A Glimmer of Hope
Once both you and your soulmate come of age, you can see shimmering sparkles, like a heat map, on things they’ve recently touched. A casual inter-house quidditch match between the returning eighth years gets a bit competitive, and Harry discovers that there's a lot more waiting for him on the other side of the war than he expected.
For @harryjamespotterweek 2023, Day 5 (Quidditch, Soulmate AU)
Rated T, 1.6k words. Read on ao3 here
The air whipped against his face, the sun made him squint his eyes, and Harry felt truly alive for maybe the first time since he had died. The summer had been hard, and choosing to come back for a final year at Hogwarts had been even more difficult, but this, this felt good. In the air, on a broomstick, Harry felt like he was a million miles away from the rubble on the other side of the castle, he felt like he had left all the sorrow and death behind him, and he felt like maybe it had all been worth it after all.
Of course, Malfoy had chosen that moment to collide with him, ramming him with his shoulder and knocking Harry off course. It was only a scrimmage, a casual match for the newly-christened ‘eighth year’ students to enjoy as part of a new intramural league set up to ease the blow of being excluded from the official quidditch tournament, but of course Malfoy was taking it seriously. Harry thought, as he rubbed his now-bruised shoulder, that he should perhaps be angry at Malfoy for still being so competitive, so needlessly combative during a match like this, but more than anything he felt relieved.
Everyone had been walking on eggshells the last few days, with no one quite sure how to return to lessons and friendships after a war. Even Malfoy had been infuriatingly polite and withdrawn, speaking quietly to Harry and a few others, offering sincere apologies and not expecting forgiveness, and Harry had hated it. The War was over, the suffering should end at some point too, but it seemed like it never would, and Harry just wanted things to be normal, even if he was beginning to suspect he had never truly known what that was. So, to have Draco Malfoy antagonize him during a quidditch match, petty and sneering and taunting and normal, felt like the best thing in the world.
Harry straightened himself on his broom and took off down the pitch, back in the direction of Malfoy, determined now to beat him to the snitch. He was still a few broomlengths away when he spotted it, circling near the base of a Slytherin goal post. Harry put on a burst of speed, Malfoy shadowing him so closely their knees kept knocking, and they were almost there, hands reaching out and only a foot off the ground, when the snitch looped around and came closer to Harry. They both grabbed at it, Malfoy just catching the end of a wing before Harry had it in his fist and Draco was toppling off the end of his broom.
The Gryffindors in the stands went wild, and Harry could hear Ron’s shouts of triumph from the other end of the pitch. Beaming, Harry raised the snitch in his still closed fist, realizing distantly that this was the first time he’d held one since that last walk through the Forest. He looked up at it, trying not to think about what came after that walk, what happened at the end, when-
Harry noticed something odd. One of the snitch’s wings was glittering strangely, as though it was coated in a hazy heat wave. Gingerly, he touched the glimmering wing tip and found that, although it looked as if it were radiating heat, it only tingled a little to the touch, still feeling like metal cooled by the wind.
Harry hadn’t found his soulmate yet, and he hadn’t spent much time thinking about it either. He’d only been eighteen for a month and change, and since he’d never expected to make it that far he hadn’t given much thought to who his soulmate was. Ron and Hermione hadn’t said much to him about it either. He knew it was a private thing, something for a couple to discover for themselves and to only share when they were ready, and his friends had chosen to ignore their own bond until the end of the fighting. He could still remember waking up one morning in the Forest of Dean, dragging himself out to the campfire and pausing at the entrance of the tent, not wanting to intrude on the private moment he had just walked in on. It must have been Ron’s birthday, although they’d lost track of time again and hadn’t felt much like celebrating besides. But when Harry saw the two of them by the fire, he was sure that Ron must have turned eighteen, because he and Hermione were both looking at a mug in something close to awe, each taking turns touching it gently, as though it might shatter apart if they made a sound. Finally, Hermione had schooled her features, and said, “We shouldn’t… not until- after it’s all over.”
Ron had looked pained, gazing at Hermione with something that could only be described as love and longing, before nodding and quietly saying, “Alright. Whatever you want, ‘Mione,” then leaning in and kissing her gently on the forehead. Harry had ducked back into the tent at that point, and he had pretended not to notice the way Ron looked around at all the things Hermione had recently touched, seeing a shimmer visible only to him when he came in a minute later.
