Inexplicable Things (Chapter 3)

Inexplicable Things (Chapter 3)

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini

Summary: No way, no way in hell. Draco is supposed to be in France or America or, wherever else he’d deemed more important than Harry when he left five years ago. Draco is not supposed to be showing up at the DMLE out of the blue, forcing Harry to watch him as he struts confidently across the room towards him.

Read on on AO3 here 

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

When Harry finally drags himself home he feels wrung out, like exhaustion has taken root deep in his bones. He keeps his head down, eyes focused on the floor and crosses his fingers that no one is home. 

“Hi,” Theo calls to him softly, as soon as the door opens. He’s spread out on the couch holding the book Harry had been reading earlier. The lamplight falls on him softly making his skin glow golden in the dusky light of the room. 

“You okay?” He continues, looking up at Harry with a gentle light in his eyes. 

“Um, I think so,” Harry lies, hoping it isn’t obvious. He steps closer and Theo swings himself into a sitting position. He pats the newly vacated space next to him inviting Harry to sit. 

“Well,” Theo says, syllables long and drawn out, “I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

“Nope,” Harry says, popping the p and looking determinately at the flames in the fireplace, “Nothing to talk about here.” 

“It seems like Draco brings up a lot of emotions in you.” Theo says calmly, putting his hand on his thigh. 

“For the thousandth time, it’s not like that.” Harry snaps brushing Theo’s hand away. 

“Hmm,” Theo murmurs, his intense aura of calm is starting to annoy Harry, “Well, first of all that’s the first I’ve said anything about it so it’s really not the thousandth time. Second of all, I think you should tell me how it is because there’s clearly something going on that you feel the need to defend yourself about.” 

“Nope. Nothing.” Harry grits his teeth so hard it hurts. 

“Harry, I found you half naked in Ron’s pub’s loo kissing your childhood nemesis turned maybe lover turned who even knows what and then you looked straight at me and ran away, only to return two hours later looking like you’ve been crying,” Theo throws his hands up in exasperation, “I think you might have something to talk about.” 

When Theo puts it like that it does sound sort of insane and the thing is, maybe Harry could benefit from talking about Draco. Theo might give him some perspective, help him differentiate the present from the past. 

“Okay fine. We hooked up for a while in eighth year and then one night he walked out on me. If you really want to know what’s going on though you should ask the stupid blonde git. He’s the one who bloody left.” He grabs a pillow off the couch and throws it hard into the wall next to him watching it bounce off the sage wallpaper and tumble to the ground. 

“Wow, you’re not bitter at all,” Theo says with a sarcastic smile. 

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles, turning back towards him, “I’m in emotional distress.” 

“Yep,” Theo says grinning a little, “That’s been made pretty clear.” He waits a minute, then adds, “So do you want to tell me about it a little?” 

Harry sighs and stretches his long legs out on the couch shifting sideways till his head falls onto Theo’s thighs. The firelight reflects on his face in stripes of golden light setting his green eyes on fire. Harry trails his eyes down his face taking in his shapely cheekbones and tanned skin. He thinks, not for the first time, how easy it would have been if they could have fallen in love.

“Well,” He starts and then pauses, “They roomed all the eighth years together in the same dorm. I was with Dean, Terry, and Neville. Ron was with Blaise, Draco and Michael.”

“I didn’t know you and Ron got separated like that,” Theo says, looking pensieve. 

“Yeah, he didn’t take it well at first,” That was a bit of an understatement. Ron had thrown an armchair across the common room and yelled at Mcgonagall. She’d refused to grant him a room switch and he’d boycotted her class for two whole weeks until Hermione told him she’d break things off if he didn’t start attending class. The threat, unsurprisingly, had worked and as time went by he’d resigned himself to his fate. Though, that didn’t stop him from pouting about it daily and sneaking away at night to sleep in Hermione's bed. 

The absence of Ron in Draco’s dorm had often been helpful, Micheal stayed late in the library most nights studying and Blaise was often gone having amorous adventures (Harry only knew that because he liked to regale them with graphic stories every morning at breakfast). This meant it was easy for Harry to slip through the door unnoticed and quickly slide between the green curtains surrounding Draco’s bed. 

“So was sharing a common room what made you realize you liked Draco?” Theo asks, looking down at Harry through thick eyelashes. 

“Not immediately,” Harry replies, “It was more that the forced proximity forced us to see each other for who we really were.”

Harry thinks about the first time he saw Draco study in the common room book held high against his face, brow furrowed. Harry had been unable to look away. The idea of Draco Malfoy curled up doing something as unassuming as reading a textbook felt unfathomable. Draco was a Death Eater, had let Voldemort into the castle, and yet there curled up in a brocade armchair he looked so mundane, so normal, it was hard to wrap his head around. Harry watched as he turned the pages, eyes squinting and serious. He noticed that every couple of pages Draco brought his long slender fingers to his mouth and wet them with the flick of a tongue to help grasp his parchment more easily. 

When Ron had walked into the room Harry had quickly thrown himself into raucous conversation, grateful for the distraction. He hadn’t liked the way that looking at Draco like that made him question things. 

In the next couple weeks he became distracted by glimpses of other versions of Draco. Draco tumbling into the common room early in the morning, the crease of a pillow on his cheek, hair rumpled. Draco sitting in the corner of the room, head tilted back against the wood paneling, laughing at Blaise’s joke as they shared a bottle of whiskey. 

Things hadn’t really changed between them until the night Harry stumbled into the common room late at night mind still riding on the coattails of a nightmare to find Draco, pale and alone, huddled in the corner of the coach crying. 

Harry had tripped over the leg of an armchair and Draco had turned to him, eyes brimming with tears. There, illuminated by a single lamp he looked so young and hurt, so fragile that Harry had moved towards him, tentatively perching next to him on the couch. 

Draco had yelled at him then, in a broken hiss, so as not to wake other people. He’d told him to go away and called him a variety of obscene names, some Harry hadn’t ever heard before. Harry had sat silently and ignored his tirade until he’d finally given up and sunk back desolately into the cushions. That night they sat in silence for hours watching the flames flicker and consume. 

It had taken two weeks of them stumbling upon each other in the dark for them to speak a single sentence. 

“So, when did you realize?” Theo prompts him and Harry realizes he’s been staring quietly at the ceiling for several seconds. 

“It took me so long,” Harry tells him, looking sheepish, “I didn’t realize till he kissed me.” 

Harry pauses, staring up at Theo’s chin. He tries to focus on the warmth of Theo’s body underneath him, the glimmer of light on his face. He draws a conscious breath, stomach rising with it. His mind won’t stop playing the scene for him in an obsessive loop; the dark of the potions classroom, the green of the flames beneath the cauldron, and Draco’s lips against his soft, cautious, like Harry might rip away at any moment. 

“That makes sense for you,” Theo tells him, laughing a little. 

“Why does it make sense for me?” Harry asks, feeling a little put out. 

“You tend to be kind of unaware of your emotions,” Theo says carefully, “I think it has to do with the way you were raised. We emulate a lot of the patterns we were taught as children, even subconsciously.” 

Harry is suddenly reminded of the period two years ago when Theo forced himself to read at least six extremely large psychology textbooks. 

“Anyway, he kissed you and you liked it and then what?” Theo continues hurriedly, probably trying to distract from the fact that Harry has unknowingly been the subject of his psychoanalysis.  

“We fumbled around in the dark, in hidden alcoves, in the potions lab late at night. I didn’t tell anyone about it. I don’t think Draco did either. Most of the time we didn’t even talk about it to each other, but we kept doing it.” 

When Harry remembers eighth year it’s a montague of wandering hands, soft touches and secret smiles. 

“When he showed up in the DMLE it was hard,” He admits ignoring the quaver in his voice, “It reminded me of how easily I fell in love with him and how little he hesitated to take it all away.” 

“Circe,” Theo breathes, reaching down and carding a hand through Harry’s hair, “So he didn’t feel the same?” 

“I thought he might have,” Harry admits, leaning into his gentle touch, “Everything was just so good between us. By the end of the year we were sleeping together most nights. We talked about everything, the war, our childhoods. I guess we talked about everything except how we felt.” 

Theo makes a pensieve noise, blowing out a breath of air in a little puffing sound. “So what made you think that he suddenly didn’t ?” 

“He left,” Harry says simply, closing his eyes. He watches the scene play out on the inside of his eyelids. 

He’d been aware of it before he even opened his eyes. They’d left the window open and with the lack of body heat next to him he’d woken up with goosebumps along his skin. If he was honest with himself he’d already known something was wrong then. He’d felt it in the depths of his stomach, in the unsteady beat of his pulse. He’d rushed out of the room in his pajamas and stumbled upon Blaise in the common room. Usually he tried to be discreet, but that day was different. He’d matched right up to Blaise in front of everyone and asked if he knew where Draco had gone. When Blaise had explained he’d left. Harry had turned around and walked directly out of the room. He couldn’t comprehend how Draco could treat him so cruelly. 

