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Inexplicable Things (Ch. 4)

Inexplicable Things (Ch. 4)

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 

Chapter 4 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Draco mumbles, as he shifts from his sleeping spot into a more proper sitting position.

“Like what?” Harry says wide eyed and innocent.

“Ugh, you’re impossible” Draco retorts, running his hand through his tousled hair, “So what’d you say Harry? Are you going to help me drown my sorrows?” His smile looks strained and manic. The twinkle in his eye is a bit dull.

Harry looks at him and wants to tell him no, that he thinks they should talk things through, that they should be sober for it. His eyes trace across the strange tension in Draco’s shoulders, the sad downturn at the sides of his mouth, and realizes that maybe that would be selfish.

No matter what Draco says about Narcissa it’s clear her hospitalization has shaken him to the bones. He’s seeking Harry out for comfort, not for an in-depth analysis of their shared past. If Draco wants to get blazingly drunk then that’s what they’ll do.

“Depends what we’re drowning them in,” Harry tells him and Draco’s smile spreads a little wider. Harry’s certain he’s made the right choice.

~~~~~~~~~

Some twenty minutes later, they’re sitting on the floor in Harry’s living room with an odd assortment of firewhisky, butterbear, soda water and some multicolor syrups that Ginny had stolen from Ron’s bar a couple weeks before.

Harry watches Draco dubiously as he carefully pours the liquids together into tall clear glasses. He stirs for a second, lips pursed and brow furrowed, before pushing one across the table towards Harry.

“Bottoms up,” He says, picking up his glass. Harry mirrors his movement gingerly, lifting the rip to his lips and taking a tentative sip.

He quickly sets the glass back down spluttering, “Merlin, that stuff is foul!”

Draco raises his eyebrow and sips his drink calmly, “This is the type of drink they used to serve at pureblood parties back in the day.”

Harry blanches, grabbing the soda water and gulping it down straight. “Didn’t know purebloods had a taste for decomposing dishwater.”

“Oh my God Harry shut up.” Draco says. Harry wonders again where he’d picked up Muggle swears.

“Here,” Draco continues knocking a new glass against his arm. Harry reaches for it and breaths a quiet sigh of relief when he realizes it’s pure firewhisky.

“Alright, race you to the finish,” Harry says.

“Hey, no fair. My drink’s like four times the size of yours,” Draco whines.

“Your fault for being so posh.” Harry tells him, winking over the rip of his glass.

“Fine. Be like that.” Draco tosses his blonde hair behind his shoulders and picks up his glass hastily.

Draco lifts the glass to his lips and begins drinking, and drinking, and drinking. Harry can’t tear his gaze away from the way his throat undulates in the firelight. He can’t stop thinking about reaching one of his hands out and feeling the way it moves. By the time Draco slams his glass down onto the coffee table and wipes his wet mouth on the back of his hand Harry’s head is spinning in a way it shouldn't until he’s at least four drinks in.

“That was actually pretty impressive,” he says rather hoarsely, his eyes darting from Draco’s mouth to his throat and back again.

“I know,” Draco winks at him. Harry tries unsuccessfully not to blush.

~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Theo and Ginny arrive home with Dean in tow Harry and Draco are thoroughly drunk.

Harry watches them enter the room through blurry eyes and wonders if he should be embarrassed by how totally gone they are on a weekday. Then, Theo stumbles on the corner of the rug and Dean tries to right him unsuccessfully and they tumble onto the floor giggling, and Harry realizes that him and Draco might not be the only drunk ones in the room.

“Well, well, well, “ Draco says with a gentle slur in his words. “Look who’s joined the party.”

“Ooo what are you drinking?” Ginny asks, dropping to the floor next to him and closely examining his cup.

“Ugh, don’t even ask, it's horrid,” Harry groans, his stomach recoiling with just the thought of Draco’s drink.

Draco offers Ginny his glass and she disregards Harry’s advice taking a large swing.

“Ohhh,” She breathes happily, raising the glass to her lips a second time,”This reminds me of when I would sneak drinks at parties when I was younger.”

“I can’t believe you two,” Harry says grumpily, wrinkling his nose in protest.

“Don’t be put out Harry, I’ll drink firewhisky with you,” Dean tells him plopping down onto the wood floor next to them.

“Oh good,” Harry grins at him dreamily, handing over his glass.

When he looks back over at Draco, he’s watching him, a funny light in his gray eyes. Harry’s cheeks flush and he focuses on the floor in front of him.

