, “What gave you that idea?” he said dryly.

“I think the part where she almost hexed you,” Harry said perhaps a little too cheerfully.

Malfoy shoved the letter back in his pocket and then wrapped both arms around the basket, “Yes,” he sighed, “but I don't understand. The etiquette is quite clear in this instance. A written apology should always be accompanied by a gift.”

“Is this pureblood wizard etiquette?” Harry asked.

Malfoy's brow furrowed and then rose with realization. “I believe I've made a mistake,” he said quietly.

“I dunno,” Harry said, “If you had told her about the etiquette first it wouldn't have been so bad. A fruit basket is a little impersonal, though.” He leaned over to poke at the various fruits, “What's a kumquat?”

Malfoy put the basket on the table, pulling out a small fruit that looked like a miniature orange and handed one to Harry.

Harry rolled the little fruit over in his hands, “How do you eat it? Wouldn't it be all rind?”

“You can eat the peel,” Malfoy said, grabbing one for himself.

Harry nibbled on the outside and found it startlingly sweet with a pleasant citrus flavor.

“The juice is very sour, though,” Malfoy conjured a glass, biting the end off a kumquat and squeezing out the juice and a few seeds then popping the fruit in his mouth.

Harry tasted some of the juice and his face scrunched up at the stinging flood of sour.

“No fruit basket then,” Malfoy retrieved the fallen fruit and helped himself to an apple.

Harry rather liked the mix of sweet and sour from both the rind and the inner pulp. He hummed a vague agreement, “Hermione'd rather like a book basket than a fruit basket.”

Malfoy lit up, “That's it! What would she be interested in?”

“A book basket?” Harry's brow furrowed.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “Do try to keep up.”

Harry grabbed another kumquat from the basket and threw it at Malfoy, bouncing off of his head.

“Potter!” Malfoy said, scandalized.

Harry grinned. “Well I think Hermione plans to work in the ministry, house elf rights, werewolf rights, save the world sort of thing.”

“I thought that was your job,” Malfoy said dryly.

Harry cringed, “Once was enough, thanks very much. Besides, I'm not sure Hermione's crusade has an end.”

“Neither does that auror nonsense.”

“Oh,” Harry hesitated, “I'm not really... sure about that, about being an auror. I haven't decided.”

Malfoy shrugged as if he couldn't care less, “I think I can have mother send a catalog of books from the library at home and then you can help me pick out an appropriate selection.”

“I can?” Harry pointed to himself in amusement.

“Would you have me do it?” Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, “I haven't the faintest notion of Granger's interests. Also, I would be grateful for any further advice, such as what to get Weasley and Lovegood.”

“Alright,” Harry said.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

Hermione got a great stack of books on species law and history. Ron got less of a basket and more of a packet with season tickets to all the Cannon's games for the next three years, they were apparently very cheap.

It took a week before Hermione tentatively accepted the Malfoy's apology. She wasn't ready to forgive him but was willing to give him a second chance. Ron did much the same. He was much more excited about his reprisal gift but just as reserved when he offered Malfoy his hand and they shook on it like a distant and formal business deal.

In that week Harry found himself drifting more and more to Malfoy like he had his own gravity field, sitting with him in class, during meals and studying together. They often took midnight walks around the castle and Harry showed him the Maurders map so they could avoid Filch. Eighth years technically had no curfew within the confines of the castle but that didn't the old caretaker from being a right dick about catching one of them out and about.

His next session with Miss Forkful ended with a question, of whether he thought the school might benefit from group counseling sessions. Both he and Malfoy agreed it was a good idea and volunteered to donate funds to help pay for whatever time the healers spent at the school.

Once they had talked through the whole idea with the Headmistress, late in the day and well after dinner, the first great ice cream escapade happened. That day would linger in Harry's mind as the moment he realized he would be friends with Draco Malfoy for the rest of his life.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

“This is a terrible idea,” Malfoy muttered, his eyes a little too wide as he looked around the small shop tucked away in muggle London only a few blocks away from Diagon alley.

Harry rolled his eyes, “It was your idea.”

Malfoy glared at him and hissed, “That doesn't mean it isn't terrible. Maybe we should just go-” He stopped talking abruptly at the curtain at the back masquerading as a door pushed back and a grungy, punk-looking bloke in his twenties with neon green hair walk up to where they were standing.

The bloke, Heugh, broke into a huge grin when he recognized Harry and held his arms open, “Ey! You came back! Wanting another tat, dude?”

Malfoy had taken a step backward and was looking to take another when Harry grabbed his sleeve and hauled him forward.

Malfoy shook his head worriedly, “I don't think-”

“It'll be fine,” Harry reassured Malfoy before turning back to Heugh, “Nah, Heugh, my friend here was hoping maybe you could do something with his.”

“Cover up?” Heugh said, plopping down on a stool and gesturing for Harry and Draco to sit on the other chairs in the small shop, “I love cover-ups, always a bit of a challenge and I like me a little challenge.”

Harry sat down and looked up at Malfoy, wavering in the fluorescent lights like a sickly daisy. “Scared?” Harry said quietly.

Malfoy blinked and his whole body puffed like an angry cat, “You wish,” he said snidely and sat down heavily, unbuttoning his left sleeve and pushing it up roughly. He turned his forearm up and lifted his chin imperiously, daring Heugh to judge him for the stark black ink of the dark mark.

He was sorely thrown off his game when Heugh only leaned forward excitedly, “Shit, man! I've always wanted to see one of these in real life,” He peered at the tattoo with interest, “Clean lines but the design is tacky as hell. I've seen better on flash sheets.”

Malfoy looked at Harry in confusion.

Harry shrugged with a little half smile, “Heugh was working in America when the war happened.”

As if to prove it, Heugh's strange mix of accents took on a decidedly more American tone,“Wicked apprenticeship, they have all the best shops there,” Heugh pulled his wand out from a long pocket on the front of his shirt that looked like it had been hand-sewn on. “Do you mind?” Heugh asked waving his wand in the direction of the mark.

Malfoy shook his head, “No.”

“Alright,” Heugh pressed his wand to the mark, squinting down at Malfoy arm, “could just tingle but it might hurt.”

Malfoy nodded stiffly.

Heugh's wand tip lit up, green light swirling around Malfoy's arm like smoke. Heugh nodded to an invisible beat, the light changed to blue and then orange, “Lot of nasty magic in these things, huh?”

“Indeed,” Malfoy sneered.

Heugh either didn't notice Malfoy's tone or didn't care, “Don't know if I can put fresh ink near this.”

“So you can't do anything,” Malfoy said with resignation.

“Never said that,” Heugh looked up and grinned, “Ready?”

“For what-?” Malfoy left out a startled hiss of pain and Heugh flicked his wand up and then touched it back down on the tattoo.

Harry saw Malfoy's jaw clenched as his ground his teeth together, his skin going even paler than normal. Malfoy squeezed his right hand into a tight fist, his knuckles pink against the white of his hand. Harry reached over and put his hand on top of Malfoy's.

Malfoy glanced over at him startled, then quickly turned his hand over, grasping Harry's tightly and looking back at what Heugh was doing.

Not much, it seemed, at first anyway, then the black ink shifted and looked almost brown. “Yeah, there we go,” Heugh said quietly, his tongue peeking out between his lips as he focused.

His wand twitched, Malfoy twitched and his grip on Harry's hand tightened. The dark mark turned a dark blue and then lightened. Heugh kept twitching and moving his wand in small, sharp little movements, the colour of the mark changing and shifting like oil, as he got more certain of what he was doing the edges of the mark itself seemed to waver like a mirage.

“Wait, stop,” Malfoy said breathlessly.

Heugh sat back, his eyebrows raising in question but Malfoy was just looking at the dark mark which was currently a pastel shade of pink.

Malfoy turned the mark this way and that and looked at Harry with the most brilliant smile, “Riddle would fucking hate this.”

Harry nodded, “You like it, uh, better this way?”

“It's brilliant,” Malfoy said.

“Right on,” Heugh said, “You want to do anything about the design?”

“You can change the design?” Harry asked in surprise.

Malfoy squeezed his hand.

“Probably.” Heugh said.

“Probably?” Malfoy echoed.

“The edges at least. I don't think it'll stretch much. It'll get easier to fuck with as the magic leeches out, it's still too strong right now.”

Harry and Malfoy exchanged a look. Harry shrugged.

“I've got an idea, trust me on this one,” Heugh said, “How do you feel about flowers?” He didn't wait for a response, reaching back into the pocket on his shirt and taking out what looked like another wand but shorter with a pointed tip of obsidian on the end. “Brace yourself, dude,” he warned, pressing the sharpened point to the bottom of the dark mark.

Malfoy didn't so much brace himself as try to break Harry's hand in incremental squeezes.

Heugh worked on the tattoo for what seemed like forever, using the tattooing wand to tug on the edges of the mark, trying to coax the ink into the design he wanted. In reality, forever was probably only an hour.

When he was done, the long body of the snake had been turned into a tree trunk in pale brown, that reached up and faded into the pink coils of the snake and skull which had been coaxed into something like flowers. The mark was still there. Anyone who knew the original design could still see it in the shape but now it looked like the mark had been consumed by nature and was now in bloom.

Heugh sat back and wiped his brow with a satisfied smile, “Cherry blossoms! They mean renewal, ya know? Seemed theme-atically appropriate.”

Malfoy nodded slowly, letting go of Harry's hand and running his fingers over the new design.

“Come back in say, five years, I'll be able to do more then for sure.” Heugh said, “I might even be able to work a bit of new magic into it,” He put his wand away and crossed his arms over his chest, already looking to the future, “A nice breeze to rustle the branches, maybe some falling petals, that'd make it really nice.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy said with an intense sincerity that made him flush.

“Nah, thank you, dude,” Heugh grinned, “Was a pleasure. Hey, I'll give you a discount if I can take a picture and maybe advertise it a bit, no names,” he assured, “Might get some good work from this sort of thing. Not like you're the only one, right?”

“Yes,” Draco said, “I would like to do that but I'll pay full price. It's worth it.”

“Come on, man!” Heugh protested.

Draco shook his head, “If you insist then give my discount to someone who can't afford it otherwise. The Malfoy's may have lost a great deal in the war but our wealth is not one of them.”

Heugh looked at Harry and jerked a thumb at Draco, “Rich kid?”

“Loaded.” Harry confirmed.

Malfoy shot Harry a halfhearted glare and said turned to Heugh, “Actually, could I set up a fund for those who want... a fresh start? Maybe I could prepay for three, or five, right now.”

“You serious?” Heugh asked.

Malfoy nodded, “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Harry stayed in the chair as Malfoy went to the small counter in the back of the room with Heugh. He flexed his hand, rubbing the sore joints and feeling strangely bereft. Holding Malfoy's hand had been painful but good. It was like he was there for him, supporting him. They felt closer then and it was satisfying in a way Harry couldn't really articulate. Except that it seemed to close some of the gaps in Harry's head, to fill that feeling of something missing just a little bit.

Malfoy shook Heugh's hand and nodded his goodbye. “Come along, Potter,” Malfoy said as he passed, dragging Harry to his feet and out the door behind him.

They had only made it a few steps down the street when Harry put down his heels.

Malfoy jerked to a stop, Harry's robe pulling free from his hand, “Potter?” He cocked a brow.

“May I see it?” Harry said holding his hand out.

Malfoy hesitated and then took a step closer, “You saw it in the shop.” he groused, even as he pushed his sleeve up and offered his arm up for inspection.

Harry took a half step closer, reaching out and running his fingers over the pink flowers. Malfoy's skin was smoother than Harry expected and warm.

“Are you done?” he sighed.

Harry blinked and slowly pulled his hand back. He chewed his bottom lip absently, his thoughts jumbled together in a mess. He felt like... he wanted to be closer. His brow furrowed.

“Potter?”

Harry looked up, “It's wonderful, Draco.”

Draco frowned at him, pulling his sleeve down with a muttered, “Don't get sappy on me.”

“Too late,” Harry said.

Draco let out a beleaguered sigh, “Let's get back, shall we? Before we end up with another detention.”

Harry nodded in agreement and hurried to keep up with Draco's quick pace. Draco's name wasn't quite the answer to the puzzle but it was a piece. Harry smiled and skipped a step to come up at Draco's shoulder, bumping it playfully and feeling generally very hopeful.

They did end up getting detention, though.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

On February seventh Headmistress McGonagall made an announcement.

“Valentine's day approaches,” she paused until the mixed chorus of groans and cheers passed, “To celebrate a photo booth will be installed here at the side of the Great Hall. It's a muggle machine that takes a series of photos and prints them out into a strip. It will only work for couples and will only work once,” She said firmly, “On valentine's day, all the photo strips will be delivered to the couples in question. Any further questions you have can be directed to Professor Sprout.”

It seemed pretty tame compared to Valentine's days past and for that Harry was decidedly glad. Not that he didn't like the holiday but it always seemed to get a little ridiculous.

The night before Valentine's day, Draco dragged Harry out of bed on an evening rant that had been apparently stewing all week.

“It's simply unfair that only couples get to experience this contraption!” Draco complained, a little too loudly.

Harry glanced up and down the, luckily empty, hallway and elbowed him in the ribs pointedly.

Draco glared at him and elbowed him back, “It should be available to everyone! To learn about...” he floundered and finally settled on, “muggles.”

Harry said, “You just don't like being left out.”

“So?!” Draco threw his hands up in exasperation.

An idea occurred to Harry and he grinned, “We could try it anyway.”

Draco turned to stare at him.

“There are two of us,” Harry gestured between them, “It's worth a shot.”

There was a seconds pause and then Draco said, “I completely agree.”

“Has hell frozen over?” Harry said jokingly.

“What?” Draco glared at him.

“Or perhaps I'm in a coma and this is all a strangely realistic dream.”

“Potter,” Draco voice took on a warning tone.

“No, I've got it!” Harry held up a finger, “I've died and this is heaven...” he narrowed his eyes, “I have really low expectations for paradise, all things considered.”

“Ugh, you're dead to me,” Draco scoffed and then froze as he realized what he had said.

Harry grinned hugely and bumped Draco's shoulder, his body shaking as he tried to keep his laughter silent.

Draco sighed dramatically and grabbed Harry, digging into his pockets while Harry laughed until he found the marauders map and activated it, checking that they wouldn't run into Peeves or Filch on their way to the great hall.

“Come on,” Draco sighed, clearing the map and pushing it back into Harry's pocket and towing him along behind him down the silent hallways to the great hall. The photo booth seemed ominous in the darkness, the scuffs to the hospital green metal sides seeming even more prominent, the velvet curtain shadowed to black. Draco didn't seem to care, pushing the heavy velvet to the side and sliding onto the narrow metal bench, all the paint worn off by years of bottoms. A small lumos spell kicked on overhead filling the booth with a soft white light.

“How does this thing even work,” Draco said, squinting and leaning forwards towards the camera behind a panel of glass.

As Harry slid onto the bench next to him there was a bright flash and a click.

“What-!”

“It's working!” Harry laughed.

“I'm not ready!” Draco complained, looking from the camera to Harry as there was another bright flash and click, “Make it wait!”

“I can't! Just look at the camera, you prat.” Harry pointed to the glass with an amused grin.

Malfoy looked at the camera his face falling into a pout.

Harry leaned an arm over his shoulder and put up rabbit ears behind Draco's blond head as the booth went off again.

Then Draco looked up, “What are you doing, Potter!”

“Nothing.” Harry grinned but Draco spotted the rabbit ears and tried to smack them away with a scowl. The fell into a struggling mess as the booth took another photo, Harry laughing and Draco fighting a grin in order to be properly annoyed with Harry.

Harry gave up and they both sat up, hair mussed and flushed as the camera flashed, taking one more photo and then going silent.

“Guess that's it,” Harry said.

“That's it! That's it?” Draco scowled properly, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the camera.

“What the bloody fuck are you doing?” Harry said as Draco shot a few muttered spells at the photo booth, “Cut it out, you twat! It's muggle and it's already got magic on it, you're gonna end up breaking it!” He went to nab Draco's wand but was stopped by a bright flash of light and a click.

Draco grinned smugly, “And you doubted the great Draco Malfoy. Now pose for the camera, plebeian.”

So Harry scowled for the camera instead and Draco poked him right below the ribs until he squirmed and laughed and smacked Draco's hand away. They both end up poking and pinching and pushing another until they were on the verge of either helpless laughter or a vicious fight and-

And Harry realized the photo booth had taken far more than five photos and was still taking a photo every ten seconds without fail, “Wait,” He pulled away from Draco as the machine flashed and clicked, “Wait. Draco! I think you broke it.”

Draco followed Harry's gaze and his eyebrows rose. He looked at Harry as Harry looked at him, “Oh... perhaps,” he said, drawing his wand.

“What are you doing?” Harry said with alarm, trying to grab Draco's wand arm.

Draco jerked his wand out of reach, “Fixing it, of course.”

“What if you make it worse?” Harry leaned over further, snatching at the wavering wand, leaning into Draco as Draco leaned away to keep it out of reach.

“I will not make it worse!” Draco said offended and breathless with Harry pressing his side against the booth.

He felt Draco go suddenly still against him and the world shifted on its axis. Harry found himself holding his breath without knowing why and then Draco leaned forward and kissed him. Draco's mouth was soft, his breath was warm as he pulled away and Harry realized with painful clarity that this was what had been missing all along.

Draco slowly pulled back, his cheeks flushing pink, “Did I just do that...?” He looked up from Harry's mouth, his grey eyes too wide, “I did, didn't I?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, licking his lips to pull the taste of Draco inside. He looked at Draco, properly looked at him, tall and lean, with his wispy blond hair and delicate bone structure that he had finally begun to grow into, impossibly blond and impossibly wonderful and wonderfully irritating all at the same time.

Harry smiled and leaned forward to bridge the gap between them once more, tilting his head to kiss Draco again. Hands that had been reaching for Draco's arm grasped his robe to pull him closer. Harry felt Draco's hand curl around his neck, one hand carding up through the curls of his hair.

A sharp jolt went through Harry and he jumped. He felt Draco twitch back at the same time and they both looked down at the metal bench that had delivered a sharp little stinging hex to them. They looked at each other, said flatly, “McGonagall,” and burst out laughing.

Harry sat back and let Draco tinker with the photo booth until it stopped taking photos. Then they ran back to their dorm as fast as they could hand in hand like a pair of breathless first years breaking curfew.

The next morning they came into the great hall as the owl post was delivered, along with a great flock of white doves carrying photo booth strips in their beaks and delivering them to the couples all throughout the room.

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall's crisply starched voice cut through the room like a knife, “If you would join me.”

Harry exchanged a nervous glance with Draco as they headed to the head table.

“Fuuuckkk,” Draco hissed breathlessly as they got close enough to see that, what had looked like a brick next to the Headmistress' plate, was, in fact, a stack of photos two inches thick.

Harry let out a nervous laugh and bit his lip to stop himself.

McGonagall's mouth was pinched into a thin line. She looked from Harry to Draco and then sighed, all the tension going out of her. She pushed the stack of photos across the table to them and Draco snatched them up, not looking the least bit apologetic.

McGonagall shook her head, “One week's detention, gentlemen, starting tomorrow. That will be all.”

They waited for a beat to see if there was going to be a lecture or reprimand but she just waved them off impatiently.

They hurried down to the eighth year table. Harry reached for the photos and Draco slapped his hand away.

“You'll put them out of order,” Draco said, carefully wrapping the bundle of photos up and putting them away.

“What are you going to do with them then?” Harry pouted.

“Put them in album, of course,” Draco said matter of factly.

Harry had to concede it was probably a good idea and rather sweet. He complained anyway, “I just want to look.”

“It was just last night you couldn't have forgotten already,” Draco paused and smirked, “I suppose I shall just have to remind you then.” His shoulder bumped into Harry's as he leaned over and kissed him sweetly.

There may have been gasps, or whispers, or quite possibly the sound of Ron choking on his pumpkin juice but Harry didn't hear any of it.

He was too busy staring into grey eyes, “I didn't get that, could you remind me again?”

Draco sighed and kissed him, doing his best to look put out, while he trying not to smile.

“And again and again and again?” Harry asked.

“If I must,” Draco said fondly.

Harry took Draco's hand in his and squeezed, “Good.”

Want to see more? Check the “dralentine’s day” tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine’s Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

86 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #2, @gloster

Hey @gloster ,

Good gifts require a Love for all things drarry and Open-mindedness towards Sexy blonde and brunette wizards Telling each other that Even though they claim to be enemies Really they’re in love believe me.

Hope you liked that little love poem from us - this gift is for you!

Our gifter says:

“This day may be a lil sad for various reasons, but Drarry love makes everything better. Whoever you are, you deserve to feel nice today and I hope this makes you smile. :)”

I just wanted to draw something sweet, fluffy & domestic. ♥ This is how I imagine them a couple years into living together. Sharing clothes and naps and just simply being happy with each other.

Want to see more? Check the “dralentine’s day” tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine’s Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts #drarry squad #sfw

82 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #23, @pottergerms

Ew. Potter germs. Gross. Draco certainly doesn’t think the same thing. This one is for you, @pottergerms!

Our gifter says:

“Happy Dralentine’s day! I hope this fanfiction is everything you hoped for and more. Despite me, as always, leaving things to the last minute and freaking myself out, I actually rather enjoyed writing this one shot. Enjoy, indulge, and let us share the Drarry-love with the world! ~ Your Dralentine.”

A Dragon In Snake Clothing - Harry’s friends are desperate to help find him a date for Valentine’s Day. Considering his growing list of one-night stands, Harry finds himself desperate enough to give almost anyone a shot. When a potential date goes awry, there is only one snake sneaky enough to wrap himself around a love-lost Boy-Who-Lived. 5k.

Tags: smut, top!Harry

The music was loud.

“Alright there, mate?!”

Sweat dripped down slick skin.

“Do you want another drink?”

There were so many thrumming bodies surging around them it was hard to see where one male ended and another began.

“I said do you want another drink!”

And, much to Harry Potter’s displeasure, his friends had dragged him out with one specific goal in mind.

“What about that guy, Harry?”

To find him a date for Valentine’s Day.

Harry swung his gaze in the direction that Hermione was pointing and felt his mouth twist into a grimace. He shook his head rather adamantly at her, only slightly put-out when she pouted.

“Come on, Harry, you’re not even trying!” Ron said accusingly. “Don’t make me have Charlie drag you over to some random guy—you know I will!”

He groaned. Charlie had acquired a personal interest in making sure Harry was… well looked after… come Valentine’s Day. The bloody tenacious red-head was so damned determined to hook Harry up that he’d willingly left his dragons for an entire week in order to be the ultimate wing-man.

“It’s what you do for an adopted brother,” Charlie had said with a smirk. “You’re the only one left without a partner.”

“You’re still single too, you know.”

“Yeah but I’m not looking.” Charlie’s smirk had grown wider. “Perks of being ace, my friend. Besides, you’re getting on in years, you know?”

“I’m only twenty-five!”

And now they were here, two days before the fourteenth of February, in a popular wizarding gay club and rifling through every single male who just happened to be present.

“Is there anyone here that is catching your eye?” Hermione asked, swirling her drink absentmindedly.

“Not really,” Harry replied honestly.

“Well… why don’t you join Charlie on the dance floor?”

Harry gave her a bland look. “Mione, you know I don’t dance.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Two words, Hermione, Yule Ball,” Ron remarked with a cheeky grin. “Harry has no coordination whatsoever—aside from quidditch that is.”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed, nodding. “With little-to-no coordination I’m obviously terrible at sex; it’s probably the reason I keep having so many flings.”

“Probably just a flail of limbs.”

“No rhythm to speak of.”

“Sloppy kisser too, no doubt.”

“Not to mention my atrocious memory when it comes to remembering names.”

“Maybe you should start making them wear nametags?”

“Why not number them while I’m at it.”

Harry and Ron guffawed with laughter much to Hermione’s displeasure.

“Honestly, Harry, it’s no wonder you can’t find a date if you’re not even going to be serious about this!”

Smiling patiently, Harry downed a mouthful of his obscenely fruity cocktail Charlie had insisted on getting him. “Mione, we’re in the one place where finding a ‘Mr Right’ is far and few between. Guys come here for anonymous sex and one-night stands. I should know, I’m practically a veteran.”

“You won’t know until you try,” the female replied persistently. “Ooh, looks like Charlie may have found someone.”

Harry swung his head around. Truth enough Charlie Weasley, with his arm slung comfortably around the shoulders of a young male with chestnut coloured hair, was crossing the dance floor towards them and gesturing madly at their table. The brunet couldn’t help but brace himself warily.

“Harry,” Charlie beamed, “meet Eli.”

“Wow,” Eli breathed, eyes wide as they flicked up to his forehead. “Harry Potter!”

Harry groaned inwardly. Another starry-eyed fan…

Charlie seemed to miss the unimpressed look on Harry’s face because he was quick to push the young man he’d brought over closer to him, smiling charmingly. To Harry’s utter horror, Eli sidled nice and close to his side, staring up at him with astonished blue eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you, Harry,” Eli said earnestly.

A smug smile had appeared on Charlie’s face. “You know…” he began innocently enough, “it’s a tad loud in here, hardly the place to really get to know one another…”

Eli immediately brightened.

“Why don’t the two of you head off somewhere quieter? Like the Black Stump? You like that place don’t you, Harry?”

The Black Stump was one of Harry’s favourite wizarding bars. It wasn’t like the club—not at all. It was small, intimate, and best of all, quiet. He frequented it at least once a week, enjoying a drink or two with a friend to help him wind down from the stresses of work and his, typically, inconsistently erratic love life.

“Oh, can we, Harry?” Eli begged, biting his lip endearingly. “I’d love to get to know you.”

Hermione and Ron were both nodding vigorously behind Eli’s back, staring at Harry with identical threatening expressions. Harry suppressed a sigh. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a go…

“Yeah, alright,” he said finally, offering a small smile. He felt a little better about the situation with the prospect of going to the Black Stump, it didn’t seem as daunting if they went to place he was happy and familiar with.

“I’ll go grab my cloak!” Eli said excitedly. “I’ll meet you at the entrance?”

“Sure.”

The young man bounded away from a grin, leaving Harry to three impudent smirks.

“Don’t even,” he interjected quickly, pointing at each of them in turn. “This means nothing. I promised you I’d give it a go and I am.”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione replied, her smirk morphing into a gentle smile. “I hope, for your sake, that everything works out.”

Charlie winked at him. “And if it doesn’t, no harm done. We’ll simply… have to try again.”

Harry snorted. “You’re never allowed to set me up with someone ever again.”

The red-head chuckled, eyeing him with deviously. “We’ll see.”

A quick side-along apparition later found Harry and Eli in the shadows of an alleyway a few doors down from the bar. Despite the unknown aspects surrounding his newfound date, Harry was glad to be out of the club. As much fun as it had been back in the day when he hadn’t cared much, he couldn’t help but feel detached from the thrumming atmosphere he had, once upon a time, thrust himself into.

Everything the club represented was so artificial; so impersonal. A constant flow of anonymous sex.

And Harry was so tired.

He was tired of the flings, of the one-night stands that did nothing but further his desire for something more. He wanted to wake up to the same face every morning, share a sleepy kiss, make a ridiculous mess in the kitchen as they attempted pancakes. Hell, Harry would even settle for a cheesy date full of beach walks and photo-booth pictures if it meant that the guy he was with didn’t become just another face in the crowd.

Maybe Eli could be that guy.

The young man was currently vibrating with excitement as they stepped down the snow-covered pavement. His blue eyes were often on Harry’s face, staring at him in wonder as if he really couldn’t believe Harry-Fucking-Potter was taking him on an impromptu date.

I’m sure he’ll calm down once we get talking… Harry thought, trying desperately to make light of the situation. He reached out for the door and pushed it open, a wondrous warmth greeting them as they stepped inside the Black Stump. Almost instantly, Harry could feel the tension draining out of his muscles; the familiar scent of fine spirits and cedar wood drew him in with a welcoming embrace. The two of them removed their cloaks and Harry did his customary sweep of the patrons inside.

And did a double-take. Despite the shadows that cloaked the room in a welcoming allure of mystery, it certainly did not hide the unique shine of platinum hair that instantly captured Harry’s attention.

Draco Malfoy.

The male was reclining elegantly in one of the booths, long legs crossed at the knee, with a pleasant smile directed to the female sitting opposite him. Pansy Parkinson.

Harry found himself staring—he couldn’t help it. Malfoy looked ridiculously alluring, dressed as he was in black pressed pants, navy button up shirt with his sleeves rolled to the elbow, and a black waist coat with a dark-grey tie.

Fucking hell…

It wasn’t uncommon for he and Malfoy to bump into one another during day-to-day life. After Harry had spoken on Malfoy and his mother’s behalf during the trials after the war, the two of them had decided on a tentative truce and parted ways. Ever since, whenever they were within social distance, pleasantries were exchanged and simple, meticulous conversations were sometimes had. Nothing more had happened between them, despite how much Harry secretly wished it would.

The bastard was gorgeous after all.

Swallowing a sigh, Harry forced his gaze away from the delectable blond and gestured for Eli to follow him. He did not lead Eli to his usual spot but instead acquired two stools near the bar, thinking that perhaps if the night was a bust, he could get stinking drunk instead. As they draped their cloaks over the back of their stools, he signalled the bartender who practically sped to take his order and Harry turned to his… date.

God, even in his mind the word sounded cumbersome.

“What would you like to drink, Eli?”

“Whatever you’re drinking, Harry,” he replied immediately.

A faint frown appeared on Harry’s brow. “Firewhiskey?”

Eli drew his bottom lip into his mouth but nodded anyway, eager to please.

“Er—alright then.” Harry turned back to the bartender with whom he shared a similar look and lifted two fingers.

“Two firewhiskeys it is then,” the dark man replied, flicking his wrist elegantly. Two tumblers landed on the wooden benchtop and skidded to a halt before them. A healthy amount of firewhiskey was poured into each.

“Thank you, Khari.” Harry placed an abundance of coins into the bartender’s hand and took their drinks, passing one to Eli.

“Enjoy your evening, Mr Potter,” Khari said with a gentle smile.

Eli gaped.

“I bet you get recognised everywhere,” he exclaimed in an almost-whisper.

Harry uttered a noncommittal noise. “I suppose.”

“I want you to tell me everything about you, Harry, about everything that happened,” Eli begged earnestly. “I’ve read it all, of course, but I want to hear you say it.”

Harry stifled a groan and downed a mouthful of his firewhiskey. “I’d rather not,” he replied, keeping his tone as light as he could make it. “Why don’t you tell me about you?”

“Oh, my life is boring,” Eli remarked. He had yet to even look down at his drink let alone take a sip. He insisted on holding it tightly within his palms. “Not like yours I bet.”

“My life isn’t as glamorous as the Daily Prophet makes it out to be, you know.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

I bet you do… Harry thought tiredly. They’d only been here for ten minutes and Eli was already doing his head in with the hero worship. I’m beginning to feel that this was a mistake…

Perhaps, if he indulged Eli a little, it would make him more comfortable to speak with Harry on a more personal level? It was either that or call an end to their date which, as much as Harry was keen on that idea, having Malfoy witness the entire ordeal made it less appealing. He risked a quick glance in the blond’s direction as Eli stared in disdain at his drink, stiffing at the contents tentatively. Malfoy was alone for time being, taking a sip from a clear goblet that looked to hold red wine. Harry wondered where Parkinson had gone—probably the bathroom or something.

What I wouldn’t give to walk over there right now and ravish Malfoy to a point that he forgets his own name…

“What was You-Know-Who like?”

