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Inexplicable Things
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 1
When Harry steps into the lobby of the DMLE he freezes for a second. To the untrained eye it would mean nothing, a quick pause in his steps, but as Theo makes eye contact with him and wiggles his eyebrows significantly before looking back at the man talking to Kingsley, Harry knows he’s just been caught out.
Who’s to blame him really, Harry thinks as he smirks and saunters over to Theo. Wouldn’t anyone stop and stare for a moment when confronted with broad shoulders and lean legs and a messy plait of golden blonde hair that juxtaposes perfectly with a crisp black suit? He pushes himself up onto Theo’s desk and cheerfully swings his legs back and forth.
“You’ll never guess who the new staff is,” Theo says mischievously, a small grin on his face.
“There’s new staff?” Harry responds blandly, more focused on watching the man facing Kingsley. He finds the gentle shift of his muscles under his suit a bit hypnotic.
“Yes, remember? Kingsley told us yesterday?” Theo asks. His eyes flick between Harry and the conversation happening across the room. “Don’t tell me you weren’t listening again.”
“I might not have been listening.” Harry admits cheerfully. “Is it him?” He gestures casually.
“Yes,” Theo responds. His eyes glint like he’s keeping a secret.
“Great!” Harry hops off of Theo’s desk. “Then I guess we should introduce-” He cuts himself off as the man shifts away from Kingsley and turns towards them because suddenly, everything is not great. In fact, suddenly everything is the opposite of great and the air in his lungs feels like it’s turned to ice. He grips the side of Theo’s desk in an attempt to steady himself because there, striding towards him, is Draco Malfoy.
And what? No way, no way in hell. Because 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 look at him, to be in the same room with him. Didn’t Draco know that Harry had been so in love with him he couldn't see a way out? How could he just show up here without so much as a warning? Harry lets go of the desk and clenches his fists. The DMLE is his territory and if it’s up to him Draco will be long gone-
“Hey are you okay?” Theo interrupts his thoughts in a hushed voice.
“Yes, fine,” Harry says, attempting airy and landing on a slightly shrill.
Theo looks at him pointedly and opens his mouth to fire off what Harry assumes will be a series of highly intrusive questions. Harry watches as Kingsley directs Draco towards them and knows that extreme measures have to be taken. He stomps down heavily on Theo’s foot.
“Oww, Merlin's Beard Harry!” Theo exclaims loudly. Harry smirks a little. Theo jabs him hard in the stomach in retaliation and by the time Kingsley and Draco reach them they're both doubled over in pain. Not the most dignified way to see the first boy to ever break his heart, Harry reflects, but at least he’d avoided Theo’s questions. He straightens up facing Kingsley and does his best to avoid Draco’s searching eyes.
“Sorry about that Shacklebolt,” He says professionally. He hopes Kingsley can’t hear the note of pain in his voice. “How can I help you?”
“Well,” Kingsley pauses, looking back and forth between them, his eyebrow raised in amusement, “I was wondering if one of you could finish showing around our new potions consultant. I’ve got a meeting at 10 and unfortunately we’ve only just managed to cover the lobby.”
“Oh, sure. Of course we can,” Theo offers before Harry can step on his foot again. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since-” he winces a little, “the war I guess. When I got back from eighth year abroad you’d already left. How’ve you been?”
“Fine,” Draco responds, tight lipped, “Happy to be back in London I guess. I missed my friends.” He’s looking everywhere but Harry. Underneath his suit jacket his shoulders look tense and rigid. The tendons in his cheeks are clenched tight. At least Draco isn’t completely unaffected by Harry’s presence, which means he remembers too. Remembers the harsh stolen kisses in stoney alcoves, remembers the way he’d left Harry, creeping out at night like a coward, leaving Harry to wake up in a pool of cold sheets chest already aching.
Harry forces a breath out of his chest and focuses back on the conversation in front of him. Draco’s explaining the potion work he’d just finished in America before the DMLE had specifically requested his presence in London. And fuck, there goes Harry’s plan of getting him fired within the first day doesn’t it? He leans into Theo’s arm for a second to steady himself. Draco’s steely gray eyes track his movement, watching how Theo relaxes himself against Harry, then narrow.