~~~~~~~~~

Ginny decides that they need to play drinking games. They start with charades. Ginny and Draco quickly team up to get Theo as drunk as possible and Harry and Dean retaliate giving drinks only to Ginny and Draco in response. Harry’s face aches from laughter. Eventually, he’s drunk enough to try Draco’s horrible concoction again and he’s shocked to find it worryingly good.

“All right, for our next game,” Ginny proclaims with glee. “We will be playing the wonderful game of twister.” She pulls the box out of the living room cabinet with a flourish. “Whoever falls down first drinks!”

Harry groans. He should have known it would come to this.

Ginny had been introduced to Twister at one of Hermione’s parties and ever since she forced them to play it any chance they got. A lump in his throat arises at the thought of tangling his body against Draco’s in the presence of other people and he swallows it down quickly before grabbing the corner of the Twister sheet and helping Ginny arrange it on the floor.

Several minutes later, Harry’s laughing so hard he can barely hear the instructions. He’s bent forward in a downward dog over Dean’s legs and everyone else is tangled above them in a quivering know of octopus-like limbs. He can hear Ginny’s giggles close to his left ear. When Draco is coached to move his left hand to yellow, Dean's elbow knocks into his back and he sways into Draco's side as his body moves in beside him. Gasping and cursing they right themselves and narrowly avoid a tumble onto the floor. Draco’s warmth against him sends a hot tingle up his side and Harry narrows his eyes on the brightly colored dots below him in an effort to ignore it.

Then, Ginny calls the next instruction and Theo knocks into the back of Harry’s knee and suddenly they all lose their balance, tumbling towards the floor.

Harry gets lost in the warm press of bodies above him. When the chaos finally settles he opens his eyes and suddenly becomes aware that he’s laying flat on his back with Draco sitting on top of him, legs tangled together, and Harry's arms splayed above his head.

“Oh” Harry gasps, chest still heaving from laughter.

“Looks like you fell first if you’re underneath me,” Draco says smugly, his face very close to Harry’s. His breath smells bitter like alcohol and sweet like syrup. Harry finds himself acutely aware that it would take only a little movement to brush his lips across Draco’s mouth.

Harry meets Draco’s eyes and sees his realization reflected there. They stare at each other and the air feels static around them. Harry thinks he could change everything if he leaned up and let their lips brush right now, where his friends could see them, where Draco might realize that he’s not something that Harry wants to hide. Draco’s eyes widen a fraction.

Then, Ginny knocks into them and Draco tumbles off of Harry’s lap in a whirlwind of limps and Harry’s still laying on the floor, flat on his back, lips cold and empty.

“Get up Harry! It’s time for you to drinkkk,” Theo tells him in a sing-songy voice, kicking him swiftly in the leg.

~~~~~~~~~

Dean’s the first one to fall asleep. It feels like it happens in a split second, one minute they’re sitting around the coffee table talking, the next Dean is sprawled out across the dark green upholstery snoring softly.

“Well,” Ginny says quietly, so as not to wake him, “I guess it’s time to go to bed.” She pushes herself off of the floor clumsily. “This was great, we should all do this again.” She pats Harry, Draco and Theo sloppily on their heads and stumbles off to her bedroom.

“Ugh, she’s right.” Theo mumbles sitting up from where he’d been laying across the floor, “I can’t believe we have work tomorrow.” He uses the coach to hoist himself into a standing position and knocks against the coffee table precariously before righting himself.

“Have a goodnight!” He calls, flapping his hand in a tired wave as he disappears into his room. His light flicks on, illuminating the hallway in a bright stripe before the door clicks closed definitively leaving Harry and Draco alone together in the living room with nothing but the dim glow of the dying fire.

“I don’t think I’m sober enough to apparate home,” Draco tells him, his voice tentative.

Harry glances over at Draco’s flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes and knows he’s right. “That’s fine, you can stay here.” His tongue feels cumbersome in his mouth and the words come out soft and blurry.

For a long moment Draco looks at him, just looks. “Okay.” He says, a smile spreading across his face sudden and hesitant.

“Oh, but the coach is taken,” He observes flatly, looking at Harry defeated.

Fuck, it is, Harry thinks frantically. The only place left is his bed and he’s not sure if he can handle that. Not when Draco’s the one who broke his heart into scattered pieces that he’s still trying to assemble.

“So,” Draco says slowly, as if he’s feeling out the words, “We could share your bed? I mean, we’ve done it before.”

Harry stills for a moment, his gaze settling on Draco’s face. He watches as he catches his lip between his lips and bites it nervously.

“That does seem like the only solution,” Harry says with a calmness he isn’t feeling, “Come on then.”

Draco blinks up at him for a second with an expression on his face that Harry could only describe as disbelief. “Oh yes, okay.”