Of course, Hermione’s resolve to wait on their happily ever after hadn’t held out until the end of the war, and she had kissed Ron in the Chamber of Secrets only two months later. Harry privately thought that she had made the right choice – despite her somewhat awful timing, it was nice to see his two friends finally together, openly in love, and it didn’t make sense to wait on a future that might never come, when they could be together for however many moments they had left.
Unfortunately, when Harry reflected on his best friends’ happiness after the War he was still happy for them, but found that he also felt empty inside, as though their connection had scooped out something from inside of him, far larger and more crucial than the portion of Voldemort’s soul had been. He was lonely, he had realized, and it seemed like such a petty thing to complain about in the ruin and grief left in the aftermath of everything they had come through, but something in his brain had flickered with hope at the idea of finding his own soulmate. He hadn’t been eighteen yet though, and so he pushed his feelings down and went to more funerals, alone within the grieving crowds.
Harry hadn’t thought much about his soulmate over the summer, but suddenly a conversation with Ron came back to him.
“It’s the most incredible thing, Harry. Everything Hermione touches, I can see. There’s some sort of glimmer, or something, all hazy around where her fingers were, and it’s just for me, I’m the only one who can see it.” He had looked rapturous, and Harry had been so happy for him, and almost sick with emptiness at the same time.
Now, Harry thought he understood what Ron had meant. The tip of one wing of the snitch was unlike anything else he’d ever seen, and when he looked closely he thought he could make out the smudge of fingerprints from a grasping hand. It was incredible, Harry thought, looking at the little glimmers shifting in the sunlight; he had a soulmate.
It shouldn’t have been such a shock. Everyone had a soulmate, and for most wixen it was only a matter of time until they met theirs, yet it had always seemed like such an unreachable concept for Harry, something he had never expected to live long enough to enjoy, and then something tamped down by grief. But now, looking at the shimmer on the struggling snitch still clasped in his hand, Harry could feel his world shifting. The impossible was turning into the inevitable, and everything seemed to be falling into place all at once for him. He felt good, for the first time in ages, warmed by the sun and the rush of competition and finally feeling like things were back to normal because Draco Malfoy was still a competitive arsehole, even if he was remorseful for his part in all the tragedy.
Harry rubbed his aching shoulder again, trying to think fast. The other members of the eighth year team were circling the pitch, and would be coming down to land beside him in a moment. He knew who his soulmate was, and it made all the sense in the world, because of course it would be Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who had tormented him, who Harry had followed and watched, who had always been focused on getting Harry’s attention and who had risked quite a lot to save Harry at the Manor, only to be saved by Harry in return a few months later. Of course, it was Malfoy, they’d been in each other’s orbit since the very beginning, obsessive and intense and every other strong feeling except for love. So, of course, the universe would see to that too.
Harry took a deep breath and looked around. Ron was going to land in just a second, the rest of the team would be close behind. Draco was a few feet away, returning to his fellow Slytherins with only a faint air of frustration surrounding him, and none of the anger Harry had grown accustomed to watching lash out after other lost matches. Harry was standing in the sun, truly enjoying the peace they had won for the first time after the war, and he decided that he wanted to see how far it could go. Turning away from the swarming Gryffindors, he held out his hand and called out, watching Malfoy turn around to regard him with an open, curious expression.
“Hey Draco, I think there’s something you should see.”
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Rebel Rebel
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Summary: Soulmate AU in which Draco enjoys playing calm piano scores, while his soulmate is more into brackish rock.
“Rebel Rebel,” by David Bowie.
warnings: anxiety issues and adhd if u squint
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Draco frustratedly banged his fist on the old piano keys. He managed to get to the fifth measure before he was rudely interrupted by the clicking of drumsticks and the obnoxious ring of an electric guitar. He closed his eyes and sighed, deciding to give up on playing altogether. The wooden bench creaked as he stood up and kicked it backwards, sliding his music folder into his bag and leaving the Room with a huff.
The Room of Requirement had become somewhat of a haven for him, somewhere he could be left alone. It was, until recently, the quietest place in the castle. Unfortunately his soulmate didn’t seem to care about peace and quiet, or Draco’s sanity. He’d made it down a corridor and a half before the lyrics started.