“Alright, well let's get this show on the road shall we?” Theo asks cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two men. He must be pretending, there’s no way a highly trained Auror like him could have missed it.
As Theo ushers Draco forward, toward the Auror offices he glances behind him and raises his eyes at Harry only confirming his expectations. Harry sighs, preparing himself for future interrogation. He’s never told anyone about Draco. Wherever they had between each other had felt inexplicable, something large and unfathomable, completely terrifying to put into words. So he hadn’t, and then Draco had left and it hadn’t mattered anymore.
In front of him Theo is explaining the fingerprint system they use to enter the offices. Draco leans forward cautiously to press his finger against the mechanism. Harry pretends not to notice as a piece of hair falls from his braid and drapes across his tanned face. He looks so different now, like someone’s taken a picture of him and added a filter. His hair's no longer silver, it's streaked with a darker shade of blonde and he looks like he’s been spending lots of time in the sun. He bends further forward to get a better look at the door device and Harry thinks he catches a glimpse of a tattoo peaking its way out of his shirtsleeve.
“Harry,” Theo calls, breaking into his thoughts, “I’ve programmed Draco into the system so we can head in now.”
Harry forces his feet forward towards the offices. When he pushes himself through the door he finds Theo waiting for him as Draco ambles over to the oak door marked D. Malfoy. It’s just Harry’s luck that it’s right next to his.
“You’re really due for an explanation later mate,” Theo hisses at him under his breath. “It’s hard for me to believe that your childhood nemesis could throw you off this much.”
Harry shrugs him off silently and continues forward striding over to where Draco is pushing open his heavy wood door.
“Why are you here?” He whispers softly into Draco’s ear. He smirks as he watches Draco’s body twitch a little in surprise.
“What do you mean?” Draco responds, slow and innocent, his eyes wide, “I work here. Kingsley told you.”
“Yeah I know.” Harry pauses, irritated, “I mean why do you work HERE when I’m sure there’s hundreds of other places you could work and not subject me to looking at your ugly face every single day.” He shoves himself closer up into Draco’s space and is dismayed to find Draco’s grown taller than him in their time apart. Looking up into his eyes makes Harry's throat go dry. He ignores it.
“What are you going to do now?” Draco smirks down at him in cold amusement, “Pee on the floor to mark your territory like a dog? Contrary to popular belief, being the Savior of the Wizarding World doesn’t mean that all of London is at your beck and call Harry. Believe me I wouldn’t be here if I had the choice.” His tone is taunting, but the smile stretched across his face looks frozen and lifeless.
Harry doesn’t even flinch. He stares at Draco, eyes narrowed into green slits and steps forward again. He lets his gaze ghost down across Draco’s pale lips and notices as his chest hitches slightly in response. “I don’t care about your reasons Draco,” He hisses, “You’re going to regret you ever came back here.”
He steps away and watches Draco’s face as his smile falters into a frown. He’s about to respond when Theo joins them again. Harry jumps a little at the sound of his footsteps next to him. He doesn’t know how he could have forgotten that Theo was half a room away, watching them.
“I have your entry paperwork for you Draco,” Theo says, his gaze flicking between them, “I’m thinking we can all go down to the conference rooms and you can fill it out there.”
“Sounds good,” Draco tells him, a genuine smile flickering across his lips. ~~~~~~~~~
In the conference room Draco shucks off his suit jacket before settling into one of the leather backed chairs. He looks more vulnerable without it, like a reflection of his schoolboy self. Harry watches him twirl the end of his forest green tie in his fingertips and thinks about the last time he’d seen Draco in a tie like that. It throws Harry straight back to the halls of Hogwarts, the two of them caught alone outside the eighth year common room as the sound of the party pulsed out through the open door, to the slippery feel of silk against his palms as he’d pulled it tight kissing Draco hard as he choked against his mouth - both of them tipsy and flush with the rush of holding their secret out like an open palm that anyone might take.
“Harry, could you grab us all some tea?” Theo asks, looking at him suspiciously. Harry curses himself for being so obvious.
“Sure,” He calls back, twisting himself away from Draco and towards the tea spread in the corner of the room. He makes their drinks quickly.
He’s heading back to the table when he hears Theo asks Draco, “So, what was your favorite part of The States?”