~~~~~~~~~

Inside Harry’s room Draco stands awkwardly in the corner while Harry scorers his drawers for something that Draco can sleep in. He settles on a large light blue t-shirt and tosses it over. Draco catches easily and begins to shrug off his shirt. Harry catches a glimpse of collarbones and the dark edges of a tattoo before a sudden urge of want slams through him, and he has to turn away, busying his hands by rifling through the clothes in front of him.

When he turns back, Draco is wearing the shirt draped over his body. The end of it falls just above the hem of his boxers revealing pale slender thighs. Harry needs a moment to collect himself and he realizes that over the course of the night he will spontaneously combust from sexual tension.

“I might have a toothbrush you can use,” Harry tells him, leading Draco over to the ensuite bathroom that he’d been lucky to win off of Theo during a tireless summer of cutthroat pool games. He rummages around under the counter and manages to unearth a pale blue toothbrush encased in a clear plastic wrapper.

“I know how much you hate relying on cleaning spells for your teeth,” He says casually as he extends the toothbrush towards Draco’s hand.

As Draco takes it hesitantly their skin brushes sending a burst of heat through Harry’s fingertips.

In need of a quick distraction Harry steps away from him into the bedroom and shrugs off his own shirt to change.

Draco makes a noise sort of like a high pitched hum and Harry swings back around, noticing the way the toothbrush is sliding through his lips, his cheeks hollowing around it.

“What?” Harry asks, unsuccessfully trying to look away from Draco’s mouth.

Draco’s response is garbled by toothpaste and he turns back to the bathroom mirror swiftly. The back of his neck looks a little pink.

Harry is finding it hard to think, so he lets it slide, turning back into the bedroom.

He feels like his skin is stretched so tight over his body that it might burst. It takes every inch of his restraint to keep himself from striding into the bathroom and wrapping his hands firmly around Draco’s slim waist and pushing him back into the cool granite counter. Instead, he heaves a giant trembling breath and shakes the blankets flat over the bed.

“Hurry up.” He calls to Draco, grabbing his face-wash off of the dresser and crowding back into the bathroom.

Draco inhales as if he’s about to say something but then stays quiet, stepping away from the sink.

Harry brushes his teeth and washes his face quickly. When he raises his face from the water his eyes meet Draco’s in the mirror and he realizes that Draco’s been standing there watching his whole routine. “Come on let's get to bed,” He tells him, and his voice comes out low, gentler than he had planned.

Harry leads the way into the bedroom and Draco follows quietly. He hovers at the end of the bed for a moment as Harry burrows deep under the duvet, sighing gently at the cool slip of sheets against his skin.

“Get a move on Draco, we haven’t got all night,” He taunts softly. He hopes Draco can’t tell that his hands are sweating or that his heart is beating so fast it feels like he may actually have a heart attack at the tender young age of 25. Inevitably, he feels the dip of the mattress as Draco slides in beside him and his pulse speeds up even more. Every molecule in his body aches to move in closer and Merlin, this is really going to kill him isn’t it? There’s no way he’s going to survive the night.