You've got your mother in a whirl
She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl
Hey babe, your hair's alright
Hey babe, let's go out tonight
Draco rolled his eyes. Did it always have to be this song? Maybe if his soulmate bothered to play a different album every now and then, his hatred for the music wouldn’t be as passionate.
He looked out at the transfiguration courtyard as he passed. There was a couple leaning against the stone walls, laughing and touching and probably having a conversation about how great it was to know your soulmate. He rolled his eyes again, his gaze moving to a group of friends playing exploding snap. Then another group, who were watching one of their peers dance around and jokingly toss his hair.
He almost smiled, until he realized it was Potter. Then he rolled his eyes a third time. But he kept watching (as he always did). Harry kicked around, his two best friends laughing at his antics and shaking their heads. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he realized Potter’s air guitar had lined up almost perfectly with the music in his head. He averted his eyes and hurried through the hall. There was no way. Simply a coincidence, nothing more.
—————————
Harry laughed, a bit breathless as he sat back down next to Ron. He turned off the song “Rebel Rebel” and leaned against a tree that was shading them from the spring sun.
“Harry, you’ve really got to pick a new song. Imagine what your soulmate would think!” Hermione scolded, but she smirked at him.
“Enough about soulmates, Mione. Let the man breathe,” Ron defended, earning a grin from Harry.
“Yeah mione,” Harry mocked. “If they’re really my soulmate, they won’t mind the songs I like.”
Hermione hummed dismissively and went back to whatever classwork was in her lap. She had mentioned it casually, but her words got him thinking. What would his soulmate think? His head was usually filled with graceful piano and soft humming. It was nothing like his own mixtapes. Harry didn’t mind the sounds of his soulmate, though, he actually quite liked the pianist. The keys seemed to calm down his thoughts and memories, rather than drown them out like his favorite rock bands did. Harry had never even known how to be calm, really. It was something his soulmate had taught him. He pushed the thoughts aside and chose to worry about it later.
The trio stayed put until their free period was over and it was time for potions. Harry hated potions. It was full of Snape, and Slytherins. Specifically one slytherin.
Malfoy had always been a nuisance to Harry, but this year, it had gotten worse. He was just so distracting. His embarrassingly good grades. His impossibly clear skin. That sickeningly blonde hair that was always so perfectly kept, just like the rest of him. Not that he cared how well kept Malfoy was. He was just annoyed that he had nothing to hold against him. Just annoyed, nothing more.
—————————
Draco sighed as he sat down in the potions room. Thankfully, his soulmate quieted down for the rest of his free period. He listened to snapes monotone instruction and began to brew a calming drought, as the professor had asked.
Unfortunately, Draco had quite a bit of experience with calming droughts, given the way his anxiety had increased this year. He guessed it had always been around, but 5th year really showed him the length of it. Piano helped , most of the time. That was one of the reasons he had been playing so much lately.
He chopped and minced and simmered until the potion bubbled that familiar purple color. He stirred it, not focusing too much, and began humming to himself. It was the song he was trying to play earlier, it was stuck in his head. Draco had almost finished the piece by the time his drought was ready to be poured, and only then did he look up from his cauldron.
His eyes quickly found Potter, like they somehow always did. Harry seemed to be lost in thought as well, a trance-like look on his face as he chopped his rosemary stems to the tempo of…
you’ve got to be kidding.
Draco abruptly stopped his song. He watched Potter pause. He looked away before his suspicions could be confirmed.
He carried his drought over to Snape’s desk, handing him the vile with a shaky hand. The professor took it, examining it closely and pouring a bit of it over a leaf. Draco stared at the ground as Snape graded his potion and gave it back just as keenly.
“100 percent. And… perhaps you should consider taking some of it yourself,” Snape told him, apparently noticing his demeanor.
Draco simply looked at him and walked away. He didn’t need to drink this stupid calming potion just because stupid Potter was making him think about something stupid. There was no way they were soulmates. They hated each other. Sure, they’d gotten less hostile over the years, and sure, he’d saved him from miserable failure in potions a few times, but that was it. The accidental eye contact didn’t count. Neither did brushing shoulders on the way to class. It was mere…coexisting. There was nothing even friendly about it. There was no way- no way, that he and Potter could ever-
“Oh, shit, sorry!” Harry stuttered as he ran into Draco.