He spent the rest of the day convinced there had been a misunderstanding, that Draco would come back for him, but a day turned into a week and suddenly it was graduation. Draco returned, just for the day. He ignored Harry the whole time, looked straight past him like he wasn’t even there. Harry had thought he would go crazy with the feeling of missing someone who was right in front of him, close enough to touch but impossible to hold. Looking back on it, he doesn’t even remember the rest of graduation, just Draco’s eyes cold and blank and the horrible ache blossoming in his chest. 

“And when he came back for graduation he refused to talk to me.” There’s a traitorous tear slipping out from between Harry’s tightly closed eyelids. He swipes at it angrily. Theo pretends he doesn't see. 

“I knew he was leaving that morning for his potions mastery. We’d talked about it for weeks. He was so excited. I just thought we’d talk about it before he left. That I would have time to tell him how I felt and we would find a way to make it work. I didn’t think he’d just leave me.” His voice cracks as he finishes, and he pulls a great shuddering breath deep into his lungs. 

Theo sighs, “That’s horrible Harry. It must have made everything worse that no one even knew about it.” 

“It did. Though, they definitely knew something was wrong. I started going out a lot. Drinking. Hooking up with strangers. Ron and Hermione were so happy together and I felt like they couldn’t understand the pain I felt. Ginny was the one who really stuck with me. I think that’s why we’re so close now.” 

“I’m glad you had her. I wish I could have been there too,” Theo says, looking sad. 

“It’s okay. I have you now don’t I,” Harry attempts to grin at him, it comes out twisted and strained. 

“You do,” Theo looks down at him fondly. They sit there for a second watching the light of the fire track it’s way across each other's skin. 

“Harry,” Theo breaks the silence, voice soft and even, “Do you think there’s a chance that maybe Draco did care? I mean… I didn’t know him then but I knew him before and I think he has a tendency to be afraid of the things he wants.” 

Harry sits up then, peels himself out of Theo’s lap,  and perches back ramrod straight on the couch. There’s tension in every sinew of his body. 

“That’s such a cop out though,” He struggles to keep his voice flat, “ I was scared too but I never would have just fucking left him.” 

“Yeah but did he know that?” Theo asks, “You said you never talked about your feelings right? So maybe he thought you’d move on once he was in France. Maybe he was just trying to spare himself the pain of it all.” 

Harry clenches his fists and tries to keep his face blank. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for him or anything,” Theo continues hurriedly, “It was screwed up that he left you.” 

“So what if he did care?” Harry asks, the words feel strange on his lips. 

“Well,” Theo’s voice is drawn out and contemplative, “Then maybe being back here means something for him too.” 

Harry thinks about that, pictures the tense line of Draco’s shoulders when they’d first seen each other at the DMLE, remembers the way Draco had almost kissed him in the potions lab only to draw back at the last minute with carefully blank eyes. 

“Maybe,” He tells Theo noncommittally, trying to tamper down the quiet flutter in his chest, “I can’t do anything about it though.” 

“You could talk to him.” Theo suggests, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

“Ugh, why would I do that?” The whole idea sounds terrible. Harry would rather get the stomach flu than talk about his feelings with Draco Malfoy. 

“Because he still means something to you,” Theo rushes before pausing and then continuing in a more tentative tone. “He drives you up the wall mate, it has to mean something. When has anyone else ever gotten under your skin like that?”

Theo’s got a point. Harry can’t remember a time that Draco hadn’t been there in the back of his subconscious, a flash of gray eyes, a blur of blonde hair. He’d died and been reborn, been saved by Narcissa only to spend his whole way back to the castle picturing the contours of Draco’s face and wondering what he would have looked like if he’d been born with his mothers eyes. 

“You’re right.” Harry sighs, “But it's more complicated to talk to him than you think… We might have, um. Okay we kind of hooked up that first day he was back. And, um” He finishes in a rush, “I left that time, I walked away in the middle of it. I think it was a one time thing.” 

“A one time thing that was about to happen a second time, if I hadn’t walked in on you,” Theo corrects him with his eyebrow raised. 

Circe, Harry can’t believe he’d forgotten. He thinks about the soft brush of Draco’s fingertips on his warm skin and shivers a little. 

“Okay, maybe not a one time thing,” he dips his head looking sheepish, “But I don’t think it really meant anything.”

“So you wouldn’t do it again?” Theo looks skeptical. 

“Um, I mean… I might?” Harry stumbles over his words, “But again, it wouldn’t mean anything.” 

“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t care if he took someone else home? If he started dating them?” 

Fuck, Draco’s lips parted, his irises blown wide. His strong smooth hands spread across someone else’s body. Harry’s stomach flips over, it takes conscious effort to will down the rising nausea. 

“I think…,” his voice comes out rough, he coughs a little before continuing, “I think I do care, you’re right.” He leans forward scrubbing a hand over his forehead, “Merlin, Theo what am I going to do?” 

“Probably talk to him.” Theo says bluntly, lips quirked up in a wry smirk. 

“God you really should have stuck with your psychology studies.” Harry tells him, “How am I supposed to talk to him? It’s like anytime I try to say anything to him I can’t force the words out of my mouth.” 

“I think you just need to force yourself to start talking. Once you get a couple words into the conversation it should get easier.” 

“Ugh, what if I just don’t tell him?” Harry whines, wriggling in closer to Theo’s side. 

“Then you don’t tell him and you don’t find out how he feels and whatever this is, continues.” Theo says, shifting until he can swing his arm over Harry’s shoulder. “It’s up to you mate. You have to decide if Draco is worth having the conversation.” 

Harry leans into Theo’s warm embrace. He thinks about Draco’s gray eyes, they way they narrow when he wants something and flicker to light when he laughs. He thinks about Draco’s long limbs, his casual saunter. He thinks about the afternoon in the potion’s lab with Draco leaning back beside him. He thinks he always knew it would come to this, his heart full and ready, waiting to spill into pale broad palms. 

“Okay,” He signs, leaning boneless into Theo’s side. “I’ll talk to him, but give me some time.” 

“Oh Harry,” Theo says fondly, sounding almost like a mother. “There’s no rush at all. And, don’t worry if he turns you down I’ll get you a nice treat.” 

Groaning Harry shoves at his shoulder, “Way to inspire confidence in me Theo.” 

“What?!,” Theo crys, indignant.“I’m trying to make sure there’s positives either way!”

“You are insufferable.” Harry tells him leaning into his chest even further. 

“Well you’re stuck with me so you’ll just have to suffer.” Theo says cheerfully, taking his hint and pulling Harry into a long hug. 

“Hey. Where’s Ginny?” Harry exclaims, suddenly pulling out of Theo’s arms. 

“Oh,” Theo says, a glint in his eyes, “I think she went home with Blaise.” He glances over at Harry and immediately breaks down into a peal of laughter, “Mate! You look like your eyes are going to pop out of your head!” 

Harry laughs then too and burrows into Theo’s side. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry avoids talking to Draco for a whole week. 

He watches as Draco walks through the DMLE lobby every morning and feels like his heart is going to rabbit out of his chest. Everytime he thinks about visiting Draco’s office or tracking him down in his laboratory his palms start to sweat and the back of his neck feels uncomfortably itchy. 

On Thursday Ginny attempts to force an interaction by making Harry get a potion ID’d but he has a panic attack instead and she finds him in the loo hands on his knees gasping over the toilet bowl. 

“Oh Harry,” She tells him, her eyes filled with worry, “I really thought this would help things. You know, help you get it over with.” 

He just shakes his head at her and continues to struggle through shallow breaths. 

Ginny stands there with him until he gets himself under control and convinces him to ditch work with her for the rest of the day to get ice cream. The ice cream, and the break from thinking about the inevitable doom of talking to Draco Malfoy, cheers Harry up immensely. 

On Friday he focuses on blocking out all thoughts of Draco. He figures the conversation will happen if it’s meant to and he doesn't need to push it. 

But then the weekend comes, and he spends both days thinking about Draco wrapped around other men, pressed together in bed or in bathroom stalls, open mouths and pants shoved down. It makes him feel breathless like there’s not enough space behind his ribs for his lungs. He commits to talking to Draco at work on Monday. He tells Ginny if he doesn’t do it he will let her dye his hair in punishment. She is ecstatic. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the end of the day before Harry finally convinces himself to knock on the door of Draco’s office. His hands are sweating and his heart is pounding out of his chest. The sound of his fist against the wood door sounds hollow and comes to quite an anti-climactic conclusion when Harry gets no response. 

He waits a minute and then knocks again. 

Still no answer. 

Harry wants to hit something, preferably his own head against a wall, for being stupid enough to harbor feelings for Draco Malfoy.