Draco responds quickly glancing up at Harry with a calculating gaze, “Well the National Parks of course. In fact I became quite a hiker during my time there.” He pauses, watching Harry carefully before continuing, “And of course all the beautiful men. You know, I think they make them differently in America.” His tone is conversational but cruel.
Harry sucks in a hot breath and focuses on keeping his face under control. Tension knots up his spine and into his muscles. It’s unfair that Draco still has such an effect on him. It’s been five years. Five fucking years, and all it takes is 20 minutes in a room with Draco Malfoy and it feels like he’s 18 again.
He takes another deep breath and starts to walk towards the table. He stumbles a bit on the carpet and as he looks down to stabilize himself he notices the third cup in his hand. It’s chamomile, no cream, two sugars, just how he used to make it for Draco late at night after studying, when they were both curled up in his bed wrung out and limbless with exhaustion. He looks up from the cup of tea and straight into Draco’s knowing eyes and suddenly he’s so angry he can’t think straight. He catches Draco’s eyes, holds him locked in a silent stare and lets go of the cup before it reaches the table. It falls almost in slow motion. Draco doesn’t look away from his eyes until the tea has soaked through his nearly completed documents and spilled from the table ledge into his lap.
“What the fuck Potter,” He hisses jumping up from his chair.
“Sorry, You know how clumsy I am.” Harry murmurs demurely.
“No actually I don’t. I don’t think they’d let an Auror on the field if they were that clumsy,” Draco spits shoving his way into Harry's space. His feet bracket him on either side. Harry thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe because he hadn’t noticed before, but Draco still smells like cedar and smoke, like too many memories. His chest aches and suddenly the fury explodes out of him because fuck Draco for making him feel like this. Before he even realizes it he’s reaching out and shoving Draco’s chest hard. Draco stumbles back quickly, fresh pain blooms across his face like he’s just been burned.
“Don’t you dare fucking touch me Harry,” He snaps.
“You used to never get enough of my hands” Harry spits abruptly, before immediately wishing he could take it all back, because Theo has turned around in his chair and he’s looking slowly back and forth between them with wide eyes. Merlin's Beard, how had he forgotten about Theo twice in one day.
Draco’s standing there frozen staring straight at Harry. His chest moves slowly up and down like each breath takes effort. Blooming high on his cheeks are dark patches of color. He looks shocked like he’s just been slapped. Harry stays fixed in place, glaring at him. He doesn’t know where to go from here. How to retrace his steps onto more stable ground. The silence in the room rings so deep that Harry’s almost sure Theo can hear his heartbeat.
All at once the bright beeping of Theo’s pager breaks the silence. Harry flinches his hand going straight to his wand holster on the outside of his left thigh. His war instincts still kick in at times like these, he sighs and forces himself to relax, shaking out his right hand. When he glances across at Draco he’s doing the same and abruptly Harry wants to laugh.
He gets a sort of vindictive pleasure out of the idea that Draco’s still as scarred by the war as he is. It’s what had first brought them together wasn’t it? All those nights sitting together in the common room when they couldn’t sleep, the tight grip of Draco’s lean arms the first time he’d comforted Harry after a nightmare, the way he’d whispered to him until he forgot what he’d been dreaming about, Harry relaxing boneless into Draco’s slim frame. Harry wonders if Draco remembers it too. When his gaze flicks upwards and meets Draco’s eyes they’re dark, guarded.
“Welllll,” Theo’s voice breaks the silence, he draws out his words gentle and cautious, “Looks like Dean’s partner had to head home sick and he thinks he’s found a lead for their case,” He pauses glancing apologetically at Harry, “You know how it is. He needs back up so I’m gonna head out. Leave you both to finish whatever this is.” He raises his eyebrows at Harry, something unspoken in his expression before turning and heading to the door.
“Oh and Draco, there’s another copy of that paperwork on the counter in a box.” He calls over his shoulder. Harry winces, he’d forgotten about the paperwork he’d ruined. In hindsight dumping his tea all over Draco’s paper had been a bit of a dick move. Not that he was going to apologize or anything.