He had dropped his potion and shattered the vile, spilling the purple liquid all over himself and Draco. The Slytherin wanted to snap, to call him a dunce and yell in his face. But when he looked up from the broken glass and saw the grin on Harry’s face, he froze.
That smile. that big, stupid smile that made Draco’s chest feel all warm. He hoped it looked like he was just surprised by the sudden hit. He simply watched, bewildered, as Potter snatched a rag off of Lavender Brown’s table, haphazardly wiping the front of his shirt and his pant leg.
Thank merlin for translucent white button ups. Wait, what?
No. Draco shook his head and snapped out of his trance, grabbing his wand to cast a cleaning charm and mend where the glass had cut his leg on the way down. At this, Harry dropped the rag and laughed again, realizing he could’ve just used magic as well.
“Thanks. You’ve always been the smart one, haven’t you?” He says, shaking his head and looking up.
“Uhm…” Draco was still at a loss for words. Draco was never at a loss for words. He swallowed thickly, knowing his face must be beet red by now.
“You alright?” Harry asked. Why was he still grinning so brightly?
“…Yes,” Draco muttered, so unusually embarrassed. And with that, he spun on his heel and walked back to his desk, wishing he never healed the cut and just let himself die of blood loss.
—————————
Harry was confused. He had just spilled his entire potion on top of Draco Malfoy, and he didn’t get one insult? Not even an exaggerated whisper of his last name? He stayed put for a moment watching Malfoy walk back to his desk. Harry smiled a bit, amused by the way Draco cleared his throat and glanced at Harry again as he packed up. He threw his parchment back into his bag, along with some…sheet music.
There was sheet music in Dracos bag.
He glanced back to Ron, who hadn’t even seen what just happened. He looked for Hermione next, who glanced between him and Draco, shrugged, and went back to her brew. He gave one last puzzled look before going back to his table to re-pour the drought.
///
Later that week, it finally came time for Harry to ‘worry about it later.’ He laid in bed, staring up at the garnet curtains around him, running a hand through his hair. Hermione had mentioned soulmates again today, and it still had Harry’s head spinning.
He couldn’t think of one person at Hogwarts who only listened to classical music. If you could even call it that. It was always a piano solo, and it had Harry wondering where you could even find tapes of piano scores.
Unless it wasn’t a tape. Were there pianos at Hogwarts? The only place he could think of was the choir room. Or maybe…the Room of Requirement? He should check there. The next time he heard the melody in his head, he’d go to the Room and see if someone had opened it. If they had, then he’d just go inside and find his soulmate. It seemed simple enough, and he wondered-
“Harry!” Rons voice interrupted his run-on thoughts. His head shot up and he saw the redhead holding the curtain open with an exasperated expression. “Bloody hell, it’s like you’re not even on this planet sometimes. I called you four times!”
“Sorry…” he murmured. Ron had been offering him some sweets and asking about a History of Magic assignment, as if Harry would know the answer. He laid back down once his friend had left and sighed once again, turning on his side. Whatever, he thought, soulmates didn’t even matter.
He pressed play.
Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress
Rebel rebel, your face is a mess
Rebel rebel, how could they know?
Hot tramp, I love you so!
————————
“Fucking hell,” Draco muttered. It had now been two weeks since the potions incident, and his soulmate (who was not Harry Potter) was still listening to that song. He’d heard it about three and a half times today, and it’d just now stopped. He sat down at the piano and tried not to think about the way Harry played air guitar, or the way his stares across the great hall had become much less inconspicuous, or the way his shirt had stuck to his tan skin.
He shook the thoughts and began to play. It was a natural thing for him. His long, slender fingers made it easy to reach the keys, and he had a sense of rhythm and steadiness that didn’t show up in his personality. He figured that was why he loved playing the piano. It was a strange feeling for Draco, to love something like it. There were no expectations, like he got from his parents. There was no pressure, like he got from his friends. There was no exhaustion, like he got from quidditch. It was relaxing, and easy, and completely in his control.