Harry’s head snapped around, green eyes filled with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You-Know-Who, Harry,” Eli pressed. “What was he like? Fearsome of course, but to have such power—”

“Voldemort was a ruthless, murdering tyrant,” Harry grunted sharply, ignoring Eli’s wince. “I’d rather not spend our time talking about him.”

“Alright, sorry, yeah that was a bit dense of me,” the young man said quickly. “Can I ask you about other stuff?”

“Depends on the stuff.”

Harry was happy to answer the less intrusive questions Eli flung his way as it kept the young man amused and the situation less awkward. Time was ticking by slowly, but at least it was ticking by. Harry had ordered and downed two more firewhiskeys in the time Eli slowly sipped his to completion, declining another when Harry offered.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Eli said. “I actually have something… else in mind.”

“Oh?” Harry hummed, turning his head to catch Khari’s eye, “what were you after?” He froze when he felt a heated palm press firmly on his jean-clad thigh and he turned his head back, not enjoying the fervent look Eli was now giving him.

“You.”

For an easy fuck, there was no one better. Harry knew this. And it was painfully obvious that Eli did too. But that was not what this evening was supposed to be about. Harry didn’t want another fling—especially with someone as hero-obsessed as his date was turning out to be.

“No, Eli,” Harry murmured. “Unfortunately, I don’t find myself much in the mood.”

A playful leer appeared on the young man’s face. His hand began to move unabashedly up his thigh. Harry’s fingers were instantly around his wrist, tight and restrictive.

“I said no.”

Eli man pouted. “I just want to make you feel good, Harry,” he purred. “You deserve it, you know… after everything you did for us…”

Harry was beginning to feel sick. “That’s not what I want, Eli,” he bit out. “And if this is all that this is, then I want you to leave.”

“All of what?” Eli asked innocently, tilting his head to the side in, what he probably thought, was an attractive manner. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good, Harry?”

He still hadn’t removed his hand from Harry’s thigh.

“No, I don’t think I do, actually,” the brunet replied. He pushed away at the wrist he was holding and Eli finally took the hint, withdrawing his hand.

But the young man was not to be deterred as it turned out.

“Go on, Harry,” he urged, inching bit by bit off his stool. His knees brushed against Harry’s. “What does it matter? I can be another notch in your belt and you’d know I’d make it good. I’ve seen you taking other guys home and you have no idea how much I wanted to be them, how much I’d love to be beneath you, the Great Harry Potter—”

“That’s enough,” Harry snapped, his control finally shattering. “I tried to be nice, Eli, but you’ve pushed me too far. We’re done with this, alright? Now just go.”

Eli blinked. “But—”

“I do believe he told you to run along, darling,” a smooth voice interrupted, “and I recommend that you do so… while you still retain whatever dignity you have left.”

Eli was turning a petulant frown towards whoever it was that had spoken, when his face dramatically paled. He slipped off the stool immediately.

“There’s a good boy,” the voice crooned.

Harry could practically hear the derisive sneer that he knew was currently on Malfoy’s face. He watched, relieved, as Eli conceded surrender and snatched his cloak from the back of the chair. With a final sulky glare, Eli turned away and left the bar.

“I don’t even want to know the look you were giving him to almost make the poor boy wet his pants, Malfoy.”

The blond male chuckled indulgently as he slid himself gracefully into the recently vacated stool, offering a Harry a mischievous smirk.

“What, no thank you? No grovelling at my well-polished shoes? I’m wounded, Potter.”

“Well, after that remark, certainly not.”

“You ungrateful sod.”

“Arrogant ass.”

“You could, at the very least, offer to buy me a drink, Potter.”

Harry, actually more than happy to do so, suddenly found himself frowning as his head quirked to look to the side. “Aren’t you here with Parkinson?” he asked.

“Pansy left an hour ago,” Malfoy said, silver eyes glinting impishly. “I’ve been enjoying the show ever since.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised,” he replied, signalling Khari. “What are you drinking?”

“Anything you’re not.”

Harry was slightly amazed by the relieved smile he felt quirking his lips. “Noticed that, did you?”

“Potter, the entire bar noticed.”

“Don’t know what he was expecting to happen by pretending to enjoy the same drink I do.”

“Manipulation tactic, Potter. A poor one but a tactic nonetheless. I’ll have my usual, Khari.”

“Same for me, thank you, Khari.”

While their drinks were prepared, Malfoy slid back off the stool, staring at Harry expectantly.

“Come join me in the booth, Potter, I’m afraid my arse cannot take such hard wood. Well, at least not in this form.”

Harry almost choked, staring up at the ex-Slytherin in open astonishment who simply smirked and turned, returning to the booth and allowing Harry ample time to ogle his backside.

“There we are, Mr Potter.”

Harry swung back around, smiling sheepishly. “Thank you, Khari,” he said, paying the man.

“It is my pleasure, Mr Potter,” Khari responded. “And if it is not to bold of me, I daresay your new date is much more… appropriate.”

“Oh, he’s not—that is—we went to school together is all,” Harry babbled. His cheeks started to warm and Khari smile indulgently.

“Of course, Mr Potter.”

Flinging his cloak over his arm, Harry grabbed his glass and Malfoy’s goblet and turned away from the bar, his eyes quickly landing on blond hair; a beacon in the shadows. He handed over the wine and dropped his cloak into the spare chair opposite the booth before joining Malfoy on the soft, red velvet cushion with a grateful sigh. Definitely better than those hardwood stools.

“So a tactic, hmm?” Harry inquired, eyeing the blond over the rim of his whiskey tumbler.

“A weak one habitually utilised by desperate fools,” Malfoy replied, smiling blandly. “Used to establish a connection and to lower your guard. I’m surprised it didn’t work…”

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry replied good-naturedly. “Although, I would be rather remiss to not question your own experiences seeing as you know that tactic so well.”

Malfoy tossed his head back and laughed. Harry stared at the graceful curve of his neck, suddenly ravenous to be able to taste the soft, pale skin.

“I had almost forgotten how fun you can be, Potter,” Malfoy commented, eyes shining with mirth. “You must be so pleased to have bumped into me this evening.” He sipped at his wine, his face the most relaxed Harry had ever seen it. “Tell me, Potter, why on earth were you out tonight with that imbecile in the first place?”

Harry groaned into his firewhiskey. “Forced to.”

“Forced to?”

“Friends wanted to find me someone for Valentine’s Day. They picked him.”

Malfoy snorted. “I think you need to procure new friends.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

The chemistry between them was oh so different from the chemistry he had experienced with Eli. Although, if Harry was honest with himself, there had never actually been chemistry with Eli in the first place. But this. Fuck, whatever this was, Harry absolutely thrived on it. It was familiar, antagonising, challenging, enjoyable, frustrating—

And perfect.

There was no way Harry was leaving tonight without at least seeing if this could go somewhere.

When Harry next checked his watch he was shocked to see it was already past midnight. He and Malfoy had been talking for four hours. Sitting across from him, Malfoy was arching his back off the back of the booth, stretching as he released a disgustingly attractive sigh.

Harry’s cock twitched.

“I suppose we best call it a night then, Potter,” Malfoy announced. “I am rather impressed we survived an evening without killing one another. We should do this again.”

Just ask him you idiot. Do it! Stop being such a coward—

Taking the chance, Harry blurted out his question.

“Do you have plans for Monday night?”

Malfoy quirked his blond head to the side slightly in thought. Then he smiled.

“Why, Potter, asking me out for Valentine’s Day?”

“Obviously, otherwise I would not have said Monday.”

“You do realise how ghastly going to a restaurant will be that evening, don’t you?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe you’d like to come to my place and I’ll cook us something.”

Malfoy’s sleek eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “You cook?”

“Erm—yes?” Harry replied. “Why, you don’t?”

“Not usually, no,” Malfoy admitted easily. “House elves, Potter.”

“Oh.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at the blond. “So… would you like to?”

“I suppose I may be swayed to join you for dinner, Potter, seeing as you asked so nicely.” Malfoy’s tone was teasing, a refreshing change to the usual controlled civil tone he was used to hearing during their brief conversations. “Is there anything you would like for me to bring?”

“Uh, hmm, well I’m pretty useless when it comes to choosing wine,” Harry said, gesturing to Malfoy’s empty goblet. “Unless you’re happy with beer?”

Malfoy’s nose crinkled. “Beer does not suit my palate,” the ex-Slytherin said haughtily. “If you message me detailing what you intend to cook I shall provide a suitable wine.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned, his heart thumping happily.

Something straight forward and simple was what Harry had decided on for dinner. As promised, he’d sent Malfoy an owl that very morning, depicting the three-course meal Harry was planning: caprese salad as an entrée, beef tortellini with Harry’s personalised Napoli sauce for the main, and of course, treacle tart for dessert.

Harry had spent most of the day in a jubilant haze as he prepared the food and cleaned the apartment. It wasn’t until he was stepping out of the shower and considering what to wear did he begin to feel the first flutter of nerves.

Malfoy was coming over for dinner. Malfoy was coming over for dinner. On Valentine’s Day. For a date.

He smiled giddily at his slightly blurry reflection. Hell, even if nothing actually happened tonight at least Harry could be sure to plant the seed of interest. Malfoy may not even think of him in that way. Yet. Hopefully. Ugh!

Get it together you idiot…

Harry popped in his contact lenses, ruffled his hair to help it dry faster, and stepped into his bedroom where, thankfully, he had already lain out his clothing for the evening on the bed. Black button up, blue jeans, and black shoes. Simple but effective.

He neatened his facial hair, somewhat tamed his wildly curling mop, and slapped on some cologne. Checking his watch, his heart thumped as he realised that Malfoy would be arriving in twenty minutes. He left the bedroom, ducked into the kitchen to make sure the table was set properly and the food was ready, and then quickly did a final sweep of the lounge room.

With three minutes to spare, Harry looked around with a faint smile.

Then his fireplace roared and the smile fell, his lips pressed together nervously, watching as Malfoy’s tall, graceful frame exited the hearth in a flash of green flames.

“Right on time,” Harry said, forcing a welcoming smile on his face.

“Yes, well, I prefer to not keep people waiting,” Malfoy replied, gazing around the lounge room in speculation. His silver eyes snapped back to Harry’s face, a single eyebrow raised. “No rose bouquet, Potter? I’m heartbroken.”

A cheeky smirk tugged at Harry’s lips. “Hmm, I would have taken you to be more of an oriental lily kind of man.”

Draco blinked. “…that is rather astute of you, Potter.”

Harry gaped. “No way.”

“Tell anyone and you’re a dead man,” Malfoy sneered, thrusting the two bottles of wine he held into Harry’s arms and moving past him.

Harry grinned. He allowed Malfoy to his own devices as he dropped the bottles off onto the dinner table, stopping briefly for one last check on the food. When he returned to the lounge room, his eyes landed on Malfoy’s blond head, which was bent at an odd angle. In fact, his entire figure was bent over, and it took Harry a moment to realise what Malfoy was looking at.

“I see you’ve met my albino Burmese python.”

A soft sigh fell from the blond’s lips. “And who is this gorgeous creature?” Malfoy murmured, gazing longingly in the large terrarium Harry had set up along the wall.

“Peaches.”

Malfoy turned to stare at him scrutinisingly. Harry winced.

“Teddy named him.”

“Oh.”

“He refused to answer to anything else,” Harry continued, joining Malfoy beside the tank. “Isn’t that right, Peaches? You were quite pleased when Teddy named you.”

“It was an admirable name from Master’s little ward,” Peaches hissed back, tongue flickering. “Who is your shiny friend, Master?”

“Draco Malfoy, an old friend from school. He has come to join me for dinner.”

Peaches turned his handsome head in Malfoy’s direction. Draco practically crooned.

“And here I thought the whole Slytherin thing was a gambit,” Harry sniggered.

“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy replied, “and allow me to appreciate such a glorious specimen.”

“I promise you can hold him after dinner if you’re a good boy.”

The blond, still enraptured by the serpent, simply hummed in agreement. Harry laughed softly and tugged gently on Malfoy’s arm.

“Come on, you ponce, there will be plenty of time to look at snakes later.”

“Oh, indeed?” The smirk was back in Malfoy’s voice as he followed Harry into the kitchen. “What sort of snakes were you thinking of, Potter?”

Dinner was, surprisingly, a really nice affair. Malfoy even complimented Harry on his culinary skills. They had kept the conversation relatively tame, sticking to topics they both shared a mutual interest in, with the occasional jest or jab at the others expense. Just for old times.

By the time they had settled on the couch in Harry’s living room with the second bottle of wine, Harry was sure he was head over heels for the damn, utterly beautiful but horribly irritating, man.

“Indulge me, Potter,” Malfoy queried, “why were your friends so desperate to hook you up for Valentine’s?”

Harry exhaled. “Because I asked them to,” he admitted. The wine had loosened his tongue enough that he did not feel embarrassed about confessing. “I was getting sick and tired of the constant stream of bedwarmers. Anonymous sex is all well and good but it’s not something I wish to continue.”

“Muggle or wizard?”

“Most of the time they’re muggle,” Harry replied. “They don’t know who I am—it’s just easier. I’ve had a few flings with some wizards and while it’s nice to not have to hide my magic, it’s really fucking sad when you can tell they’re getting off purely because they’re buggering the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Malfoy snorted, a delightful smirk curling at his lips. “Haven’t considered using a glamour then, Potter?”

Harry looked at the blond with a frown. “What would be the point? I’m not in this for a fling, Malfoy. Using a glamour to hide who I am kind of defeats the point, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t want to have to use a glamour for the rest of my life.”

“Alright, alright, fair point,” Malfoy replied playfully. He raised his wine goblet and took a delicate sip, his silver eyes never once straying for Harry’s face. “And you were going to use tonight…”

“…to hopefully find someone a little more long term,” Harry confirmed with a nod.

“Hmm. What a shame you ended up with me.”

Harry felt his cheeks begin to colour. “You’re not so bad, Malfoy.”

“Not so bad?” There was a chink as the blond placed his glass on the coffee table beside Harry’s. “Thank you for the shining endorsement, you utter twat.”

A smile broke across the brunet’s face. Lifting his head, Harry felt his heart leap to his throat. Malfoy’s gaze was so very heated as he moved towards him on the couch.

“Erm—Malfoy?” He didn’t mean for the question to come out so timidly, but as the ex-Slytherin’s face drew exceptionally close to his, there was nothing but nervous butterflies left tingling in his stomach. Malfoy’s body was sliding elegantly between Harry’s thighs, his pale hands pushing on Harry’s shoulders until his torso hit the cushioned arm. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as he stared up into molten silver. A tantalising smile was curling Malfoy’s lips.

“Was this not where you wanted the evening to head, Potter?”

Malfoy’s voice was low, husky, and definitely filled with promise. Harry shivered.

“I—well, yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” Harry murmured, feeling suddenly breathless. “But, I didn’t—”

“Mmm?” Malfoy’s eyes were now focused on his lips.

“I didn’t realise that you wanted this too.”

“Then allow me to inform you otherwise.”

Harry was sure he made a noise, partway between a sigh and a strangled moan, and then he was lost, falling into the searing heat of Draco’s mouth. It was hard, brutal, and hot as fuck; Draco’s mouth seemed to completely dominate his and Harry was quite content to let him. His hands came to rest instinctively on Malfoy’s shifting back muscles, fingers digging in sync each time the blond sucked on his tongue.

Bliss.

The kiss began to calm, becoming almost tender, a twisting dance of tongues and soft gasps. Harry’s hand caressed the back of Draco’s neck, fingertips brushing the delicate blond strands as he cradled the male’s head—god, he never wanted to leave Draco’s mouth.

With a final lingering press of lips to his, Malfoy drew back slowly, allowing only a few inches between them.

“How’s that for not so bad?” he asked huskily.

The post make-out miasma was blathering praise. Harry willed his mouth to move. “Superb, exceptional, outstanding—nothing bad—only good.”

Draco chuckled as he kissed a reward on Harry’s lips. “Mmm, I really should thank Weasley then for arranging our date.”

Harry was practically purring in agreement when he suddenly jolted. “I—wait, what? Date? Weasley?”

Draco’s eyes glinted audaciously. “Charlie to be precise.”

Harry stared up at him in utter confusion. “But he—what was all that shit with Eli then?”

A wicked smile appeared on Malfoy’s face. “Part of the plan, Potter. Weasley was to find the most unsuitable male he could and convince you to go to the Black Stump where I, wonderful, considerate, evening-saving Draco Malfoy, would just happen to be.”

Harry’s mouth worked open and closed wordlessly as Malfoy’s words sunk in. “That git!”

“Yes,” the blond purred, leaning down to trail his tongue along one of Harry’s neck tendons, “an atrocious git.”

“Both of you are a pair of fucking—oh f-fuck, do that again.”

Malfoy complied, and Harry felt himself arching up off the couch at the sensation of teeth scraping his skin roughly, a delicious moan falling from his lips.

“You’re both arseholes,” Harry panted.

Malfoy made an amused sound. “Good thing you like arseholes.” He bit into Harry’s neck. The brunet’s breath hitched.

“W-Wait—how do you even know Charlie?”

“Dragons,” Draco replied simply. “I adore the creatures and Charlie is the most talented dragon handler I know.”

“Oh.”

“Now shut up, Potter, I wish to have my wicked way with you.”

Time seemed to shift then. It began in a rush of blurred shapes, sounds, and smells; Draco’s moans and whimpers were like music to his ears. Clothes were discarded, articles of fabric thrown across the room. He barely remembered flipping them, Draco’s heated figure undulating beneath him, long fingers knotting in his dark hair as Harry’s lips marked the glorious pale skin of Malfoy’s chest. The fingers clenched tighter and tighter the further down Harry travelled with his mouth, tongue teasing, teeth nipping, and Draco moaning.

“H-Harry—!”

And then he was swallowing, his throat convulsing delectably around the thick cock, until his nose was nestled in blond curls. Malfoy was gasping, stammered pleads passing his trembling lips. Through the haze, Harry managed to gather enough coherency to cast a wandless, non-verbal lubrication spell, his right hand becoming exceptionally slick and soon, a slippery finger was sheathing itself inside Draco’s warmth.

“Oh, f-fuck! Harry—Harry, please—” Draco’s back arched almost painfully, legs falling further apart. “H-Harry, I can’t—oh, gods, I’m going to come if you k-keep doing—” Another sharp intake of breath. “P-please, not yet… not yet… with you, Harry—I want to c-come with you inside me—”

Draco’s eyes were pools of pure arousal, dark and glazed, as Harry looked up the length of his body, allowing the cock to slip from between his lips. The blond whimpered. He watched, transfixed, as Harry kept a sturdy pace with his finger while he moved back up towards him. Draco’s eyes fell to reddened and swollen lips.

Capturing Malfoy’s mouth with his, Harry pushed a second finger inside, swallowing Draco’s moan as he began to scissor the digits.

Time was speeding up again.

Fingers were moving, stretching, penetrating. And Draco was moaning, sobbing, begging for Harry to fuck him already.

Three fingers.

Four fingers.

And with one final whispered plea into Harry’s mouth, he complied, coating his impatiently aching cock with the remainder of the lubricant on his hand. Then he was moving, kissing Draco sweetly, pushing himself against Draco’s entrance.

And slid inside with one gentle, smooth stroke.

Time slowed. Stopped.

Harry could feel himself trembling, holding himself back so Draco could adjust, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

So good, so good, he feels so good… Draco…

A gentle hand was pressing on his neck, pulling him down. He opened his eyes.

“Move,” Draco breathed, kissing him roughly.

Harry did.

His hips flexed, his thrusts working a rhythm that drew beautiful gasps from Draco’s throat. He quickened his pace every time his lover urged him, angling himself until he hit that spot just right.

With a furious cry, Draco came. His seed splashed against his pale chest in a series of glorious spurts, his body stretching in a display of pure ecstasy. And Harry, his cock now massaged by the convulsing muscles in Malfoy’s perfect arse, felt his orgasm rip through him, flooding the tight channel with come.

It wasn’t until his head was resting on his lover’s shoulder, a soothing finger tracing his lips, that Harry realised he had been moaning Draco’s name. He sucked gentle, open-mouth kisses on the damp skin of Draco’s neck, enjoying the feel of arms wrapping around him securely.

Harry felt his eyes close, content in Draco’s embrace as they both drifted in post orgasmic bliss.

One year later.

Something soft brushed against Harry’s mouth. For a moment, his sleep-addled brain was unable to recognise what it was exactly, until he felt it again, pressing more firmly. His lips curled into a smile as they parted, accepting the gently probing tongue with an exuberant, drowsy sigh.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

“Mmm, Happy Valentine’s,” Harry replied sleepily, reaching out to pull the warm body lying beside him closer. A head came to rest on his chest and one of Harry’s hand immediately delved into the delicate strands as he angled his head to press a kiss to blond hair.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of pancake duty by acting all sweet, love.”

Another smile quirked at his lips, his body positively humming with delight.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Draco.”

Want to see more? Check the "dralentine's day" tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine's Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

70 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #4, @levians

Hey @levians , try LOVEians. This gift is for you!

Our gifter says:

“Hello! Happy Valentine’s Day, love!

This is my present for you (I apologize in advance for any mistake, English is not my first language)

Enjoy! <3

Playlist (if you want):

Ellie Drennan – Ghost

Charlie Puth – Enemy

Snakehips – Cruel

Astrid S – Jump

Frenhip & Emily Warren – Capsize

Valerie Broussard – Trouble

Gavin James – For You (Bearcubs remix)

The Weekend – High for this

Nick Jonas ft Tove lo – Close

Snakehips & MO – Don’t leave

Flume ft Tove lo – Say it

Christine and The Queens – Here

Broods – Bridges

KINGDM – Can’t get over you”

Untitled - This is from Harry’s point of view. He is feeling bitter and alone after the war. Comes Ron and Hermione’s annual Valentine’s Day dinner and Harry needs a date. Blaise Zabini offers to bring someone. That someone turns out to be no other than Draco Malfoy. 9518 words.

Tags: no smut, a little agst, FLUFF

-Come on, Harry! This will be fun!

Fun. That’s not exactly how Harry would describe an afternoon with Ron and Hermione nowadays. It’s not that he didn’t like to spend time with them. It’s just that lately, Harry felt like the third wheel of a particularly cute and annoying car. There were always cuddling, calling each other names, caressing each other… Harry loved his two best friends but really, he could have done without the caressing.

If he was honest with himself, which lately he tended to be, he was fairly jealous. He had never imagined what his life would be like after the war, mainly because he didn’t think there would be any life after the war. Not for him.

Nobody knew what had really happened that day, the day he had confronted Voldemort. Nobody knew he had died. He didn’t like to talk about it and nobody liked to hear about it. Hermione had tried to gently push him to tell her and he had not so gently pushed her away. Ron didn’t ask. He knew better than to pry. The only thing he had asked was why Harry and Ginny had broken up. He had told him what he wanted to hear: that they didn’t fit together anymore, that they wanted time to themselves, time to recover, to heal from the war.

The truth was, Ginny had left him. Not because she didn’t love him anymore. In a way, he knew she would always love him, just like he would always love her. No, simply because the boy she had fallen in love with wasn’t there anymore. He had died that day with Voldemort. All that was left was the memory of him, of that foolish, arrogant child who thought he could take on the entire world by himself. And although some would say he had succeeded, others (such as himself) would say the opposite. Because he had discovered that you couldn’t just kill darkness. Once you were acquainted, it became a part of you.

For Harry, that was a rather large part of him.

-Salath seth tith… (Fucking hell)

Hermione gave him a stern look. She wasn’t a fan of Harry using parseltongue more often lately. But Harry found he enjoyed using it immensely. After all, he was bitter and alone. It had never felt more appropriate.

After two or three minutes of disapproving stare, Harry rolled his eyes and finally gave in.

-All right, all right. I’ll come along.

Hermione’s face broke into a big grin and Harry felt his chest warm up. She began to gather her stuff while explaining in various, too precise details what they were going to do. Harry just watched her with a fond, exasperated smirk.

-Sorry, mate, Ron apologized quietly so Hermione wouldn’t hear him.

-It’s okay. I guess it will do me some good to get out of the house.

To this, Ron just laughed.

-Dude, you’re never in the house. I have to call every time I want to come over to make sure you’re not half way across London.

Harry smiled in apology. It was true. He didn’t like staying in Grimmauld place much. It reminded him too much of Sirius and the Order. All of those people were dead, including his godfather, and being in that house reminded it to him every day. Plus the place was shabby and old and creepy. His only company was Kreacher when he wasn’t bringing someone over. Which he rarely did.

So, yes. He was definitely running away from this place.

-Earth to Harry.

-Sorry. I zoned out again, didn’t I? You were saying?

Ron shook his head and a tiny smile came to tease his lips.

-I said you should bring Sebastien at this weekend’s diner. I think Seamus and Dean will be there. It would be nice.

The monthly diners were something Hermione organized regularly to keep herself updated on everything that went on with her friends. Harry liked them, but he also tended to run away from them as fast as he could. Everyone always had their lives sorted or at the very least a plan. He didn’t. He just enjoyed life as it came when he could. He already had many responsibilities with the Ministry of Magic and war testimonies and trials and blah blah blah.

However, he knew he couldn’t run from this diner. It was Hermione’s special Valentine’s Day.

That meant he had to come with someone. But he could not bring Sebastien.

Sebastien was Harry’s… well, sex friend. There weren’t exactly, most definitely, not a couple. Harry did not want to introduce him to his friends and he was pretty sure Sebastien did not want to introduce him to his either.

-I’ll ask him. I doubt he’ll be available though.

Ron tilted his head and his eyes came to rest on Hermione.

-That’s too bad. You know how that would really make Mione happy.

Harry felt bad as he watched his friend talk to Kreacher about whatever it was those two talked about.

-All right… I’ll try to bring someone.

Ron nodded but his face didn’t lit up. He already knew Harry would come alone. He always did.

Hermione finally finished her gran talk and motioned for them to follow her outside. Ron elbowed Harry who was lost in thought again and the two of them grabbed their coat before apparating.

—-

They arrived in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Hermione began to explain Muggles decorations for Valentine’s Day and their significance. Harry thought that it really didn’t take a genius to deduce their meaning. He kept his remarks to himself.

He thought about their last Valentine’s Day. The first they had celebrated after the end of the war, three years from then. He thought about coming out to his friends, about their mild surprise, far from what he’d imagined. He thought about the way it hadn’t bothered anyone. He thought it would. He thought he would at least get one rejection. But no. They didn’t seem to care. He should have known. You tend not to care too much for things as futile as sexuality when you have known the amount of death and destruction they had.

Wednesday was always a busy day on Piccadilly Circus. They had trouble crowding into the shops, buying useless things. Harry quickly gave up after the third. He bought himself smokes and waited for them outside, his thoughts occupied with who he would bring to that god forsaken diner.

They came out of the sixth shop with another girl. They talked for a few minutes before she left them with a big smile. She eyed Harry on her way out and she blinked playfully at him. That tended to happen a lot lately. He didn’t know if he had changed much since Hogwarts but he never got this kind of attention there. Sure, he had begun to hit the gym regularly to keep in shape, although he still indulged in prolonged broomstick flights, which did nothing for his hair (a lot longer than how he used to wear it). He had changed his style, or rather he had finally gotten one. At Hogwarts, he had just been wearing sorcerer’s robes, and before that, Dudley’s clothes. There hadn’t been much picking. Now he wore fitted jeans, soft t-shirts and Sirius’ old leather jacket with the Black on black inscription on the sleeve, just above the drawing of a rose. He had found it upstairs in one of Grimmauld place’s old cupboards. The jacket had clearly lived and the leather suffered through enough, but Harry loved it. He now wore it every day. He also wore Hermione’s Christmas present: a black scarf, the softest thing.

-Harry! Emily (which he assumed was the girl) was just telling me about the photo booth they have put up for Valentine’s Day. Let’s go take a picture.

Harry was tired. He hadn’t done much sleeping last night. In fact, he never did much sleeping. The nightmares were always there, lurking, waiting for him to close his eyes. So many people were dead, so many his own fault. All of this because they had chosen to protect him. What a stupid choice to make.

He smiled softly at Hermione.

-You go ahead. I am going to head back.

She pouted and Ron silently apologized in advance.

-Come on! Just one! She pleaded.

Harry shook his head and his smile broadened.

-All right. Just one.

—-

Turned out they did ten. Yeah. Ten.

He was pacing on Ginny’s floor, her apartment far too small for his large frame. She was seated on the sofa, watching the photo booth strips. Harry had gotten three, three strips of four pictures with his best friends. Twelve pictures were he looked happy.

This had been two days ago.

-Stop freaking out, she muttered.

-I am not freaking out.

She drank a sip of her tea and rose an eyebrow at him.

-Then stop ruining my goddam floor.

He sighed and dropped next to her, making the whole couch shake. She spilled a little bit of her tea and hit him on the shoulder for it. He ignored her and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up completely.

-What am I going to do, Gin! I have to find a date for tomorrow or else Mione’s going to kill me.

-Why don’t you go alone like you usually do?

-Because it’s Valentine’s Day! Also because I want to make an effort.

-Well, that’s new.

It was his turn to nudge her.

-Shut up.

She smirked.

-So why don’t you ask Sebastien?

He rolled his eyes and got back up to poor himself a cup of coffee.

-You know why…

-Okay, so go out there. I bet you’ll find a date in about two seconds.

-Sure, why don’t I just go and meet someone? “Hi, my name is Harry, would you like to go on a first date with my very best friends where we talk magic and Hogwarts and griffins and all of those things you don’t know exist?”

-Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that.

There was a short pause before she quietly asked.

-What about a sorcerer?

To this, Harry just stared. Ginny nodded. He didn’t date sorcerers, mainly because half of them were more interested in Harry being The Boy Who Lived than being Harry.

-I know a guy.

They both turned to face Blaise Zabini, Ginny’s boyfriend.

-You do? Harry asked, hopeful.

He hadn’t liked Zabini very much at Hogwarts, mostly because he had never really tried to know him. He’d assumed that Zabini was a little shit, like he’d assumed other Slytherins to be. Turned out he had been wrong. They hadn’t hit it on at first, but Harry was always hanging with Ginny and eventually, Blaise had let the cold bastard façade down. Well, not all of it, but enough for Harry to see through the crack.

Zabini shrugged and he strode comfortably towards the couch where he took a seat beside Ginny. She popped her feet on his lap and he began to massage them while peering at the pictures. Ginny just watched him thoughtfully. Harry brought him a cup of tea and took a sit in the armchair facing them.

-Who is he? he asked.

-Someone from our school. Someone who doesn’t give a shit if you’re The Boy Who Lived or some guy I just know.

-Do I know him? Harry asked, waiting hopefully.

-No. He’s a Slytherin. You didn’t exactly hang out with that crowd back in Hogwarts…

Harry watched Zabini with a little relief.

-Can he make it for tomorrow night?

Zabini shrugged.

-Sure. He owes me a favor anyway.

Harry smiled his 3000 watts special Colgate white smile, the one that lit up an entire room. The one that gave you wings, hope and love. The one you were sure would serve you the entire world on a silver platter if you asked.

-You’re the best! Come here!

Harry jumped on Zabini and Ginny quickly withdrew her legs.

-Potter! Get the fuck off!

Harry kissed Blaise’s shaved head and gave it a good shove. He laughed like the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. Ginny watched him with a fond smile.

-I am off then. Thanks again, Blaise. Goodnight to both of you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

He winked and they both answered a ritual, slightly exasperated “yeah, yeah” before he disappeared through the door.

-Was that wise? Ginny asked once he was gone.

-I don’t know about wise, but it sure will be fun.

Blaise leaned in to kiss Ginny lightly. She answered by a much stronger, much more passionate kiss.

-At least he won’t get bored, Blaise whispered.