Draco shifts beside him and their calves brush. Harry just barely manages to suppress a full body shiver. He wants to hex himself in the face.

“Goodnight,” Harry tells Draco, focusing extra hard on the ceiling above their heads.

“Goodnight,” Draco echos, the timbre of his voice cutting straight to Harry’s core. He’s silent for a moment before he continues. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Anytime,” Harry responds and realizes that he means it.

He reaches over and flicks off the light, plunging them into darkness. It feels more intimate like that. The two of them alone with only the sound of their breath and the soft whisper of sheets.

“Are you warm enough?” Harry asks. He wants to punch himself the moment it’s out. Circe, it sounds like he cares. Which he does, but like, Draco doesn’t need to know that. At least not now. Not when they’re drunk and Harry is seconds away from doing something stupid.

“Yes.” Draco says simply. “You know me, I don’t get cold too easily.”

You know me.

Harry’s lungs feel tight. It would be so easy to turn over, to catch Draco’s lips against his.

Then, Draco’s body shifts and he feels him turn away, towards the wall. There is enough space between them for another body, a marked difference from the times they’d shared a bed, when they were wrapped around each other so tight Harry almost couldn’t tell where his skin ended and Draco’s began. Harry breathes in and thinks he can smell hints of Draco’s aftershave, fresh traces of citrus and cedar. He feels cold even under the billowing blankets. Shivering, he turns on his own side and faces the opposite wall. He can’t shake the feeling of Draco’s presence beside him and it takes him many minutes before he falls into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wakes once during the night to a heavy warm weight around them. He’s hot in the blankets and he tries to kick it off only for it to squeeze him tighter. He opens his eyes a little to the pitch black room and startles a little when he realizes that Draco has turned over in his sleep and he’s clutching at his waist tightly like Harry might vanish at any second. His sleeping breaths tickle at Harry’s neck. Harry holds himself very still.

Draco makes a noise in his sleep and shifts backwards a bit, pulling Harry with him and pressing their bodies flush together. Harry rests his head back against Draco’s chest and tries to relax. His eyes find the clock on his nightstand. It reads 3:34 am. Harry feels like he’s in a haze, like they’ve entered an alternate universe where only the two of them exist. He closes his eyes and slides his hand to cover Draco’s. Draco doesn’t even stir. He lets himself melt into the gentle comfort of body heat beside him. It takes almost an hour for him to drift back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

The second time Harry wakes up there's a gentle light drifting through the curtain and the sheets are cold beside him. He thinks Draco might have snuck out in the night and he suddenly feels nauseous.

He rolls over onto his back trying to get a grip on his emotions and is startled to find Draco sitting up in bed next to him ramrod straight and as far away from Harry as possible.

“Um, is everything alright?” He mumbles carefully, surreptitiously wiping a bit of drool from his cheek.

Draco turns to look at him, his gray eyes rimmed with red, “You know the thing you said yesterday about my mother? Is that how you feel about me?”

“Um, what?” Harry says dumbly, pushing himself up until he’s sitting against the headboard next to Draco.

Draco still looks so beautiful even when he’s falling apart. Slowly a tear traces its way down Draco’s pale cheeks. Harry reaches out and catches it on his finger.

“I’m selfish, but you can’t stop loving me?” Draco asks, voice cracking. Then he pauses, his eyes flashing panic. “I mean, um, uh. Not love me but like you’re still attracted to me, or like, like me even though I’m selfish?” His face flushes brilliantly and he pulls his knees up into a ball hiding his face in them.

“Um, yeah.” Harry answers his voice slow and somber like each word is being dragged out of him, “I guess that’s how I feel.”

“Oh,” Draco looks down at him again, eyes wide and dark.

Harry blinks and rubs a hand over his eyes. His voice comes out scratchy. “You could have stayed and talked to me. You didn’t need to just... leave.”

“Fuck,” Draco breathes softly, angrily brushing the tears off of his face. “I loved you so much back then,” The words come out in a rush not fully formed.

Harry blinks at him, not sure if he’s heard correctly.