He played a soft melody, his hands floating over the black and white keys. He started to softly hum along, his body swaying slightly to the tempo. A few times he had expected that song, that…stupid song to start playing again, but it didn’t. It was the first time in weeks his playing hadn’t been disturbed. It was nice, to finally have a moment to himself. He smiled softly as he played the last note.
—————————
Harry tossed and turned, pressing a hand to his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut. The only thing he wanted right now was a good nights sleep, but apparently that was too much to ask for. Why did he always have to think so much? And why were his thoughts so loud? And why were there so many of them?
He was about to give up and go down to the common room, when he heard a soft familiar melody. He stilled, wanting to hear the quiet song. He listened for a few moments, rolling onto his side and settling into his pillows. The piano continued, and this time it was accompanied by that warm, rich humming. He felt his eyes getting heavy already. He closed them, listening to the music and smiling softly as it lulled him to sleep.
Harry woke up the next morning and…
The next morning?
Harry had slept. Through the whole night. Without any nightmares. He blinked a few times and sat up, grabbing his glasses. He felt more awake than usual. And he hadn’t relived any traumas during the night. So…that was nice.
He left his hair messy and got dressed, feeling a newfound appreciation for his soulmate. The piano melodies had really grown on him. He had even found the name of the song. It was called “Moonlight Sonata,” and it was by Beethoven. Hermione was surprised by his taste when Harry asked if she recognized it.
The song was…comforting. Harry was not usually comfortable. It was nice to have something that could settle him down, almost like the music was hugging him. It helped him focus in class sometimes, too. He wanted to find his soulmate now more than ever.
He made his way down to breakfast, once again planning to catch the pianist. He didn’t even think he knew anyone who could play, besides Malfoy, who used to brag about the lessons his father got-
Harry paused. He almost laughed. There was no way, right? Malfoy could never be capable of sounding so…sweet. His calm composure certainly wouldn’t match a pianist. And he certainly wouldn’t have remembered where the room of requirement was. And the sheet music he had seen in his bag was certainly not a piano score. And…It made perfect sense.
Shit.
Draco Malfoy was Harry Potter’s soulmate.
———————
Draco watched as Harry entered the great hall, and was thoroughly surprised when their eyes met. He was even more surprised when Harry started walking towards the Slytherin table. He pushed his plate away and stared intently at the dark haired boy, who dared to sit next to him.
“Malfoy.” Harry said.
“Potter.”
“Do you, uhm…Is- is there…”
Draco raised a brow. He hoped this question wasn’t about his soulmate. He was not ready to answer that.
“Can I see your bag?” Harry asked.
“…What?”
“Just…can I see it?” He held out a hand.
Draco paused for a moment. For some reason, he didn’t want to refuse. Maybe he just wanted Harry to sit next to him for longer. He hesitantly gave him the school bag.
Once the bag was in his hand, Harry looked at Draco for moment. Then, he opened the top and thumbed through various papers and books, finally stopping on…his music. He paused for a second and pulled it out of the bag, opening the folder to see pages upon pages of piano music. Accompaniments, solos, even some popular muggle songs. Harry ran a finger along one of the lines.
Draco couldn’t help but feel some kind of fear. This was embarrassing. How did he even know the music was there? He half expected Harry to laugh, or rip the pages up, or…something. But he didn’t. He studied the whole folder, as if he was looking for something specific. Draco sincerely doubted Harry could read sheet music, given he could barely read English, so he asked:
“What are you doing?” He’d meant for it to sound venomous, but it’s came out as little more than a whisper. Harry didn’t answer right away.
“Do you- Uhm, Moonlight Sonata?” He stuttered.
“What?”
“Do you…have Moonlight Sonata?” Harry asked more clearly. Draco was still confused, but he slowly nodded.
Harry met his eyes again.
Because Harry knew.
And Draco knew, too.
So he took the folder back, put it in his bag, and walked away.
———————
Harry didn’t go after him. He watched as Malfoy took a deep breath and grabbed his things, quickly leaving the great hall. He had gotten one more look at those icy blue eyes before he left Harry at the Slytherin table. He felt…hurt. He didn’t know why he was hurt, he hadn’t been expecting a heartfelt confession, after all.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t want one.
Harry stared at his hands where the music had been. The music that he’d heard countless times, over and over until it was all he thought about. He finally knew who was playing it. It’d been Draco the whole time.