 He turns on his heels to return home and wallow in his own misery, only to freeze stock still in the hallway. Shit, he can’t go home because Ginny is waiting for him with a manic grin and a vat full of fluorescent hair dye. Tensing his shoulders he moves back to Draco’s door. Swallowing hard, he gives it a tentative push and holds his breath as it slowly creaks open. 

“Dracooo” He calls cheerfully, before quickly falling silent. Because what? Draco’s office hadn’t looked like this last time he’d visited. 

Harry’s hands start to shake as he looks around the room. The desk is overturned, the lamp shattered against the hardwood. Books have been ripped off of the bookshelf and scattered haphazardly across the floor and ripped slivers of parchment rain like confetti. He swallows down the dryness in his throat and makes a conscious effort to breathe through his nose, just like the sodding meditation practice Hermione has thrust on him against his will. 

Before he’s even thought about it he’s leaving the room at a flat out run and banging his way through the door of Kingsleys office. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure Mr. Potter?” Kingsley asks him in a wry voice, looking like he’d rather be talking to literally anyone else. 

“Um. Uh. Someone’s ripped apart Draco’s office. I think he’s missing. Maybe he’s been kidnapped. We have to do something.” He spits out in a garbled mess. 

“Oh,” Kingsley looks unperturbed, “That. It’s fine Harry. We’ve got it under control.”  

“What?! The office didn’t look in control. In fact, it looked the opposite of control. It looked like a complete mess,” Harry spits at him, crossing the room in two long strides and pulling his wand from it’s holster.

“It’s fine Harry,” Kingley says sounding exasperated and perhaps a little fond. “I know where Draco is. I know what happened. Take some deep breaths. It’s okay.” 

“It is not okay and I don’t believe you.” Harry retorts. He moves up to the edge of Kingsleys desk where he towers over him and stares at him harshly, narrowing his eyes into green slits. “You better explain yourself right now.” 

Kingsley sighs looking resigned and motions for Harry to sit down. Harry ignores him. 

“Okay look Harry. I don’t like to spread people's personal business around but I don’t think keeping this information secret is worth getting hexed over so if you’ll shut the door I’ll explain.” 

Harry twitches a finger and uses a burst of wandless magic to slam the door closed. The sound of the wood banging shut echos in the silent room. Kingsley winces and rubs his temples.  

“Can you at least sit down?” Kingsley asks, looking exhausted. 

“Fine,” Harry concedes, sitting down with his back ramrod straight into the bright purple armchair next to Kingsleys desk. 

“Well,” Kingsley tells him, sighing, “Once again this stays between you and me, but Narcissa was admitted to St. Mungos today. Draco didn’t take it very well when I told him. He was the one who destroyed his own office. So, it’s all fine, he's okay.” 

“Okay?” Harry practically screeches, “Obviously he’s not okay if he had a magic flare strong enough to destroy his whole office.” 

“He didn’t have a magical flare,” Kingsley explains to him slowly. His brow is creased and he looks fed up. “He destroyed it piece by piece while holding his wand. He displayed an excellent amount of control actually.” 

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay?!” Harry bursts out again. He wants to reach out and shake Kingsley. How could he be so unworried?

“Harry,” Kingsley is talking slowly like he’s working with a kindergartener, “I have Aurors come back from missions maimed and dead all the time. A sick mother? A small tantrum? Those things are barely a blip on my radar.” 

It certainly doesn’t feel that way to Harry. Draco’s hurt feels huge and significant and Harry thinks he would move heaven and earth just to ease it. 

“You can go comfort him if you want,” Kingsley offers calmly, his lips twisted in an expression of amusement. It makes Harry want to hit something. 

“Yes,” He says without hesitation, “Yes. I’ll do that. Since you can’t be bothered too. Even though it’s your literal job to keep Aurors healthy and safe.” 

Kingsley doesn’t even flinch, “Great Harry, you do that.” 

Harry pushes his chair back and rises from his seat, “Alright, well where is he?”

“He might be in his potions lab,” Kingley says kindly, “Or his house. I’d check both.” 

“Oh good. Don’t tell me you don’t even know where he is.” 

“Harry,” Harry suspects Kingsley's tone is meant to be soothing, “I told you. Blip on my radar. He’s going to be okay. You’ll find him.” 

Harry doesn’t even dignify him with a response. He shoves his way out of the office, jaw clenched and heart beating fast. He’ll find Draco. He has too. 

~~~~~~~~~

Harry tries the potions lab first. It’s a gentle mess as usual. There’s a couple of cauldrons strewn across the gray countertops and he notices several potion vials capped off and waiting for inspection. Harry doesn’t think that Draco’s there until he reaches over and flicks on the lights illuminating him curled in a chair in the corner of the room. 

Harry waits for a fight. For a hex to be thrown. Anything. 

Nothing comes. 

“Draco?” He calls hesitantly as he moves slowly towards the corner. 

“Harry, I-” and then suddenly in the next breath Draco is sobbing. Great heaving sobs that wrack his entire body. The scary part is they’re nearly silent besides his ragged breathing as if he can’t bear to let them out. 

Harry finishes crossing the room faster than he thought humanly possible. Before he knows it, he’s kneeling at Draco’s feet and Draco is reaching out for him, clutching at his shoulders and pulling him in. 

“I’m here,” Harry whispers in a rush. 

“Okay, I, okay.” Draco responds, his voice breaking. 

Harry barely dares to move lest it make Draco stop touching him. He raises his hands slowly up to Draco’s waist and rests them gently on his hips, his chest between Draco’s thighs. 

“It’s okay,” He repeats himself. “Take some deep breaths. You don’t have to tell me anything just now.” 

Harry’s entire chest feels like it will cave in. Draco. Draco who pushes him away, is holding him like his life depends on it. Harry leans into his body heat and focuses on modeling long deep breaths. Eventually Draco calms enough to mirror him and they breathe in unison. 

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” Harry says, when he thinks Draco’s finally calmed down enough to speak. 

Draco pulls away from him enough to raise his head. He looks beautiful even like this, with his gray eyes red rimmed and desperate. Harry presses his fingertips to Draco’s pale cheeks wiping the wetness away. 

“Fuck,” Draco exhales, “Sorry.” He falls silent again. 

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry. It’s important not to bottle everything up.” 

“Merlin” Draco whispers, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. “I just can’t stand it. She wasn’t even a good mother. It’s not fair that I feel like this.” His breath stutters into another small sob. 

“Narcissa was selfish,” Harry tells him softly. “But, you’re allowed to think that and love her all at the same time.” 

“It just hurts so much,” Draco confesses, his warm breath tickling Harry’s ear. “It shouldn’t hurt this much. Circe, she spent my whole childhood making me hurt. It should be over by now.” 

“I know,” Harry breathes. He reaches up cradling Draco’s shoulders and stroking softly across his golden locks. Draco relaxes into the touch. 

“Sometimes I wish she was already dead,” Draco’s voice is quiet. His eyes are squeezed shut. 

“That’s okay,” Harry tells him gently. “She put you in unfair positions. She never protected you. She didn’t keep you safe. It’s okay to feel that way.” 

“It doesn’t feel okay,” Draco snaps, pulling away from Harry and sitting stiff backed in his chair. With a twitch of his wand he levitates a glass vial and hurles it across the room. Harry watches as it hits the heavy wood door with a crash and collapses into silver shrapnel. 

“Well,” Harry says wryly. “That’s one way to deal with your emotions.”  

Draco makes a choked noise in his throat and Harry turns his gaze back on him expecting more tears. He’s surprised to see a small smile etching it’s way across Draco’s cheeks. 

“Criticizing my coping mechanisms is not a good way to comfort me, Potter,” He says, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

“Well pardon me if I took issue with you destroying half the Ministry,” Harry says pointedly, his chest full of relief. 

“I was having an emotional crisis.” Draco corrects him. He looks pale and worn out, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You weren’t even having an emotional crisis when you burnt down the potions labs. At least I have an excuse.” 

“Okayyy, whatever.” Harry retorts, pushing himself to his feet. 

He stands in silence. Draco collapses into the back of his chair with a forlorn expression on his face. 

‘So, are you going to go see her?” Harry asks him carefully. 

“No.” Draco replies. Harry watches the muscles in his jaw clench and then slacken. “I can’t see her right now. Maybe in a day or so-” His eyes flick closed for a second, in a tired blink - “but not now.” 

“Alright, come on then,” Harry says, offering Draco his hand to pull him from the chair. 

“To where?” Draco asks. For once, he doesn’t sound stubborn or angry. Just tired. So very, very tired. 

“To my house,” Harry tells him simply. “I’d have to be crazy to leave you alone like this. Who knows, you might decide you fancy destroying Kingsleys office next and then we’d all get sacked.”

A slow smile creeps it’s way across Draco’s face. “Well when you put it like that…” 

“Exactly,” Harry says, trying to hide the smug look on his face. “You can’t risk being responsible for the end of my career. Come on now.” 

Draco reaches for his arm tentatively and Harry just barely suppresses a full body shiver as hand makes contact with bicep. Then, before either of them can talk themselves out of it he spins on his heel and apperates them out of the lab into his living room. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you could apperate out of the DMLE,” Draco whines at him looking betrayed as he straightens his robes. 

“Only after five o’clock,” Harry tells him smugly. “I’m surprised no one told you.”

 He turns away from Draco for a second, glancing surreptitiously around the flat for Ginny’s bright hair or Theo’s ruffled curls, both of their bedroom doors are firmly shut. He breathes a small sigh of relief. 

“Interesting decorations,” Draco says slowly, glancing around the room apprehensively. 

Harry looks around the room, taking in Ginny’s quidditch posters and Theo’s photography experiments with fresh eyes, “Yeah, it’s kind of a mix of things. Ginny and Theo are in charge of the decor. Don’t ask me.”

“So Ginny and Theo also picked out a lifesize cardboard cutout of you to place in the middle of the living room?” Draco asks wryly, stepping forward to investigate the figure. 

Shit, Harry had forgotten about that. 

“Yeah, they think it’s hilarious.” Harry tells him. He focuses on the wall in front of him and tries not to blush. 

“It is a bit.”

Draco smiles and sits down, perching on the edge of the couch. 