“I didn’t know how to say goodbye. It’s stupid. I know. I’m stupid. I just thought if I didn’t say goodbye it wouldn’t be real, that things wouldn’t seem so final.” He tilts his head back against the wall and looks fixedly at the ceiling. Another tear rolls quietly off his cheek.

“You..” Harry breaks off and stares at Draco silently for what feels like the better part of a decade. The air feels brittle around them.

When he finally speaks there’s a tremor in his voice, “You loved me?”

“Merlin, Harry. Of course I did.”

Draco finally looks at him and they stare straight at each other for a long time. Harry’s hands begin to shake. “I-” his voice comes out too soft and he coughs slightly before continuing, “I felt the same way.”

“What?” Draco blinks at him, gray eyes bright and bottom lip trembling.

“I loved you. I thought it was so clear.” Harry shifts slightly until his side presses against Draco. The body heat between them feels comforting and helps him stabilize himself. “I loved you so much I couldn’t see a way out. When you left -” He breaks off his eyes shiny with tears, “When you left I didn’t know how to picture a life without you.”

“Harry,” Draco says gently, “I never thought you would love someone like me. I’m awful. I’ve done awful things. As much as I tried to convince myself we had a chance I just couldn’t believe it. I’m sorry I left but you didn’t need to rub it in how fast you moved on without me.”

“What?” Harry asks voice shrill, “I didn’t move on. At least not for so long. What are you talking about?”

“I was in France, not another planet, Harry. I saw the newspapers. You don’t need to pretend.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry’s voice rises with each word. His eyes are wild.

“You got back together with Ginny,” Draco spits at him, “I saw the papers. Everyone knew about it. I can’t believe you’re acting like it never happened.”

“I didn’t get back together with Ginny.” Harry speaks slowly, carefully enunciating every word. He feels a flicker of anger lick at his ribcage and he takes a deep breath. Getting angry at Draco has never worked. They have to talk this through.

“You were photographed leaving a pub together right after I left.” Draco says, cold and venomous. “All the headlines were variations of Weasley-Potter: Romance Rekindled. I didn’t believe it at first but then I saw the photographs. You were hanging all over each other and you just looked so happy. That’s when I knew I didn’t stand a chance. That there was no way you could have loved me.”

Harry stares at him shocked. Draco catches his gaze and holds him there, his silvery eyes seem to search him right down to the bone.

Suddenly Harry remembers.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken a full week for Ginny to convince Harry to leave his room. She’d arrived on his doorstep after dinner time holding a plate of extra food and Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d ate. She forced him to eat it, her bright eyes tracing his hands as he lifted each morsel to his mouth. She hadn’t asked what was wrong. If she had, Harry would have thrown her out, rolled over, and gone back to sleep.

Instead, she’d sat with him and told him all the drama he’d missed. She’d described Ron and Hermione’s latest fight and told him all about the prank Luna had played on Neville. The normality of it all caused Harry’s numbness to fade a little. So, when Ginny had invited him out to the Hog’s head that night he’d said yes. He was tired of wasting time on Draco. Draco had left. Draco had shown him who he was and Harry was ready to listen.

At the pub they got deliciously drunk. Harry’s limbs felt loose for the first time all week. He watched as his friends twireld and spun in the rainbow lights and he felt hope that one day he would be happy again. When Ginny and Ron had pulled him into their outrageous rendition of the chicken dance he joined in. The smile that spread across his face felt alien but okay. Things would be okay.

They’d drifted out of the pub in twos, wrung out and full of light. He and Ginny were the last to leave. The spring night was cold and they'd huddled together for warmth. Harry had draped his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, Ginny burying herself in his side. Outside the pub they’d stumbled several times. They’d been laughing at the hilarity of not being in control of their limbs when a flashbulb went off in their face blinding them.

“What the hell,” Ginny had screeched.

“Shit,” Harry had said, softer, before turning on his heel and apparating them up closer to Hogwarts.