The whole time.
Every quidditch match, every stolen glance, every route he changed to see him on the way to class. Every time he caught himself staring at Malfoy’s side profile, or watching his silver clad fingers write essays. It’d been him. It had always been Draco, hadn’t it?
Even now, as he sat at the wooden table and heard the soft music once again.
Harry was determined. He forced himself out of his thoughts and abruptly stood up, ignoring the nasty looks some other Slytherins gave him. He marched out of the great hall and went back up to the Gryffindor common room. He avoided conversation with the fat lady, and once he was back in his dorm, he immediately found what he was looking for.
He picked up the cassette tape and shoved it into his bag, already on his way out. He left the common room as quickly as he’d entered, and now he was on the way to the Room of Requirement. Harry had spent hours thinking about how he would approach his soulmate, and this was never part of his plan. But he was sure of it now. He rushed down the seemingly endless corridors, until he finally reached the Room. He stared at the door that formed against the stone wall, and suddenly got very nervous, but not any less stubborn. He went inside.
Draco sat at the white grand piano, leaning over the keys. His eyes followed his fingers as they moved across the board, his foot tapping to the slow rhythm. He bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes every now and then, not noticing Harry.
He took advantage of the moment, finally observing his soulmate. He stopped near the entrance for a few beats, staying silent. Draco looked so…engrossed. It was strange to see expressions other than blank stares or arrogant smirks. It looked like he was feeling the music, as if the sounds were ringing from him- not the piano.
He took a few more steps, not wanting to startle the boy. When Harry was finally close enough for him to spot, Draco stopped abruptly and looked back at where the door would’ve been. His eyes flicked back to Harry and then to the piano, frantically.
Harry sat down next to him.
Draco’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t move away. He watched as Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cassette tape. He held it up, and Draco stared. He gave the gryffindor another once-over, waiting for him to say something, but he just moved the tape a little closer. Draco got the message and hesitantly reached up as well, taking it from him. He didn’t do anything for a few seconds. Harry nodded towards the tape and gestured for him to look closer.
Draco flipped the tape over and read the lettering across the white label in the middle.
‘REBEL REBEL - BOWIE’
The name was written messily in red ink, and there was a star drawn next to it that pulled the corner of his lip into a smile. He inspected the plastic box for a bit longer, realizing that this was Harry’s way of telling him. Showing him, rather. Showing Draco that he’d figured it out, too, and still came to see him. Draco had thought Harry would be angry, that he’d push him away and argue, but…he didn’t. He glanced back up to Harry.
The look they gave each other said so much, Draco didn’t think he needed to add anything. But he did.
“I hate this song.”
Harry laughed, which made Draco smile, which made Harry stop laughing and stare at him wondrously.
“I might start believing you’re my soulmate if you keep smiling like that,” he said.
Draco’s face got hot and he looked down at the tape, biting his lip. Harry paused for a moment.
“…You know…I didn’t like it all that much either, but my Aunt and Uncle hated it, so it became my favorite,” He continued.
Draco smiled again, but he didn’t look up from his lap as he spoke.
“Another act of defiance, then?” He said quietly. Harry softly chuckled and gave him another nod.
“Yeah…I guess so.” He tilted his head down a bit, trying to read the blonde’s expression. Draco noticed and glanced up at Harry, tapping the cassette against his leg. He swallowed, not sure what to say.
“I like your piano,” Harry tried again. “You play really nicely.”
Draco nodded in thanks and brushed one of his fingers against the keys. He didn’t say anything else.
“Draco.”
His head snapped up to Harry, who shook his head and gave him a questioning look. Draco knew what he was asking,
Of course. Why wasn’t he talking? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Why didn’t he care? He took a deep breath.
“I’m…sorry,” he whispered.
“Why?” Harry asked. His forehead crinkled up in that familiar determined expression. He wasn’t going to let up.
“I don’t…know what to say. I’m not used to this.”
“To what? Feelings?” Harry quipped.
“No- I- It’s…” he sighed. “You. I’m not used to you.”
“What’s the matter with me?” Harry asked, somewhat amused by Draco’s embarrassed response.
“You’re just- You just….make me nervous,” he murmured, still pushing some keys.
Harry smirked. He felt strangely proud that he’d managed to crack Draco Malfoy’s facade.