~~~~~~~~~

They order pizza for dinner and eat it on the couch. Draco jokes with him but his cheeks remain pale and his smile is small and tense everytime it spreads across his face. Harry wishes he could wrap him in his arms and never let go, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed as much as a brush of his hand across Draco’s leg, so he fixes himself firmly to his side of the couch. 

When they finish eating Draco mumbles about needing to finish some potions work and pulls several thick packets of paper out of the small pocket of his coat. 

“Do you have an extension charm on that?” Harry asks him, eyes wide. 

“Obviously,” Draco drawls in a way that reminds him of Snape. He levitates the papers into the air with a flick of his wand and pulls a quill from his other pocket with a flourish. 

Draco’s eyes are narrowed and Harry finds himself cataloging the sprinkles of darker color in his light gray eyes. 

“So, do you have anything to do?” Draco asks him, whipping his head up from his papers and looking Harry pointedly in the eye. 

Harry flushes a deep beetroot, “Oh um, yes. Now that you mention it I think I do.” He scrambles for the case notes he’d left on the bookshelf yesterday only to drop them. The papers scatter like snow. 

“Merlin,” He groans. 

“Well,” Draco says long and drawn out, “That does look like a lot to do. Especially since you have to do a bit of cleanup now.” 

When Harry looks over his shoulder to glare at him he’s biting his lip in a clear attempt to keep from breaking into laughter. Harry wants to shove him. Harry wants to kiss him so hard he forgets his own name. Harry blinks slowly and focuses back on the papers before him. He gathers them slowly and pretends he doesn’t feel Draco’s gaze tracking him as he moves across the floor. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry spends the next hour carefully focused on the parchment in front of him. He focuses on the scratch of his pen over the parchment, the rough edge of the paper against his fingertips, the couch steady and solid under his body. He refuses to look at Draco. He can go an hour without looking at Draco. It shouldn’t be hard. 

It’s excruciating. 

Eventually, Harry gives up and lets his gaze skitter across to where Draco is sitting. He freezes for a second, his breath caught in his throat. 

Draco’s asleep. He’s tucked up against the side of the coach, his papers still hovering in the air around him. He’s curled into himself with his limbs bent awkwardly, quiet snuffling breaths escaping him. The flames of the fireplace leave his features in shadow, as he dreams, his lashes flicker against his cheek. 

When Draco had sauntered into the DMLE Harry had pictured it would end in angry words and an ache in his chest. He’d never thought it could lead to this, Draco wrung out and seeking comfort on the left side of his couch. 

Maybe Theo was right. Maybe Draco had cared more than he’d let on. 

Harry thinks about love, the way it arrives when you least expect it and leaves exactly when it must. Sometimes love stays; Ginny, her small hands clasped around his shoulders as he gasps for breath in the Ministry toilets.  Sometimes love can’t; Sirius, eyes dark, body vanishing behind the veil. Sometimes love shouldn't; Draco, young, afraid, slipping out through the crack of Harry’s door towards a fresh start at life. 

Harry watches as Draco twitches in his sleep and realizes he no longer feels a painful twist in his stomach when he thinks about the way Draco left. They’d never talked about their feelings. Harry had thought showing them with a gentle caress of a cheek, a wink across a crowded classroom, would be enough. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Draco never knew. But, maybe he did. Maybe he left anyway. 

That doesn’t change the fact that Draco’s here now. 

Harry takes a deep breath and promises himself that he’ll talk to Draco. He shifts closer to him and quietly calls his name. 

Draco snorts and rolls onto his side, and then Harry has some problems speaking because the firelight catches on Draco’s hair like a halo, and Harry isn’t prepared for the double whammy of hot and disarming all at the same time. He gulps in an attempt to clear his throat and by the time he gets himself under control Draco is blinking at him slowly and stretching his legs out catlike in front of him. 

Inexplicable Things (Ch. 2)

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini

Summary: No way, no way in hell. Draco is supposed to be in France or America or, wherever else he’d deemed more important than Harry when he left five years ago. Draco is not supposed to be showing up at the DMLE out of the blue, forcing Harry to watch him as he struts confidently across the room towards him.

Rating: Explicit

Read on ao3

Chapter 2 

Harry spends the next week avoiding Theo and Draco in turns. Ginny, who Harry’s been partnered with while Theo steps in for Dean’s partner, watches eyes narrowed every time Harry ducks behind something at the sound of footsteps.

“Why are you so twitchy?” She finally asks, peering at Harry determinately over the cafeteria table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mumbles, keeping his head ducked low over his soup.

“Harry come onnn,” Ginny whines, prodding his arm with her fork. “You’ve dropped your spoon three times in the last twenty minutes. Auror’s don’t do that kind of thing by accident.”

Harry opens his mouth to respond but stops, his head jerking up as he hears the slam of the cafeteria doors. There, entering the room swiftly with his nose up in the air, is Draco.

He’s wearing midnight blue dress robes and they compliment his blonde hair perfectly. Today he’s wearing it down and it frames his face in rumbled waves. Harry finds himself unable to rip his gaze away. Draco meets his eyes and Harry watches as his tongue flicks out quickly wetting his lips. From anyone else a move like that would seem accidental, a matter of pure coincidence, but from Draco the move is practiced. Harry’s throat grows tight and dry.

“Earth to Harry. Earth to Harry,” Ginny practically yells. Harry winces his gaze returning to her face.

“Sorry, um. I must have spaced out for a second.” He says, lying through his teeth.

“Oh yeah. Spaced out for a second.” Ginny pauses leaning in, her voice drops to a whisper. “More like eye fucking Draco Malfoy.”

Harry chokes on his soup and narrowly avoids spitting it down his front. It takes him a couple minutes to recover and by the time he’s able to respond his focus is pulled away from the manic glint in Ginny’s eyes to the bench beside him where a pair of long legs are settling themselves. He glances up to take in the contours of Draco’s face and coughs a little focusing back aggressively on his soup.

“Hi Draco,” Ginny calls to him, her tone sunny and inviting, “Surprised I haven’t seen you yet. I hear you’ve been back for over a week now.” She kicks at Harry 's legs under the table. Harry ignores her.

“I know,” Draco drawls back at her, his face unreadable, “But it’s been a busy few days. Lots of catching up to do.”

Harry feels the warmth of Draco’s palm radiating out towards him before it touches down on his leg, smoothing it’s way across his thigh. He jolts a little in his seat. Draco’s face remains impassive. Harry watches as his tongue flicks across his lips a second time and he leans in towards Ginny answering a question that Harry must have missed.

Harry’s skin feels hot. He can feel a dark blush spreading across his brown cheeks. He hates Draco for making him feel perfectly at home and blazingly nervous all at once, for being able to see completely through him, and cutting him down to his core.

Harry shifts back abruptly, pushing his legs up over the bench and wrenching himself out of Draco’s grasp. Without looking back he turns, striding out of the cafeteria. He doesn’t relax until he hears the bang of the cafeteria doors swinging closed behind him.