To that, Ginny just laughed.

-No. No, he won’t.

—–

Harry was on his way to his house when he received a text from Sebastien.

My place, one hour? ;) ;)

Harry answered a quick affirmative and turned around. He was feeling hopeful for his date. Perhaps, this time it would be different. Perhaps, this time it would work.

—-

Turned out Sebastien was happy to see him. Like, really, really happy.

As they both lay in bed after the umpteenth round of hot, rough sex, Harry finally found sleep, completely exhausted.

He was woken up by a gentle hand on his bicep and a quick nudge.

-Harry. Harry, wake up. It’s three pm.

He wanted to sleep again. He had had nightmares last night (like all nights before) and had just fallen asleep three hours ago.

-Slythara sin say… (Let me sleep)

-What’d you say? Never mind. Come on, Harry. I have to get going.

-Fine, fine, I’m up, I’m up.

He grabbed his clothes and put them on. Sebastien made him a cup of coffee and practically pushed him out of his apartment. Harry didn’t mind. He retrieved his bike and headed back home. He had a date to prepare for.

—-

Harry had never been good at these kind of things. He didn’t know how to handle dates. He hadn’t had many at Hogwarts and the few he had had since hadn’t turned out so well. He always screwed up at some point. The Boy Who Lived wasn’t meant to live a normal life. Harry Potter just didn’t know how to do it.

So, of course, he came home tired and collapsed on the sofa. Of course he fell asleep, now out of all times. Of course, Kreacher didn’t wake him, this time of all times. And of course, he ended up being already late.

He showered and washed his hair in a hurry, quickly decided on black pants instead of his jeans. He rolled the pants on his ankles and traded his usual combat boots for a pair of black sneakers, impeccable and by far his favorites. He threw on a navy blue shirt and a matching blue sweater. He grabbed his leather jacket and his leather gloves, giving up on styling his hair. It never worked anyway.

He left with a quick goodbye to Kreacher, already half an hour late.

—-

He pulled up in front of the house twenty minutes later, thanking Merlin he knew alternative routes to go to Ron and Hermione’s. The roads were absolutely packed and he wouldn’t have made it at all if he hadn’t known any other way.

He could have apparated there but, frankly, Harry just loved to ride the motorcycle. It felt relatively similar to a broomstick, only without the flying part.

He could only make a faint silhouette in the dimly lit porch. He had switched his glasses for contact lenses under the helmet but the figure still remained indistinct.

He dismounted the bike and put down the stand. He took off the helmet and pulled a hand threw his hair in a vain attempt to tame his wild locks. He opened his jacket and rolled his shoulders, stretching at the same time. He heard the door slam violently behind him and he jumped around, wand in hand. But nobody was there. The mysterious figure was gone.

Harry tucked the wand back in and shook his head. He needed to get a hold on himself. Now.

He took a deep breath and finally, he knocked.

Hermione was the one to answer. She looked good, her red hair all puffy, a light touch of make up on her face, a simple black dress on. If he wasn’t so very very gay, he would have stolen her right there and then.

-Harry, she scowled fondly. You’re late.

-I know, I know. But look what I brought.

He pulled the hidden bottle from behind his back, a French bottle of red wine (thank Merlin Grimmauld place had quite a few of those). She smiled with awe and examined it.

-I’ll let you bribe me this once.

He nodded and she walked away with the bottle. Ron poked his head out of the kitchen and grinned at him. Harry grinned back.

He made his way inside, careful to leave his helmet, gloves and jacket in the hall (or else Hermione would kill him). He was surprised how happy he felt to see everyone. It had been a while. He was glad to see everyone was okay. He quickly scanned the ranks: Seamus and Dean, Neville and Luna, Pansy and Parvati, Padma and George. He spotted Ginny in the kitchen with her brother and made his way to say hi. She was opening the wine and talking to Ron at the same time.

-…don’t know if it was a good idea, she was saying.

Ron shrugged.

-He would have found out eventually.

-What would I have found out? Harry asked as he stepped inside.

Ginny turned around and arched an eyebrow.

-Who your date is.

-And who is he?

It was Ron’s turn to face him. He took one of his cooking gloves off and began to massage his neck. He only did that when he was embarrassed.

-Look mate, don’t take this the wrong way….

But Ron was interrupted by a familiar voice.

-Granger, I am not drinking that thing, darling.

Harry’s entire body froze and his eyes grew so wide he thought they might just burst out.

-Yes, yes, I know, the voice continued. I will. Zabini get your ass back here, I’m not done with you.

Harry looked at Ron’s flushed face and he blinked several times before looking at his sister. She was laughing at her glass, not even attempting to hide.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

He turned around.

DRACO fucking MALFOY was standing in the doorway. In Ron and Hermione’s fucking kitchen. Draco FUCKING Malfoy.

But wait a minute, no. That couldn’t be. Ron and Hermione hated Malfoy. Malfoy hated Ron and Hermione. Plus, Harry remembered Draco Malfoy. He really did. Draco Malfoy had never been this… hot.

He wore light grey pants, with trendy white shoes and a charcoal sweater that brought out his steel grey eyes. His white hair was tucked neatly behind his ears, except for one lose strand on his forehead. He looked imperiously debauched and casually smart.

It took Harry’s breath away.

-Surprise, Ginny whispered in his ear. Here is your date.

Harry turned from awe to anger in a millisecond. His green eyes flashed dangerously and he turned them back towards Malfoy. He had finally seen Harry and was detailing him with his usual contempt. He didn’t seem surprised.

-Potter.

-Malfoy.

Malfoy’s voice was the same as the one he remembered: a clear chant with a delicate roll of posh accent. Harry’s voice, however…. Malfoy made a face, indicating his surprise. It was lower and much more similar to a growl at that precise moment.

They stared at each other. The last time they had seen each other had been in a court house of the Ministry of Magic, three years ago. Harry had watched the trial unfold. He didn’t want to but he had to. His testimony was required. He had testified, everyone knew that, but no one knew what he had actually said. It was better they didn’t.

Why? Because he could have drowned Malfoy, sent him to Azkaban. Instead he told them about the night Malfoy couldn’t kill Dumbledore, he told them about the manor and Malfoy saving him, he told them about the battle of Hogwarts and the Malfoys helping him. He told them about the Malfoy he had seen and the one he had thought he had seen.

Standing there, facing him in his friends’ kitchen seemed unrealistic. Like a particularly fucked up dream, or a particularly fucked up setup.

Zabini came in and interrupted the starring.

-Zabini, Harry growled again, what is this?

Zabini rolled his eyes and accepted the glass of wine Ginny had poured him.

-This is a Malfoy. A very good specimen dare I say.

Malfoy eyed him angrily and rolled his eyes. He took a step towards Ginny and tucked a hand in his pants’ pocket.

-Give me one of those, please.

Ginny chuckled.

-You’re going to need it, she answered.

He nodded and was rewarded with a glass of red wine. Harry barely registered the action, his mind too preoccupied with what had just happened: had Malfoy just said please? Had Ginny just laughed at something he had said?

-Okay, somebody explain. Now.

Ron began to speak but Ginny interrupted him.

-Draco has been to a few of Hermione and Ron’s dinner. To all the ones you skipped actually.

Harry did not waver. His eyes just scanned the room looking at Ron, Ginny, Blaise and Malfoy. Malfoy who was purposefully avoiding his gaze, staring at the wall. Harry should have also avoided looking at him because now he couldn’t stop. It was messing with his head, his stomach, his legs. His heart was beating faster than normal and everything felt… like he had just stepped into an alternate universe.

-Pansy and Blaise brought him once, Ron tried. We talked and, I don’t know, we kind of became…

-…Friends, Hermione finished for him. Draco is welcomed here, Harry.

Draco?! Since when had Malfoy become Draco?

Since he’s attended all the diners you missed, you git.

Hermione was still watching him, a clear warning in her eyes. This was her decision. He shouldn’t interfere.

A veil of calm came over him and the dangerous glim in his eyes disappeared. He nodded comprehensively and everybody seemed to relax instantly, letting out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

-Excuse me, he managed.

Hermione let him come through. He grabbed his jacket and opened the door. Merlin, he needed a smoke.

-If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know you were coming either.

Malfoy was outside without a jacket, the cool air gently ruffling his hair. Harry was smoking, leaning against his bike, his hair completely messy after running his hand through it multiple times. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to react. This was an unusual situation.

He didn’t hate Malfoy, not anymore. He knew they were kids when everything that had happened had happened. He knew he had had to do things to protect his family, just like Harry had had to.

But the thing that confused him the most was that he knew now, sitting on a bike outside his best friends’ house, starring at his former nemesis shivering slightly under the moonlight, he knew he had missed him. Missed the challenge he’d always provided, in fucked up ways yes, but still. Blaise was right. Malfoy couldn’t give two shits if he was The Boy Who Lived.

He hummed in response to Malfoy’s statement. The figure in the moonlight (that had to be him) was staring at him.

-How long? Harry asked.

How long have you been friends with my friends? How long since you’ve been in this house and I haven’t had the faintest idea? How long have you been within my reach?

-I don’t know. Maybe a year and a half.

Harry watched Malfoy come over without fear. He leaned against the portal and watched Harry, his arms folded on his chest.

A year and a half. Merlin, that was a long time.

-I am glad you found them, Harry said.

This was half true. He was glad he had found good friends, that he had changed (he must have if he was here). He was not glad, however, he had not played Harry like they used to, attempted to come at the same diners he did, picked a fight with him, left him clues of his presence here. He didn’t know why, but in his mind, Malfoy had always been more interested in him rather than his friends, picking on them to get to him.

It appeared now that he had been wrong.

-Even so, I’m not saying I’m happy about this situation, he completed.

To this, Malfoy just snorted.

-You mean me being your date?

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

-And you think I am? Merlin Potter, get over yourself.

Harry threw his smoke angrily.

-Oh yeah?! Then why do you look so good about this?

Malfoy just starred and Harry realized too late what he’d said.

-Cool. I meant, cool about this.

Malfoy smirked.

-Well, I saw you when you arrived so I kind of had time to bash Zabini’s face in. Metaphorically speaking.

Harry just starred again, his green eyes blazing.

-What’s the matter, Potter? Scared I’m going to steal your friends?

-More like scared you’re going to steal their souls.

This was ridiculous. They sounded like four year olds. That didn’t seem to stop them though.

Malfoy’s eyes were now shinning with the same anger Harry felt, steel going darker.

-I see you still have that good old Dementor kink, he mocked.

Harry closed in on him, invading his personal space. His body was so close to Malfoy’s he could practically feel him shiver through his clothes.

-Why don’t you shut the hell up?! Harry menaced.

Malfoy just smirked again.

-Why don’t you make me?

And Harry didn’t think. He just wanted to shut him up. So he kissed him.

It was hard and rough and completely unexpected and he realized that dear God, he didn’t mind.

He pulled out quickly enough though and angrily (-ish) growled in Malfoy’s face.

-There. All shut up.

And for the first time he was. All completely shut up. His lips were swollen, his grey eyes wide and his ears red. He had stopped shivering.

Harry quickly turned around before he did something stupid (like kiss him again) and strode back inside. He avoided the curious looks and the raised eyebrows, dropping his jacket in the hall and coming to seat in the living room next to Seamus. He smiled at him knowingly.

-You okay, mate?

-I hate all of you.

Seamus laughed and a glass of whiskey suddenly appeared in front of Harry. He crossed the eyes of Ginny on the other side of the room and she raised hers. Peace treaty. Fine. He took his and nodded before downing it all at once. The glass immediately refilled.

-I am going to get drunk, he whispered when he drank the other refill.

-I think that’s the idea, Seamus said and drank his own glass.

Finally, there was the noise of the door and Harry’s body tensed just a little. Draco appeared in the doorway of the living room and Harry’s eyes instantly shot up at him. Then at his lips.

No. NoNoNoNoNoNo. No good. No good at all.

There were still red and now, oh god, now he was licking them. His eyes were flashing grey lightning bolts and Harry’s heart was beating just a little too fast to be normal.

He kept his scowl on. He couldn’t have the whole room know he’d kissed Draco Malfoy and wanted to do it again.

The stare lasted way, way, way too long, even for a nemesis one and Harry was the first to look away when he felt his phone vibrate.

Thank Merlin for that.

He quickly checked his messages: Sebastien.

I think you left something at my place… Come and get it tonight?

What? Harry thought hard. He hadn’t left anything at Sebastien’s, he was quite sure of it. But why was he…. Oh. Oh. Subtle Sebastien, he thought sarcastically.

His eyes shot up when he heard Ron shout something resembling the lines of “get the bloody hell out of my kitchen” and he caught Malfoy staring at him completely unashamed. He was seated on the armchair opposite him, a glass of red wine in his left hand. His impossibly long legs were crossed, revealing the barest inches of skin on his ankles. Harry’s eyes were caught there for a moment, then retraced the path back up to Malfoy’s face. He was watching him, his eyes narrowed. Harry blushed a tiny bit and he quickly typed his reply.

Sorry but can’t right now. I’m on a date.

He tucked his phone away and grabbed his whisky. He took a few greedy gulps before he dared to watch Malfoy again. He was talking to Pansy now, his eyes focused on her. Harry starred at them with all the heat he could manage. Both of them turned briefly to watch back and Malfoy raised a brow at him. See, asshole, I can do it too. They resumed conversation.

Soon, Ron was calling everyone to come join the table and Hermione was arranging their seats. All couples were to be seated separately. Harry ended up seated between Luna and Pansy while Malfoy, on the other side of the table, sat between Blaise and Hermione. Ron took a seat directly across Harry’s and sent him one of his looks, the ones they had learnt to communicate with.

Still mad? It said. Harry shook his head negatively. He raised his chin and silently asked You’re okay with this? and by this he meant Malfoy in their home. Ron nodded and he nodded in return, reassured. He felt someone boring holes into his skull and he turned to see Malfoy watching him. He frowned What do you want? Malfoy just rolled his eyes. Idiot it clearly said.

The whole dinner went well, although for Harry it felt a little foggy. He kept losing the thread of conversation with Luna (already difficult to follow when you were paying attention). Except he wasn’t at all. Malfoy and he kept sending each other glares and dark looks and stares, to the point where, at dessert, Pansy leaned towards him and whispered in an annoyed tone.

-Would you please stop eye-fucking each other? I am trying to eat, here.

Harry blushed furiously and he coughed in his hand. He tried to avoid eyeing Malfoy after this but it was damn near impossible when the man kept burning holes in his scalp half the time, and focusing on his chocolate mousse half the other, licking the spoon SINFULLY.

Harry stared (not). He stared and his trousers suddenly felt tight.

Well, shit.

His phone buzzed again.

He didn’t know if he was glad to be distracted from Malfoy’s tantalizing tease, the bastard, or if he was just annoyed to miss the show.

Sebastien again.

Are you really? Well, you could always bring him ;) ;)

An image passed through his mind: Sebastien pulling on Malfoy’s clothes and enjoying that soft, perfect skin. Definitely not.

Can’t. Talk to you later.

He put his phone away and looked up. Malfoy was starring again. Harry just winked.

Oh no. Why didn’t he think before he acted? He watched Malfoy’s face slowly decompose and he swallowed visibly. Harry just preferred to ignore the whole vicinity of that pale, long neck and resumed his one-sided talk with Luna.

The dinner ended shortly after, all eager to get back home for Valentine’s Day. People exchanged goodbyes, thanked Ron and Hermione, hugged each other. Except for Zabini. Harry just tackled him on the floor. He seemed to think that was fair game.

Harry watched as each couple retrieved its car or apparated out. He watched Malfoy talk to Ron and Hermione, calling her darling, making her smile when he did. It felt odd, but it also felt… good. Right.

Finally they parted ways and Malfoy pulled out his wand. He probably intended on apparating somewhere but Harry interrupted him.

-Hey, Malfoy!

That felt odd too. They hadn’t talked since the kiss.

Malfoy turned towards him, an eyebrow raised.

-Catch.

He threw him a tiny ball, half expecting him to let it drop, but Malfoy just caught it elegantly. Of course. Sometimes Harry forgot he had been a seeker, just like him.

Malfoy magnified the objet and it took the size of a full on helmet. His eyebrow rose again and he watched Harry from afar.

-What is this, Potter?

Harry smiled.

-Just get your lazy ass here. You’re coming with me.

—-

What Harry had planned during dinner, turned over and over in his head (how to get Malfoy to go home with him 2.0), that had turned fine. It’s the next step he hadn’t planned. And by next step, he meant the entire fucking journey from Ron and Hermione’s to Grimmauld. He meant a twenty minute ride with Malfoy’s body pressed flush against his.

He tried not to think about it. It was pretty damn difficult when he could feel his arms tight around his waist, his chest warm and steady behind him, his legs on either side of his… Merlin, this was torture.

They arrived at Grimmauld place and Harry pulled the motorcycle into the garden. Malfoy gave him back his helmet and Harry shrieked it again. Malfoy’s face was flustered and his hair all messy on his forehead. He tucked it back behind his ears and Harry wished he’d left it like that. He wished he could run a hand through it and arrange it himself.

-You live here? Malfoy asked with awe.

Ah, yes. Malfoy didn’t know. He nodded and opened the door.

-Come in, he said.

His voice was different. Now that he was alone with Malfoy, he was somehow calmer and more nervous at the same time.

Malfoy stepped inside, hanged his woolen grey coat and entered the foyer. He did not seem impressed like people usually were. After all, he had lived at Malfoy’s Manor all his life (well, not lately, the Manor being confiscated after the war). He was used to luxury. He was used to this.

Harry muttered a fire spell and told Malfoy to make himself comfortable while he was getting them something to drink.

He came back with a good bottle of red wine and two glasses.

He set them on the table, watching Malfoy stare at the fireplace.

-This is impressive, he said. I have never seen one as well-crafted before. When was it made?

Harry poured the wine, sitting on the green velvet sofa in front of the impressive piece of architecture. When he did not answer, Malfoy turned around and raised his infamous brow.

-Well?

-Do I look like someone who knows anything about Art?

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

-Such a waste.

-Shut up and come here.

Malfoy scolded.

-What Potter, you think I am your pet?

-Stop acting like a child and come here.

-Oh, so I am a child now? You may want to re…

-Malfoy! Harry interrupted him.

He shut up and sighed. Slowly, he came around the table and took a seat next to him. Harry handed him a glass and he took it reluctantly.

-It’s not poisoned, Malfoy. Honestly, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it ages ago.

-As if you would ever succeed.

They toasted to silence and the sound of glass echoed through the house. It sounded a hell of a lot like a truce.

They drank in silence, watching each other. Harry got lost in the details of Malfoy’s face. He wanted to ask him what he had been up to, these last three years. He wanted to know how he was. He wanted to know if his life was better now that he’d opened up to people.

Those things were so new to him: wanting to know what Malfoy, of all people, thought and wanted. He didn’t understand how he’d gone from hate to interest in one night. Perhaps, it hadn’t really been done in one night. Perhaps it had always been there, somewhere between the fighting and the scolding.

His eyes registered the little things: the cut on his left temple, the hollow of his cheeks, the exact shade of red of his lips. And now that he’d looked at them, he couldn’t look anywhere else. The memory of their earlier kiss came back and he thought for the hundredth time this evening that he wanted to do it again.

Suddenly, the sight was blocked by Malfoy’s glass of wine. Harry’s eyes met his and he discovered that Malfoy looked different. He looked… wanting.

Malfoy grabbed both their glasses. He set them on the table and turned back towards Harry. Then he let the mask fall and threw himself at him.

-Oh, what the hell…, was the last thing he said before his lips met Harry’s.

This time, the kiss wasn’t rough. It wasn’t teeth. It was plush lips against plush lips, bites and gasping mouths. Tongues rolling with each other and heart beating in chests. Harry moved them so that Malfoy was straddling his lap. The kiss was passionate and heated and Harry was done, done with everything else, everyone in this world that wasn’t Draco Malfoy.

They kissed until they couldn’t breathe. They parted, panting, breaths hot on each other’s skin. Harry watched Malfoy lick his lips and he closed his eyes. He rested his forehead against Malfoy’s in what felt like an incredibly intimate gesture. He let his foggy brain get the best of him and the words were out before he could retain them.

-Thalay sinar phis…

He did not tense. He did not feel Malfoy tense. He straightened and the reassuring pressure of his forehead was gone. He felt his eyes on his face.

-What does that mean? He asked.

Harry finally opened his eyes and he watched Malfoy watch him. This image was so far from the Malfoy he knew. There was no anger, no hatred, no hurt in his eyes. Just attention, beauty, lust, curiosity, perhaps a little caution. Harry raised his hand very slowly, like a human would do with a cat. He gave Malfoy the chance to pull away, to leave. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited, his eyes still on Harry’s face.

Harry reached Malfoy’s hair, and he ever so carefully tangled his fingers in his soft locks. It felt inhuman, like what Harry imagined to be the finest of silks. He stroked gently and a sad smile came to pull on his lips.

-What’s wrong?

There was a hint of worry in Malfoy’s voice. Harry answered with sadness, his voice longing.

-I am not sure you’re quite ready to hear it.

Malfoy’s eyes flashed and he slapped his arm. He got up and grabbed his glass of wine. He paced a few moments before coming to a halt in front of the fireplace. His eyes scanned the fire.

-What are we even doing? He asked, voice rough. We hate each other.

Harry didn’t know what to say, mainly because he didn’t really know what they were doing. He simply did a quick check up on his own feelings. No hate. Definitely not.

-Do we? He simply asked.

Malfoy whirled around. They stared at each other for what felt like centuries before he spoke again.

-You hate me.

Harry was quicker, surer to answer this time.

-No, I don’t.

Malfoy stared at his wine glass and slowly laid it on the mantelpiece. He didn’t turn around. His body was still facing Harry, but his eyes were averted to the side. Harry was afraid to ask the obvious question.

-Do you?

-Do I what?

-Do you hate me?

Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation.

-I wish, he said and caught his glass to drink.

Harry felt like a million stars had exploded in his chest and a million explanations given to his memories. Malfoy didn’t hate him. Draco Malfoy didn’t hate Harry Potter.

But wait, now he was confused.

-What’s the problem, then?

Malfoy shook his head and his hand came to pinch his nose with frustration and what looked a lot like self-depreciation.

-How do I know you’re not playing me?

Harry felt his chest tighten. Play him? If there was one person in the world he could never play, it was Malfoy. He opened his mouth to answer the question but Malfoy held out his hand for him to stop.

-Don’t answer that. Just… just start by telling me what you said earlier. In parseltongue.

Incontrollable situations often brought parseltongue out. He didn’t mean to speak it. He just did.

Malfoy still wasn’t looking at him and Harry felt that if they were going to do whatever it was they were doing, he needed to prove to him that he could trust him.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. This felt very much like jumping without anything to catch him. But like Malfoy had said earlier, what the hell?

-Thalay sinar phis, he said. It means “God, how I’ve missed you.”

Grey eyes shot up and he met them head on. No hiding anymore. This was it.

Malfoy was back on him in a flash of light. And now he was kissing Harry without restraint. His hands were in his hair and his lips were on his and his tongue was mapping, exploring. Harry’s hands were mirroring their action on Malfoy’s back. They rummaged until they found the hem of his sweater and tucked it out. Off, off, off.

Their lips parted for the second it took Harry to remove the piece of clothing and were back moving together the next. Harry’s hands continued to explore until finally his hot skin touched cool skin and Oh. Harry was screwed, he was so screwed.

He stopped to kiss and he stopped to be kissed. They didn’t move anymore. Harry opened his eyes and watched Malfoy’s beautiful, beautiful face. He still had his eyes closed and his breath uneven. But he wasn’t moving.

Harry felt bold. So he moved his palm against Malfoy’s skin.

It felt electrifying, like a current moving through his body. He had never felt more alive. And suddenly he needed to say it. Just say the word.

But it didn’t come out as a word. It came out as a prayer.

-Draco…

And the man in his arms let a cry escape his lips, as if he were in physical pain.

Harry didn’t dare to move his hand. He had never seen Draco look so fragile.

Slowly, very, very slowly, he moved his fingertips. He caressed Draco’s back gently along his spine, his ribs, until his hand came to rest on his chest. The flat of his stomach was only interrupted by a single, distraught line. Like a scar. Harry wondered where he could have ever gotten such a thing.

Until he remembered.

Sectumsempra.

He felt sick. Ashamed, disgusted with himself. Look what you did. Look what you did to this man. You destroyed, just like you always do. It’s all you’re ever capable of doing. Destroying.

Harry was lost in his memories, in his head, in the faces he’d never see again, in the bodies lined up against Hogwarts’ great hall floor.

-Harry.

It was a whisper, a hushed prayer, just like the one he’d made moments ago.

He opened his eyes to find only steel grey.

-Why don’t you hate me? Harry asked, his voice a murmur.

-Why don’t you hate me? Draco answered.

And then he whispered.

-I don’t want to live in the past. I want the present, I want this, whatever this is.

Harry watched and he waited and when he finally tried to talk, the shame and disgust were still present in his voice. He knew they would never go away. He cleared his thoughts and focused on the man in front of him, on the steel grey eyes.

-I want this too, he said. I want you.

Draco leaned in and, softly this time, he kissed him. Harry closed his eyes and he started to breathe again. He kissed Draco back as slowly.

-Harry, Draco begged against his lips.

And Harry complied. His hands started moving again, slowly touching, sometimes stopping, forever reviling. He knew now. He knew there would be no one other than Draco Malfoy.

The kiss got heated again and Draco began to play with Harry’s hair, his shirt (the sweater quickly left) and soon his skin, leaving bites and other markings. He seemed to enjoy himself because Harry had to drag him back up so he could taste that sinful mouth of his again.

-You havin’ fun? he managed to ask.

Draco just smirked.

-You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for.

And Harry’s brain stopped again.

-Thrathara sleth tireth.

Draco watched him, partially amused.

-What’s that? He asked.

-You’re so beautiful.

Draco retreated. His eyes grew wide and the grey turned stormy. This was too much. He had said too much.

But the astonishment was gone as quickly as it had come. Draco smirked.

-But of course I am.

Harry just laughed, a genuine relieved laugh and Draco watched him with a smile. And damn if Draco smiling wasn’t the most powerful weapon he’d ever seen.

-You’re not bad yourself, Potter.

Harry’s eyes just gleamed with delight and mischief.

In one smooth motion, he flipped them over, he on top of Draco.

And Merlin, Draco laughed.

Harry watched him, letting the vulnerability show in his eyes. He would never get enough of that sound.

Draco stopped laughing and he grabbed Harry to kiss him with a smile. It was messy and hot and when Harry pulled one of Draco’s thigh to get him closer, his leg folded, trapping Harry closer until their groins brushed. They both gasped. Harry did it again, and again, making Draco pant. He kissed his neck greedily, that gorgeous throat, and Draco asked again in that praying voice.

-Harry….

That was all he needed. He was soon getting Draco ready, making sure he would not hurt him. He worked him open to the point where Draco had to ask again. He kissed him when he finally buried himself in his heat. He kissed him to ease the pain, he kissed him to make him feel what he was feeling, to make him see that he was here, that he wasn’t letting go. I got you, is what it said.

When he began to move, he realized how different this was, how different Draco felt from Harry’s other lovers. This feeling he experienced, it was out of time, absolute, beyond pleasure. This was what Heaven must feel like. All he could think was Draco, Draco, Draco. And when they came together, he saw stars and planets and the universe. Time slipped away and they slipped away with it.

After that, they laid for a while, Harry’s head on Draco’s chest, his panting breath caressing the milky white skin. Harry huffed a breath.

-That was…, he began

-Overdue, Draco completed.

Harry turned his head to smile at him, his chin resting on Draco’s flat stomach. He felt like now he would never stop, like he would always smile.

Of course the universe did not agree.

His phone rang.

Harry shot a look at his pants. He straightened without moving his legs and fumbled to get his mobile. It was a message from none other than Sebastien, again.

Ditch the date. Come now (I bought toyssss)

Harry felt instantly annoyed. He typed a quick response and threw the phone on the table. Draco was watching him closely and Harry pulled himself up to kiss him.

-You hungry? I’m starving.

He got up and put his pants back on.

-How on earth can you still be hungry after that diner?! Draco asked, incredulous

-Well, I didn’t eat much. Someone kept distracting me.

Harry turned to smile at Draco to find him smirking.

-It was a fun diner, he said.

Harry felt inspired so he left his shirt on the floor. He went to the kitchen to find all that was left in the fridge was cake. It would have to do.

He came back to find Draco still sprawled on the sofa, his pants and t-shirt back on. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He watched him stretch and his brain immediately supplemented feline. Yes, yes indeed.

Draco’s voice caught him by surprise.

-“Ditch the date. Come now. I bought new toys”?!

Oh no.

Harry rushed around the sofa and his eyes met Draco’s. He had his special eyebrow raised.

-Draco, give me back that phone. Please.

Draco did no such thing. In fact, he read Harry’s response out loud.

-“Look Seb, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”

There was a silence during which they just stared at each other, Harry clearly blushing.

The phone buzzed again.

Draco took what Harry knew to be an exasperated look at it (he’d been at the receiving end of it enough for him to know) and read out loud in a sarcastic voice.

-“That’s not what you said last night. Wink”.

Draco’s eyes turned a deep shade of stormy grey and he buried them deep in Harry’s soul. That finally woke him up. He grabbed the phone and whispered a spell. The piece of electronic turned into wood and he threw it into the fire. He dropped the cake on the table and quickly took a seat on the couch next to Draco. His heart was beating hard with the fear Draco would leave.

-I don’t care about this guy. He’s just… I mean, we just… see each other for sex. That’s all. On both parts. We’re not… I’m not…

Draco interrupted his pathetic monologue with a dark voice.

-You told him I was your date.

Harry leaned back against the sofa and pushed a hand through his hair.

-Yeah.

-And you just threw your phone into the fire.

-Yeah.

-Why? Draco asked.

Harry closed his eyes. He considered: he could tell him the truth. He might not run away. He might not freak out. He might just understand.

Or not. He might do all of those things. There was just no way to know with him.

Oh well…

-Do you remember when Voldemort said I was dead? He finally asked. When Hagrid carried me back?

He felt Draco stir next to him.

-Yes. But Potter, what has this got to do with…?

-Have you never wondered how he could have mistaken me for dead?

There was a pause.

-Of course. I never understood how you tricked him.

Harry took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He fixed the green emeralds on steel grey and, for the first time, he told the truth.

-That is because I didn’t.

Draco frowned in confusion. Harry simply went on.

-I died that day. Voldemort killed me.

There was absolute silence in the room. Draco was watching him with solemn eyes. Harry had to look away. Draco had probably always known something had happened that day. He was smart, after all. Very smart.

-Why are you telling me this?

Harry fixed his eyes on the fire.

-Because I want you to understand. A part of me died that day. It had to be done. I knew that. But still, you have no idea how it feels to…

He closed his eyes briefly.

-Since then, I’ve felt… empty. Absent. But tonight… tonight I felt alive for the first time in three years.

The rest was self-explanatory. That is why I don’t care about Sebastien. That is why I want you to stay.

Harry suddenly felt Draco shift closer. Fingertips landed on his scar and traded carefully, caressing the skin to his scalp where fingers began to course through his hair. Harry turned his head to watch Draco watch him. He didn’t say anything but didn’t need to. Draco’s fingers spoke for him. I got you, is what they said.

They stayed like that for a while, Harry leaning in Draco’s touch, Draco trading fingers through his hair. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

-I know what you did for me. During the trial.

Harry lowered his eyes and he caught the sight of the dark mark. It did not move anymore. Without its master it became a simple tattoo. Harry hadn’t been paying attention to this detail. Now that he was, he saw the tattoos Draco had added to make it fade in the background: words on skull and smoke. Words drowning in words. Black drowning in words.