The papers had published the picture of them the next day, spouting rumors of rekindled love and eminent proposals. Harry had ignored them. He didn’t see a reason to correct them. Not when Draco was in a different country. Not when Draco had made it so clear he wouldn’t ever love him.

~~~~~~~~~

“Oh,” He says gently, looking at Draco wide eyed, “I’d forgotten about that. The papers were wrong.”

“What do you mean the papers were wrong?” Draco asks, words slow, like they’re being dragged out of him one at a time.

“Me and Ginny were never together like that, at least not since the war.” Harry tells him carefully.

Draco gulps, Harry watches his adams apple bob in his throat.

“Fuck,” Draco breathes, finally looking away from Harry’s eyes. Harry wants to grab his jaw and turn his face back. Instead, he clenches his fists around the white sheets and focuses on the way the fabric tightens over his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Draco tells him. He’s still looking away. Harry watches his eyelids flicker rapidly.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Harry’s voice trembles. “I mean you could have stayed and fought.”

“I know.” Draco’s voice is rough. “Merlin, I know. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left.”

“Draco,” He exhales. He wants to tell Draco that this is the best thing that’s happened to him, maybe ever. But he catches himself. Instead, he reaches over and clasps Draco’s forearm, giving him a stern look. “I thought about you too.”

Draco finally turns back to him, catching his gaze in a flash of silver. “But you can’t forgive me,” His voice was flat, his mouth turned down at the corners.

Harry focuses on the warmth of Draco’s skin under his palm. He takes a deep breath and his lungs expand. “I can’t forgive you immediately,” He corrects.

The corners of Draco’s mouth tug up slightly, “Okay,” He says, “Okay, I can work with that.” Then he pauses, “You can tell me to leave now if you want. The last thing I want to do is overstay my welcome.”

Harry looks him square in the eyes, he looks more than a little pathetic, eyes wide and fretful. “Stay for breakfast.” He squeezes Draco’s arm and feels it through his skin as his muscles relax.

“Thank you,” Draco tells him gently, leaning into his side, “For letting me stay, but also for hearing me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. A small smile spreads it’s way across Draco’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco takes the first shower.

Which is fine, because Harry is polite and Draco is his guest and of course they both want to be clean for work. It’s also not fine, because it turns out that sitting on your bed listening to the sound of water against the naked body of a beautiful man is actually horrendously torturous.

Harry isn’t freaking out. It’s just that his mind is going in two horribly incompatible directions. Part of him is back 10 minutes ago combing over the words of their conversation, trying to decide what it would take for him to truly forgive Draco. The other half of him is dedicated to painting a picture of Draco right now, the way his head is tilted back under the shower-head, the gentle curve of his back, the swell of his bum barely exposed through the steam collecting around him.

Harry pushes himself off of the bedspread and begins to pace. The wood floor is cool under his feet. He wracks his brain for anything that could distract him from his thoughts and displace the heat that is slowly pooling in his stomach. He is unsuccessful.

When the shower shuts off Harry halts in his tracks. Okay. This won’t be awkward. Why would it be awkward now? It will be fine. Just as long as Harry keeps his eyes away from Draco and doesn’t blurt out anything stupid. He wrings his hands behind his back and pretends to be extremely focused on digging through his drawers for a change of clothes

At the sound of the bathroom door Harry looks back and freezes. He doesn’t fidget. He doesn’t sway. He doesn’t move.

There, standing before him is Draco, towel slung loosely around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders. A droplet of water snakes across the swell of his chest, continues down over his lithe abdomen and disappears, absorbed by the towel. He’s so close to Harry. Close enough that Harry could lean forward just a very little way and place his hands on Draco’s slim waist. Close enough that he could lean forward and kiss him.

“Could I borrow some clothes?” Draco says, voice all gravel and depth, so much so that it sends a spark right through Harry’s core.

He stares dumbly at Draco blinking for a couple seconds. “Oh, yeah, um, clothes. Yeah I’ve got clothes,” He babbles nonsensically and gestures at the dresser before fleeing to the bathroom.

He slams the door quickly and leans against it. In the mirror he watches his blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck.