For the first time he’s grateful for his small office. It’s a temporary reprieve from the Aurors swarming the hallways, from the swimming in his head. He slams the door behind him and soaks in the temporary stillness for several seconds, listening to the murmur of voices beyond the walls, before collapsing into his leather backed chair and dropping his head onto the cool desk in front of him. Ginny will know to find him here, he thinks sighing. He closes his eyes and tries to picture only the blackness behind them.

~~~~~~~~~

Harry’s sitting up doodling in the margins of his case notes by the time Ginny finally appears.

“So,” She says standing in front of him, her hands on her hips, “What exactly is going on with you and Malfoy?”

“Nothing,” Harry responds a little too quickly, his pen slips in his hand poking a hole through the parchment in front of him.

“Hmm,” Ginny muses softly as she tugs the case away from him, beginning to flip through it herself. “Does this have anything to do with whatever you two had going on in eighth year?”

Harry’s cheeks go pale. When he responds to her his voice is pitchy, “What do you mean? We didn’t have anything going on in eighth year.”

“Oh please,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes, “Don’t even try that on me. I’m not stupid.”

“Nothing happened in eighth year.” Harry says shortly, sticking to his lie, “Me and Draco are fine. I don’t know what he told you but we both know he’s a big fat liar.”

“Alright,” Ginny says easily, leaning forward on Harry's desk, “Well then. If everything is fine between you two you can take this-” she pulls a small vial out of her pocket with a quick flourish, “to him to get ID’d. I pulled it off that suspect we caught yesterday and didn’t have a chance to get it checked out yet.”

Harry visibly blanches at her words. He knows Ginny sees it from the way her eyes narrow into warm brown slits. She places the vial on the desk in front of him like a gauntlet and smirks at him.

“Umm,” Harry says eloquently, meeting Ginny’s stare with a blank face.

“Come on baby, get to it!” She says playfully pushing the vial towards him and ruffling his hair.

When Harry hesitates she moves closer putting an arm around his shoulders, “You know I’d never actually make you do this Harry if you really don’t want to. But it seems like there's something between you and Draco even if you won’t admit to it and at some point you’re are going to have to talk about it.”

Harry leans into her silently thinking how grateful he is they’d stayed so close even after so many years. It had been rough right after the war, when their wounds had still been fresh, when they’d realized that maybe they were together because everyone expected them to be and not because they actually wanted to, but they’d gotten through it and Harry’s thankful for that everyday.

Ginny had been there for him after eighth year when Draco had left and Harry really spiraled, holding his hair out of the toilet every time he drank himself into a stupor, forcing him out of his house, taking him with her to Auror training. She’d never asked any questions and at the time he was grateful for that. Now he wonders what it had been like if they’d spoken about it, if it would have made him lighter somehow.

“It’s okay,” He sighs, giving her a rueful glance, “I’ll take it to him.” As he scoops the container off the desktop he curses himself for being so emotionally stunted. It would be so much easier if he could just talk to Ginny and explain things instead of willingly walking into Draco’s office to spend time with a man who is most definitely out to get him. The thing is whatever he and Draco have between them still feels so large, like it’s paramount to who Harry has become. Thinking about it he finds himself worried that putting it into words might be like giving up a piece of himself.

“Enough stalling,” Ginny’s voice breaks the silence, gently teasing him. “It’s just a simple potions ID. Nothing to get yourself tied up in knots over.”

Harry nods at her, numbly picking up his feet and forcing them forward, moving to the door. As he reaches it he turns slightly and Ginny winks at him mischievously. He rolls his eyes at her and pushes through the heavy door in front of him into the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~

Harry knocks quickly on Draco’s door before he can talk himself out of it. When he’s answered with a ringing silence he pauses for a second before calling gently through the wood, “Draco? Are you in there? I need a potions ID.”

“Is that Harry?” Draco’s voice calls back to him, sounding like he has his fingers crossed it isn’t.

“Um yes?” Harry calls back.

The wood door opens with a bang and then Draco’s in front of him and suddenly Harry’s lost the ability to speak, because in the course of the day Draco’s pulled off his dress robes. Now, he’s wearing only a white button down, and midnight blue muggle suit pants, and there on his thigh capturing Harry’s gaze is a leather wand holster.

“Well Potter we haven’t got all day.” Draco growls at him, eyes flicking over his body.

“Oh, er, sorry.” Harry spits out, cursing himself for the way one glance at Draco Malfoy apparently has the potential to melt his entire brain, “Here it is.” He pulls the vial from his pants pocket and offers it to Draco. As he takes it from him, their fingertips brush sending a sparkle of heat up Harry’s arm towards his elbow. He stumbles a little, and has to catch himself on the wall. Draco’s busy staring suspiciously at the potion his eyes narrowed into silver slits.

“We’ll have to take this to my lab,” Draco tells him, not looking away from the silver vial, “It looks like a variation of Veritaserum but I’ve never seen it this color before. Could be dangerous,” quickly as if he doesn’t want Harry to hear he adds, “Good thing you brought it in.” Then he turns walking rapidly away from Harry down the corridor.

Harry stands still for a second as a warmth blooms in his chest.

“Come on Harry we haven’t got all day,” Draco’s voice is low and gruff. Harry doesn’t hesitate a second before he follows him.

~~~~~~

Inside the lab Harry perches on a stool and looks on intently as Draco works. He heats a cauldron first, stabbing his wand at the flames until they turn green and then dumps the potion in. When he glances up quickly to make sure that Harry’s still sitting safely on the stool he’d assigned him to, his eyes are a focused light gray behind his goggles.

Watching Draco in the lab feels like time travel. It takes him straight back to eighth year, “Remember how it used to be?” He asks softly, quickly, before he can convince himself not to.

Draco stops mixing the potion and holds himself very still, his body tightly coiled. When he turns he’s staring at Harry with a breathless focus.

So Draco remembers as well.

Remembers the way they’d danced around each other in potions class as if they were afraid to touch, afraid to speak to each other. At least, until Slughorn had forced them together for the project. Remembers Harry sneaking down to the potions lab to meet him late at night, the excuse of their assignment always at the tip of his tongue. Always sneaking, always careful, Draco’s pale hands covering Harry’s mouth to muffle his sighs as he pressed him back against the countertops and let him unravel.

Harry remembers all of it. Even now, sometimes he finds his mind back there in the Potions Labs, at Hogwarts, thinking about what it had been like for someone to touch him like he meant something, like he was made of glass. He can’t quite count the number of times he’s come with Draco’s name on his tongue.

Draco shifts, breaking eye contact, and turning back to his work, “Yeah Harry, of course I remember,” his voice comes out tired and soft. Harry doesn’t know how to respond.

As Draco continues to decipher the chemical components of the potion Harry studies him in silence. The glass tubes are dwarfed in Draco’s large hands. As the flames under his caldron start to grow, sweat beads cross his forehead and the humidity in the room turns his wavy hair curlier. Harry aches to run his hands through it.

After a long time Draco looks up grinning, the pure mirth in his eyes is boyish. It sends Harry's brain stumbling back and forth between past and present.

“I’ve got it!” He calls joyously. It’s as if in the excitement of his discovery he’s forgotten the past as well. He flits across the room to Harry crushing him against his firm chest and kissing him on his cheek.

Abruptly he steps back, pain on his face as if he’s been burned, “Um ah, sorry about that.” He mumbles, placing the vial next to Harry, “The potion is just a longer lasting Veritaserum, not too dangerous but you all should probably figure out where it’s being manufactured.”

Harry nods wordlessly and gets up ready to follow Draco out of the lab. It’s then that a blaring alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck. Merlin's Beard. Damn it.” Draco curses angrly. Harry wonders where he’s picked up the Muggle swears.

“Sorry Harry, that's the contagion alarm. Some prat must have spilled something toxic. Unfortunately, now we’re sealed into this room for safety until they can clean it up out there.” He lets out an angry huff of air and leans back against the nearest countertop, letting his feet slide out from under him until he’s sitting on the floor.

“Shoot,” Harrys says. He widens his eyes and tries to look enraged, or disappointed, or whatever else he would have felt just two hours ago before they’d entered the lab together. He can’t quite admit it to himself but the feeling blooming in his chest feels a little less like disgust and more like hope. He drops his body down onto the cool cement floor and leans back next to Draco. “Well what are we going to do now?”

“Ugh,” Draco responds, nose wrinkling in discontent, “I have no idea, who knows how long it’ll take things to get under control out there.” He sags a little, his body heat pressing into Harry’s side. Harry leans into it.

They sit there quietly for a while listening to the murmur of voices and the patter of anxious footsteps in the hallway outside. Harry gets bored quickly and kicks at Draco’s legs a few times without response before pushing himself to his feet and starting to rummage through the drawers around them looking for something interesting.

“Harry,” Draco says sharply, looking at him pointedly, “You know you aren’t allowed to touch the lab instruments.”

“But there’s nothing else to do,” Harry’s voice comes out whiny, he hopes Draco doesn’t notice.

“Yes,” Draco replies patiently, “But last time you tried to use a potions lab you set the entire wing on fire.”

“How do you know that?” Harry sticks his lip out at Draco, pouting.

“I was briefed on it by Theo last week. Apparently all new staff get notified,” Draco grins at him, eyes sparkling.

“WHAT? So they just TELL everyone!” Harry screeches and Draco bursts out into a bright bubble of laughter.