-You speak it differently, you know?

Harry carefully ran a finger over the tattoo, the tip tracing the many words. Draco pulled on an indifferent front but Harry felt him tense up. He let his finger trail from the elbow to the wrist, his touch light and soothing. Draco relaxed progressively.

-What do you mean? Harry asked.

-Parseltongue. You speak it differently than he did.

Of course. Voldemort spoke parseltongue, which was why he himself did. He had never really thought about using it until now.

-Does it bother you? he asked.

He had not thought about how uncomfortable it must have made Draco feel.

-I see you thinking, Potter. Don’t. It doesn’t bother me. Like I said, you speak it differently. He relented in it, ordered and threatened. You somehow use it with softness and respect. As if you were actually borrowing a language that was not your own.

Harry let his hand come up to rest on Draco’s cheek.

-Southess outh say sayn.

Draco stopped his fingers in the nape of Harry’s neck.

-What does that mean?

-It means stay with me.

Draco smiled and he leaned in to kiss him. His lips were a drug and Harry thought he might never get enough.

-Yes, Harry. I think I will.

***

Hermione came out of the kitchen with the freshly opened bottle of wine. Harry was late again, so he’d brought bribery, and she’d accepted it. Again.

Only this time he wasn’t alone, so it had taken two bottles to soothe her wrath.

Draco was leaning in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Harry on the couch. He was talking to one of Hermione’s friends from the Ministry of Magic. The man was clearly trying to woo Harry who was, as usual, completely oblivious to his attempts. Draco watched them from the side, his eyes narrowed and his arms folded. He would never admit it, but Draco was incredibly jealous of literally anything when it came to Harry.

-Darling, did you set up this meeting to have this Richard steal my man? He asked.

-Why? Do you feel threatened?

He rolled his eyes.

-Please.

Hermione smirked. She watched as Richard excused himself, probably sensing Draco’s piercing eyes on his back. Harry nodded. He didn’t show any particular interest other than a friendly one in their conversation, but any interest at all meant danger to Draco. As soon as Richard exited the room, Draco strolled in. Harry watched him from the couch, drinking his wine. Draco dropped in front of him and captured his lips between his. Hermione got uncomfortable watching them. They were always so… intense. Thankfully, the kiss ended moments later.

-What was that about? Harry asked.

Draco’s eyes searched Harry’s face.

-I am not a fan of people wooing my love.

Harry flashed him that 3 000 watt smile of his.

-Are you saying you’re marking your territory?

Draco took the glass from Harry.

-Maybe.

-Maybe? Harry asked.

He leaned back against the couch.

Draco’s eyes quickly took in every detail.

-Definitely.

There was a mischievous smile on Harry’s lips, one that was reserved to Draco and Draco only.

-I’d say you’ve marked it enough already.

He tipped his neck, just inches, and a colorful line of love bites appeared. Draco practically spit his wine and Harry turned his head back again. Then he winked.

By the time Draco gripped Harry’s shirt to crash his wine stained lips against his, Hermione was already out of the living room and back in the kitchen to see Ron. Had she stayed a little longer she would have been able to catch the hushed murmur whispered against each other’s lips. Sala Yas Se He, it said.

I love you.

Want to see more? Check the “dralentine’s day” tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine’s Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

65 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #20, @shelielaff

Shelie? She doesn’t lie when she says this gift to you, it’s really a blessing to us all. Happy Dralentine’s, @shelielaff!

Our gifter says:

“Hey, giftee! I'm so excited to be back for another round of Dralentine's Day! I hope you like firstie antics and Draco blushes just as much as I do! Also, big thanks to our wonderful mods!”

For The Slytherin Within - After watching the new Slytherin first-years be met with scorn during their Sorting, Harry takes a stand and re-Sorts himself into Slytherin to prove there's no shame in being a snake. Along the way, he befriends the first-years who make it their personal mission to help him find love on Valentine's Day. 8k.

Tags: no smut, does contain a description of some injuries sustained after a beating, but no descriptions of the event. Also bad poetry.

Harry lay back on his bed, listening to the familiar creaks and groans of the castle around him and absorbing the much newer, and admittedly much stranger, sensation of the castle’s emotions. After working all summer on restoring the school, Harry had learned the castle was sentinent. He had thought himself off his rocker until Headmistress McGonagall and Dumbledore’s portrait finally explained that although typically only the headmaster or headmistress experienced the castle’s emotions, they theorized that he had given so much of himself to the school that it was giving some of itself back. Harry had felt Hogwarts’s joy as it was announced it would be able to open as normal on September first, its happiness as repairs were completed, and its sadness at the state of itself where the repairs had not yet been completed. Currently, it was nervous about tomorrow’s returning students.

After the battle, Harry just had not been able to face leaving the castle. So, he had stayed, only leaving a few times to testify at trials or to visit his godson Teddy. McGonagall had welcomed him to join the repairs, but even though the repairs crew was staffed only by professionals, Harry still attracted attention. Therefore, Harry tended to work by himself, exploring the castle and repairing whatever section struck his fancy. While the others came and went, Harry stayed, dedicating himself to rebuilding his home. Harry hadn’t felt like he belonged anywhere else after the war, not at the Weasley’s, who were mourning Fred as a family he wasn’t truly a part of, and not all alone at 12 Grimmauld Place. Hogwarts was his only home.

Like Hogwarts itself, Harry was also nervous about the upcoming school year. As much as the repairs crew and himself had tried, the school was not yet completely restored. Most notably, Gryffindor Tower was still unusable. Many of the towers, especially Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Towers, had sustained heavy damage during the battle, and the repairs planning committee had decided to repair the least-damaged tower and then move the other dormitory into the moderately-damaged East Tower. Therefore, Ravenclaw Tower had been repaired and the Gryffindor dorms had been moved into the repaired East Tower until repairs resumed next summer. While the crew had done their best to make the new tower like Gryffindor, it just wasn’t the same. Harry wasn’t sure yet how he felt about it. Throughout the repairs, he had been staying in the Slytherin dorms. Again, he had wanted to get away from the rest of the crew, which stayed in the only other undamaged dorms, the Hufflepuff dorms, during the week.

Harry had grown oddly fond of the Slytherin dorms during these past months. He enjoyed the fireplaces in the dormitories, the nicer bathrooms, and the windows that looked out into the lake. He felt safe and secure in the underground dormitory in a way he was starting to realize he never had in Gryffindor Tower. He enjoyed the gentle way the waves of the lake hit the dormitory windows and walls as he was trying to sleep. He was also fond of the water serpent, who he had yet to name, but who told amazing stories. Harry wasn’t sure he would be able to face going back to the not-really-Gryffindor-Tower after his quick adaption to the calming green and silver atmosphere of the dungeon.

Not to mention, it would just be him and Hermione this year, as Ron had decided to stay in London with George to help him run the shop. While Harry knew this was the best decision for him, he couldn’t help but resent him a bit. School just wouldn’t be the same without him, although Harry felt he had somewhat gotten used to it these past months while Ron and Hermione had been in Australia restoring Hermione’s parents’ memories. Still, Harry had decided to come back and finish his education despite being offered a spot in this year’s Auror Training Programme. After being told he would amount to nothing more than a secondary-school dropout his entire childhood, finishing his education was important to him, just to prove to himself that he could do it. Plus, he didn’t want to have positions handed to him because of his name; he wanted to earn them just like everyone else.

So, even though parts of the castle were still in disrepair and Harry was having a bit of a crisis about whether he was ready to face the fake Gryffindor tower without Ron by his side, the Welcoming Feast was fast approaching. Thankfully, Disillusionment Charms had been performed on the exterior of the castle to hide the damaged parts and avoid upsetting the new and returning students. Interior parts were simply warded off. Sighing, Harry got up and began dressing in his student robes, making sure everything was packed as the elves would move his belongings back up to Gryffindor during the feast.

In the Great Hall, Harry was shocked at how normal everything seemed. Of course, the student body was noticeably smaller and considerably less boisterous this term than usual, but there was the same anticipation in the air as always. Harry watched as McGonagall led in the new first years, an usually large class as this year’s bunch included the Muggleborns who had been excluded last year. He couldn’t remember them ever looking quite so small or vulnerable before. Then, the Sorting Hat began to sing;

Although the toil is over,

Do not let yourselves rest

For though the strife is finished

You have yet to face the test.

Do not divide amongst yourselves

For that way leads to strife

Instead befriend your enemies

And protect them with your life

For though I may be just a hat

I really am quite wise

Trust me, you will surely regret

If you do not heed my advice

Harry was vaguely disturbed by the Sorting Hat’s song, but was quickly distracted by the Sorting. As the children were Sorted, Harry noticed a rather disturbing trend. Although the new Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students were met with cheers and enthusiasm by the Hall, the new Slytherins were met with scorn. The last student to be sorted, a Gavin Goyle, had even been met with jeering. As the ceremony went on, and he watched two young girls burst into tears upon reaching their new house table, Harry was furious. This is not what he had fought the war for. He hadn’t battled against discrimination of Muggleborns just so discrimination against Slytherins could take its place! Even worse, he felt the anger of Hogwarts itself as its youngest students were being shamed and humiliated.

Harry was abruptly yanked from his brewing rage when Hermione nudged him and whispered, “You’re about to do something, aren’t you?” “Promise you won’t be mad?” Harry asked her, his plan formulating in his head. Hermione smiled and shook her head, “Just stop this, and we’ll discuss the consequences later.” Harry smiled at the typical Hermione answer, and stood up. Abruptly, the whole Great Hall turned and stared at him as he made his way up to McGonagall.

“What the fuck is Potter doing?” whispered Pansy in his ear. Draco elegantly shrugged one shoulder, truly confused at what Potter was doing interrupting the ceremony like this. He looked down at the new Slytherins, huddled miserably at the end of the table and felt enraged at the treatment they were receiving. Although there wasn’t much the older Slytherins could do, they would protect the younger snakes within their walls as much as they could.

Draco was distracted from his thoughts by Potter whispering to McGonagall. The Headmistress sighed, shaking her head fondly before going to sit down. Astonished, Draco listened as Potter began to speak. “I must admit,” Potter began, “that I am very disappointed in you all. We just fought a war. A war to end bigotry and discrimination. And three months later, you feel it’s appropriate to boo and mock eleven-year old children for where they’re Sorted. I know what you’ll say; they deserve it because they’re just Slytherins. What good have Slytherins ever done? Well, let me tell you something. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for Slytherins. The war wouldn’t have been won if it weren’t for Slytherins. Some of the bravest people I ever knew have been Slytherins, and the biggest coward I ever knew, the man responsible for the return of Voldemort, was a Gryffindor. My life has been saved, multiple times might I add, by Slytherins. One of them is sitting at the Slytherin table today,” at this, Potter winked at him, causing Draco to turn bright red from embarrassment while Pansy and Blaise snickered.

“So you see, this kind of thinking that all Slytherins are bad or evil is simply ridiculous. It needs to stop. In fact, I let myself be scared by all the negative things people had to say about Slytherin during my Sorting. I begged the Hat not to put me there. Now, I feel that in order to show everyone that there is no shame in being a Slytherin, I will have the Hat place me where it wanted to all along. I expect all the new Slytherin students Sorted from here on out will be treated with the same courtesies the rest of the new students receive.”

And with that, Potter jammed the Sorting Hat on his atrociously messy head. After a few seconds, much to everyone’s shock, it screamed, “Slytherin!” Potter smiled, walking to his new table amid the sounds of total chaos all around him.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” asked Blaise dazedly. Draco could sympathize, as he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but he had just had the uncomfortable realization that a ranting Potter was kind of hot.

The three of them looked down the table towards where Potter was sitting with the Firsties, and it was clear his tie and Head Boy badge had already changed to accommodate his new colors. Draco abruptly realized he was not prepared to deal with how good Potter looked in green. He was speaking earnestly to Alexandra Moon and April Hopkins, conjuring up handkerchiefs and saying something that made the girls smile shyly at him.

As the rest of the students were Sorted, the new Slytherins were met with much less contempt than before. Draco and his friends ate without incident, catching up and discussing what having Harry Potter amongst them would be like. As the desserts were cleared, McGonagall gave her usual start-of-term speech, this time outlining the areas of the castle that were out-of-bounds due to ongoing repairs. Then, she mentioned Potter. “One of our audience has gone above and beyond this summer to help restore this castle to its former glory. He has poured his time, his magic, and his love into the school. I am told he has even built a new secret passageway.” At this, she looked disapprovingly at Potter before continuing, “His hard work and dedication is the reason the Hogwarts Board of Governors has decided to award Harry Potter with an award for Special Services to the School. On behalf of all of Hogwarts, thank you Mr. Potter.” At this, the Hall burst into applause while Potter looked embarrassed.

Although Draco had expected to need to lead Potter and the Firsties to the dorms, Potter led them down to the stretch of stone wall that contained the entrance to Slytherin House. After giving the correct password, Draco started to suspect this wasn’t Potter’s first time in the dungeons, which made sense given his work over the summer.

Later that night, Draco was still surprised to learn that Potter had been staying in the Slytherin dorms all summer. He was even more surprised when Potter spoke to Balthazar, the sea serpent who frequented the big window in the common room, delighting the first years. It was clear that Potter had known exactly what he was doing by coming to Slytherin.

As the school year wore on, Harry began to settle into life in Slytherin. He was glad he was able to stay in the dorms he had grown to love. He could feel Hogwarts pride at the decision he had made, which had more than made up for the outcry after the Prophet’s headline: Bad Boy Hero Harry Potter Goes Slytherin. He still visited his friends in Gryffindor often, and though most of them thought him crazy for being a snake, they still accepted him. Harry spent most of his time in Slytherin with the Firsties, or the baby snakes as they were often called. Unfortunately, they were still having a hard time and dealing with some scorn from their classmates.

Of the nine baby snakes, there were five boys and four girls. Harry got along great with April Hopkins, younger sister of his Hufflepuff yearmate Wayne Hopkins, Felix Fernandez, Li Na Zhang, Alexandra Moon, younger sister of his Slytherin yearmate Lily Moon, Devin Wilkes, and Abel Rosier. He was having trouble reaching two, Gavin Goyle, younger brother to his yearmate and Death Eater Gregory Goyle, and Evan Nott, cousin to his Slytherin yearmate Theodore Nott. Harry understood their reluctance to befriend him, as he had heard Goyle had been imprisoned after incriminating himself on several charges in court and Nott was of course arrested in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was still determined, nonetheless.

He had quickly discovered that the baby snakes were fascinated by all things Muggle, as nearly all of them were Pureblood or at least raised entirely in the Wizarding World. Harry had Apparated to London one weekend and loaded up on Muggle sweeties and fizzy drinks, not to mention tabloids. Harry had been utterly charmed by their fascination with the non-moving pictures and their delight at tasting a Coke for the first time. They also enjoyed spending time with Teddy, who came to visit Harry on Saturdays.

One afternoon in November, the snakes came running to him upon his entrance to the common room. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, worry sinking his stomach as he noticed the hysteria on their faces. “It’s Gavin!” the generally shy Felix shouted. “We can’t find him anywhere! We haven’t seen him for hours!” said Alexandra, barely coherent through her tears. “We told Draco, and he said he’d find him, but he hasn’t come back either! He told us to stay here!” the leader, Devin said.

“Okay, okay, calm down. Draco’s right, you need to say here. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan,” he soothed, silently summoning the Marauder’s Map. He ran out of the Common Room, opening the map as he went, before stopping to scan for Gavin. After a tense minute of searching, he finally found him alone on the third floor. Harry stuffed the map in his back pocket and took his new secret passageway, which took him to the second floor. He ran up the stairs to alcove that Gavin was in before looking around blankly, not seeing anything. Cautiously, he approached the alcove, eventually coming into contact with the Disillusioned child. He canceled the spell, anger bubbling up when he saw the state the child was in. Gavin had bruises on his face, his right arm was at an awkward angle suggesting it was broken, and that was just what Harry could see.

Harry cast an Ennervate, watching as Gavin opened his eyes before gasping in pain and tearing up. “Shh, mate, it’s alright, I’m here,” Harry soothed, as he Immobilized the boy’s arm so he could transport him to the hospital. “Harry?” Evan asked feebly. “Yeah, it’s me, mate,” Harry replied. “My leg,” Evan moaned as he began to cry in pain. Harry tamped down the fury building in him as he Immobilized both of Gavin’s legs, just to be safe, before casting a Feather-Light Charm on Gavin and gently picking him up. “C’mon mate, let’s get you to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey will have you fixed right up, you know she will,” Harry said as they slowly began to make their way to the fourth floor, casting a Patronus while he walked to let Malfoy know the search was over and that he was taking Gavin to the hospital wing.

Draco waited impatiently at the doors to the hospital wing for Potter to show up with Gavin. Here he was, not even able to find the boy after an hour of searching, yet of course Potter had managed. All that Draco really cared about was Greg’s brother being hurt. Draco had been trying to look out for him this year, but it wasn’t easy as Gavin seemed to resent him for being free while Greg was in jail. Draco was shocked as Potter came around the corner, a crying Gavin in his arms. It was clear that the boy had been badly beaten, and Potter was trying to soothe him. “Look mate, we’re almost here. Everything’s going to be alright; we’ll get you fixed up, I promise. Madame Pomfrey’s seen much worse. You’re alright, trust me. C’mon now, here we are.”

Draco and Potter refused to leave Gavin’s side as he was treated, even though Potter had almost been kicked out after he became so upset at Gavin’s injuries the beds began to shake. Draco had to admit, the way he cared about the baby snakes was kind of attractive. Not only did the git have to vanquish Dark Lords and grace magazine covers wearing nothing but his Slytherin tie as the “Bad Boy Hero”, he had to love kids as well. It was honestly too much.

Several days later, Gavin had made a full recovery and now had a special bond with Harry. Unfortunately, Gavin had not been able to remember who had beaten him, so Harry had created a buddy-system where the baby snakes were never to be alone out of the Common Room, especially Gavin and Evan. That plan had been so successful that no more Slytherins had been harmed since its implementation, and the verbal abuse had also decreased.

For Christmas, Harry had gotten the Firsties all loads of Muggle sweeties and different Muggle books he thought they would like based on their personality. They had gotten him a photo strip of them all making various faces in each of the three photos and his very own pet snake, which was named Neiko. Harry had embraced his Parseltongue more since living in Slytherin, as he enjoyed talking to Balthazar the water serpent, but it was still strange to have his own snake. Nonetheless, Harry quickly adapted to being a snake-owned as Neiko was very amusing.

Draco, on the other hand, could hardly deal with it. Harry talking to Balthazar was one thing. Harry wearing a snake around his neck was practically every Slytherin’s wet dream. The way he spoke Parseltongue, with amusement and happiness in his voice, was so different to the Dark Lord that it fascinated Draco in a way he couldn’t really describe. He just knew he wanted to hear more. It was clear Potter was a natural Slytherin. Draco didn’t know how he had ever missed it, except the blinding hatred he had felt towards Potter the last few years. After the events of last year, especially after Potter saved him from the Fiendfyre, it was clear there was nothing there for Draco to hate. In fact, he suspected he was feeling rather the opposite towards Potter these days, much to his mortification. It was a secret he would take to the grave, however, as he would never have the courage to tell Potter how he felt.

For Valentine’s Day, the baby snakes were determined to do something nice for Harry. During their brainstorming meeting, Li Na had said he seemed lonely. The others had agreed. Abel, the most quiet and observant of the bunch, had remarked upon Draco’s constant staring in Harry’s direction. Alexandra and April had then decided Draco was in love with Harry and would be the answer to Harry’s loneliness, if only they could find a way. “We could send him a Valentine,” Felix replied. “That’s stupid,” said Evan, “he’ll know it isn’t Draco’s handwriting.” Devin then brought up the idea of finding a spell to mimic someone’s handwriting, which is why they were currently searching the library during their free time.

After a few weeks of searching, Abel finally found a charm that would be able to change whatever they wrote into Draco’s exact handwriting. Devin, the most devious of their group, had stolen a marked assignment of Draco’s earlier for a sample for the spell. All that was left to do was write the letter, which they had decided to leave up to their resident romance experts, Alexandra and April.

On Valentine’s Day, they had waited to send the letter off until that evening. After all, Harry would be receiving a lot of Valentines, and they didn’t want theirs to get lost, otherwise Harry would never find happiness. So, they waited in the Common Room as Harry’s owl flew in, dropping the letter in his hands before flying off again. They watched eagerly as Harry opened his letter and heart-shaped confetti of all colors exploded out of the envelope. They watched Harry’s facial expressions change from exasperation to disbelief to warm amusement. Alexandra and April squealed as Harry got up from his seat and approached Draco.

Draco was shocked when Potter approached him randomly on Valentine’s Day night, holding an opened Valentine in his hand. He was even more surprised when he said, a cheeky grin on his face, “I suppose I should thank you for this?”

“What? I-I didn’t. Potter,” Draco stuttered, his usual self-composure deserting itself in the face of Potter’s pure attractiveness and absurd accusations.

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t write me this lovely Valentine? My favorite part is;

‘Roses are red

Violets are blue

I really like

To stare at you.’”

Draco just stared dumbly while Potter grinned at him before continuing, “Although there’s another great rhyme in there about daffodils being yellow and you thinking I’m a very handsome fellow. It really was very nice of you.”

Draco finally found his voice and replied, “You can’t seriously think I wrote that?”

Potter laughed, “Of course not. You wouldn’t spell Hogsmeade wrong. I think it’s pretty clear the firsties wrote it. Why, I have no idea, but just play along with it. They’ve had a pretty rough time of it this year.”

“You spoil them! I would have never dared to pull a stunt like this on an upperclassman as a firstie. You’re ruining them, Potter.”

“Am I? So you don’t think I’m handsome then? Or want to go to Hogsmeade with me? That’s all just the spoiled firsties talking?”

Draco could feel himself turning red before he even had the chance to reply. Harry smiled at him in satisfaction and said, “Good. Let’s go this Friday, then.”

Draco nodded stupidly, still unsure what was really happening, before Harry leaned down to kiss him chastely on the lips. “I look forward to it,” he whispered in Draco’s ear, which he could barely hear above the sounds of the baby snakes cheering in the background.

Want to see more? Check the "dralentine's day" tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine's Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

61 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #5, @devinesis

Hey @devinesis , more like DEVINEsis, because your gift is spectacular.

Our gifter says:

“Hello! I hope you enjoy fluffy stories that make you want to squee and die. Enjoy!”

A Fair Chance - Roll up! Roll up to Britain’s first wizarding funfair, complete with high-flying rides, amazing acrobatics, weird and wonderful animals, fortune telling and, of course, all the food you can eat! Harry was looking forward to visiting the fair with Ron and Hermione. That was until Draco Malfoy and a mysterious fortune-teller changed his plans. 6k.

Tags: 2nd base smut

Harry was not having a good time. It’ll be fun, they’d said. Just give him a chance, they’d said. But no, Draco Malfoy was still as big a prat as ever. Never mind that so far Harry could only seen the back of his stupid, unnaturally blond head from where he was waiting for them by the ticket booth. Once the git eventually turned around, he was sure that he’d see the trademark Malfoy scowl, the look of disdain that instinctively made Harry’s hands curl into fists.

If you had told Harry that one day he’d be attending a wizarding funfair with Hermione, Ron and Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed in your face, given you a pat on the head and suggested you take a trip to St Mungo’s. Because it was ridiculous. Only apparently, according to Hermione and Ron, it wasn’t. Apparently it was completely normal to invite your ex-Hogwarts rival out for an evening at the fair and only tell your best friend about it right at the last second.

“Oh, and by the way, Harry. I’ve invited Draco along tonight,” Hermione had said nonchalantly as she’d grabbed a handful of floo powder from the mantelpiece.

“Uh hu- Wait, what?!” Harry had choked out, the hand that was uselessly trying to pat down the mess of dark hair on his head pausing in mid air; he was sure that he had misheard her.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Draco Malfoy. You know, tall, blond-“

“-Little ferrety face,” Ron interjected.

Harry stared, dumbfounded, his brain not quite catching up with the words he was hearing.

“Come on, mate,” Ron added, chucking on his coat and winding a bright orange Chudley Cannons scarf around his neck. “He’s actually a pretty decent guy once you get over the creepy tattoo and long history of mutual hatred.” Ron grinned but Harry was in no mood for jokes.

This was exactly what he had been worried about ever since Hermione had come back from her first day at the Department of Mysteries. She’d been raving about how amazing Malfoy was, how smart and talented, and how much he’d changed since school. Bullshit. Then they’d started hanging out after work, going to the pub together, and soon Ron had been dragged in too. He started saying things like “he’s not so bad, I guess” and “Harry, you’ll never guess what Draco said last night”. Traitor. Harry was the only one who could see through Malfoy’s little game. Well, he hadn’t figured out what exactly the game was yet but he was sure that Malfoy was plotting something.

Hermione sighed. “When are you finally going to get over this stupid rivalry? It’s been nearly ten years, for Merlin’s sake! You’d get along with him if you gave him a chance.”

She looked pleadingly at him and Harry sulkily crossed his arms in resignation. It’s not as though he had anything better to do, he supposed. After all, the last thing he wanted was to sit around in Grimmauld Place by himself all evening, surrounded by gloom and dust and old memories.

So here he was. Walking up to the fair and glaring daggers at the back of Malfoy’s head for having the nerve to come crashing back into Harry’s life and steal his best friends from under his nose.

“Draco!” Hermione called out and Malfoy turned around.

Instead of the familiar scowl that Harry had been expecting, Malfoy’s face split into a beaming smile. Harry shivered. It was just because the expression looked so alien on Malfoy’s face, he told himself. Not because of the way the evening sun caught the grey in Malfoy’s eyes, turning them silver, or the way the casual black jeans lengthened his legs and clung in all the right places, or the way the fabric of his shirt rippled as Malfoy waved, exposing a hint of pale collarbone. Harry frowned and shook his head. He would have to tread carefully; this could all be part of Malfoy’s nefarious plan.

Malfoy stepped forward to greet them, kissing Hermione on one cheek and shaking hands with Ron. Noticing Harry, his smile faded a little and he took a deep breath.

“Potter.” Malfoy held out his hand, eyes no longer warm but wary.

At the gesture, Harry was transported back to a dark September night over a decade ago. I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself. Malfoy’s fragile smile trembled and Harry wondered if he was reliving the same memory. To hell with it, Harry thought, before gripping Malfoy’s surprisingly warm hand in his own and being rewarded with a grateful look from the blond.

“Right then,” Ron coughed, breaking the tense silence. Harry let go of the hand still encased in his and, in an excuse to hide his slightly flushed face, turned away to look at the fair.

It sprawled out in front of them: a myriad of brightly coloured tents advertising petting zoos and fortune tellers, acrobats and contortionists; food stands piled high with butterbeer, pumpkin pasties and - Harry’s mouth salivated - treacle tart! There were sky-high rides with lights flashing vividly as guests sped around on flying motorbikes. Harry was so entranced that he completely missed Hermione talking to him.

Harry tore his eyes away from the bright lights and flashed Hermione a sheepish look. “Sorry, ‘Mione. What was that?”

She rolled her eyes affectionately. “We were just saying that we should have a walk around and see if anything grabs our attention.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

As they set off toward the first of the stands and tents, Harry couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the whole Malfoy situation. Having him with them felt so unnatural and yet natural at the same time. Through the noise and bustle of the fair, he could hear Malfoy talking to Hermione, the rich, aristocratic tone so familiar from his Hogwarts days. Except now, rather than inciting anger, that tone was inciting something else entirely, something deep in Harry’s gut that he couldn’t put a finger on.

“Oh, look!” Hermione gushed suddenly, pointing at a red and white striped tent. “It’s a photo booth. I used to go to them all the time with Mum and Dad.”

“Huh,” Ron grunted, wandering over to the tent. “Reckon it takes proper photos or just those weird standy-still ones Muggles have?”

“Only one way to find out,” Hermione replied with a grin as she marched into the tent, pulling Harry unceremoniously behind her.

Malfoy and Ron filed in behind and only then did Harry realise just how small the tent was. It was no larger than a broomstick cupboard and, as Hermione and Ron fussed around with knuts and sickles, Harry was pushed up against the side wall, a head full of hair in his face and his arms full of a very pointy Malfoy.

“Er…” Harry said, trying not to breathe for fear of falling over.

“Oh, shit… sorry,” Malfoy stammered, a curious blush appearing on his ordinarily pale cheeks.

“No, it’s ok. I’ll just…”

“If I move over here…”

But every movement only served to bring them closer together until Harry was pressed against Malfoy from knee to shoulder. The fresh, fruity scent of Malfoy’s hair wafted into his face and Harry closed his eyes, praying to the four founders that Hermione and Ron would hurry the fuck up before things got even more awkward. He was only human, after all, and he wouldn’t be able to help it if his body decided that it was rather interested in being this close to someone, and a rather nice smelling someone at that, after such a long time.

“Ah, got it!” Ron exclaimed as a disembodied voice spoke.

“Welcome to WizSnaps, the UK’s premium photography booth service. Please be advised that this service is not recommended for those suffering from light-sensitive ailments or curses. Prepare for photograph capture in 3, 2, 1…”

Harry smiled awkwardly. Even after all these years, he still wasn’t quite comfortable with posing for magical photos. I mean, it’s just going to be a 5 second loop of me looking like an idiot, he thought.

The disembodied voice spoke again. “Your photographs are now available for collection. Thank you for using WizSnaps.”

As they piled out of the booth, Ron handed them each a copy of the photo. Harry distractedly pocketed his and took a deep breath, grateful to be out of the confined tent and taking advantage of the fresh air to regain his composure. He followed as Ron and Hermione strolled off and listened as they excitedly discussed what they wanted to do next. He glanced over at Malfoy and frowned in confusion. The blond was staring in horror down at the photo in his hand, his face flushed red with embarrassment. What’s got him so upset, Harry wondered as he pulled out the photo that had been hurriedly stuffed into his pocket. Before he could examine it, however, he heard a rasping voice call out.

“Care to hear you fortune, dear?”

Harry glanced around, trying to place the voice in the busy crowd. His eyes fell upon a shrivelled old witch whose liver-spotted hands were beckoning him over to her. As if caught on an invisible fishing line, Harry weaved through the crowd toward her until he reached a dark, inconspicuous tent, almost unnoticed amongst the brightness of the other stands and stalls. The witch smiled at him encouragingly. Noticing that their friend was no longer behind them, Hermione and Ron turned and followed Harry, Malfoy trailing behind them.

“Fortune telling?” Hermione grimaced. “Harry, you know that divination is nonsense. Don’t you remember Trelawney?”

Harry shrugged. He did remember Trelawney and, from Hermione’s many rants, knew how subjective and inconsistent divination was. But there was something about this witch, about the way she had picked him out of the busy crowd and spoken to him as if right next to his ear.

“I know, Hermione. But I’ve got a feeling about this,” he explained, surer than ever that this was something that he needed to do. “I’ll come find you guys when I’m done.”

Hermione frowned in disapproval but nodded, taking Ron away and further into the fair. Malfoy shot Harry a curious look before following them into the crowd.

Harry turned back to the witch. “So. How does this work then?”

She smiled mysteriously at him and beckoned him forward once more and into the darkness of the tent. Harry coughed as he entered, the air smoky and pungent with the smell of burning herbs, and blinked in the gloom. In the middle of the space he could make out two embroidered chairs seated around a worn, wooden table. The witch gestured to the nearest chair and Harry sat down.

The old witch sat opposite him and her scratchy voice began to echo through the tent.