Harry takes his shower quickly. He turns the water up till it’s scalding. As it pours over his body he watches his stomach and thighs turn bright pink. He wonders what it would be like if Draco was there with him, his knees bent against the tile, his mouth hot against Harry’s dick. Angrily he caves in and has the shortest most embarrassing wank of his life. When he comes, he raises his free hand to his mouth, biting down on his fist to muffle his sighs.

Afterwards, Harry wraps a towel tightly over his hips and swings the bathroom open with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel. Draco is laying back across Harry’s bed wearing one of his button downs. The sight of him makes Harry’s heart flutter.

“Did the clothes fit okay?” At the sound of his voice Draco pushes himself off of the bed into a sitting position. Harry notes the way his eyes flicker down across his bare chest with interest.

“Oh yeah,” Draco says sheepishly, “Thanks again.”

As Harry turns away he adds with a smile in his voice, “I forgot your nipples were weirdly pointy.”

Harry grabs a shirt from the closet and whirls around, “You're having me on, my nipples are not weirdly pointy. If anything, your face is weirdly pointy.”

“Ooo,” Draco says sarcastically, “Burn.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him and tries to focus on getting dressed. He fumbles a couple times, distracted by the heat of Draco’s eyes on his body, but eventually prevails.

“Well, what do you say?” He asks Draco, once his legs are firmly in his pants and he’s buttoned his shirt twice to get the buttons even, “Are you ready to head down for breakfast?”

“Sure,” Draco says, smirking at him. Then he pauses, the line of his mouth falters, “Um, wait is that going to be okay? I mean, for Theo and Ginny to know I slept here?”

“ Oh, uh, yeah. They know about you,” Harry pauses, wincing at his inability to explain situations clearly, “I mean like they know about eighth year. They know we’re figuring things out. And I think they assumed you were sleeping over. We were all clearly too drunk to apparate.”

“They know about us?” Draco says slowly, as if he doesn’t comprehend.

‘Yes.” Harry says and Draco releases a sudden breath, head snapping up. There’s something in his eyes that Harry can’t quite read. On instinct Harry steps forward. He covers the ground between them in two steps and then he’s standing over Draco, legs bracketing him on either side.

“I’m glad they know.” Draco admits in a rush, his head tipped back and his blonde hair streaming behind him. Harry’s breath freezes in his chest. He reaches out and as his fingertips ghost across Draco’s jawline he realizes his hands are trembling. Their skin against each other feels like static electricity, like with one wrong move they could both get shocked. When Harry leans in he does it without thinking. When their lips finally meet it feels like ascendancy.

Bang

Harry’s bedroom door flies open and slams into the wall with a careless intensity. He jumps back from Draco as if he’s been burned.

“Harry! We’re going to be late.” Ginny yells as she barrels over the threshold. “Oh fuck!” She exclaims when she notices Draco perched on the bed looking particularly pale.

“Sorry! Merlin's beard, I didn’t realize you were here. Well, um, Theo’s made pancakes. They’re ready when you’re ready. Oh, and don’t take too long. We have to be at the office at 9:30, Harry.” She flushes bright red and rushes out of the room.

“Well,” Draco says slowly, a wry grin on his face. “I guess we’d better get down there.” He stretches his arms above his head exposing a sliver of pale stomach and Harry wants to tackle him back onto the bed.

“You’re right,” Harry replies. His voice comes out rough.

  • slightyflammable
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3 years ago

I love this piece so much! First person is such a difficult thing for me to write so I really enjoy reading when other people do it so well :)

Last Lines Challenge

I was tagged by @ravena-wrote and I thought why not give this a try.

I wrote this probably during the December fluff fest I was doing but I had abandoned the idea to write a completely new one. So here’s a discarded line that I thought was worth saving.

There’s a modern notion that goes on every lips that nobody and nothing is perfect but while I believe that, my standards break lose as soon as I see him. There’s too little perfection that exists in people and I know he wasn’t a perfect human being either but Draco is the most perfect definition of perfect i’ve ever seen. 

While I’m tagging a few people, it’s an open tag so whoever wanna do it, give it a shot<3

@drarrywords @silver-de-vonne @harryandginnydeservesbetter @rockingrobin69 @corvuscrowned

3 years ago

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. 


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3 years ago

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 


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3 years ago

This is so interesting!!!

Every Day I Am Percieved

every day i am percieved™️