“It appears so,” He purses his lips, getting his giggles under control, “So you better come back and sit with me, Potter. I’m not losing my job because I let you start another fire.”

“Ugh,” Harry grumbles in disgust, plopping himself down onto the cold floor once again, “I feel very betrayed. Also very bored.” he glares at Draco teasingly, “Well, since I can’t touch anything it’s now your job to keep me entertained.”

“Oh, I think I can do that,” Draco’s eyes darken and he leans closer until Harry can feel his breath across his cheeks. The noise of the hallway fades away and all he can hear is his own heart and the soft whoosh of air as it leaves Draco’s throat. Their heads are bent so close that if Harry leaned in just a fraction their lips might brush.

“Oh can you?” Harry asks, taunting.

“I really can,” Draco answers. He reaches forward and Harry has to stifle a gasp as he grips his thigh in one broad palm and tugs him closer. Harry glances up at him, watches his eyes darken as his pupils grow and leans in to let their lips brush.

Before he reaches him, Draco pulls back quickly, putting space between them. Harry watches as his eyes shutter, as he coaches his face completely blank, and feels an awful sort of sinking in his chest.

“Sorry,” Draco says hurriedly scooting back further until their legs are no longer touching. Harry feels the loss deep in his bones.

“No worries,” He chokes out. He should be used to it by now, Draco pulling away. He still finds himself surprised every time he realizes he’s not.

“Um,” Draco speaks awkwardly. His whole body looks smaller, a little off kilter, “You still need to be entertained though. Should we play a game or something?”

“Okay,” Harry says coldly, wanting to punish Draco a little, “How about we play truth?”

He expects Draco to flinch away, to come up with an excuse. The Draco he knows doesn’t exactly spill his secrets willingly. So, he’s surprised when Draco looks up at him, with fierce determination in his eyes and says, “Yes okay, you ask first.”

“Oh, um. Okay,” Harry stumbles, searching his brain for a question that doesn’t sound too curious. Internally, he’s dying to ask Draco why he’d left or, why he’d come back or who he’s slept with recently, but he bites his tongue, leans back into the cabinet behind him and asks, “What was it like in the States? You know, since they didn’t have a war.”

Draco looks taken aback for a second, before responding cautiously, “It was good mostly. I got to meet people as the person I was, not the boy born in my father’s shadow, not death eater scum, it was nice. Everyone felt lighter there. Which, you know, was also good.” He pauses for a second looking out into the distance, “It was also strange, seeing everyone so carefree. I think their happiness made my sadness feel sharper sometimes.” He clasps his hands in front of him tightly, Harry watches his knuckles turn white, “I missed you,” He adds. His lips press together in a firm line like he already regrets his quiet confession.

Harry wants to yell at him. He wants to grip him by his firm broad shoulders and shake him until he explains. It just doesn’t make sense; that Draco would leave him and spend two years in France for his Mastery and leave for his time in America still missing him. Two years is plenty of time to get over someone, Harry thinks, though he’s never really gotten over Draco, but he spends a lot of time ignoring it. It would be easier if Draco would ignore it too. He breathes slowly for a second focusing on the hard floor beneath him.

“Okay it’s your turn,” He tells Draco, his voice slow, measured.

He braces himself for a sucker-punch of a question, something that’ll burn hot as it spills across his skin. The pain never comes.

“Tell me about how you became friends with Theo.” Draco says slowly, When Harry glances up at him his eyes are soft.

It catches Harry by surprise. The easy question, the gentle kindness. So he tells him; tells him about how Ron quit Auror training two weeks in when everyone had already been paired up, how Theo had always been the odd number out, the one standing on the sidelines. They’d been forced together by Kingsley in the end, but had hit it off immediately when one of the other trainees made a comment about the Golden boy working with a Death Eater and Harry had dumped a cup of coffee on her head. After that there’d been no question of their alliance. They’d been lucky enough to stay partnered after training.

Harry tells Draco that Ron sometimes gets jealous of his friendship with Theo. Draco laughs at that, but something in his laughter sounds a little forced.

“Okay,” he tells Draco after his long winding story, “My turn for a question.”

Draco nods back at him. This time he’s smiling as he rubs his hands together in anticipation.

The smile drops off his face when Harry finally speaks, “Is your mother actually sick?”

“What?! Of course she is,” Draco snaps.

Harry watches as his hands curl into fists and resists the temptation to scoot away from him, “Sorry, I just wondered how she is,” He adds helplessly.

A bit of tension drops out of Draco’s arms and he opens his hands into palms placing them carefully onto his lap, “She’s okay, if okay means not dead. Living with the Dark Lord took a toll on her. Her mind’s not the same as it used to and her physical health is weak.”

“Oh,” Harry says softly. He resists the urge to reach out in comfort, “That’s horrible, I really am sorry to hear.”

“Yeah,” Draco’s voice comes out dejected. He sits for a while in silence staring at the floor, before he brightens up, “Well now it’s time for me to ask a question.”

“Yep,” Harry pauses, grateful that the tense moment seems to have passed, “Go ahead, shoot.”

“Did you ever learn to actually play the guitar?”

Harry looks up at him for a second before responding. He thinks about the cold winter nights he’d spent laying in Draco’s bed looking up at the forest green curtains above them. They’d discovered a love of music that year as they searched for something to fill up the aching space the war had left behind. Harry remembers trading records with Draco in the dead of night like it was something to be afraid of, waiting till his dorm room emptied to listen to the dulcet notes. Every new song they swapped felt special, and left Harry feeling vaguely guilty, like he’d indulged too much. Four months into whatever was going on between them he’d admitted to Draco that he’d love to learn guitar. He can’t believe after all these years he’d remember.

“Yes, a little.” He admits softly watching the flutter of Draco’s eyelashes against his cheek, “I’m not very good, but it’s fun sometimes.”

“I’m glad,” Draco responds, his voice matching Harry’s tone, “I always wondered what it would be like to see you play.”

Harry thinks about offering to play for him someday but stays silent, it feels like a promise he’s not ready to keep.

“Are you enjoying being back in London?” Harry asks. He almost wants to laugh at the idea that it’s taken being locked in a room and a silly game of truth for him and Draco to finally talk to each other.

“More than I thought I would,” Draco tells him. “I missed “Blaise and Adrian and Daphne. It’s been good to catch up.”

He looks peaceful sitting there, talking about his friends. It’s the most relaxed Harry’s seen him. He wishes he could reach out and smooth his palm across Draco’s hair, wrap him in his arms, caress his neck.

“Your turn,” Harry tells him gruffly, picking at a tread coming loose from his trousers.

“Hmm,” Draco muses softly, staring out into the distance. Harry watches him, notices the split second that his face changes, his jaw muscles clamping down hard. Then quickly, as if he’s speaking before he can talk himself out of it, he asks, “Have you ever slept with Theo?”

The question sends Harry reeling. It’s the sort of thing he would have expected earlier but not now, not when Draco's been treating him gently again. An ache spreads through his chest as he pushes his answer out through numb lips, “Yes, but only a couple times. We realized we just didn’t click like that. The friendship was what was important between us.”

Draco’s face goes cold. He stays silent as two spots of color appear on his cheeks. He opens his full mouth to respond.

Then suddenly the alarm on the Laboratory doors beeps again and someone’s hands pull the door open.

“Boys!” Terry beams at them, “We’ve got the mess cleaned up, you can come out now!”

~~~~~~~~

Outside the laboratory Harry and Draco part in total silence. Harry pretends that he doesn’t watch as Draco stomps past him, doesn’t watch the way his hips shift as he walks, doesn’t notice the way his shoulders hunch as he turns the corner making him look strangely fragile in the fluorescent lights.

Harry leaves work early for the second time since Draco was hired. He arrives home feeling vulnerable, rubbed raw. He curls up with a book in his favorite armchair dreading Ginny’s arrival.

He’s always enjoyed sharing a flat with Theo and Ginny. At least, he had enjoyed it, until Draco reappeared in his life and they started prying so much.

~~~~~~~~

Ginny doesn’t appear out of the fireplace until Harry’s finished his dinner and moved back into his favorite chair.

“Harry!” She calls as she brushes soot off of her Auror uniform. “We’re all having pub night tonight at Ron’s pub, you in?”

“Sure,” Harry says, folding the corner of his page down and tucking the book neatly onto the coffee table, “When are we heading out?”

“Oh, a couple hours I think,” She heads into the kitchen and riffles through the cabinets looking for something to eat, “Theo’s going to meet us there. He’s working late and then he and Dean are grabbing dinner. I told him to bring Dean along.”

“Nice, I miss Dean. We haven’t seen him as much since he and Seamus broke up last,” Harry sets down his book and follows her into the kitchen. Seamus and Dean are a little famous for their on again off again relationship. When they’re broken up Dean tends to close himself off, holding himself away from the rest of the group. It reminds Harry a little of himself. He tries not to dwell on it too long.