“You come to see your fortune,

But seeker, a note of caution,

These runes see future, present and past,

But although you see, it may not last,

For everything has chance to alter,

So if you want, you must not falter,

Your future lies within your hand,

Poor or rich, lowly or grand.”

Goosebumps erupted along Harry’s arms as she spoke. The magic in the words was undeniable. She held out a wrinkled hand and Harry hesitantly reached out, jumping slightly as he met ice-cold skin. The witch raised her other hand and, with an incoherent mumble, dropped a set of what looked like wooden dice on the table. Each had more sides than Harry could count and were carved with strange symbols. The witch examined them intently before speaking.

“Your past was full of sadness and loss, a dark presence haunted your steps and those you trusted used you as a pawn in a greater game.”

Harry huffed. “Well everyone knows that.”

The witch’s next words silenced him.

“Your present is no less full of sadness. Once the apple of the public’s eye, you have retreated to a house of dark and decay, pushing away all but your closest friends. You convince yourself that no one will ever love you for who you are, rather than who they believe you to be, so you lock your heart away.”

Harry felt his eyes prickling. Never had someone laid out so clearly the fears and doubts that had been filling him up for so many years.

“And…” Harry cleared his throat. “What about my future?”

“Your future,” the witch paused, examining the last rune closely. “Your future is what you let it be. I see happiness and love if you would but open yourself to it. But I also see loneliness and despair, if you do not.”

Harry frowned. “What? What kind of amateur fortune telling is that?”

The witch stared at him, her eyes glinting mischievously in the gloom. “Ah,” she croaked. “I see that you might need more than that. A push, maybe? Very well. I will give you a rare gift: a glimpse into your near future. When you leave this place, you will wake far from here and will have a chance to see what could be yours,” she paused, before adding, “if only you would shed the fear of rejection that clings to your very soul.”

And with a gummy grin and a “Four years or so should do it. Good luck, Harry” she disappeared in a poof of smoke.

Harry jumped and coughed away the pungent smoke that rushed to fill his lungs. Had the old witch been serious, he thought, clearing the remaining smoke away with his hand. Will I really see my future? He stood up and faced the exit of the tent. Taking a deep breath and hoping that this wasn’t some gigantic joke, he stepped forward. As the dusty fabric slid over his face, he felt his eyelids droop, his head became heavy on his shoulders and his vision went dark.

——-

Harry groaned as the early morning light landed upon his face. He had been having the strangest dream; something about Malfoy and fortunes and ferris wheels. Ah well, he thought, stretching out his tired limbs over the silky bed sheets. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been this comfortable! He usually woke up panicked and out of breath, covered in sweat and sweltering in the scratchy sheets. Wait. Scratchy? Harry paused in his stretching. These sheets were the opposite of scratchy! They were divinely soft, light as air against his naked- Naked?! Since when the bloody hell, Harry thought with a frown, did I sleep naked?

Confused, Harry prised open his heavy eyelids and jolted as the remnants of sleep left him in a startling whoosh. This was definitely his room, but not as he remembered it. Rather than the dark, peeling wallpaper that he was used to, the walls were painted a bright, periwinkle blue that seem to gleam in the morning sun. Rather than the threadbare, dusty carpet, his feet met the smooth hardness of wooden floorboards. In the corner of the room - the room he was sure he had left in a state the previous night - piled high with dirty clothes, stood a stunning armoire that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a country mansion.

The more he looked around, the more Harry grew to think that there was something very, very wrong. Unfamiliar clothes and shoes were dotted around the room, paintings that he’d never seen before were hanging on the walls and, even more unnerving, there was the sound of music coming from downstairs.

Beginning to panic, Harry quickly grabbed his wand, threw on a t-shirt and pair of tracksuit trousers that looked as if they belonged to him and tiptoed out onto the landing. The music was louder here and, when he listened closely enough, Harry could just about hear someone moving around downstairs. He inched down the stairs, his wand braced in front of him. As he crept down the last step and into the ground floor hallway of Grimmauld Place, Harry nearly screamed when a voice beside him spoke.

“Good morning.”

He spun around and came face to face with a snake. About four foot in length, the snake was lying in a shallow pool of water inside a giant glass tank. It looked completely unconcerned to see Harry and seemed to think that the whole situation was perfectly normal.

“Er, hello,” Harry replied, keeping his voice quiet in case the person rattling around in his kitchen heard.

“You’re up late,” the snake said, rather disapprovingly. “The other one has been awake for hours.”

Harry frowned. “The other one? Who’s the other one?”

The snake rolled its eyes as if it should be obvious. “The other one. The one with white scales who brings me tasty frogs to eat. Speaking of which… I’m hungry.”

More confused than ever, Harry turned away from the snake. It’d refused to speak any more until Harry brought him breakfast anyway. Instead, he sneaked towards the open kitchen door and peered around the corner into the room. Well I’ve definitely found the source of the banging, Harry thought as he stood there motionless, glued to the spot at the sight of Draco Malfoy waltzing around his kitchen in nothing but a baggy Falmouth Falcons t-shirt and a pair of rather ratty Slytherin pyjama bottoms. And to make things even stranger, it looked as if he was trying to cook.

As if sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Malfoy glanced over from where he was attempting to crack an egg. “Morning, sleepy,” he said with an affectionate smile. “Have you been up long?”

Feeling like he had to respond but not trusting his voice, Harry shook his head.

“I suppose you needed your rest after last night,” Malfoy said, shooting Harry a filthy grin that left no doubt in Harry’s mind about what last night had entailed. “Sit down then. I’ll make you some coffee.”

Still not quite sure that his voice would be able to do anything but scream, Harry obeyed the strange demand and watched Malfoy amble around his kitchen whilst a million and one thoughts flew around Harry’s head. Malfoy placed a steaming cup of coffee down on the breakfast table and Harry, sipping on autopilot, asked the one question that seemed to make it through the fog of confusion that was his mind.

“How do you know how I like my coffee?”

Malfoy looked at him like he was crazy. “Harry, I’ve been making you coffee for years.”

Harry stared at him, filing away Malfoy’s casual use of his first name for a time when he didn’t feel like he was going mad.

Malfoy’s mocking expression changed to one of concern and he placed a warm hand to Harry’s forehead. “Harry, are you feeling alright? You look terribly pale. Was it another nightmare?”

It must be a nightmare, he thought, there’s no other explanation for what’s happening. Suddenly, Malfoy’s arms slipped around him and Harry froze. Strong hands ran soothingly through his hair and along his back and Harry found himself loosening and relaxing under the pressure. In for a penny, he thought, as he sighed and rested his head against Malfoy’s chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this, but there was something about the situation that made him feel safe and secure, like he’d done this a thousand times before. With a last stroke of his hair, Malfoy released him.

“Now, who wants pancakes?”

——-

Harry had come to a conclusion. Either this was happening entirely in his head and he was locked away somewhere in St Mungo’s or this was real and he didn’t know Draco Malfoy very well at all. Because said person was currently dancing around Harry’s kitchen in pyjamas and making pancakes, all the while singing along to what sounded like Celestina Warbeck. The Malfoy he knew from school, all stuffy and posh and “wait ‘till my father”, was gone and in his place was this… well. Harry wasn’t even sure how to describe him. Whirlwind? Maniac?

After forcing his way through a stack of slightly rubbery pancakes – Malfoy had seemed so pleased with himself that Harry hadn’t the heart to tell him – he remembered the snake’s demand.

“Oh, don’t believe a thing Achilles says,” Malfoy had responded. “I’ve already fed him this morning. He’s just trying to get more food out of you.”

“Achilles? What kind of name is that for a snake?” Harry scoffed.

“I’ll have you know,” said Malfoy with mock indignation, “that Achilles is a perfectly respectable name for a snake. And anyway, it’s your fault for letting me name him.”

“You named him?” Harry questioned.

Malfoy gave him an askance look. “We are a bit slow this morning. I know you told me to fuck your brains out last night but I didn’t know I’d done such a good job,” he said with a smirk. “Yes, although you drew the line at me naming him Salazar! Ron and Hermione thought it hilarious, you living with two snakes.”

At the mention of his friends, Harry started. Of course, he thought. He’d been such an idiot. He should have contacted Ron and Hermione straight away. If anyone would be able to help him figure out what the hell was going on it would be Hermione.

“Er… speaking of Hermione, I’m just going to give her a call and see if she’s home,” Harry said as nonchalantly as he could.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow at him. “Ok. I’ll clean up in here while you do that.”

As fast as he could without seeming suspicious, Harry rushed to the living room and threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace with a shout of “Hermione and Ron’s house!” The fireplace swirled emerald green and cleared as a young girl greeted him.

“Hi, Uncle Harry,” she said smiling.

“Uh…” Harry faltered. He had no idea who this person was. Looking at her closer though Harry recognised the bright red hair, the freckly cheeks, the warm brown eyes and prominent front teeth that all told him exactly who she was. “Hi there. Is Mummy there?”

“Ok. She was just getting Hugo up but I’ll get her.” The girl vanished from view but Harry could hear the loud “MUUUUUUM! UNCLE HARRY WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!”

Less than a minute later a familiar brown, bushy head appeared in the fireplace.

“Hi, Harry. How are you?”

Harry paused, wondering where the hell to start. “Erm, not that great, Hermione. You see, I don’t really know where I am.”

Hermione eyed him with concern. “I don’t understand.”

“Well I woke up and there was music and then there was a snake and Malfoy and pancakes and-“ Harry blurted out incoherently.

“Hey, slow down,” Hermione said calmly. “Now, start from the beginning.”

So Harry told her everything. The more he spoke the deeper her frown became until he finally finished.

“What do I do, Hermione?”

“You’ve got to stay calm, Harry. It sounds as if you’re under some kind of spell. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Harry thought. He remembered going to bed, dreading being woken up again by countless nightmares, remembered being at Ron and Hermione’s getting ready to go out. Where were they going? Somewhere outside – he remembered wrapping up warm and travelling by floo to a small village. He remembered lights and noise and smells and a giant flashing wheel.

“I think I was at a fair?” Harry said uncertainly.

Hermione’s face lit up. “Yes! Harry, we went to a fair ages ago. Must have been four or five years ago. That’s the last thing you remember?”

Harry nodded. “What happened that night? Maybe it’ll jog my memory.”

“Well we met Draco there – you were really unhappy about that,” she said with a smile. “If I recall you and Ron ate an excessive amount of treacle tart, we went on a few rides, I think you went to see a fortune teller but you wouldn’t tell anyone what she’d said-“

“That’s it!” Harry shouted, making Hermione jump. “The fortune teller! She told me my future and said that maybe I just needed a push in the right direction. She said that to help me she’d show me a glimpse of my future…”

Harry trailed off. So that was what this was? This is what his future could be? Just as he was trying to figure out how to feel about that, Hermione spoke.

“If that’s true, Harry, then I’m sure you’ll be back in your own timeline soon. These spells never last very long. Probably just until you fall asleep.”

Harry nodded, the fog of confusion back and muddling his thoughts.

“Can I just say one thing, though?” Hermione asked. “I can see the cogs in your brain whirling and if you’re scared about this being your future, don’t be. I’ve seen how happy you are with Draco. You two are made for each other. Just give him until the end of the day to convince you of that. Ok?”

Harry nodded once again and the floo connection cut off. He groaned as he stood up, his legs protesting at the rough treatment of having to kneel on such a hard surface for so long. Harry took a deep breath. Time to re-join the person who I could be spending my future with, he thought with a slightly hysterical laugh.

Stepping out into the hallway, a hissing voice reached out to him.

“Has the one with the black scales brought me some tasty frogs?” Achilles asked hopefully, raising its coils up from the shallow pond.

Harry shook his head. “Sorry. Apparently you’ve already been fed this morning. I’ve been told not to trust you anymore.”

Achilles sank back down in resignation.

Harry went to walk back into the kitchen but was stopped short by the sight of Malfoy leaning against the doorway. He was watching Harry with a predatory gaze, the kind of look that made Harry want to run away and move closer at the same time.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Malfoy tutted. “You know what speaking in Parseltongue does to me.”

“Wh- what does it do?” Harry gulped, the way Malfoy’s were raking up and down his body making him feel naked.

Malfoy pushed off from the doorframe and sauntered over to crowd Harry against the wall. He placed his hands on Harry’s sides, scratching his fingernails lightly over ribs, and pushed his hips forward to meet Harry’s. “This is what it does to me,” Malfoy almost growled in his ear.

Harry gasped. Malfoy was hard against him. He could feel himself lengthening in response and threw his head back as Malfoy began peppering kisses over Harry’s neck. Hands roamed over his arms, shoulders and chest, before settling to grip his backside, the scraping of nails providing the perfect pain to accompany the pleasure of warm lips ravaging his neck. The lips travelled upwards until they met Harry’s own. Finally, Harry thought, as he opened his mouth under the assault and allowed his tongue to intertwine with Malfoy’s. Thoughts of “what the fuck am I doing?” vanished as quickly as they had appeared as Harry lost himself in the feel of Malfoy’s body against his own, the feel of his lips and tongue and – oh my god! – cock.

When Malfoy pulled away, Harry only just managed to hold in the groan. “I’ve got an idea,” Malfoy said, licking his lips suggestively. “Why don’t we move this to the shower.”

Harry showed no resistance as Malfoy guided him upstairs by the hand, pulling him into the same bedroom as he had woken up in and through into the en suite he had no idea even existed. He raised his arms as Malfoy hurried to undress them both, trying and failing not to stare when Malfoy threw off pyjamas to reveal stunning, porcelain skin that Harry itched to touch. When Malfoy stepped under the hot mist of the shower and held a hand out invitingly, Harry’s willpower snapped. Who cared if this wasn’t his life? Shouldn’t he at least make the most of it while he was here? And hell, it could be his life if he wanted it. But before the confusing thoughts could continue, Malfoy was on him again. His soapy hands were running all over Harry’s body, everywhere but the place Harry most wanted them to be. As if he could sense this, Malfoy smirked.

“What’s wrong, Harry,” he whispered throatily. “Is there something you want?” this is a very Nicole thing to say! ;)

When Malfoy’s fingers trailed down to stroke his inner thigh, Harry stopped trying to resist. “My cock,” he begged. “Please.”

“My, my. Such pretty manners,” Malfoy praised as his hand moved to grasp Harry’s length.

Harry shouted out in pleasure. It had been so long since he’d been touched by someone other than himself. Being Harry Potter wasn’t really conducive to one-night stands and there had been no one since Ginny who had been worth the risk. But this was something else.

Just when Harry thought that this couldn’t get any better, Malfoy released him, repositioned himself and reached down to grab both of them together. Harry’s eyes rolled back and he braced himself against the wall, legs weak with spine-tingling pleasure. Malfoy’s hand was slick and moved with ease, generating delicious friction between them until Harry could take it no longer. He groaned as he came hard, riding out the waves under Malfoy’s relentless pace, until Malfoy himself shook and threw his head back with a moan.

They stood there like that, under the water as they regained breath. Malfoy’s hands traced circles on Harry’s hips and Harry finally got a chance to touch Malfoy’s pale skin, his fingers trailing over biceps and shoulders and running over dusky pink nipples. He discovered that Malfoy was ticklish if you stroked him in just the right place under his armpit, that he flushed down to his chest after he came and that his hair turned a breath-taking shade of gold when wet. This could be mine, Harry thought. And the thing was, he wasn’t so sure that he didn’t want it anymore.

——-

“Urgh,” Malfoy groaned, slamming another kitchen cupboard shut. “I can’t be bothered to cook tonight. Shall we just get a takeaway?” He looked at Harry pleadingly.

Harry smiled, still not used to seeing Malfoy do anything but scowl and sneer. “Sure, whatever you want.”

“Yes!” Malfoy cheered. “Then we’re having Indian. It’s been ages since I’ve had a good vindaloo.”

“A vindaloo? Isn’t that a bit spicy?” Harry asked doubtfully.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Thank you very much for your input, Mr I-have-a-tikka-masala-every-time, but, unlike you with your delicate sensibilities, I’m actually adventurous when it comes to trying different food.”

Harry chuckled. Yes, this Malfoy was definitely not what he had expected but, as the evening wore on, as they demolished curries and rice and naan and settled down with a bottle of wine, Harry began to realise that this might be the Malfoy he wanted.

“Can I ask you a question?” Harry slurred, already a glass and a half of wine down and counting. Somehow he had ended up with his head on Malfoy’s shoulder and didn’t quite have the energy or the inclination to move just yet.

“You already did but go on,” Malfoy smirked.

With a roll of his eyes, Harry asked, “How did we get here?”

Malfoy sighed. “I know, I sometimes wonder that myself. How did two people who hated each other so much get to this point? The truth is, Harry, I don’t think I ever really hated you. I think I was jealous and angry and resentful but, after the war, that all just seemed so… insignificant.” Malfoy took a sip of wine and swirled his glass as he continued. “After that, I must confess that I developed a bit of a crush! Hermione and Ron spoke about you a lot, of course, and I think they had an inkling about how I felt so they just kept trying to find ways of getting us to meet. Me coming along to the fair was their idea. Merlin, that was a disaster at first! I remember you being so guarded, almost like you thought I was going to summon the Dark Lord there and then!” He chuckled, stroking Harry’s hair away from his forehead with a free hand. “And that photo booth! I was so embarrassed, seeing myself staring at you like a smitten teenager. But then you seemed to warm to me. You wowed me with your charms and I was gone.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully before grinning. “You really had a crush on me?”

“Urghh,” Malfoy moaned. “I should have known that would be the part you’d pick up on. Now I’m never going to hear that end of it!”

Harry smiled but relaxed against Malfoy’s shoulder. He thought about what Hermione had said, about giving Malfoy a chance to convince him that they could be happy together. Exactly when it had shifted Harry had no idea, but there was no doubt left in his mind that he could be happy with this person.

“Draco?” Harry said, raising his head and peering into warm grey eyes. The face that he met was so familiar and yet old memories of scowls and sneers had been replaced by new ones of smiles and laughter and moans of pleasure. “I had a really great day today.”

Draco smiled at him. “Me too, Harry.” He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Harry’s lips. “And plenty more like it to come.”

Yes, Harry thought, as he closed his eyes. Because now he knew what he wanted and he was damned if he was going to let it slip away.

——-

Harry blinked as the flashing lights and bright colours assaulted his eyes. He stared at the people and sights around him, trying to orientate himself. Yes, he was back at the fair. The old witch’s spell had worked. He had seen his future and now had the chance to make it happen. What was it she had said? “So if you want, you must not falter, your future lies within your hand.” Then that was exactly what he was going to do.

He looked out towards the direction Hermione, Ron and Draco had headed in, hoping that he’d be able to find them in the bustling crowd. A sharp crinkling in his hand, however, made him pause. Harry glanced down and opened his fist to reveal the photo they had taken earlier in the evening. So this was what had made Draco so embarrassed. He took a closer look and smiled, watching as the photo looped again and again: Hermione and Ron giggling together, himself grimacing and squashed awkwardly into the corner and Draco, who could never seem to take his eyes off of Harry. A warm feeling erupted in his chest and he strode out into the fair, more determined than ever.

Suddenly, a bright head of hair caught his eye.

“Harry! Over here,” shouted Ron. “You’re just in time, mate. We were just about to get some treacle tart.”

“Brilliant,” Harry grinned with a knowing chuckle.

“How was the fortune teller?” Hermione asked sceptically.

Harry smirked. “It was pretty good.”

He turned to Draco, who seemed startled to be receiving Harry’s full attention, and took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to go on the ferris wheel with me afterwards?”

“Oh! Er, yes! That would be-“ Draco stammered, his face flushing in a very familiar way, “that would be nice.”

Harry ignored the loaded look that Hermione and Ron sent each other and smiled at Draco. “Great. Now, did someone say something about treacle tart?”

Want to see more? Check the “dralentine’s day” tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine’s Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

62 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #7, @nerdsarebetter

Nerds are better? Than this gift? Think again! @nerdsarebetter , here’s your Dralentine’s day present!

Our gifter says:

“Hello, I sincerely hope that you’ll enjoy my writing and especially the story I chose to write. I know it’s not very fluffy or what you’d expect from a Valentines fanfiction, but I hope that you’ll like it still. It’s quite short, mostly because I myself really enjoy writing and reading one-shots but also because I’m still in school and I didn’t really have the time to write a longer fic. I wish you an amazing day and hope that you’ll kiss someone you really like or (even better) that you’ll stay in all day in bed with boxes of chocolate and hundreds of fluffy fanfics ready. Much love!”

Untitled - 6th year. Harry takes the Felix Felicis to try and get the memory from Slughorn but ends up cornering a crying Malfoy in the girl’s bathroom instead. 2k.

Tags: no smut, just kissing

’So, Harry – are you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?’ Ron asked.

‘Mm … I s’pose I’d better,’ said Harry. ‘It hasn’t really gone all that well, getting that memory from Slughorn …’

‘It’s a bit sad though …’ Ron said. ‘Wasting that kind of luck on something like this I mean.’ He added.

‘Well I think you should do it Harry,’ huffed Hermione as she adjusted her, most likely, very heavy book bag on her shoulder. ‘Dumbledore wouldn’t have asked you to get it unless it was really important.’

Harry pondered on that for a while before saying. ‘Well yeah, and I don’t reckon I’ll need all of it, Slughorn did say that the bottle contained enough for twelve hours’ worth of luck. Getting that memory can’t take all night, can it? – I’ll just take a mouthful and save the rest of it.’

'It's a bloody amazing feeling when you take it,' said Ron nostalgically. ‘Like you can do anything and everything.’

‘Language Ron! And what are you talking about?’ said Hermione, laughing. ‘You’ve never taken any!’

‘Yeah, well I thought I had, didn’t I,’ Ron explained. ‘Same difference really…’

Upon entering the Gryffindor common room, they sat down in three of the squashy armchairs by the warming fireplace, dropping their heavy bags on the floor beside them. Having just seen professor Slughorn in the great hall eating dinner they decided to wait a while before Harry would take the potion and go to Slughorn’s office and (with luck) retrieve the memory of what he really said to young Voldemort that night.

They sat there, huddled around the fire for quite a while, Hermione diligently doing her homework, Ron and Harry doodling stick figures on a piece of parchment – casting spells on them to make them come to life and duel each other. Harry drawing small snakes and ordering them around in parseltongue, gaining the element of surprise in his attacks against Ron’s figures, cheating he was, according to Ron. It was first after the sun had sunk low enough to colour the sky a bursting orange that they moved, checking so that Neville, Dean and Seamus all were in the common room before they sneaked up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

Harry then took out the rolled-up socks from the bottom of his mostly empty trunk and extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle.

‘Cheers,’ he said as he tipped the vial backwards and swallowed a mouthful of the golden liquid.

‘How are you feeling Harry?’ Hermione asked after a few seconds, a calculating look on her face.

Harry didn’t answer straight away, which was a good thing since he’d been on his way to say nothing before, slowly but surely, a sense of euphoria spread through him. He felt light, completely free of the dread of failing, free from all the pressure which had been put on him through the years. Getting that memory from Slughorn now felt positively easy.

‘Excellent,’ he said smiling. ‘Really, really good … Right, I think I’m gonna go down and visit Myrtle.’

‘What?’ said Hermione and Ron together, looking severely taken aback.

‘No, no. Harry. You’re going to get the memory from Slughorn. Remember?’ Hermione exclaimed.

‘Yes, well I’ve got this good feeling about going to see Myrtle. I haven’t been there in a while and it feels like now is the time to pay a visit.’ Harry said confidently.

‘Mate, are you seriously saying that you’ve got a good feeling about visiting Moaning Myrtle, because you haven’t been to the broken girl’s bathroom for a while?’ asked Ron, looking stunned.

‘… Yeah.’ Harry replied, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his bag on the floor. ‘It just feels like where I ought to be tonight, you know.’

‘No, we don’t,’ Hermione said, a frightened look on her face, her eyebrows knitted together, her voice anxious. ‘Are you sure you took the right bottle Harry? You haven’t got any vials of Neville’s old potions lying around?’ she continued her brows knitting further together.

Harry chuckled at that, increasing the worried looks of Ron and Hermione.

‘Just trust me,’ he said. ‘I know what I’m doing … or well … Felix does.’ He said as he sauntered down the stairs towards the common room, throwing his cloak over his head, not stopping even as he heard Ron and Hermione run after him - carefully so, as they couldn’t see him. Harry maneuvered easily enough through the common room and could simply slipped through the portrait hole on the other side, since as to his luck a first year entered through it from the outside at the same time. The portrait hole swung shut behind him as Harry strode of through the castle. He did not meet anyone on his way as he walked through the corridors, which would have surprised him, had he not been the luckiest person at Hogwarts that evening.

Standing outside the bathroom Harry paused, looking around (though he knew it wasn’t necessary) before he quietly pushed the door open.

Alone in the room stood Draco Malfoy, his back to Harry, head bent over the sink – his white shirt untucked from his black trousers. He stood there, hunched over the sink, shaking, muttering: ‘He’ll kill me, he’ll kill them. I have to do it, I have to. No one can help me.’ His voice was quiet, anxious and broken of repeatedly by (to Harry’s tremendous shock) sobs that rocked his body.

Malfoy was crying. Actually crying. Tears streaming down his pale, pointed face, half hidden behind his white-blond hair.

Harry stood frozen, unable to move just as he’d been on the Hogwarts Express earlier that year when Malfoy had struck him with the petrificus totalus. He simply watched Malfoy, listened to his quiet mutterings and realised that his fingers twitched as if wanting to reach out and console the pale boy.

It was when Malfoy gasped and shuddered that Harry seemed to get his senses back, just to hit him with the dreading realisation that during the time he’d slipped out of it – his cloak had somehow slipped of him and was currently draping the floor around his feet.

Harry looked up just in time to watch as Malfoy raised his head, looking straight into the mirror, his eyes widening as he saw Harry standing, wide eyed as well, by the door right behind him. Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand as he did so. Harry however, did not. He simply brought both his hands up a bit, as if to surrender.

‘What do you want Potter?’ Malfoy spat, his wand pointed at Harrys chest, his face locked in a sneer – so very different from the vulnerable, crying face from only seconds ago.

‘I’m not here to fight Malfoy,’ said Harry as he slowly pulled his wand out of his pocket. Malfoy tensed noticeably at the sight of Harrys wand and his eyes which were locked with Harrys were full of doubt. That changed however when Harry threw his wand onto the floor, both boys watched intently as it rolled and stopped a few meters away from Harry.

Malfoy was looking at Harrys wand, his eyes wide, mouth slack. Then he seemed to come out of whatever trance he’d been put in and his signature sneer returned.

‘What are you playing at Potter?’ He spat. ‘I can hurt you, I can kill you, and you won’t be able to defend yourself!’ Malfoy was shaking now, his voice high, eyes swirling with emotion.

‘Is this how you plan to defeat the Dark Lord? Is it Potter? Are you just going to give up and stand there like the orphaned git you are?’ Malfoy was almost shouting, his voice trembling slightly. ‘Is this the chosen ones’ grand plan, just giving up!?’

Harry didn’t respond.

‘DAMMIT, FIGHT ME POTTER. Don’t just stand there, do something.’ He was shouting now; new tears were falling from his red rimmed eyes as his lips quivered. ‘DO SOMETHING!’

In three quick steps Harry had crossed the space between them, he reached out and grabbed Malfoys upper arms pulling him closer, all whilst never breaking their eye contact. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Malfoys. He kept his eyes open, looking straight into Malfoys, which were wide open. As Malfoy started to struggle against him, Harry closed his eyes, tightening his grip on Malfoys arms whilst slowly starting to move his lips against Malfoys.

He heard a gasp, and then after about a minute of one-sided kissing in which Harry had let his lips drag over Malfoys, his tongue lightly swiping over his bottom lip, Harry felt Malfoys lips move.

Malfoy kissed him back slowly, carefully as if scared he’d mess something up by moving too much. They stayed like that, lips moving against each other softly, the occasional gasp escaping one of them. Harry had let go of Malfoys arms, letting his hands drag down his arms before settling on the other boy’s hips, pulling him slightly closer.

It was the sound of Malfoys wand dropping to the ground that made them break apart, eyes wide as they stared at each other, grey into green. Lips a light pink, Malfoy’s before pale face slightly flushed and Harry couldn’t help but to think how much better he liked Malfoys face now that it wasn’t drained of colour. None of them said anything, though Harry saw Malfoys lips move slightly as if trying to form words.

‘w-wha-’ He started, but Harry broke him off.

‘I want to help you Malfoy.’ He said softly. ‘Let me help you.’

Malfoy looked at him then, lips parted, eyes wide and watery. A tear slipped down one of his cheeks so Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to it.

‘Let me help you,’ he said again before this time pressing his lips to Malfoys.

Malfoys response was quicker this time, he moved his lips in time with Harrys and pressed harder against him when Harry lightly sucked on his bottom lip. Malfoys lips were soft, so very soft Harry noted as he pressed against them, his hands moving down to settle at the slight curve of Malfoys lower back. Slender hands moved uncertainly through Harrys hair, getting stuck in the mess of locks as Harry groaned slightly breaking the kiss.

‘Draco,’ he whispered, keeping his eyes closed.

He heard a sharp intake of breath.

‘Let me help you.’

He looked up, watching Draco intently. Saw him wetting his lips, his teeth biting down gently at his bottom lip, his eyes were dark and deep, so filled with emotion that Harry felt somewhat choked by them. And then, finally, Draco nodded. Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and, on a whim, reached up with one of his hands, slowly letting it caress the side of Draco’s face. The other boy was undoubtedly leaning into the soft touch before he jerked away quite suddenly, eyes wide with fear.

Harry was about to ask him what was wrong when he heard what must have caused Draco’s sudden reaction. Someone was knocking on the door.

‘Harry, mate. Are you in there?’ He heard a muffled voice ask. Ron’s voice.

‘Yeah.’ Harry said, loudly enough so that Ron would hear him through the door. ‘D-don’t come in though!’ He added quickly as Ron had started to push down the door handle.

‘Um … why not?’ Ron asked, still following Harrys request though, letting go of the door handle.

Harry looked at Draco in panic. What was he going to say? Draco only looked back at him, his expression saying ‘I don’t know, you solve it.’

‘Uhh … well you see, M-Myrtles not really feeling all that well and, well you know what she gets like when she’s upset,’ he lied. ‘I think some second years bullied her in an upstairs bathroom.’

‘And she doesn’t really like you, you know. So I think it’s for the best if you don’t come in.’

There was silence, and then.

‘Yeah – I s’pose,’ he heard Ron mutter slightly awkward. ‘You think you can leave her soon then?’ He asked.

‘Uh, yeah. Think she’s almost finished crying by now.’

‘Ha, imagine that,’ Ron scoffed. ‘The glorious when moaning Myrtle actually stops moaning.’

They both laughed.

‘I’ll see you in the common room soon then?’ Ron asked.

‘Yeah, save one of the chairs by the fire for me.’

‘Course mate, see ya.’

‘See ya.’

Harry turned around and faced Draco again. The boy looked far better than he had only minutes ago, he’d tucked his shirt into his trousers, his eyes no longer red and his face still held a slight flushed tinge of colour. However, the biggest difference was that now a small smile grazed his lips.

‘You came here to console Moaning Myrtle?’

‘Wha – no. No!’ Harry spluttered, his cheeks heating up. ‘Shut up.’

‘Make me.’

Their eyes met, green into grey, then Harry grabbed a handful of Draco’s Slytherin tie, pulling him towards him and kissed him.

Want to see more? Check the "dralentine's day" tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine's Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

58 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #1, @cant-we-just-dance

Hey @cant-we-just-dance , more like cant-we-just-HAPPY-dance! This gift is music to our ears - and it’s for you!