“Well, you’ll have to get over that,” he grinned, leaning closer to Draco. The Slytherin couldn’t help but smile as he looked the other way, avoiding his gaze.
“Hey, look at me,” Harry said, tilting his head a bit. Draco complied.
“You know…last night, when you played the piano?”
He nodded.
“I hadn’t gotten a full nights sleep in…a while.” Harry said, his tone a bit lighter now. “But…it was easy when you played to me.”
This got Draco’s attention, and he finally met the other boys eyes. His beautiful, big green eyes.
“And, I mean, you know me. I’m a clueless wreck in class. But I always focused better with the music,” he admits, smiling. Draco’s face had softened, and now he was the one feeling proud. But not like the prideful bravado he usually put out. this was mere…excitement that he had done something Harry enjoyed. He smiled back at the brunette.
“I’d watch you draw, sometimes, on your hands,” Draco says. “I wanted to tell you to pay attention.”
At this, Harry laughs again and holds out the hand closest to Draco, which has pen marks across his fingers and palms. It was a habit of his, whenever he got bored. Harry was just showing him the drawings, so he was surprised when Draco reached up to take his hand. He pulled it towards him and started to inspect the little doodles, a smile on his face.
“Can I ask you something?” Harry blurted after a few seconds. Draco looked at him and nodded.
“Why’d you keep running away?”
Draco’s brow furrowed a bit.
“I mean, you knew, didn’t you?”
He nodded again.
“Then…why didn’t you say anything?”
Draco swallowed and thought for a moment before he continued.
“Because…you’re Harry Potter, for fucks sake. I’m…supposed to hate you. We’re- we’re so different. and my father would have a stroke, and- and you make me look stupid, when I get all nervous and flustered and…”
He trailed off, seemingly very worried. Harry simply gave him a downturned smile and laced their fingers together. Draco stared down at their hands and he couldn’t help but smirk.
“Well…opposites attract, right?” Harry offered playfully. Draco chuckled.
“I guess so.”
“They must, if I make you so nervous and flustered,” Harry says, leaning so close that Draco had to pull his face back.
“Oh, shove off.” He rolled his eyes, but his smile only got wider. Harry decided, then, that there wasn’t anything he liked more than making Draco smile.
“I don’t think I will,” Harry declared, grinning at the other boy. He hadn’t moved away from Draco, glancing down at his lips. He was so close that he could kiss him, if he wanted to. And he did. He really, really wanted to kiss Draco.
Draco noticed. He blinked a few times, his expression softening and his breath becoming shallow.
Harry smiled a bit and tilted his head. He lifted his gaze from Draco’s lips and just looked at him, silently asking for permission. When he didn’t pull away, Harry leaned in closer.
Draco wondered why he hadn’t kissed Harry Potter until now. Their lips touched in the most gentle way, as if they were both holding back. There was a moment of hesitation before Draco let go of the other boy’s hand, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. He took this as a cue to pull Draco closer, smiling against his lips. They separated for a moment, taking a breath and smiling at each other. Draco moved his hands to the sides of Harry’s face and cupped his jaw. Harry smiled, the silver of his rings feeling cold against his skin. He gently caressed Draco’s side and looked into his bright blue eyes. Their faces got closer until their foreheads touched and their noses bumped, making them both smile wider.
“…I don’t know what I’m gonna tell Ron,” Harry laughs, pressing another short kiss to Draco’s lips. Draco smiled a bit, too.
“Will they…do you think they’ll be mad?” He whispers, searching Harry’s eyes.
“I don’t care,” Harry says. “Mione’s always wanted me to find my soulmate. I reckon she’ll be happy. Besides, it’s not really their business, is it?” He grins.
“No…” Draco smiles. “But…they don’t like me very much, do they?”
Harry shrugs, moving back to kiss Draco’s forehead and pull him into a hug. “They’ll come around. Just let them get to know you…they’ll see.”
Draco nods with a pleased smile on his face. They sat there for a few moments, appreciating the closeness they’d been wanting for so long. It was a tender moment, which wasn’t usual for either of them. Harry decided he could definitely get used to it.
“My father is going to have a stroke, you know.”
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HUZZAH THANK YOU FOR READING POOKIES 🥰🥰🥰
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