“There's some pasta I made in the fridge, you can have it if you want,” He calls to Ginny who’s staring at the kitchen shelves frowning.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Ginny sighs, reaching for the fridge door, “What would I do without you Harry?”

Harry sits with her while she eats. It’s comforting there beside her. The lamplight against her face leaves her warm and glowing as the sky through the window turns blue and dusky. When Ginny’s like this, unbarred and a little wild, it takes Harry back to before the war. Back to when they were just children, sparkling and eager for adventure. He sighs and wraps an arm around her pulling her into an unexpected hug. Ginny leans in to him easily without a second thought.

~~~~~~~~

As soon as they step inside the pub Harry sees him. He’s leaning back in his chair, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. The rainbow lights from the dance floor paint across his face and fall through his hair in spinning spirals. He’s worn it down tonight. Harry wishes he could run his hands through it. Draco leans his head back further laughing at something Dean has said and exposes the gentle curve of his neck. Harry’s throat goes dry. He wants Draco in his bed. He wants Draco so much he bites down on his tongue until he tastes metal.

He doesn’t realize he’s been standing stock still watching Draco like a crazy person until Ginny kicks lightly at his leg.

“Circe, Sorry Harry. I didn’t know he’d be here.”

When he turns back towards Ginny her eyes are a little too wide and her face is carefully blank. He knows her too well for this, “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried,” he tells her, aiming for cross and coming out slightly amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She says sternly, hands on her hips looking a bit like Mrs. Weasley.

“Ginny, you couldn’t lie if your life depended on it, I know this is a set up.” Harry tells her firmly, grabbing her arm to steer her closer to the table. Theo waves at them.

“Okay fine,” She sighs, pulling him to a stop, “It wasn’t really a set up though. I couldn’t exactly invite all the Aurors and not invite him. And I really wanted you to comeee,” She adds a slight whine tinting her voice, “I knew you might not if you knew he would be here.”

“Okay fair,” Harry tells her defeat, pushing her forward in front of him, “It’s whatever, I’ll get through it.”

He doesn’t know if he will get through it though. Not with Draco looking like that, head tipped back in his chair, tie loosened, throat undulating as he took a sip of his firewhisky. Draco’s gorgeous like this - when he isn’t showing off or trying to catch someone’s eye. This is how Harry likes him.

The last time he’d seen him like this was after the formal towards the end of eighth year. Harry can picture the tipsy flush of his cheeks like it’s yesterday, the common room had been so packed that no one had noticed when Draco caught his hand, laughed against his ear, and pulled him up the winding staircase to the bedrooms. He’d been disheveled, white shirt partially unbuttoned with a darkened wine stain decorating his sleeve. Harry had teased him about it; him walking about in an outfit that wasn’t exactly befitting the prestigious House of Malfoy.

“Isn’t so prestigious now, is it?” Draco had said winking at him, “Anyways that’s why you’re here, to help me take it off,” Harry had kissed him then. Their tongues tangling, hot and desperate as he carefully opened the shirt button by button. They’d fallen into bed, Draco flicking his bed curtains closed and casting the necessary muffliato. Their breathing had seemed amplified in the silence, biting kisses and each shift of their hips followed by a moment of stillness. Three weeks later on the last night of term Draco had left him.

“Hello Ginny,” Draco says sweetly, bringing him back to present “Harry,” he adds significantly less so.

Harry sighs, not even bothering to respond, and focuses on reaching for the lone empty chair. He offers it to Ginny but she brushes it off when Blaise scoots over offering a spot next to him on the bench.

“What are you doing here Zabini?” Harry asks him skeptically, his voice comes out suspicious and cold. He flicks his eyes over Blaises’ body, noting his deep brown eyes and pouty lips. He remembers Draco’s voice soft in the dark of the potions lab, admitting that Blaise had been his first kiss.

“Oh, our wonderful friend Draco invited me,” Blaise says brightly, reaching his long arm across the table to flick at Draco’s hair. Draco’s face twists into a slightly amused scowl.

“Got any problems with me bringing a friend Potter?”

“Uh, no,” Harry says softly, a little taken aback. He drops into his chair and takes a swig of Theo’s drink.

“Heyyy, go buy your own!” Theo whines.

“I’ve got the next round,” Blaise offers. Ginny stands up to let him out of the booth, “Do me a favor and help me carry them back?” He asks Ginny. When she nods he breaks into a quick smile.

“So,” Dean says to Draco, “Theo tells me you studied in France?”

The table quickly devolves into a conversation Harry’s heard before. He sits silently, nodding along, as he watches Blaise and Ginny approach the bar. They walk with their bodies close. Ginny pauses to adjust the straps of her dress and Blaise leans into her, a teasing light in his warm brown eyes. He says something, lips close to her ear, and she laughs, tipping her head back and exposing her throat.

“So Harry, did you miss me this last week?” Theo asks Harry, green eyes watching him carefully.

“Oh Theo, you know I did. I was practically wasting away.” Harry reaches over and pats Theo’s thigh. Draco’s eyes track the movement and his shoulders tense up. Harry ignores him.

“We’re backkk,” Ginny calls, maneuvering through the crowd carrying a platter of drinks.

“We didn’t know what everyone wanted so we got an assortment, Ginny's little sister discount really pays off,” Blaise tells them laughing, a glint in his eye.

“I think Ron’s stopping by later,” Ginny tells them, “You know what that means. We might actually get drinks 100% on the house,” The table cheers and she smiles, winking across at Harry. Draco scowls and knocks back a firewhiskey in one go. Harry mirrors him, downing his drink and reaching for another.

After that the conversation devolves into tipsy rambling. Neville and Luna draw Draco into a conversation about the magical use of muggle herbs. Harry watches blurrily as Draco’s eyes light up and he leans into them explaining his ideas with exaggerated hand gestures.

Luna must notice Harry watching them because she turns towards him and asks, “Harry, do you know anything about the use of mint leaf when making the elixir of life?”

Harry looks at her blankly for a couple seconds and she dissolves into a bubble of laughter, “Luna, potions was my worst subject. You know I don’t have anything to say about that,” he chides, tone teasing.

“It never hurts to ask,” She shrugs at him, impish light in her eyes, “And, anyways, you looked really interested in what we were saying.”

“Oh no,” Harry protests, ignoring Draco’s eyes on him, “I just thought you were talking about something else at first.” The excuse sounds weak to even his own ear. He quickly turns away from them and catches Theo’s knowing look over the table. He hopes the dim lighting of the pub covers up his blush.

“Harry!” A loud booming voice calls from the front of the pub. He jerks his head up quickly and sees Ron striding toward him, Hermione in tow. He waves and scoots his chair over, making room for them to pull up their own.

“Ron! Hermione!” He calls, his lips cracking into a smile. He’s grateful for the distraction. He hasn’t seen Hermione and Ron much since Rose was born. He crosses his fingers that their presence will keep him from looking in Draco’s direction, at least for a couple of minutes.

“Harry!” Hermione yells back affectionately as she grabs a chair and pulls it up to the table next to him, “I’m so glad we could come. It feels like we haven’t seen you in ages. Same to you Draco.” She tells him pleasantly, meeting his eyes across the table.

“How’s it been working with Draco again?” Hermione asks him in a quieter tone. Harry pretends he doesn’t see the mischievous look in her eye.

“Oh, It’s okay. He’s still a drama queen.” Harry tells her as casually as possible before grabbing a drink off of the platter and gulping it down. When he looks back at Hermione she’s looking straight at him, eyes unblinking. He hears a small choking noise behind him. So, Draco’s heard him, well, he’s just telling the truth.

“I am NOT a drama queen,” Draco splutters behind them, causing Hermione to raise her eyebrows.

“You kind of are mate,” Blaise tells him dryly, “Hate to break it to you.”

“I am not! I can’t believe you would say that.” Draco says indignantly, pushing his nose up into the air. Harry thinks he catches a glimpse of amusement sparkling deep in his gray eyes, “I didn’t come here to be ridiculed.”

“Just telling you how it is Draco,” Blaise says, putting his hands up in the air and gesturing helplessly at Ginny, “You’ve always told me it’s important not to lie to you.”

Draco mock scowls at him. Ginny giggles. Hermione continues to fix Harry with her all knowing look. Harry reaches for a fresh drink. If he gets drunk enough he hopes that he can pass everything off on the drink he’s had and avoid Hermione getting involved in the little fan club of people who seem to be overly invested in Harry’s personal relationships for no good reason.

“So Harry,” Ron says casually, breaking through the banter around them, “How’s your tattoo healing up?”

“Oh it’s fine, was a little itchy for a while but you know how it is,” Harry glances back at Ron ruefully, “Yours?”

“Yeah same,” Ron replies gesturing causally at his arm, “Your’s was bigger though so I just wondered.”

“Oh yeah. Nah. It’s fine.”

“You. Got a tattoo?” Draco’s voice is loud. He’s peering over the table, eyes wide.

“Um, yeah,” Harry responds. He’s not sure why Draco has to make such a big deal out of everything. “We both did.” He gestures across to Ron shrugging.

“Harry!” Theo brightly slurs, “I’ve just remembered I never did get to see your tattoo! You should show it to us.”

Harry glances at Theo eyes narrowed. Theo’s definitely seen the tattoo, he lives at his house, he walks in on him changing all the time.

Theo leans in and pitches his voice low. Harry feels his breath on his ear as he whispers, “Can’t hurt to make the boy a little jealous now can it?” And quickly everything clicks into place.

“Well,” He responds just loud enough for Draco to hear, “When you put it like that all I need is a couple more drinks and then-” He looks pointedly at Ron, “If Ron here says I can take my shirt off in his pub, then sure, I can show you.”

Draco clenched his teeth and looked down at the table in front of him.

Harry secretly congratulates himself.

“Sure Harry,” Ron tells him looking amused, “Only for a couple minutes though. I can’t have the other patrons thinking it’s okay to get naked whenever they bloody feel like it.”

Harry grins at him, a happy buzz in his veins. He finishes his drink quickly and his head starts to spin.

Before he knows it he’s standing in front of his friends shirtless, spinning so they can see the Phoenix inked across his back. It’s a magical tattoo so he stands with his back to them for a moment so they can see the way it arches its body fluidly across his back.

When he turns around they clap for him and Theo gives him a wolf whistle. The only one who stays silent is Draco. His face is expressionless but his gray eyes are dark, pupils blown sky wide and his lips are parted. Something in his expression sinks like a hook inside of Harry. It feels like capture.

Harry coughs a little and lets his gaze skitter away from Draco. He laughs and does a mock bow to his friends. He pulls his shirt back on quickly and sits back in his chair gasping for breath.

“You okay?” Theo asks him, concern etching across his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” Harry waves him off and spends the next bit concentrating furiously on the conversation around him and studiously ignoring Draco.

When Theo offers to get the next round Harry goes with him. As they wait for the drinks he leans his head against Theo’s sturdy shoulder. He’s exhausted from trying to act normal around Draco and from watching Theo’s concerned eyes follow him around the bar.

“You know I’m here if you need to talk,” Theo tells him gently leaning into his body warmth.

Harry wraps an arm around him soaking up the physical comfort of a body next to him, a body that he knows won’t leave him, won’t rip away when he’s least expecting it.

“I know,” he mumbles.

He closes his eyes for a split second and then suddenly the bartender is sliding the drinks towards them on two heavy looking silver platters. Harry moves to clasp his hand around the first one and starts a little when a broad pale hand reaches past Theo’s side to grip the other.

“Hey I got that,” Theo protests as Draco steps around him, pushing into his space.

“No, it appears I’ve got it first.” He smiles but the warmth doesn’t reach his eyes, “You know what they say Theo. Finders keepers.” He shoves Theo a little harder separating him from Harry. Theo raises his eyebrows at Harry but shrugs heading back to the table in front of them.

“How does Ginny feel about you flirting with Theo right in front of her eyes?” Draco hisses at Harry, his tone acid. Harry focuses on the heavy platter in his hands and tries to keep the hot flash of anger in his bloodstream under control.

“Why aren’t you asking how I feel about her flirting with Blaise all night?” Harry spits back.

“Oh,” Draco’s eyes blink stupidly at him,”I hadn’t noticed. Now that I think about it, it does seem like Zabini might just steal your girl. How do you feel about that Golden Boy?”

Harry looks at him, watches the way he moves through the room all liquid grace and pretend politeness, and abruptly he’s done with his game. He slides his silver platter onto one of the empty tables near him and stops walking. Draco notices and mirrors him.

When Harry spins back on his heel to face him they’re staring at each other, only a few inches between their chests.

“I can’t decide if you’re stupid or blind,” Harry snaps at Draco. The table dining next to them flinches into silence before politely averting their eyes and continuing their conversation in hushed tones.

Draco opens his mouth to respond but Harry quickly continues,“When has it ever seemed like Ginny and I were together? I’m not a cheater, I don’t play the room. If anything, your assumptions say more about yourself.” He shoves against Draco’s chest hard and he stumbles back enough for Harry to extract himself from where he had been pinned in next to the table.

Harry spares him one last poisonous glare before he turns away in a furious rush, stalking into the hallway by the loos. Closing his eyes he tips his head back against the steady wooden wall and wills his head to stop spinning. When he peels his eyes open again Draco’s there beside him.

Harry sucks in a breath, holds it and feels unsteady on his feet.

“Come with me.” Draco tells him, hand outstretched. Harry doesn't even wait a beat before taking it. Draco’s skin is soft against his and his palm is bigger than it used to be. Harry forces himself to draw a breath against the tightness of his ribcage. Heat crackles down his spine.

Draco tugs him through the loo door and stops suddenly, making Harry stumble a little. He catches him and presses him up against the wall.

When Draco kisses him Harry’s lips are already parted.

There’s less anger in it this time, just the casual pleasure of open mouths and tongues sliding together. Harry moves his hand up clenching his fingers around Draco’s wrist and watches as he squeezes his lids shut. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, the strong wind pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Draco groans into his mouth and the inside of Harry's thighs flare with warmth. He reaches up with his free hand and tangles it through Draco’s long golden locks tugging gently. “Fuck,” Draco exhales quietly, slotting his thigh in between Harry’s and pressing him more firmly to the wall.

Harry sighs into his mouth, “I’ve wanted you all night,” He admits, pushing his hips into Draco’s.

“Me too,” Draco responds, dragging his lips down Harry's bare neck. He hesitates for a second before his hands reach for the hem of Harry’s t-shirt. “Can I?” He asks gently, stepping back for a second.

Harry reaches out and grabs his hips pulling him back again until their bodies are flush, “Yes please,”

Draco quickly pulls the thin fabric over his head and Harry bites back a laugh at being half naked in Ron’s pub for the second time that night. Then, Harry sucks in a harsh gasp because Draco’s fingertips are there ghosting across his bare chest. Before he can stop himself his hips jerk up and he’s writhing against Draco’s body.

“Oh,” someone makes a soft sound of surprise behind them.

Harry rips away from Draco as if he’s just been burned. His lips are still buzzing from the feeling of Draco against them. He turns quickly grabbing his shirt off of the paper towel dispenser next to them and looks directly into Theo’s shocked green eyes.

Without a word he shoulders past Theo and storms out of the pub into the dark night.