Our gifter says:

“In my mind, Harry doesn’t lose the ability to speak Parseltongue after the war, so I really liked this prompt. Fun fact: Alvyn is an old English name that means ‘wise friend’!”

Untitled - Harry goes back to Hogwarts for his eighth year to finish his schooling after the war. While there, he decides to befriend an old school rival, but could it turn into something more? 2k.

Tags: no smut

Harry sighed. He rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Today was the day- September 1st. The first day of his eighth year at Hogwarts. Harry was excited, of course, but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to see the castle yet. He’d gone to help rebuild it during the summer, and had been overwhelmed by the memories it brought up. He hoped it would be better this time, but if it wasn’t, he could always leave.

After he got dressed, Harry looked in the mirror to (try to) fix his hair. Deeming it useless, he turned to finish packing his things in his trunk, when he noticed the photo strip held to his mirror with a sticking charm. They were Muggle photos from the time he and Hermione had taken Ron to the Muggle fair. Harry smiled, knowing that his friends would help him if the memories threatened to overwhelm him.

His pet snake, Alvyn, hissed at him, reminding him that they needed to go.

"Come along, then,“ Harry hissed at the snake, taking his things out to his new car. Feeling the excitement of a new school year starting, he made sure he had everything he needed, started the car, and made his way to King’s Cross station.

• • •

Barely making it to Platform 9 ¾ and getting on the train as it was about to start moving, Harry blew his hair out of his eyes and set off to find Ron and Hermione.

Finding their compartment halfway down the train, Harry knocked on the half- open compartment door.

“Anyone sitting there?” Harry grinned at Ron, remembering their first year.

“Harry!” Ron grinned, while Hermione smiled up at him.

“We haven’t seen you practically all summer, Harry,” Hermione stated, “Where have you been?”

“I’ve just been busy fixing up Grimmauld Place, and avoiding the press,” he said, placing his trunk on the shelf above the seats and sitting down, Alvyn wrapped around his arm the whole time.

“Sorry I’ve not been writing. I sort of don’t have an owl anymore,” Harry said, holding up his hand to show them Alvyn curling around his arm.

“You… got a snake?” Ron had turned pale and looked like he didn’t believe his eyes.

“Oh sure, Alvyn’s great. We’ve been talking, and he’s helped me work through a lot.” Alvyn’s head bobbed, and his eyes, to Harry, looked proud.

Hermione smiled, Ron still looked uncomfortable (but like he was trying to be supportive), and Harry shrugged, watching the rolling country side. He remembered how he couldn’t figure out how to stop the memories, how he felt about Ginny, and how to come out to her and everyone else. He also remembered being embarrassed at first, then realizing that it’s just like talking to one of his other friends. Harry smiled as Alvyn curled around his shoulders and fell asleep.

• • •

Walking into the Great Hall, Harry realized it was slightly fuller than usual.

“There’s… five tables?” Ron looked confused, Hermione rolled her eyes (Harry realized that some things never change).

“Of course there’s five tables. McGonagall mentioned it in our Hogwarts letters. Since there’s not enough room for a whole new year in the house dorms, they just created a new common room and dorms for eighth-year students’” Hermione said, quoting the letter with such accuracy that Harry wondered if she’d memorized it.

As they walked over to their table, Harry looked to see who came back for their eighth year. Near the end of the table sat Ernie Macmillion, Padma and Paravati Patil, and Lavender Brown. In the middle sat a group of Slytherins, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson. Past them, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were talking to each other, and at the very end sat Draco Malfoy, alone, looking down at his hands. Harry felt a twinge of sympathy and almost went to sit next to him, before Ron and Hermione led him over to sit with Dean, Seamus, and Neville.

“Hello, Harry,” a dreamy voice said over his shoulder. Turning, Harry saw Luna walking along the eighth year table. She sat down next to him, seeming to forget she wasn’t in their year.

“Hi, Luna. It’s good to see you,” Harry smiled.

• • •

After dinner, McGonagall called the eighth years aside and assigned them their rooms. Ron was with Dean, Seamus, and Blaise Zabini, and Harry was with Neville, Theo Nott, and Draco Malloy. He decided at that moment that if he would be rooming with the two former Slytherins all year, he would at least try to befriend them.

As they walked up to their rooms, Harry told Ron his plan (getting a skeptical look in return), and hurried to catch up to Mal- Draco to talk to him.

“Draco! Wait up!” Harry called out breathlessly, running as he did so.

“Potter? What do you want?” Harry noticed that it didn’t sound scathing, just confused.

“Well… we’re gonna be roommates all year, right? So i thought we should-”

“We should nothing. I’m only here because my mother wanted me to. I’m not here for friends, so don’t bother.” He walked away, and Harry decided that he was definitely not giving up.

• • •

The next morning after breakfast, Harry caught up to Draco to try to talk to him again. As he was taking a breath to speak, Draco stopped him.

“Just don’t. If you won’t let me walk alone, at least be quiet about it.”

“Done.” It was progress, at least.

• • •

As they walked through the halls after History of Magic, Gryffindors started whispering. Eventually, one sixth year stepped in front of them, effectively stopping them in their tracks. Harry raised his eyebrows, while Draco looked down at his feet and hugged his books to his chest.

“Harry! Why’re you talking to a Malfoy?” He looked Draco up and down scornfully.

“Well, why wouldn’t I? He’s my friend. And I would like it if you would let us go to our next class, thanks,” Harry said, leading Draco around the stunned group of Gryffindors.

When they reached an empty hallway, Draco turned to Harry and grabbed his arm, stopping him in place.

“Why did you defend me?” Draco didn’t sound angry or sarcastic, just genuinely confused. That just confused Harry.

"Why did- why wouldn’t I?“ Harry watched the emotions flash through Malfoy’s eyes- confusion, defensiveness. There was also anger, but it didn’t seem to be directed at Harry. The secrets in Malfoy’s eyes were amazing… Malfoy’s eyes were amazing… Draco’s eyes were bloody gorgeous…

Wait. What?

“I… I guess I didn’t think you would actually like a former Death Eater.”

Huh? Oh, right, they’d been talking.

“Draco, your past doesn’t define you. This-” Harry placed his hand over where the Dark Mark would be on Draco’s arm-“ doesn’t define you.”

Draco looked at Harry’s hand on his arm. Harry cleared his throat and remover his hand.

“Other people don’t see it that way. They probably wouldn’t like to know that their Golden Boy is hanging about with former Death Eaters.” Draco looked down again, then started walking away.

Harry’s eyebrows drew together as he said, “I don’t care what they think.” Draco stopped.

“Look, i know you don’t really like me much. But I know you don’t hate me, the Manor proved that. And i don’t hate you. We’re staying in each other’s space all year, so why not try for a friendship? I don’t care what the media thinks, never have.” Harry took a deep breath and started walking down the hallway toward Draco.

“At least give me a chance to be your friend, Draco.” Harry grinned as Draco sighed.

“Well? Are you gonna start walking or are you trying to make us late for class?”

• • •

After Transfiguration, Draco went off to Potions, which Harry had dropped, and Harry went back to the eighth year common room with Ron for a game of wizard’s chess.

As they entered the common room on the seventh floor, one of the empty spaces near the Room of Requirement, Harry noticed Luna and Pansy sitting and talking at a table in the corner. Luna seemed not to care that she wasn’t actually an eighth year. Outside of classes, Luna spends most of her free time in the purple themed common room. Harry smiles at Luna across the room, leading Ron to one of the couches and tables near the fireplace.

“So how’s your plan coming?” Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry after they’d started the game.

“What plan d'you mean?” He moved a pawn two spaces forward.

“The one where you make friends with Slytherins,” Ron stated as he decided which of his pieces to move.

“It’s fine- I came to an agreement with Draco today, but i haven’t talked to Nott at all,” Harry said as he moved his knight to take take one of Ron’s pawns. They continued talking about the days events as Ron destroyed Harry, both laughing when Ron’s queen took Harry’s king, winning the game.

Potions must’ve ended just before that, because Draco walked into the common room. Harry caught his eye and motioned with his head to come sit with them. Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry shrugged as Draco made his way over.

He flopped down on the sofa behind Harry, hair mussed, and dropped his books and book bag on the floor next to him.

Harry turned to look at him. His gut twisted. Draco Malfoy was completely, undeniably gorgeous.

Harry Potter was so in trouble.

How had he never noticed that before? The guy was like a god. Harry cleared his throat- this was not the time.

“Potions went well, I see,” Harry said sarcastically, surprised when his voice didn’t crack or waver.

Draco cracked his eyes open to glare at Harry (though it was definitely a friendly glare, the kind Harry would give Ron). Harry chuckled.

“What happened, then?”

“Slughorn is a prick,” Draco said, startling a laugh out of Ron.

“Well, what’d he do this time?” Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco, softening his mood a bit.

“Git made us brew Amortentia, then as he went to examine mine, his stomach splashed some of it on my tie. Nothing happened, because no one else was connected to it, but now I smell like everyone’s favorite things and a group of seventh-year girls followed me around until I got back to the common room.”

“Oh, so that’s why you smell like Hermione! I thought I was going crazy,” Ron exclaimed.

Harry frowned. He leaned closer for a second, detecting the faint smells of treacle tart and broom polish. But mostly what he smelled was Draco’s cologne. He leaned back, swallowing. He was in so deep. Harry realized Draco had been talking.

“-not like I mind all that much, it wasn’t a super dangerous potion so it could’ve been worse, but I really did like this tie, and Amortentia doesn’t wash out of clothes, so my tie will now smell like what I like, which I guess isn’t all that bad, I just think the real thing is better than-” Draco seemed to realize he’d been ranting, and abruptly shut his mouth.

After a few seconds of silence, Draco cleared his throat and said, “Nevermind, I, uh, I’m gonna go get a different tie.”

Harry nodded, then leaned back against the couch after Draco left.

He was in so much trouble.

• • •

Just after midnight, Harry was the only one in his dorm room, reading “Quidditch Through the Ages,” as the common room got too loud for him.

Draco came into their room, nodded at Harry (who smiled back), and started getting ready for bed.

Harry tried to go back to his book. He really did. But when his eyes caught on the motion of Draco shrugging off his shirt, he really couldn’t resist. Harry glanced up from his book and saw Draco’s bare chest, then his bare back and oh Merlin, his Quidditch-toned body never went away. Harry looked back down at his book, blushing, before certain other parts of his body could start to take notice.

“Uh, Harry?”

“Hmm?” What?! Had Draco seen Harry looking at him? Harry looked up, surprised to see that Draco was standing right next to his bed.

“Can I, um, can we talk?” Draco looked extremely nervous, as if Harry accepting was a life or death decision.

“Oh, sure. D'you wanna sit down?” Harry moved his books around to make room, and Draco sank onto the bed gratefully.

It was silent for a moment, then Harry asked, “So what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, right. I-” Draco sighed, then continued, “I need to tell you something, before you get too invested in this whole ‘friendship’ thing.” Draco wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes, seemingly more interested in his hands.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. What was going on?

Draco took a deep breath, then said, “I wasn’t actually going to tell you. I told myself that it was a bad idea, and it wouldn’t end well. But I have to try, so…”

“Draco, what’s going on?” Harry leaned forward to catch Draco’s eyes.

“I fancy you. A lot,” Draco blurted out, immediately turning pink.

“… What?” Harry couldn’t believe his luck, gaping at Draco, who looked down.

“I’m sorry, I understand if you never want to speak to me again or if you hate– mmph!” Harry cut off the thought with a kiss, practically launching himself at Draco, almost toppling them out of the bed.“

“Oh. So-”

“Will you be my boyfriend, you git?” Harry grinned down at Draco’s flushed face as he said, “Yes, you idiot!”

Harry’s grin widened before he kissed Draco again, slowly, before pulling him to his chest in a hug.

“Harry, your snake was loose in the common room, so me and Ron brought him- oh,” Neville’s thought cut off as he saw the two boys on Harry’s bed.

“Thanks mate,” Harry said, not caring to move from his spot wrapped around Draco, “You can leave him on my trunk, he’ll be fine.”

Draco’s arms slowly encircled Harry after Neville left, pulling him closer. Harry charmed the curtains closed, and they slowly drifted off into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

~fin~

Want to see more? Check the “dralentine’s day” tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine’s Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #dralentine's day gifts #dralentine's gifts #drarry squad

58 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #22, @moonshoespotterr

You better put on your moon shoes for this one. This gift is out of this world! Happy Dralentine’s, @moonshoespotterr !

Our gifter says:

“Happy Dralentine's day! I hope you enjoy my gift to you, and I hope your day is absolutely lovely! xoxo”

Blind Wait - Two failed blind dates result in something much better. 3k.

Tags: no smut

10th February, 2004 — 8:00 p.m.

Narcissa Malfoy knew what was best for her son, even if he didn't believe it.

It was their most common argument: Draco, at the ripe old age of 23, was still single. Narcissa, at the tender age of 48, was of the belief she should be a grandmother in a few years’ time. Draco was homosexual, and had no interest in marrying and procreating with a woman. Narcissa accepted and loved her son, and would never view any children he adopted as anything other than family. Draco didn't know any other gay wizards. Narcissa didn't think it likely that he would meet any, since he left their home only to go to work. Back and forth, every few weeks they found they found themselves squabbling under a thin veneer of politeness. Holidays always found the argument coming up more often, and with Valentine's day fast approaching the two Malfoys found themselves losing patience with one another.

That Tuesday night found Draco reading the day's news in his favorite chair by the fire, a generous portion of wine in his free hand. Narcissa was out, presumably with her social club of other middle-aged rich women with a surplus of free time, and he was enjoying the moment of peace and quiet. He worked as an apprentice under Mr. Mullpepper, the apothecary who ran a shop in Diagon Alley, and his workday had been chaotic. The elderly potioneer couldn't quite handle the shop any longer, and relied on Draco to do most of the upkeep and customer service. Draco didn't usually mind; it was nice to not live under someone's constant supervision. Today, however, had seen a random influx of customers, and he hadn't had the opportunity to sit down, eat, or even think all day. He sighed and further settled into his chair, content to read all about whatever the airheads at the Prophet considered newsworthy.

As he turned to read the society pages (Celestina Warbeck had apparently just tied the knot with husband number eight) the fireplace flared bright green and his mother stepped daintily over the grate. Before he could look up at her, she planted a large kiss onto his forehead.

“Good evening, mother.” He folded his paper up and set it and his glass of wine aside. “Did you enjoy your day with the ladies?”

Narcissa beamed at her son. “Indeed. I have wonderful news. I've found him.”

Draco's eyebrows flew up. “You've found him? Who is ‘him’, exactly?”

“The second father of my future grandchildren,” Draco groaned even as she spoke. “He's a nephew of one of the ladies who join us for bridge. Tall, dark, handsome, terribly charming, wealthy, he's the total package dear!”

“Mother, must you meddle? I can find a partner on my own.”

“Oh? Have unsolicited suitors begun calling here? I hadn't realized.” She clapped her hands twice and a House-Elf appeared seconds later with a glass of port wine. She took the drink, and the elf disappeared with a bow. “Honestly, my dear, he's really a lovely young man. You must give him a chance. What harm could it be?”

Draco sighed and studied his mother carefully, weighing his options. If he simply agreed to meet this person, his mother would be delighted and he'd never hear the end of it. Worse still, if they didn't hit it off, she would take this as permission to continue to search for a match for him. On the other hand, if he flat-out refused, his mother would be annoyed and he'd never hear the end of it… and truthfully Draco really did not mind the notion of having a boyfriend. He found most people tiresome, and many still loathed his family for their part in the war, so all of his feeble attempts at dating had ended in disaster.

Plus, even he could admit his social life lately was non-existent. Almost all of his friends were married with children, and the few who weren't were either abroad or in prison.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before replying. “All right, mother, I'll make a bargain with you. I'll meet this gentleman of yours,” she gasped with delight but he soldiered on “however, I don't want to hear of this again until at least Christmas. Do we have a deal?”

Narcissa kissed him on the forehead again, spilling wine into the carpet in her excitement. “Oh, yes my darling! You'll see, you won't regret this! You have a blind date with him this Saturday at seven o’clock.”

He was immediately annoyed. “Mother! You went ahead and made plans for me behind my back?”

“I was confident that you'd agree.�� She replied smugly, sipping her wine.

He sighed again. Tricks like these were commonplace with his mother, so being cross over them wasn't useful. “All right then, what's his name?”

“If I told you, it wouldn't be a blind date, would it?”

“But he knows my name!”

“Yes, that's about the sum of it. He'll be wearing a red hat.” She scrutinized his face and laughed. “Oh, don't pout, sweetheart. It'll be fun!”

14th February, 2004 — 6:45 p.m.

Narcissa had given Draco the address of a very posh bistro in London. It was in a muggle neighborhood but, judging by the way the muggles looked right past it, it appeared to be wizard-owned. The Siren's Song, the black sign read in simple white lettering. Inside the walls were white bricks and the decor was black, clean, and minimal. There were twenty or so small tables, each with a single red rose as a centerpiece. Nearly all of the tables were occupied by couples. Draco scanned the room for anyone wearing a red hat. While he did not see anyone fitting that description, (not a problem, he had arrived early after all) he did notice Harry Potter sitting by himself at the end of the bar.

A hostess made her way over to him, but he waved her off, making his way to the bar as well. Potter’s eyes met his, and they nodded to one another. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Potter recently. Potter came by the Apothecary regularly for potion ingredients. He often made sure to stop and make small talk with Draco whenever he stopped in; he asked about his mother, chatted about the news of the day, brought up what restaurants had opened up nearby and whether they were any good, things like that. In fact, he had seen Potter exactly twenty days prior, and knew that he'd most likely be in any day now for more supplies.

He didn't care to examine why he was so keenly aware of how often he saw the other man.

He ordered himself a drink and adjusted in his seat, so that he would see the man in the red hat when he came in. After fifteen minutes, the ice in his drink had melted and he assumed his date was running late. After twenty five minutes, he had finished his drink and began to grow annoyed. After thirty minutes, he was reaching into his robes for his coin purse to pay for his drink so he could leave and stew in his embarrassment at home when a warm hand suddenly lay on his shoulder.

“Could I get two gigglewaters please?” Potter had come over beside him and was smiling at the barkeep. He looked down at Draco. “I think I've just been stood up, would you mind terribly keeping me company until your date arrives? It's less embarrassing this way.”

Draco sensed that Potter was perhaps not speaking only for himself, but he didn't comment on it. He merely nodded and turned his back to door. If the man with the red hat came in now, he'd find Draco getting chummy with Harry Goddamn Potter, and then wouldn't he be embarrassed!

The barkeep returned with the drinks, and Potter slid one over to him. He took it and toasted the other man before downing it in one gulp. Though he still felt annoyed and embarrassed, his face immediately split into a grin. He was privately thankful then that he wasn't a muggle, and therefore didn't burst into laughter. A few more would – of course – get him to that point, but he didn't want to look like a lightweight. Potter nodded to the barkeep and their glasses immediately refilled. Wanting to keep his composure, Draco took one delicate sip and set the glass aside. He turned again to face Potter, resting his arm on the bar.

“So what brings the famous Harry Potter to a place like this, tonight of all nights?” he asked. “Back at Hogwarts, I thought for certain you'd be married to Ginny Weasley by now.”

Potter chuckled. “Honestly, back at Hogwarts I thought the same thing. Luckily, I worked out that I'd rather shag blokes before it ever got to that. I imagine a divorce is a lot messier than splitting with a girlfriend.” He laughed again at the look of surprise on Draco's face. “I know, I know. Hermione was apparently unsurprised, but she was the only one. I've been more or less ‘out’ for a few years now. As for why I'm here… same reason as you, I suppose. I was supposed to meet some fellow a friend knows. That'll teach me for trusting the judgement of a work friend.” His smile was sheepish now.

“Where is it you're working nowadays anyway? I heard you left the Auror corps a few years ago.”

“Keeping tabs, were you?”

“Old habits die hard.”

“Fair enough!” Draco wondered if Potter’s eyes were always so green. “I'm actually teaching, at a primary school for young witches and wizards before Hogwarts. It's a lot of fun, the kids are amazing to work with.”

“I can see you enjoying that. You did that Defense Against the Dark Arts club back at school, didn't you? Your pupils were pretty amazing back then, I can only imagine how much better you are now.” What was he saying? Why was he blathering out compliments like an idiot?

Potter grinned and looked down, his face blushing attractively. ‘... Oh, that's why.’ It hadn't escaped Draco's notice that Potter was handsome, it was just that he only saw him at the Apothecary and was always too busy with his work to actually spend time looking at him. Apparently five uninterrupted minutes of looking at his face was enough to turn Draco into a simpering fool. He shook his head before continuing.

“So is that what’s bringing you into the apothecary so much? Teaching?”

“You’d noticed? I hadn’t realized.” His face had become redder still, though Draco couldn’t imagine why. “Er, yeah. I need to keep my first aid potions stocked, and it’s cheaper to just brew them myself. Children have an incredible talent for injuring themselves, it turns out.”

“I can imagine. My mother keeps reminding me that she wants grandchildren soon, but honestly I don’t know if I could ever properly care for a child.” Draco admitted.

Potter inched closer to him. “Do you ever see yourself having kids? Down the road?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. It would depend greatly on whether I’d found a steady partner or not, and when. I think I’d like having a family, but I don’t want to be raising children by myself and I don’t really want to be too old to keep up with them.”

“I can’t really imagine you having a hard time keeping up with anyone.” Potter’s tone was sincere, and Draco’s chest gave an odd little lurch at the peculiar compliment. “I’ve always wanted a family. I think that’s what I found appealing about Ginny, in the end. Her family is… well, you know. Huge. I’m very lucky to be so close to them, but I’d love a family of my own. For now I’ve got my students and my godson, Teddy.”

“That’s my cousin’s son, right? Nymphadora’s son?” Draco asked. “How is he?”

Potter nodded. “Fantastic. He’s the best of both his parents. He’s nearly six now. Your mother spoils him rotten. Now I see how you became such a brat at school.” he laughed, winking.

Draco gasped in mock offense. “I was nothing of the sort! I’ll have you know, Potter, I was the most delightful child in the history of the world.”

Potter laughed again, draining the last of his drink. “Of course. How silly of me to forget. And, er, you can call me Harry, you know,” his tone was suddenly serious, almost nervous. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Harry.” Draco tried the name out, rather enjoying how it felt on his tongue. He, too, finished his drink, “In that case, I insist you call me Draco.”

“Well, Draco, if you insist.” Harry winked at him again and Draco decided that he must have not eaten enough at dinner, because his face felt warm and it must have been because of the alcohol. It must have. “Say, Draco, when was your date supposed to arrive?”

“Hm? Oh, seven o’clock.” Draco replied absently, still concerned over the warmth in his cheeks.

“I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news… but it’s nearly eight now.” So it was. He had spent nearly forty-five minutes talking to Harry and it had flown by. “Did you want to continue to wait? Because I bought an obscenely expensive bottle of wine to impress my date, and I won’t appreciate it at all. It would be terrible to let it go to waste.”

Was Harry Potter asking him to go home with him? Draco was too surprised to respond for a moment.

“Er, sorry. That probably sounds really weird.” Harry’s face had gone red again. “I swear I’m not going to, you know, take advantage of you or—”

“No, no, I’d like that. The wine, I mean.” Draco attempted a reassuring smile. “Tonight would have been a humiliating disaster for both of us had you not stepped in, the least I can do is drink your expensive wine.”

Harry barked out a laugh that seemed to partially deflate him, like he had sighed with relief. Draco found that he rather enjoyed getting Harry to laugh. “You are the very soul of charity, Draco Malfoy.” he paid for the drinks, and stood to leave. “Do you mind walking? My home’s not far from here, and it’s a lovely night.”

“Walking sounds nice.”

While they walked back to Harry’s place, they talked more about small things — their hobbies, their friends, things like that. Harry walked closely beside him, accidentally brushing against him often, and Draco’s entire focus would zero in on the places their arms and shoulders touched each time it happened. This made him absolutely useless at conversation, but Harry either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. Draco really wasn’t sure which he’d prefer to be the case. It wasn't long before they stopped on another muggle-occupied street. Harry began walking right between two houses, then paused when Draco did not immediately follow.

“This is it,” he said, gesturing to his apparent destination.

“Po— Harry, I can tell when a house is under a Fidelius charm.” Draco rolled his eyes. “You're walking right into a wall, as far as I can see.”

“Oh. Er, right, sorry. I forget about it all the time, so many people are Secret Keepers now… er, it's 12 Grimmauld Place.”

And just like that, Harry's home appeared. It was noticeably older than the houses on either side of it, and in a considerable state of disrepair. “This was Sirius Black’s home, wasn't it?” Harry nodded. “What happened?”

“The war,” was Harry's simple reply, as if that explained everything. For the time being, it did. “Don't worry, it's much nicer inside.”

And it was. Inside the walls were freshly painted and, aside from the ornate light fixtures, a few portraits, and the odd heirloom or two, one might never know the home once belonged to an old pureblood family. Harry led him to a comfortably furnished sitting room.

“Wait right here, I'll grab the wine.” He seemed oddly jumpy all of a sudden, but Draco could empathize. It had been a long time since he had last been in another man's home. Even if the evening didn't lead to romance or sex, the experience was novel.

Once Harry left the room, Draco took the moment of solitude as a chance to investigate his surroundings. In the corner of the room was a glass terrarium, where a small, pale yellow snake was coiled on a little log. The walls were covered in photographs, both magic and muggle. Featured in these photos were, of course, Weasley and Granger, other members of the Weasley family, Lovegood, Longbottom, and several others whose faces he remembered from school. Most prominently featured was a small boy who seemed to be a metamorphmagus. While his hair color changed from one photo to the next, the Black family features were unmistakeable on his face – it had to be Harry's godson. Draco happened upon a small strip of four black and white muggle-style photographs. They depicted Harry and the little boy pulling silly faces at the camera in the first three photos before dissolving into giggles in the last one. Draco couldn't help but smile at the love evident on Harry's face.

“Those are from Teddy's fifth birthday.” Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Harry's voice. “I took him to an arcade downtown. He's obsessed with all things muggle.”

Draco turned to see his host pouring two glasses of sparkling white wine. “Have you met Daffodil yet? She's Teddy's snake.” He gestured to the terrarium in the corner. As if she understood him, the snake lifted her head up, her forked tongue flicking with interest. Harry hissed something at the animal, and she rested her head back onto her coils.

“What did you say to her?” Draco asked curiously.

“Truth be told, I'm not a parselmouth anymore. Not since… well, you know.” Harry smiled at him. “I just try to hiss from the heart. I think she understands.” He handed a glass to Draco and raised his own, his smile turning thoughtful. “To… new connections.”

Draco raised an eyebrow but raised his glass in turn, clinking it against Harry's. The wine was cool and sweet, but did nothing to help the heat rising once more in his face. Harry topped off both of their glasses before sitting in a plush loveseat. He gestured for Draco to sit beside him.

“So Draco, what poor sorry sod passed up your date tonight?” he asked, settling back in his seat and looking him over appraisingly.

“So you could tell I'd been stood up after all, eh?” Draco asked ruefully.

“I'm something of an expert on you being cross, so… yeah.” He laughed. “You looked positively livid at the bar.”

“I may have been… slightly disappointed. Mother tried her hand at matchmaking. She's been trying to see me matched for a while now. I had a boyfriend for a little while right after Hogwarts, but it didn't work out so she's in a panic. She and father were already married when they were my age, so apparently since I'm still single I'm going to die alone. At least that's what you'd think if you heard her go on about it.”

“It sounds like you didn't want to go out at all.”

“As I said, I had a short relationship after Hogwarts… and nothing else since. I wasn't necessarily against meeting someone, it's just… I suppose I'm not really a fan of letting mother know when she's right. I was a bit reluctant.”

“And now? Do you regret going out?”

“Honestly? Things sort of worked out perfectly. You're proving to be good company, which I'm perfectly willing to admit I'm lacking, and Mother was wrong about her mystery match.” He drained the rest of his drink, which Harry immediately refilled. “Best of both worlds.”

“I'll be honest with you,” Harry scooted closer to him. “I'm actually very glad your date didn't show up.”

It was a crime Harry had spent so much money on the wine, because Draco was suddenly gulping it down in his nervousness and couldn't taste it at all.

When Draco didn't respond, Harry continued. “I mean, when you walked into that restaurant tonight, dressed to kill…” he let out a long breath. “I was not looking forward to seeing someone else sweep you off your feet.”

“What about your date?” Draco hated that he couldn't manage to get his voice above a whisper.

“I was just about to leave when you walked in. I don't know why I stayed. I'm glad I did.” He seemed to catch himself. “I'm… I'm so sorry, that was incredibly forward of me. It's just… I don't actually need that many first aid potions. At work, I mean. I just had no idea how else to see you. I didn't even know if you were gay, but then I heard your mother talking to her sister about you so I started coming by more often, but I couldn't pluck up the nerve to ask you out. Then I tried to see someone else and then you showed up and… yeah.” he finished lamely, looking down at his lap.

This was footing Draco was more accustomed to. At least now he knew that whatever was blossoming in his mind wasn't going to be thrown back in his face. Emboldened by the security afforded to him by Harry's admission, he set his glass aside, gently lifted Harry's face by the chin, and kissed him.

The kiss began as chaste, but quickly escalated. It had been a long time since Draco had received any proper kisses, and the small moans of happiness coming from Harry hit him like air to a drowning man. He wrapped his arms around him, carding a hand through messy black hair, and was rewarded with the feel of warm, wide hands on the small of his back. They remained like that for a while, acquainting themselves with each other physically, before Harry broke the kiss.

“I want to ask you to come up to my room.”

“I would very much like that.”

“I want you to agree to go on an actual date with me first.”

“I would very much like that also.”

Harry's grin was wide as he took Draco's hand and led him upstairs.

14th February, 2004 — 9:00 p.m.

Two wine glasses clinked against one another in triumph. Upstairs, Teddy Lupin slept peacefully.

“So what was your story?” Andromeda asked.

“Some cock-and-bull about a nephew of a friend, yours?” Narcissa replied.

“I had a girl he works with 'set him up’ with an imaginary fellow.” she smirked. “You're certain Draco's interested as well?”

“He talked of nothing but Harry Potter for years, and even now he makes a point to gush about every single time Potter turns up at his work. I'd be willing to bet anything he's with him right now, and he doesn't come home until tomorrow.”

“It'll be nice to have Harry in the family properly.” Andromeda sighed happily.

“It'll be nice to see Draco with someone who really loves him.”

Narcissa Malfoy knew what was best for her son, even if he didn't believe it.

Want to see more? Check the "dralentine's day" tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine's Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

51 notes · View notes

dralentines-day · 8 years

Text

Gift #30, @halfbloodprincess23

This gift is a full-blooded masterpiece. Enjoy, @halfbloodprincess23 !

Our gifter says:

“Dear Random Person,

Happy Dralentine’s Day. <3 Every time I write a drarry fic, it is always one of my favourites because I love these two characters so much. This fic is no exception. I really hope you enjoy it. I’d also like to point out that I didn’t realise Hot Tea could be a pun for ‘hottie’ until after I’d decided on the title, I SWEAR. Happy reading.

Xoxo, Anonymous”

Hot Tea - Draco Malfoy is on Harry Potter’s doorstep and he really doesn’t seem like he wants to be there. What happens next involves hot tea, a date that isn’t really a date, the ugliest vase Draco has ever seen, balls, sacks and snakes, and unfortunately none of those last three are sexual in the slightest.

Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter drink tea, go to a Fair, and fix a problem at Malfoy Manor. 13.2K.

Tags: no smut, just obscure sexual innuendo and light swearing.

“Potter,” Malfoy says coldly as if it is Harry standing unexpectedly at his door, rather than the other way around.

Shocked at the presence of Draco Malfoy, of all people, standing at his door on a dreary Sunday morning, Harry isn’t able to formulate a response. Instead, he simply stands there, processing, waiting for something to actually make sense.

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” Malfoy asks in a bored voice that tells Harry he really doesn’t want to be here, which is the only thing that has made sense so far.

“Why are you here?”

Malfoy narrows his eyes and stares at Harry with obvious distaste. “No need for your tone, Potter. I don’t want to be here, either.”

“My tone?” Harry holds back a laugh. He can see Malfoy is on edge and doesn’t fancy a wand fight on a quiet muggle street. Not failing to notice Malfoy has avoided his question, and with lack of a better option, he invites his childhood rival inside his apartment.

He immediately regrets it when the next words out of Malfoy’s mouth are: “This is where you live?” Again, Harry wonders how Malfoy can possibly think Harry is the one with a tone problem.

Harry quickly waves his wand so the worst of the mess is swept away, the many piles of clothes on the floor flying upstairs to hide in his bedroom, the dirty mugs in the living room moving to the kitchen to hide under the sink. He wasn’t expecting company.

With the apartment still in poor shape, but at least a margin better, Harry turns back to Malfoy, hoping to finally hear an explanation. Despite his frustration at Malfoy’s presence and usual pointy demeanour, he is still incredibly curious about what has brought him here. However, Malfoy doesn’t look like he is planning on explaining. If anything, he is staring at Harry as if awaiting an explanation from him. Harry sighs, wondering why he didn’t just slam the door as soon as he saw who it was. Better yet, next time someone rings the doorbell, he should check who it is through the keyhole before opening it to avoid situations like this altogether. It’s too late now though, so he does the only thing he can think of.

“Would you like some tea?”

“You’re offering me tea?” Malfoy asks as if Harry has just insulted his mother.

“…and the offer has been rescinded.” Harry is unsure if he should be laughing or hiding. He hasn’t seen Malfoy since the trials. At that time, Malfoy had been too defeated, too traumatised Harry supposed, to say much at all. He certainly seems to have regained his attitude since then.

Still, Malfoy doesn’t say anything. He is staring at Harry’s muggle clock intently.

“Got somewhere to be?” Harry asks.

Malfoy looks back at Harry, his face scrunched up. “No.” He says harshly, making Harry feel like it was a stupid question.

“Okay…” Harry says because he can’t think of any other way to respond other than cursing Malfoy, which he knows would be a terrible idea. With Malfoy still looking as if he has no intention of explaining anything and Harry having made no progress on that front, Harry shrugs and takes a seat on his sitting room couch.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asks immediately.

“Seeing as I’ve no idea how long you plan on standing there without saying anything, I’ve decided to get comfortable while I wait.” Harry pulls his legs up onto the couch with him.

Harry can see Malfoy’s eyes follow his shoes as they come up to rest on the arm of the couch. Harry supposes it is against Malfoy family sensibilities. So becoming a Death Eater is fine, but shoes on the couch is out?

Malfoy shakes his head before redirecting his attention to Harry’s face, and Harry imagines the image of his shoes being thrown forcibly from Malfoy’s mind. He is careful not to laugh. “Were you planning on offering me a seat?” Malfoy asks, and just like everything else he has said today, it sounds like an insult.

Harry is starting to enjoy this. Behind Malfoy’s cold demeanour, he is clearly uncomfortable about something, likely the reason he is here in the first place. Harry has no such discomfort so he is able to sit back and wait to see how things will play out. He hopes there is some humiliating reason Malfoy is here that he will be able to laud over the man for the rest of his life. That would certainly make up for years of bullying.

“Considering your reaction to my generous offer of tea, I didn’t think it would go down very well.” Harry says with a bright smile he suspects will irritate Malfoy.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and breathes a deep sigh. Harry has a strange feeling he is about to be lectured. “A host should display formal etiquette regardless of the attitude of his guests.”

Harry has to stop himself from shouting A-ha! “So you admit you have an attitude then?” He says instead.

Malfoy stares at him a moment silently. Does he have no comeback? Does this mean Harry has won? He closes his eyes and stays like that for another painful moment. Harry is a little unsettled and is beginning to wish Malfoy would fire back with a nasty quip already. Malfoy opens his mouth and eyes at the same time but the words aren’t what Harry is expecting. “Where’s your kitchen?”

“What?” Harry asks surprised.

Malfoy waves his hand in an elegant imitation of the universal signal for never mind. “I’ll find it myself.” Harry starts to get up so he can follow Malfoy into the kitchen and find out what in Merlin’s name is going on, but Malfoy gestures for him to stop with an unnecessary flourish of his hand. “No, stay there.” He orders.

Harry stays seated and tries to remain calm. What could Malfoy possibly get up to in his kitchen? He hears a crash.

“Don’t move, I’m Reparo-ing it.” Shouts out Malfoy before Harry has a chance to come running. Harry secretly hopes it is the awful ceramic vase his Aunt Petunia made him for his birthday last year. The gift is admittedly an improvement after years of receiving old socks and toothpicks, but it doesn’t make up for the years of abuse at the hands of the Dursleys. He would feel guilty throwing it out when he knows it must have taken ages for his Aunt to create and was clearly meant as the branch to a small stunted olive tree, but seeing it only brings back bad memories of his childhood. However, if it were to be accidentally broken…Harry doubts even Reparo could fix something so precariously held together in the first place.

Malfoy returns shortly after with a single mug in his hand. Of course, the bastard wouldn’t think to make one for Harry as well. “That vase in your kitchen is appallingly hideous, Potter. I had to transfigure some flowers to put in it, just to make up for its offensive patterns.” He says as he places the mug on the small table beside Harry, before taking a seat on the armchair opposite.

Harry looks down at the mug beside him, puzzled. “You made me tea?”

Malfoy grimaces like he was hoping his good deed would go unnoticed. “Don’t be ungrateful. The appropriate response is thank you.”

“Thank you?” Harry says uncertainly. He starts to wonder if Malfoy is in serious trouble. If he is doing something even slightly nice for Harry, he must want something in return.

“You’re welcome.” Malfoy says staring at the empty fireplace behind Harry.

Harry takes a small sip of his tea. It burns his tongue. “So…”

“So?” Malfoy repeats, his attitude returning in full force.

“Malfoy,” Harry starts, skipping the pretence and asking straight out: “Why are you sitting in my apartment watching me drink tea?”

“Believe me, Potter. I don’t want to be here.” Malfoy says like it’s not obvious in the way he has been on edge since he arrived and the way he has negatively responded to everything Harry has said.

“You said that already.” Harry takes a large sip of his tea, forgetting how hot it is. He grimaces as it burns its way down his throat.

“Well, I don’t.”

Harry loses his patience. This is starting to get repetitive. “It’s not exactly great for me either.”

Malfoy appears affronted. “I made you tea.”

Harry wants to laugh but Malfoy appears quite serious. He made tea, and didn’t even manage to break that goddamn vase. He hasn’t exactly saved Harry’s life. “Oh, of course. That certainly makes up for all the unpleasantness.” Harry says sarcastically.

“You’re not making this easy.”

Harry is about to lose more than just his patience. How can Malfoy suggest he is the one being difficult all the while sitting there with that nasty scowl on his face? “What easy? I don’t even know why you’re here.” Harry says in a voice dangerously close to yelling. He hasn’t reached for his wand yet but, Merlin, he wants to.

“I need a Parselmouth.” Malfoy says quickly, the syllables coming out like they belong to one word. He is not looking at Harry.

Harry’s rising anger takes a backseat to his curiosity and excitement. He takes a small sip of tea as he surveys Malfoy, sitting on the armchair in his small apartment looking incredibly uncomfortable. Malfoy needs a Parselmouth. Malfoy needs him. This is going to be good. “Why?”

Malfoy explains the situation to Harry’s mug. “There’s a room in the Manor that has sealed itself off. My mother and I have tried every spell we can think of but nothing has worked. The door has carvings of snakes on it and I think, no, I am certain, it requires parseltongue to open.”

Harry can’t stop himself from smiling. He knows Malfoy must be hating every minute of this. “So you need my help?”

“I’d appreciate if you would be able to attend – “

“You need my help.” Harry interrupts, not letting Malfoy evade the question.

“I don’t need – “

“Malfoy. Say it. You need my help.”

A long deep sigh falls from Malfoy’s mouth and he rubs his temples as he stares at the carpet. “I’m not going to say that. Stop being childish.”

Harry is tempted to tease Malfoy further, but seeing Malfoy not even able to meet his gaze begins to get to him. He feels a little bit guilty for having taken so much glee in someone else’s discomfort, even if that person is Draco Malfoy. He takes a long sip of his tea, letting Malfoy stew for a moment longer because he really can’t help himself. “So you want me to come over now?”

“What?” Malfoy jerks his head up and finally meets Harry’s eye.

“To try out that door?” Harry explains politely, allowing Malfoy his confusion. Merlin, Harry is confused as well. He is willingly helping Draco Malfoy.

“You’re going to do it?” Malfoy asks, the shock clear in his voice. So he never expected Harry to agree but he came anyway? He must really be desperate.

“Of course. Just let me finish this tea.” Harry takes another sip. It’s still hot but he can’t burn his mouth much further.

His shock seeming to wear off, Malfoy becomes serious. “How much?”

“How much what?” Harry asks. How much tea does he have left? How much parseltongue can he speak?

Malfoy blinks a couple of times and gives Harry a look that reads you are an idiot. “Payment, Potter. What do you want?”

Oh. Harry feels very silly. Of course that’s what he meant. “Nothing. I’m sure it won’t take long and I haven’t got any other plans.” He certainly does not need Malfoy’s money. He could not work for the rest of his life and still have enough money to pass onto his grandkids, if he ever has any that is.

“No.” Malfoy’s voice is firm.

“No?” So he doesn’t want Harry’s help anymore? What is Malfoy playing at?

“You can’t do this for free. I don’t want to owe you a favour.” Of course. That makes perfect sense. A Malfoy wouldn’t want to be in anyone else’s debt, especially not Harry Potter’s.

“I’m not going to ask you for a favour.” Harry assures him, because he isn’t one to hold something over someone. If he says he’s going to help, he’s going to help, no strings attached. Knowing Malfoy’s family, he suspects this is a new concept to the rude man on his armchair.

“You say that now because you don’t need one. When the time comes, you’ll be at my door reminding me of everything you’ve ever done for me. This won’t be another item on that list. Name a price now.” Malfoy demands, which is reckless as he is the one at Harry’s house asking for help. He really should be more agreeable. Harry could change his mind at any time.

Does Malfoy really think Harry keeps a list of every good deed he does? Like that is the only reason for doing anything good? He wonders how many lists Draco has. “I’m not keeping a list and I really don’t need any money. I’m actually very well off.” He is usually reluctant to mention his wealth in case it comes across as bragging, but considering his guest, he doesn’t really think it is of any consequence in this instance.

Malfoy snorts. “And yet you live here.” Harry frowns. And they had been having such a pleasant conversation. “Whatever, it doesn’t have to be money.”

Harry starts to answer immediately, his response automatic. “There’s nothing that I…” but a thought suddenly comes to his head, and he realises he has the perfect opportunity. “Wait, actually…yes, there is something.” He smiles wickedly.

Malfoy’s eyes widen and he no longer looks keen on accepting payment. “I don’t like the way you’re smiling.”

“Let me introduce you to the muggle world.” Harry says, knowing how bizarre it will sound to Malfoy and not caring. His intentions are both good-hearted and petty. He does think it will be good for Malfoy’s character to finally have a positive experience with muggles, but he also knows it will be absolutely hilarious to watch.

“What the hell, Potter?”

“You spend the day doing muggle things with me, and then we’ll go open up that room in the Manor.” Harry explains, liking the idea the more he thinks about it. This will be much better than monetary payment. Malfoy outside his comfort zone is priceless.

Malfoy is looking at Harry like he just asked if he wanted to jump into a volcano. Harry continues to smile, which seems to frazzle Malfoy further. “Since you are incapable of rational thought, I take it back. You are more than welcome to help me for nothing in return.”

“…and that offer has been rescinded.” Harry says, enjoying the way Malfoy’s frustration has had a peculiar effect on his face, his usually pale cheeks having turned the slightest shade of pink.

Malfoy stands up, looking down at Harry, his fists are clenched but he hasn’t drawn his wand. “Potter, I am not going on a date with you.”

A date? Is that what it sounded like? Harry worries Malfoy may not be the only one with pink cheeks now. He hurries to clarify. “It’s not a date, Malfoy. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrow. He seems suspicious. Harry supposes it is warranted under the circumstances. “Why do you want to spend the day with me?” Malfoy asks in the manner an Auror might interrogate a criminal.

“It’s not about me spending it with you, it’s about you spending it like a muggle, to give you an understanding of the way they live, and how they’re not so different from us.” Harry explains carefully so there can be no confusion. He can’t have Malfoy thinking he wants to date him. That would be way too much fodder for his insults.

Retaking his seat, Malfoy is laughing but there doesn’t seem to be any humour in it, only disbelief. “Merlin, that’s worse. You’re trying to save me. I think I’d much prefer the date.”

Harry shrugs. He isn’t backing out now. “It’s my only offer.”

“So you’re still an insufferable do-gooder then?” Malfoy asks, and despite its content, it sounds less like an insult than everything else Malfoy has said to Harry this morning.

“Yep,” Harry agrees if only to frustrate Malfoy. “And you’re still an arrogant prat?”

“Watch it.” Malfoy says, but it doesn’t have the edge to it that Harry would expect.

“So do you agree to my price?” Harry asks, already knowing exactly where he wants to take Malfoy.

“I don’t see any other option.” Concedes Malfoy.

Harry tries to stop the huge grin that tries to cover his face. He really shouldn’t be this excited at the prospect of spending a day with Malfoy. “How do you feel about Fairs?”

Malfoy scrunches up his face in what looks to be a mixture of confusion and disgust. “I don’t know what that means, and now I’m not sure I want it.”

Harry laughs. Malfoy’s insistence at being contrary isn’t nearly as bad when the cruel edge is removed. “Actually, it doesn’t matter, because you’ve already agreed to it.”

“Potter…” Malfoy says in way Harry is sure is intended to be threatening, but has absolutely no effect on Harry’s resolve. He is taking Draco Malfoy to the Fair.

“You never know, you might enjoy it.” Harry teases. He already knows that he at least is going to enjoy himself. He wonders if he’ll be able to convince Malfoy to ride The Giant Slide in a sack. That’s something he has to see.

“I don’t even know what it is. I swear to Merlin, Potter, I’ll – “

“You’ll what? Curse me? I defeated Voldemort, I don’t think you’ll be much of a challenge.” Harry is surprised by his own cockiness. There’s something about Malfoy that makes him want to one-up him every time.

“Your head is even bigger than it was in school, Potter. I didn’t think it was possible.” Harry can’t help but notice that Malfoy seems to be saying his name an awful lot. It’s hard to miss when it’s enunciated so carefully each time, sometimes sounding like a swear word, sometimes like a sigh, but never like a name.

“I’m kind of a big deal.” Harry says. He finds himself anticipating Malfoy’s inevitable dispute of this.

“Yes, I’ve seen the Prophet. The Boy Who Lived and Died. It made for a great front headline the first time they did it, but I’m not sure who the genius is that decided to repeat it fourteen times. There must be something else to report on by now.”

This throws Harry. “You’ve been counting.”

“That was just a guess,” is what comes out of Malfoy’s mouth, but the way he drops his gaze says otherwise. Harry doesn’t bother to confirm that it is indeed fourteen, that he has been counting too, waiting for it to end. Malfoy seems a little too keen to change the subject. “How much longer are you going to be with that tea?”

Harry let the counting slide, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to tease Malfoy about every other possible thing. “Eager for some muggle fun?”

It could easily be his imagination, but Harry swears he sees the smallest hint of a smile beginning to form before it is quickly replaced with an exaggerated scowl, lacking in menace. “No, Potter. Must you be so infuriating? I’m eager to get this all over and done with.”

Harry takes one last long gulp, ignoring the way it still burns slightly on the way down. “Let’s go.” He sets the empty mug on the table beside him and heads towards the entrance.

Malfoy is yet to move from seat. “You’re not going to change first?”

Harry looks down at his t-shirt and jeans and back up at Malfoy in his black robes. If anything, considering where they’re heading, Malfoy should be the one to change. “No.”

“No?” Malfoy repeats, looking horrified. “I thought those were your pyjamas.”

Harry laughs, too amused to be insulted. “First lesson: Muggles don’t wear robes.”

“So they walk around in pyjamas? What kind of – “

Harry quickly interrupts. He knew Malfoy wouldn’t have much experience with the muggle world but he didn’t think he would know absolutely nothing. How had he not run into muggles before? Had he never even noticed them or what they were wearing? “These are not pyjamas. These are jeans. I can lend you some so – “

“Please tell me you aren’t suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” Malfoy says, like Harry has suggested they stick their hands into a tank full of Grindylows.

“I’m only offering because if muggles see you in that, they might –“

“I don’t care what muggles think of me, Potter. I am not wearing the rags you pass off as clothing.”

Harry doesn’t bother arguing. For Malfoy to stick out like a sore thumb will be much more entertaining anyway. “Suit yourself. Shall we go then?” Harry opens the door and gestures for Malfoy to leave first.

Malfoy gets up slowly from the couch, as if everything is too much of a challenge for him. He is being really quite dramatic, and Harry can’t help but enjoy it. “You should put up better wards around your apartment.” Malfoy remarks as he makes his exit.

Harry ignores this, and follows Malfoy out down his porch steps. When he reaches the curb, Malfoy grips Harry’s forearm tightly with a sour expression. “What are you doing?” Harry asks.

“I’m getting ready for side-apparation because I don’t trust I won’t splinch myself with directions from you.”

Harry stares at Malfoy’s hand wrapped around his arm for a moment. His grip is so tight it’s starting to hurt. “Muggles don’t apparate.” He says to Malfoy’s hand.

Malfoy’s hand releases him instantly. “Then how are we going to get anywhere? I don’t suppose muggles use brooms either.”

“You still ride?” Harry asks automatically, the mention of brooms reminding him of their time on rival Quidditch teams, before house sports began to seem so trivial. Despite buying his way onto the Slytherin team, Malfoy had always been a good flyer.

“Of course.” Malfoy says with a non-committal shrug.

Harry gets the feeling that talking about something as basic as flying is even too personal for Malfoy. He quickly answers Malfoy’s original question. “We can walk. The local school is having a Fair this weekend so it’s not far.”

“I still don’t know what that means.”

Harry begins to walk and Malfoy falls into step beside him. “I can’t think of anything in the Wizarding world to relate it to.”

Malfoy makes a small huffing sound. “Then just describe it as it is. I don’t need a magical point of reference for everything.” He says, sounding irritated. Harry makes a mental note to try not to underestimate Malfoy’s intelligence again, at least not aloud.

“Well, it’s a mix of things. There’s a market of stalls with bake sales and homemade jewellery and usually a second hand book stand. There are rides. You know, like a giant slide and a merry go round. There are also games. Like when you have to throw balls into a clown’s mouth as it is moving side to – “

“Hold on,” Malfoy says raising a hand delicately which draws Harry’s eye. “I think I actually might need a reference for that last one. You throw balls into someone’s mouth?”

Harry realises it does sound a little strange when put like that. “It’s not a real clown. It’s mechanical.”

From the look of Malfoy’s face, Harry knows his clarification hasn’t helped in the slightest. “You throw balls into a machine that looks like a human mouth for fun?” Malfoy exclaims, his voice weighed down with heavy disbelief.

“And to win prizes?” Harry adds weakly, not knowing how else to explain such a weird game. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best example to bring up.

Malfoy stretches his mouth out wide in a way that might look like a smile on anyone else but on him looks more like an upside down frown. “In that case, sign me up.”

“See, I told you that you might enjoy it.”

Malfoy drops the almost smile for an actual frown and laughs. Harry can’t recall seeing anyone laughing while frowning before. “That was sarcasm, Potter.”

“You won’t be laughing when I get more balls in than you.” Says Harry before wondering if he’s accidentally stumbled into obscure sexual innuendo territory. He turns away from Malfoy to look straight ahead again, his face scrunching up as he tries to think about what he’s just said.

Malfoy is laughing again, and Harry has to peek via his peripheral vision to see if the frown is still there. No, Malfoy is smiling. Yes, there’s an element of a smirk in there too but it’s definitely a smile, a big smirking Malfoy smile. “Yes, I will be. I’ll be watching you shove balls down a machine clown’s mouth as it moves side to side, and I will be laughing at how ridiculous you look. “

Harry feels the need to defend himself and the awful carnival game, if only to prolong a pleasant conversation with Malfoy. “You have to time it right so that you get the most points. You don’t just shove them down indiscriminately.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Harry is pleased to have reached a place with Malfoy devoid of nastiness. There is a part of him that always enjoyed sparring with Malfoy, and now they seem to be doing a similar thing but with humour rather than anger, with laugher rather than shouting. It’s unexpected but welcome. So of course Harry has to go and stuff it up.

“How’s your mother doing?” He asks.

Malfoy’s face changes in an instant, a cold plaster covering any traces of a smile. “Don’t.”

Harry wishes he could take the question back and say something light-hearted instead. He will stretch out a conversation about clowns and balls forever if he is only given the chance to take that question back.

“I may have agreed to go on a…an outing with you, but I didn’t agree to this.”

“A conversation?” Harry hedges, deciding to act clueless, even though he knows he has stepped over a very obvious, thick line.

Malfoy sighs and explains in a tired voice. “A personal conversation. You don’t get to ask me about my mother. You hardly know us.”

Harry doesn’t think that’s fair. Of course he knows Malfoy. “Your mother, I guess, but you, we went to school together for six years.” He says, no longer having to act clueless. How could Malfoy think he hardly knows him?

Malfoy laughs again but it’s nothing like the one earlier. His face is twisted cruelly and the sound is harsh and breathy. “If you think you know me after that, then you must think very little of me, Potter.” Beneath the edge of Malfoy’s words, Harry senses something almost like sadness? Disappointment? Self-pity?

“That’s not true.” Harry says. There was a time when he thought Malfoy was nothing more than a bully, but as he got older, he understood things a little more clearly. He had seen glimpses of what Malfoy’s home, what his childhood, might’ve been like and it was terrifying. There is no excuse for any of the horrible things Malfoy has done and said over the years, but Harry no longer judges him as harshly for it. Now, seeing those small parts of Malfoy that he’d never seen before – friendly laughter, open vulnerability, a pleasant (if short-lived) conversation – his opinion of Malfoy is growing again.

“Then you’re delusional.” Malfoy says. “Do you recall me ever saying anything that wasn’t an insult to you?”

“Who you are is in your actions, not words.” Harry says quickly to disguise the fact that Malfoy is probably right. He can’t recall a single interaction throughout their school year which didn’t involve an insult, or a hex, or both.

“What, like how I became a Death Eater?” Malfoy counters instantly, his voice is cutting. Harry realises he probably should have chosen his words a little more carefully. A lot of Malfoy’s actions were questionable as well now that he thinks about it.

Harry takes a moment before responding, trying to find words that might actually be comforting this time. He realises the absurdity of the situation – he is trying to comfort and convince Draco Malfoy, his sworn enemy since the age of eleven, that he’s not a bad person. “I don’t believe you had a choice in that.” Harry finally says truthfully.

“You always have a choice.” Malfoy says in a quiet voice. Harry wonders if Malfoy is only repeating what many people have told him before in judgement or if he actually believes it. It’s a line Harry has heard himself a million times but he has never bought it. It implies all choices are equal, that there’s a black and white to every problem, and there isn’t. Harry knows that better than most.

Harry doesn’t think explaining this to Malfoy will help so he sticks to the clichés. “Sometimes it’s an impossible choice.”

Malfoy nods and Harry thinks his words may have finally gotten through, until Malfoy looks over at him with a hard face. “You can forgive me if you wish, Potter, but you can’t make me forgive myself.”

Harry isn’t quite sure what to say to that. He supposes Malfoy is right, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to try and help. He wants to see Malfoy smile again, a real smile, so he tries to lighten up the conversation. “You also said we weren’t going to have a personal conversation but look where we are.”

Malfoy looks away immediately, and Harry knows before he even says anything, that he misjudged the situation, that that was not the right thing to say. Malfoy’s voice is cold when he replies, “Don’t worry Potter, it won’t happen again.”

They continue to walk in silence. Harry wishes he could take the joke back and say something serious instead. Malfoy was opening up to him, in a completely unexpected way, revealing so much more than Harry ever thought he’d get to see from Draco Malfoy. Then Harry had to go and stuff up another conversation.

Harry looks over at Malfoy. He must know Harry’s gaze is on him but he keeps looking straight ahead. Harry looks down at his own feet. He is confused, not just by Malfoy’s behaviour, but by his reaction to it. He is worried about Malfoy and desperate to comfort him, and these thoughts aren’t just ruled by his typical “do-gooder” attitude but by something else as well. He stopped hating Malfoy a long time ago but he never thought that he would ever start to like him.

The silence stretches on uncomfortably. Harry is thankful when they finally reach the school and entrance to the Fair. He fishes out his wallet to pay the entrance fee with some muggle money. He wants to break the awful silence with Malfoy and hopes enough time has passed for him to have cooled down. He is ready to make a comment on how it looks like it might rain, but luckily Malfoy saves him from having to talk about the weather by being the first to speak.

“You’re paying for me? Merlin, this really is a date.” Malfoy says with disgust, eyeing the muggle change Harry tucks into his wallet as they continue into the Fair.

Relieved that they are back on speaking terms, even if it is with a scathing comment, Harry can’t resist smiling as he rolls his eyes. “Relax, Malfoy. It’s just money.”

“Relax?” Malfoy repeats, looking panicked now, “How can I relax? I can hear people screaming.”

Harry laughs. Familiar with the noise, he can assume it is coming from people on the various rides set up over the school’s vast oval. “It’s just people enjoying themselves.”

This doesn’t seem to comfort Malfoy at all, in fact he looks even more concerned. “I feel like it would be wise to point out to you now, Potter, that I, like most normal people, do not scream out of enjoyment. If you hear me screaming, please assume I am in pain or serious danger and respond accordingly.” He says seriously.

“Never fear, I will always rush to your side to rescue you.” Harry responds with exaggerated sincerity, not willing to miss an opportunity to tease Malfoy. It has the desired effect.

Malfoy is rattled. He folds his arms across his chest. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t need your rescuing.”

Harry shrugs, perfectly innocently, not daring to comment on that. Sure, he could bring up a few choice times when Malfoy certainly did need his rescuing, but that might be pushing his luck.

Unfortunately Malfoy is not fooled by the shrug. “You do keep lists.”

“I don’t. Although, maybe, I was thinking of a few times I may have saved – “

“A few?” repeats Malfoy, his voice rising.

“But I haven’t thought about that in a long time.” Harry says truthfully as he halts at the bottom of The Giant Slide he has successfully guided Malfoy to. “Look, I promise I will never use those times against you, except to tease you relentlessly. I saved you because I wanted to, not because I wanted something out of it.” He’s not sure if Malfoy believes him or not but for now it doesn’t matter, because his number one priority is getting Malfoy onto The Giant Slide which he figures will be another argument. “Now will you please grab a sack and follow me?”

Malfoy finally notices the stack of hessian sacks at the foot of a long set of stairs. He picks up a sack with two fingers and holds it up away from his body, looking it over carefully. He drops it and looks at Harry. “I am not getting in a sack.”

Harry is thankful Malfoy has decided to challenge just the sack and not the ride altogether. He suspects the sack issue will be a losing argument for him, so he has an idea, an evil idea.

“That’s alright, just go down without one.” Harry says with a shrug, careful not to look too happy about it.

Malfoy frowns, unconvinced. “Is that allowed?”

“Yea, of course, the sacks are really for the children anyway.” Harry says casually, even as he picks up a sack for himself. Luckily, it seems to be enough for Malfoy who begins to follow Harry up the stairs, although he doesn’t look particular happy about it.

Harry half-expects Malfoy to back-out when they get to the top of the slide but once they finally reach it, Malfoy looks excited, which makes what Harry knows is going to happen next so much funnier. The slide has ten lanes so they easily set up next to each other. Harry sits down inside his sack, making sure the lower half of his body is fully enveloped. After a hesitation, which Harry is sure is due to concern for dirtying his robes, Malfoy takes his place beside Harry, sackless. Harry’s mouth is twitching as he tries to stop himself from grinning.

They take off at the same time, Malfoy beside Harry early on but falling behind quickly. Harry slides down easily, his ride smooth, even over the three bumps in the track. When he reaches the bottom, Malfoy is not with him. Harry stands up, moves out of the way and looks back up at the slide.

Just like Harry knew he would be, Malfoy is stuck at the first bump, unmoving. He is looking around at everyone sliding down around him, confused. Harry can see the exact moment he realises everyone else, including adults, are using sacks too because his eyes get wide and his face goes pink.

Without a sack, the friction of Malfoy’s clothes prevents him from gliding smoothly along the track. Harry watches as Malfoy awkwardly shuffles and shimmies himself over the first bump. He looks so foolish. When Malfoy gets to the second bump and the same thing happens, tears begin to form in Harry’s eyes. He can’t help it. Malfoy’s irritated, embarrassed, haughty face is hilarious, and the way he has to wiggle himself down is so undignified and so un-Malfoy-like. At the third bump, Harry is on his knees, openly crying with laughter. He wishes he brought a camera because he wants to relive this moment for the rest of his life. But even without photographic support, Harry doesn’t think he will ever forget what will now and forever be known as The WiggleTM.

Malfoy finally reaches the bottom of the slide, his face redder than Harry’s ever seen it, but he’s not sure how much is from embarrassment and how much is from anger. Malfoy rises to his feet gracefully which makes Harry laugh even harder because it’s so typical of Malfoy, and so unlike the way he was squirming only seconds earlier.

Malfoy strides past Harry where he still sits on the ground with one hand raised. “Don’t even talk to me.”

Harry quickly gets up and follows Malfoy who seems to be trying to gain as much distance between himself and The Giant Slide as possible. “You’re the one who didn’t want a sack.” Harry calls after him, still not completely finished laughing.

Malfoy whips around, wand drawn and steps in close to Harry, his wand jabbing Harry’s neck. “You knew that would happen.” Malfoy accuses angrily.

“No idea.” Harry says with another innocent shrug, all the while smiling brightly. He isn’t concerned by Malfoy’s wand.

Malfoy closes his eyes and it’s funny because that paired with how close he is standing to Harry makes it look like he is preparing to kiss him. Harry shakes the thought from his mind when it doesn’t immediately repulse him. “I could curse that smile right off your face.” Malfoy says instead of kissing Harry, his eyes reopening.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “But you won’t.” He challenges.

“You think I wouldn’t do it in front of all these muggles?” Malfoy asks with a scowl, which may have been threatening if the grip on his wand hadn’t already loosened, it now only tickling Harry’s neck.

“No,” Harry says, “I just don’t think you’d hurt me.”

Malfoy’s face twitches and scrunches as he decides his approach. He settles on: “Remember when I broke your nose?”

Of course Harry remembers all too well when Malfoy stepped on his face and left him on the Hogwarts Express at the start of sixth year. It goddamn hurt. But that was then. That was a different Draco Malfoy. Like the current Draco “You can’t make me forgive myself” Malfoy is going to hurt him over a joke. “Yes.”

Malfoy stares at Potter frowning for another beat before dropping his wand and stepping back. “Damn you.” He says to the grass.