~~~~~~~~

Outside the cold wind bites against Harry’s cheeks. He stumbles down the street focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. His mind is reeling.

He realizes he’s still too drunk to apparate and curses himself, but as he walks further he starts to feel grateful for it.

Something about the inky darkness around him makes the events of the night more stomach-able. As he pushes on forward through the icy streets, he can’t stop replaying the look in Theo’s eyes, shocked, confused, apologetic. He doesn’t know why it freaked him out so much. Theo’s his friend. He knows almost everything about him. He guesses all the unspoken things between him and Draco feel too large, a tangled net so vast that it encompasses them. He doesn’t know where to start.

Exhaling, he watches his breath as it freezes in the air and continues slowly forward down the dark alleyway.

Last Lines Challenge

I saw @phoebe-delia and @the-starryknight do this tag and I loved their snippets so much I wanted to join in! 

This line is from my current wip, you can find the first couple chapters here 

 She waits for Harry to nod slowly, for Draco to dip his head back to the plate in front of him, before winking dramatically. Harry feels the warmth of a blush spread across his cheeks. 

I’m tagging @sorry-i-ship-drarry ,  @silver-de-vonne and anyone else who sees this to share the last lines of whatever they’re writing! 

Yesss that’s such a cool concept! I love using songs as my inspiration

Thank you for the tag Ravena <3 @ravena-wrote

Last Line Challenge

(Basically its where you reblog with the last line of a story or poetry you're currently writing)

Okay please, this is dark though. It's from a fic I'm writing-

God okay, here goes-

"Boys only want love if it's torture," she sung, her voice coming out in whispers, breaths hitting his bare restrained thighs; a steel knife dropped it's reflection on his thigh and as it dripped blood, "Don't, say I didn't, say I didn't-" the knife pierced the skin and the person whimpered through a ball gag, "-warn you," she fixed him with glare.

I'm tagging @emikadreams and @myopicmeerkat and whoever who writes and finds this.

Harry leans into Theo’s warm embrace. He thinks about Draco’s gray eyes, the way they narrow when he wants something, and flicker to light when he laughs. He thinks about Draco’s long limbs, his casual saunter. He thinks about the afternoon in the potion’s lab with Draco leaning back beside him. He thinks he always knew it would come to this, his heart full and ready, waiting to spill into pale broad palms.

Read full work here