Harry feels a little guilty after Malfoy’s reaction, but not nearly enough to regret making Malfoy wiggle down that slide. For as long as Harry James Potter shall live, he will never forget The WiggleTM. “I’m sorry for tricking you, but you have to admit that was hilarious.” He says, not really committing to a full apology.

Malfoy shrugs, his eyes still facing the ground. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” He says and there’s almost a compliment buried in that insult.

“You’re the one who never turned up to our duel in first year.” Harry counters.

Malfoy’s head jerks up and he is clearly ready to dispute the facts on first year, but his eyes dart to something behind Harry and his eyes widen. “No way.”

“What?” Harry turns around to work out what Malfoy is staring at and laughs. Harry is prepared this time to stretch out a conversation about clowns and balls for as long as humanly possible.

Malfoy is slowly approaching the clown game with a look of fascination on his face so intense, Harry finds it hard to believe the same person was scowling and threatening to curse him only moments earlier. “This is even more ridiculous than how you described it. The way they move. Is this another joke? Did you set this up? Muggles don’t really play this, do they?” Malfoy turns to Harry in disbelief, searching for answers.

Harry would love to say he did set it up, that no one actually seriously came up with a game that involved clowns with wide open mouths moving from side to goddamn side, but he can’t because some strange troubled person did do that, and it is a real game.

Harry sees the attendant is just setting up for another game and heads forward, pulling out his wallet. He turns back to Malfoy. “So are you going to play, or are you going to stand there and laugh at me?”

The shock at seeing the clowns seems to have worn down Malfoy’s tension and he even looks like he could smile. “You think I can’t do both?”

Once Harry has paid for the two of them, they each take position in front of equally scary looking clowns. Their five challengers are three teenagers and a young girl with her mum. Harry tries to quickly explain the rules to Malfoy to give him a fair chance, but he waves him off, and appears to study the location of the varying points in his own clown’s lap.

The game begins and the balls fall out. Harry’s hands are around two instantly, using his lightning fast reflexes to his advantage. He drops the first ball into his clown’s mouth quickly and mentally times how long it takes to enter the next field of play. Once satisfied with this, he is able to time each drop perfectly for the most points. With his fast start, and flawless method, he’s pretty sure no one has a chance of beating him.

“Potter, slow down.” Whispers Malfoy beside him.

“Why? I’m winning.”

“Let one of the kids win.” Malfoy urges.

“Oh, right.” Harry is embarrassed to have not even thought of that. He was so caught up in winning he hadn’t even spared a thought for the fact they are adults versing children. He immediately slows his speed and times his balls so they fall into the smallest point bracket. The game becomes boring. He glances over to Malfoy to see how he’s going and frowns. Malfoy is not slow at all, and what’s more, his balls are all scoring the highest points. It takes a moment for the realisation to hit him.

“Malfoy, you cheat!” He yells, beginning to speed up his pace again, but knowing it is hopeless. He’s already wasted too much time. Malfoy only shrugs and keeps feeding his balls into the clown’s mouth. Harry should have known not to trust a Slytherin to play fairly.

When the game ends, and Malfoy’s station lights up confirming him as the winner, Harry coughs “Dirty Cheat,” a little unsubtly. Malfoy rolls his eyes, unfazed.

Harry isn’t surprised when Malfoy picks the large stuffed unicorn as his prize. It’s the only magical animal on display. He is surprised, however, when Malfoy immediately turns and approaches the young girl and her mum, the former looking very put out at losing the game. He presents the unicorn to the young girl.

“Would you mind awfully looking after this Unicorn for me? I don’t have the time myself but I can tell you’d take great care of him. His name’s Harry.”

The young girl looks delighted and eagerly grabs the Unicorn. Harry stands there stunned. Is this some sort of act? What could Malfoy possibly have to gain from this?

Malfoy returns to Harry and mutters irritably. “She was never going to win, she wasn’t even looking where the balls would roll to get the most points. She was just wasting them. It was pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Harry repeats, smiling, not believing any of Malfoy’s irritation.

“Yes.” Says Malfoy, daring Harry to challenge him. He almost does too, but he realises arguing about it won’t change the facts: Malfoy doesn’t want to admit to a good deed, doesn’t want to validate the notion he has any good within him, so he covers it up with a snide comment and harsh tone. Harry wonders how long he has been doing just that, to justify any actions that fell outside his parents’ expectations of him. Harry is reminded of the hot tea Malfoy made for him earlier.

“What’s that?” Malfoy asks, bringing Harry back to the present.

Harry follows Malfoy’s pointed finger and watches as a giggling couple exit from a small booth. “A photo booth.” He answers.

Malfoy stares at him, clearly waiting for more information. “And..?” He prompts.

“It’s just a booth where you take photos. It’s not that exciting.” Harry explains. He wonders if he could somehow convince Malfoy to get on one of the more thrilling rides in the Fair. He suspects someone like Malfoy isn’t going to enjoy spinning upside down but Harry would certainly enjoy watching.

Malfoy narrows his eyes and it’s clear he has taken Harry’s dismissal of the photo booth as a challenge, although Harry has no idea what he’s trying to prove with it. “If you’re going to show me the muggle world, I expect to see all the dark and dirty as well. Don’t just show me a fairy tale.”

Harry laughs because it’s hard to think of a photo booth as dark and dirty and…oh wait, no, he can think about it like that now. Thanks Malfoy. “The clowns were kind of dark.” Harry reasons, and dirty if he really thinks about it, but that’s not a conversation he ever wants to have.

From the way Malfoy smirks, he is likely thinking the same thing. Thankfully he does not address it. “I’m not going to argue with that.” He says which can’t be construed as dark or dirty. Although it is strange since Harry never thought he’d see Malfoy pass up an opportunity to argue with him.

“And a photo booth isn’t really dark and dirty. It’s just a photo booth.” Harry says, ignoring his thoughts from earlier that have the power to contradict what he has just said.

Malfoy raises his eyes brows and makes an elegant sweeping gesture with his hands. Harry is reminded of The WiggleTM and has to stifle a giggle. “Then show me just a photo booth.” Malfoy says.

Harry shrugs. Photo booths are really only for children and couples or for getting your passport photo taken, but Malfoy doesn’t seem to know this. Harry worries if he mentions it, it might make Malfoy concerned they are on a date again.

They shuffle into the booth which is painfully small for two people. Harry’s whole left side is pressed up against Malfoy’s uncomfortably. He wants to jump out and run, run away from Malfoy. He can’t really understand why since it was his idea to take Malfoy out in the first place, but he suddenly feels overwhelmed. His head feels a little fuzzy and his left arm is tingling and he has no idea what in Merlin’s name is going on. He takes a breath and focuses on feeding muggle money into the machine.

“How does it work?” Malfoy asks curiously, he is so close Harry can feel the breath on his face. It’s too much.

“Once I press this,” Harry gestures to the large button between them, “There’s a timer and then it will take a few photos one after another.”

Looking over the choices for photo frames, Harry notices there are a lot of lovey-dovey frames. He hovers over one that is listed as “Limited Edition” and reads the cursive text in the corner: Happy Valentine’s Day 1999. He freezes, he had no idea that was today. He hopes Malfoy doesn’t see it because then he’d really be suspicious of this being a date, and it’s not. It’s definitely not a date.

Malfoy leans forwards and slams down the button, consequently locking in the Valentine’s Day frame Harry has been hovering over. Merlin. Harry starts to panic. What happens when Malfoy sees the frame? Will he freak out?

“So what do we do now?” Malfoy asks, looking at Harry expectantly.

“Smile at the camera.” Harry says casually trying to stay calm. He didn’t even pick the frame willingly. It was Malfoy’s fault. But when the photos print out there are going to be big stupid red hearts all around their faces. It’s not going to matter whose fault it is. It’s going to be weird.

Malfoy appears oblivious to Harry’s panic. “There better be a flash. The lighting in here is terrible. Do muggle cameras have flashes?” He says in his usual critical fashion.

Harry turns to Malfoy to counter this and explain muggle cameras are actually far more advanced than those of wizards, but the words disappear when he sees the large smile on Malfoy’s face as he looks ahead into the camera. It is clearly a fake smile, perfect for cheesy photo booth photos, but there’s something charming about it that catches Harry off guard. Even knowing it is fake, he has a strange desire for Malfoy to look at him with that smile. He is still staring at Malfoy when he hears the first click. Harry quickly turns his head to face the camera as well but he knows he is too late. He is no longer concerned about the Valentine’s Day frame and much more concerned about how the first image will turn out.

Harry doesn’t even notice when the flashes stop. Malfoy nudges him back to life and he exits the booth lightning fast. He stands in front of the dispensary box, waiting for photos to print, knowing he has to grab them first to stop Malfoy from seeing that first photo. If Malfoy sees Harry staring at him like that, it is all over. Malfoy will leave, although why that prospect is so terrible, isn’t something even Harry fully understands yet.

After a painfully slow minute, a small strip of photos falls from the dispensary box. Harry is quick to pick them up before Malfoy can even react. He rips off the top most photo and stuffs it in his jeans pocket before giving the remainder to Malfoy without even glancing at them. Unfortunately his actions don’t go unnoticed.

Malfoy is frowning, clearly suspicious. “What was that? Why did you get rid of one?

Harry shrugs but he is sure it is a meaningless gesture when he feels the heat at his cheeks. “It was a bad angle for me.” He says, unconvincingly.

“A bad angle?” Malfoy repeats sceptically as he takes a look at the photos within his hands. “Hey, why aren’t these moving?” He asks, and Harry is thanking all the magical gods in the sky for the distraction.

“Muggle photos don’t move.” Harry explains, hoping the previous conversation will not be revisited, that Malfoy will forget about the traitorous photo in his pocket.

Malfoy nods slowly, looking as if he is processing this new fact. He is still staring at the photo strip in his hand. “So we’re frozen like this forever?’

Harry looks down at the rest of the photo strip for the first time. He can’t really make out the images in Malfoy’s hand from a distance but he can see a lot of red. Merlin. He’d forgotten about the frame. He is surprised Malfoy hasn’t mentioned it yet. “They’re just photos.” He says, and it’s just a silly frame, it doesn’t mean anything.

“Brilliant.” Malfoy whispers.

Harry is taken aback. Even with the images staying still and the sappy Valentine’s Day frame, Malfoy thinks they’re brilliant? “Excuse Me? Did you just compliment something muggle?”

“No, Potter, don’t be absurd, you must be hearing things.” Says Malfoy roughly, but Harry isn’t fooled. It was only a whisper but he heard it loud and clear. Brilliant. “Are we done with this now? I believe I’ve been adequately acquainted with the muggle lifestyle. Will you hold up your end and open up the Manor room?”

Harry knows he can’t be unreasonable and force Malfoy to stay with him for too long but he is isn’t quite ready to let go just yet. He had expected to enjoy himself on this outing, but he is a little worried by just how he is enjoying it. There should be much more laughing at Malfoy and much less staring at his charming smile in a small enclosed space. Despite his worry, he isn’t giving up so easy. “Okay, but first, aren’t you hungry?” He asks, thinking this is a perfectly innocent reason to spend just that extra moment of time longer today.

“Not particularly.” Malfoy responds, ruining it.

Harry’s mind is already set so he ignores Malfoy. “Well, I’m starving.” He says, despite only feeling slightly peckish.

Malfoy rolls his eyes, but let’s Harry lead him to a food stand. He lets Harry purchase two lots of candy floss. He lets Harry lead him to a cluster of differently shaped tables, clearly pulled from various classrooms of the school. When they sit down across from each other, Harry starts to hands over one of the candy floss sticks but Malfoy rebukes him.

“I am not touching that.” He declares, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“Then why’d you let me buy two?” Harry asks.

Malfoy mimics Harry’s perfectly innocent shrug from earlier with a smirk on his face. Harry looks at the two giant sticks of candy floss in his hands. Well, he’s not keen on wastage so he’s certainly going to try it. He rips some fluff from one with his teeth carefully, trying not to look at Malfoy’s reaction. He’s sure he looks ridiculous.

There is silence as Harry makes solid progress through a third of the candy floss in his left hand. He starts to feel a bit sick already. It really is very sweet.

Malfoy is staring at him with a bored expression, his head supported by his hand as he leans on the table. “This seems a lot like a date.” So he did notice the Valentine’s Day frames then.

“It’s not.” Harry says defensively between fluff.

Malfoy’s eyes watch as a patch of the candy floss falls to the floor. “Well, there won’t be another one.” He says.

“Unless you need my help again.” Harry counters, before realising the implication of his words. He hopes Malfoy does not pick up on it.

Thankfully he doesn’t or at least he doesn’t comment on it. “I’m still waiting to see how useful you actually are.” Malfoy says instead, the hint of a challenge in his voice.

Harry is happy to accept. “You doubt my abilities.”

“I heard a rumour you couldn’t speak parseltongue anymore.” Malfoy accuses and maybe it is in Harry’s imagination but there is a playful element to his tone.

“And yet you still came to me.” Harry is pleased to note.

Malfoy’s face twitches, clearly not as pleased with that observation. “There’s no one else.”

“There must be some pureblood relative who inherited – “

“None of our relatives want anything to do with me.” Malfoy says in that bored voice again, which makes it impossible for Harry to know if Malfoy sees it as a good or a bad thing.

“Right.” Harry says. He is now halfway through his the first lot of candy floss. He’s not sure if he can even finish one. It’s too sweet. Much too sweet. Would it be obvious if he were to accidentally drop one of them…or both of them?

“If you tell me after all this you can’t speak parseltongue…” Malfoy starts to warn, but trails off. He obviously realises threatening to curse Harry won’t hold much weight any more.

“Relax. I can speak it, I’m just a little rusty.” Harry says. He is letting his grip on the candy floss sticks loosen slowly. He wants it to look natural when they drop.

“How rusty?” Malfoy asks, his bored voice replaced with alarm.

“I can open a door.” Harry assures. If he could open the Chamber of Secrets as a twelve year old, he can open a boring old house door as an adult.

Malfoy doesn’t look convinced which is rather insulting in itself. “It’s not just any door. He set it up when he was living at the Manor.” Malfoy looks down at the table, looking very small all of a sudden.

Harry doesn’t need an explanation to know who Malfoy is referring to. “Right.”

“I should have taken you there first, now if you can’t open it, I’ll have wasted an entire day with you.” Malfoy says to the table.

“If I had opened it first, you wouldn’t have done this, but you know I’ll follow through on my word.” Harry is waiting for Malfoy to look up so he can accidentally drop the candy floss. Otherwise Malfoy will assume he dropped them on purpose. He already has the perfect distraught face planned for when they fall.

“I’ll know you’ll try. I don’t know if it will work.”

“I can do it.” Harry assures.

“You better be as good as you think you are.”

Malfoy looks up at him and Harry suspects this might be his only chance to dispose of the sickly sweet floss. Before he has to enact his dramatic plan, he feels a heavy raindrop on his shoulder and then several drops all over his body. The rain picks up fast and Harry knows he will be drenched in seconds…which means so will this stupid candy floss and he will be able to dispose of it no questions asked. But when he looks at the candy floss in his hands, it is still completely dry. He looks up and finds that across from him, Malfoy is completely dry as well.

“So your reflexes were fast enough to cast a non-verbal impervious charm over both yourself and my candy floss but not me personally?”

“Something like that.” Malfoy is smirking. “Here.” He lifts his wand and vanishes all of the candy floss. Harry briefly worries about the magic being performed in front of muggles but then realises the rain is probably too heavy for anyone to see clearly. His glasses have already become more of a hindrance to his sight than anything else, so he doesn’t’ even realise that Malfoy has moved to his side until a hand grabs gold of his upper arm. Harry closes his eyes as the world begins to spin.

When the apparation ends and Harry is standing on flat ground, he opens his eyes, but he still can’t see anything. He shivers and then feels a warm pressure envelope him and spit him out. He blinks. His glasses are no longer covered in water and he is no longer wet. Malfoy must have charmed him dry. He is just thinking how considerate that is when Malfoy’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“I don’t want you dripping on the carpet.”

So maybe not so considerate.

It is then that Harry realises where he is, Malfoy Manor, and they are already inside. At first it surprises Harry but then he realises that of course such a grand Wizarding house would have an apparation parlour. Looking around, he doesn’t recall ever seeing this room. It’s strange because this house has featured in several of his nightmares so much so that he thought he knew it back to front. The unfamiliarity around him makes him realise the house from his dreams is not really Malfoy Manor at all.

“It’s up here.” Calls out Malfoy’s voice. Harry hadn’t even noticed that Malfoy had left the room. He follows Malfoy’s voice up a grand staircase and along an unnaturally long corridor.

When he reaches Malfoy, they stand in front of an ordinary looking door, or at least it seems that way at first, but when Harry looks closer, he can see the small snakes running around every edge, unmoving, but not quite still at the same time.

“What room is this?” Harry asks, wondering what would need to be so heavily guarded.

“It’s the bedroom Voldemort took over when he moved in.” Harry can tell it takes a lot for Malfoy to say the name. Malfoy spits it out with disgust, but not like the way he says Harry’s name, not at all, but like he can’t bear to say it, like it is caught in his throat and he has no choice but to cough it out or face choking on it.

Harry feels a shiver run up his spine. He really hopes that Voldemort hasn’t left anything behind in this room. He kneels down and leans in close to the door, his eyes trained on a single snake near the handle. He takes a breath and focuses on speaking directly to the snake. When he asks the snake to open the door, a weak hiss escapes his mouth and he already knows it is not enough.

He can see Malfoy’s body tighten in his peripheral vision. “I forgot how creepy that is.” Malfoy says in a quiet voice. Harry thinks about all the times Malfoy must have heard Voldemort speak parseltongue, and he feels repulsed with himself. He hates sharing things with Voldemort. Even with the horcrux gone from his body, Harry can’t help but feel like a bit of Voldemort lives on in him.

Harry shakes the distraction from his head and tries to refocus. He stares at the snake and pictures it as a living, breathing animal. He asks it to open for him with a harsh breathy hiss. He tries not to notice Malfoy’s clenched fists at his eye level and closes his eyes in shame.

“You did it.”

The door opens, and Harry’s first thought is one of relief that he doesn’t have to use parseltongue in front of Malfoy ever again. His next is fear, and after that curiosity. He gets to his feet and moves to walk in. A hand stops him.

“I’ll walk you out.” Malfoy says more as a demand than a suggestion.

Harry shakes himself from Malfoy’s grip and walks in anyway. It may be Malfoy’s house, but he is the one who opened the door, and there is no way he isn’t going to see what is left inside.

The room is not what he expects. It looks like an average bedroom, not one belonging to the darkest wizard of all time. There are even Quidditch posters on the walls and a racing broom hung up over a desk scattered with piles of books and parchment. The only thing that makes sense is the heavy decaying scent like Voldemort was here only moments ago.

Malfoy has followed him in and is now trying to drag him out, tugging on Harry’s arm. “Potter, it is rude to overstay your welcome. I held up my end of deal and you’ve done your bit so now if you could please – “

“This is your room.” Harry realises. Malfoy stops tugging.

There is a silence that follows this. Harry doesn’t need confirmation. He already knows he is right. It horrifies Harry to think a teenager’s bedroom could become host to Voldemort. That somewhere so personal could become tainted by a horrifying evil. There is a bright flash of lightning outside that seeps through the window and lightens up the room, but just for a moment.

“It was once. Not anymore.” Malfoy finally says. He is looking around the room like he’s never seen it before.

“Why did – “

“Because he could. He had his pick of any of our guestrooms but still he made my parents kick me out of my room for him. He’d already taken everything else, why not?” Malfoy’s voice is bitter and sad.

“I’m sorry.”

Malfoy sighs. “Please don’t pity me.”

“Sorry.” Harry says automatically which earns him a death stare from Malfoy. Whoops. “Not sorry?”

The loud thunder finally hits, roaring through the room. At the same time Malfoy flinches, Harry pulls his wand from his jean pocket, not noticing the small piece of ripped paper that follows and floats to the floor. Realising it is only thunder, Harry sheepishly returns his wand to his pocket. “Look at us, jumping at thunder, like we’ve been through a war or something.” He jokes.

Malfoy stares at him. “That is not funny, Potter.”

“No, it’s not.” Harry agrees.

It is then that Harry notices the paper on the ground at his feet at the same time Malfoy does. They lock eyes, frozen for a second, and then Harry lunges for it as Malfoy calmly says “Accio.”

Harry watches in horror as the small piece of paper flies into Malfoy’s hand, and he watches in horror as Malfoy looks down at the photo, the stupid photo surrounded by stupid red hearts, the one where he is staring at Malfoy. He realises if he had never hidden the photo, then he might have been able to pass it off as a meaningless glance, but now it is anything but meaningless.

Malfoy’s eyebrows are tightly wrapped around his eyes as he stares at the photo. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?” He asks slowly without looking up.

Harry’s face is already heating up. There’s no way he can bullshit his way through this, but he is sure as hell going to try. “I told you, it’s a bad angle.”

“Why were you looking at me?”

“I wasn’t.” Merlin. That is the worst lie he could have said. The evidence is right there in Malfoy’s hands. His face is bright red now, even more evidence. He hopes Malfoy doesn’t look up.

Malfoy looks up. “Potter.” He says impatiently but gently, so gently. Couldn’t he always say his name like that? It almost makes Harry want to come clean. Almost.

Harry squirms. Malfoy is staring at him and he knows he is caught in a terrible lie. He fiddles with his glasses nervously. “It was nothing. I just got distracted for a while.”

“Distracted.” Malfoy repeats with a smirk. He knows, he knows, he knows. His eyes fall back down to the photo. “Can I keep this one?”

Harry is shocked. He wasn’t expecting that. Is Malfoy making fun of him? “Why do you want to keep it?” He asks, suspiciously.

Malfoy looks back up to Harry, his smirk wider than Harry’s ever seen it. “It’s a good angle for me.”

Harry can tell Malfoy is teasing him, but he isn’t sure exactly what it means. He laughs nervously but he can’t bring himself to smile.

Malfoy’s smirk suddenly drops and he sighs. “Potter, did you even look at the other photos?” He asks, sounding annoyed.

Harry is confused. Did he look like that in all the photos? Had Malfoy already seen? He watches nervously as Malfoy pulls the rest of the photo strip from his pocket and places it in his hand.

Harry looks down at the first photo under the tear. He is relieved to find himself staring directly at the camera with a determined expression. It takes him a moment to notice that the Malfoy in the image isn’t staring at the camera at all. No, he is staring at the Harry in the photo with a frown. He looks at the next image. Malfoy is still staring at him, but the frown is replaced by an unreadable expression. His heart beginning to beat faster, Harry looks at the final image. Malfoy is staring at Harry in this one too, and he’s smiling. Draco Malfoy is smiling at Harry Potter. It’s a small genuine looking smile that Harry has never seen on Malfoy’s face before, it almost seems like he’s witnessing something very private. It’s absolutely beautiful.

Managing to tear his eyes away from the image, Harry looks up to the real Malfoy who is watching him too, but he isn’t smiling. He looks panicked and uncertain, vulnerable even, a huge contrast to the smirking man who stood before him only seconds earlier. Harry isn’t sure what he is supposed to do next. Falling for your ex-arch nemesis, and finding out they might also be falling for you too isn’t really covered in DADA class. Harry can’t think of anything original with this many thoughts flying about in his head so he repeat’s Malfoy’s earlier words.

“Why were you looking at me?”

“I got distracted.” Says Malfoy repeating Harry’s words back at him.

Harry still isn’t sure what to do next, so he keeps it safe, borrowing words from Malfoy once again. “Can I keep these?”

Malfoy continues to play along. “Why do you want to keep them?”

This is it. He can keep playing the game, repeating earlier meaningless words, or he can take a leap. “Because you’re beautiful when you smile like that.” He says all in a rush.

Malfoy’s smirk returns. “And you’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact I’m smiling at you? I’m sure your enormous ego gets a kick out of that.”

Harry freezes. Is Malfoy insulting him? He’s just told the bastard he thinks he’s beautiful, which is no mean feat, and Malfoy is still there, insulting him. He doesn’t know what to think. Had he misjudged the situation? He was sure after seeing those photos that Malfoy felt something for him to, but was he just seeing what he wanted to see? The silence stretches on between them, the sound of heavy rain filling the space.

Finally Malfoy speaks again. “Merlin Potter, I thought you were brave. What more do I need to do? I've been flirting with you all day.”

The world spins for a moment. Flirting? So Malfoy does feel something? He thinks back over the day they’ve spent together but cannot recall anything particularly flirty. “That was you flirting? You were acting exactly the same as in school?”

Malfoy laughs and Harry feels like he has missed the joke. “Yeah, that's kind of the point.” Malfoy says with another you’re an idiot face.

“Oh.” Malfoy thinks he was flirting with him at Hogwarts? Harry wonders if Malfoy even knows the definition of the word. “You know, most people respond to compliments better than insults.”

“Not you.”

Harry blinks. What does Malfoy mean by that? “Have you even tried complimenting me?”

Malfoy’s face scrunches up in distaste. “What is there to compliment?”

Harry stares at Malfoy in disbelief. How can he stand there and claim he has been flirting with Harry, like he fancies him or something, and then come out with that? He isn’t even sure of Malfoy’s feelings anymore. “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” Harry says, because his brain is too fried to find anything original to say.

Malfoy shakes his head at that and Harry realises the muggle saying is probably wasted on a pureblood wizard. “I don’t want to catch flies. I want you.”

This throws Harry again. So Malfoy does fancy him? Harry isn’t sure how much longer his head can keep up with this. Hearing Malfoy say he wants him is incredible, but dangerous. With the amount of flip-flopping Malfoy is doing, the words could be taken back in an instant. Still, he wants to believe it. “I guess that’s sort of a compliment.” Harry reasons, desperately trying to hold onto it.

“What do you want me to say? That I think you’re wonderful?” Malfoy asks.

“That would be a – “

“Because that’s not true. I think you’re an idiot. You’re reckless, naïve and childish. You’re noble to the point of stupidity. You’re quick to anger and can’t seem to control your impulses. You have innate powerful magic but you waste it by relying on talent alone. On top of that, you don’t seem to be able to clean up after yourself because you live in squalor, and you own the ugliest vase I have ever seen.” Malfoy’s voice is cold and harsh.

Harry can’t believe it. He can’t believe he thought that Draco Malfoy had changed, can’t believe he was starting to fall for someone so cruel and heartless. He can’t even spare a thought for the way his own heart is breaking because all he wants is to make Malfoy hurt too, for him to have a taste of his own cruelty.

“At least I don’t act like a cold, cruel bastard to disguise any sign of my humanity.” Harry says hoping to hit Malfoy where it hurts most.

Malfoy only looks surprised. “Are you angry?” He asks.

Harry can’t understand Malfoy right now. Of course he’s angry. How could he not be? “You did say I was quick to anger so I guess you’re right. Congratulations Malfoy.”

“I know I’m right. Don’t you get it?” Malfoy yells at Harry who is starting to get the feeling he is missing something very important. “I think all this, I tell myself I hate you with every fibre of my being, that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are enemies, but I don’t feel it. I can’t feel any hate towards you…” Malfoy pauses and he takes a breath. His voice is softer when he continues, “…not when I am head over heels in love with you.”

Harry tries to process Malfoy’s words fully but they just keep repeating in his head, not allowing him to absorb them. His anger is forgotten but his body still has use for the adrenaline coursing through him. Malfoy is in love with him. That’s not something words can easily take back. Still Malfoy hasn’t exactly been upfront with his approach.

“That’s a strange way of telling me that.” Harry says when he finally regains his voice.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Malfoy says in a small quiet voice. “There’s something wrong with me. I’ve known it since fourth year. You’re not supposed to fall in love with someone you’re told to want dead. You’re not supposed to fall in love with someone you know hates you. You’re not supposed to fall in love with someone because they’re everything you’re not, because they’re everything you wish you could be. You’re not supposed to hurt someone you love to try and convince yourself it’s not real. It’s twisted. Especially when that person only ever does good, when that person saves your life more than once, when that person, despite everything you’ve done to them, still thinks you’re worth saving. It’s not right. I’m not right.” Malfoy’s voice breaks and he turns away from Harry, but not before Harry has seen the tears in his eyes.

“Are you - ?”

“No, it’s just dusty in here.” Malfoy says quickly his hands at his face.

“Draco – “ Harry starts, trying out Malfoy’s first name. It feels weird on his tongue.

Malfoy scoffs. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me and use my first name now. I’m not any more fragile than I was five minutes ago.” He says, cutting Harry off.

“Alright, prat then.” Harry concedes. He is blessed with a small laugh coming from Malfoy’s back. “Would you like to do this again? It’s the last day for the Fair but I’m sure there’s plenty to do in muggle London.”

There is a pause before Malfoy replies. “Still think I need more sympathy for muggles?” He asks, and Harry knows it isn’t the question he wants to ask.

Harry is happy to clarify, although still a little embarrassed. Even understanding Malfoy’s feelings now, he still can’t help but feel a little shy himself. “No, it’s just about me spending time with you.”

Malfoy turns around quickly. His eyes are all dried up, but there’s no hiding the tell-tale redness. “So it’s a date?” He asks, the Malfoy smirk returning.

Harry wants to punch the jerk in the face and pull him in for a kiss all at the same time. The intensity of his desire, for at least the kiss part, surprises him.

“If that doesn’t offend your sensibilities too much…” Harry replies staring at Malfoy’s lips.

“Shove it, Potter. I’d love to.” Malfoy’s lips say with the hint of a smile.

Harry has been staring for far too long. He quickly averts his gaze and begins to back out of the room. He needs to leave now or he’s going to do something stupid like kiss Malfoy. “Right. So same time next week? Should I come here or do you – “

“That’s it?” Interrupts Malfoy, his eyebrows raised.

“What?” Harry asks, still backing away.

Malfoy shakes his head at Harry like he is an idiot. “I’ve just confessed my feelings for you and you’re still the shy one? I saw you looking at my lips.”

“I wasn’t. I mean…you were talking so…” Harry tries to cover up but there’s no way he will be able to justify the intensity in which he was staring at Malfoy’s lips.

“If you want to kiss me, please kiss me, Potter. I don’t want to wait another week.”

Oh. Yes, Harry wants to, he really wants to. But he can’t help but hesitate. It’s not like he hasn’t kissed anyone before. But he hasn’t kissed someone he actually likes in a long time, not since Ginny. Kissing someone you don’t like is easy, it’s fun and safe. It doesn’t matter if you’re not any good. Kissing someone you like is completely different, like walking on hot coals. And he really likes Malfoy.

He stares back at Malfoy’s lips. Merlin, they’re gorgeous. “Are you sure you – “

“I’ve been fantasising about this my entire teenage life, will you please stop looking at me like that if you’re not going to kiss me?”

Harry stares at Draco Malfoy, his once sworn enemy, basically begging Harry to kiss him, and he feels hot all over. Before spending this ridiculous day with Malfoy, he couldn’t have imagined wanting someone so innocently. Yes, he definitely wants to explore below the belt, but he also wants to kiss Malfoy gently on every inch of his face, wants to hold him in his arms, wants to hear him moan so loud that it…okay maybe not so innocently then.

Harry walks over to Malfoy and places a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder to steady himself. Malfoy raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Harry takes one last look at those gorgeous pink lips before leaning in and finally giving Malfoy that kiss, the one that sends sparks through your body, the one that feels like fire and ice at the same time, the one that makes you think of every silly cliché you’ve ever read and makes you finally understand they’re not so silly after all. But it’s just a kiss. Just one kiss. And it won’t be the last.

The End.

Want to see more? Check the “dralentine’s day” tag or head over to dralentines-day.tumblr.com!

Happy Dralentine’s Day!

#drarry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #dralentine's gifts #dralentine's day gifts

47 notes · View notes