A little sheepish Harry turns on his heel towards the counter running along the side of the room. When he reaches it he gathers his case notes from him and Theo’s current case. He likes to work in the conference rooms rather than his office, it’s dark and cold and feels a bit lonely so cut off from the world. He turns back to walk back to the table where Draco is sitting head bowed and before he can stop himself he grabs Draco’s paperwork as well.
When he reaches him he slams the papers onto the wood table heavily. He smirks a little as Draco starts in his seat, his finger flinching.
“What’d you say, pretty boy? How about you put that brain to work and actually get something done.” Harry spits at him gruffly. And fuck, he can’t believe he said that because what? Is he stupid? Calling Draco pretty is not a good way to get back at him, to make him hurt the way Harry had. Before he can stop himself his eyes flicker, running across Draco’s face next to him. His cheeks are pale. He’s gripping his pen a little too tight in his hand. Harry breathes out slowly and focuses back on the notes in front of him.
They sit there for a long time in silence, nothing but the sharp back and forth scratch of Draco’s quill. The paperwork seems to take a lot longer than it had the first time. Harry doesn’t mention it. They work past lunch. Harry ignores it, his stomach is tied tight in so many knots that he doesn’t think he could eat if he wanted to. He focuses on tracing his eyes across the black letters of the notes in front of him and taking deep breaths. He makes up rules in his head, rules about not looking at Draco, about not touching him. He doesn’t take in a single word of his report.
It’s about 3 o’clock when Draco shoves his chair back slightly and drops his quill loudly onto the wood in front of them. Harry jumps in his chair and glances across at him. Draco’s lips curve up into a small smirk, the bastard.
“Looks like I’m about finished here,” Draco drawls slowly, “What about you? Don’t worry if you're not. I know reading has always been a bit,” he pauses searchingly, “How should I say it, challenging for you?” The line of his lips sharpens a bit, becomes cruel.
The anger in Harry’s veins blossoms spilling out into his finger tips, filling his head until it’s pounding, until he can’t think straight. Until all he can see is Draco’s cold gray eyes looking down on him. “Fuck you,” He growls and then he’s reaching out shoving Draco back for the second time today. Draco’s body heat on his palms feels like tiny flames, like if Harry touches him for too long his skin might blister into a burn. Draco twists away and reaches out, grabbing at Harry’s arms, shoving at his sides. They grapple for a couple seconds until Harry swiftly knocks Draco’s legs out from under him and he tumbles, laying back across the table. Harry climbs onto the table straddling him and uses his body weight to hold him pinned, grinning maliciously. Draco squirms against him.
“You could never beat me in a fight,” Harry hisses close to his ear, “All that time wasted getting you Potions Mastery. Quite a pity really, giving up on defense magic to work in a little lab, while Auror's do the real work. I never pictured that for you.” He leans back slowly, eyes caught on Draco’s face. As his insults hit home Draco’s face hardens, his jaw clenches, his eyes flick shut. Something about his expression sparks an ache in Harry’s chest. Carefully he drops Draco’s hands where he’s been pinning them to his sides and slides backwards off the table. He muffles a sigh of relief as his feet hit the floor.
~~~~~~~~
After that the room remains silent as they gather their scattered paperwork off of the table. Harry’s just sliding his papers onto the back counter when he feels a warm hand clasp his shoulder. He turns into it and Draco is there, looming over him. Harry tries not to notice the way their tussle has loosened Draco’s braid and left his hair falling over his face in gentle waves. He looks softer like that, reminiscent of youth.
“You’re in my way Potter,” Draco tightens his grip on Harry’s shoulder and tries to shove him to the side. Harry digs his heels in, succeeds in remaining still.
“On the contrary I think you're in mine,” Harry responds coolly, “Why are you here anyways, at my job, in my ministry? I think it’s time you leave.”
“I like it here in London,” Draco says, his tone bored, “I missed my friends, and my mother’s sick, she needs me. You don’t own the place you know. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” He pauses briefly, a glint in his eyes, “Or you know you could quit, leave your precious Ministry in my hands.”
“Like hell I will,” Harry growls back, “I don’t give a shit about your presence.”
Draco inches closer. So close Harry can feel his body heat radiating off of him. His gray eyes look lighter now, almost playful, his lips shape into a more genuine smile, “Oh please Harry, you’ve been watching me all day. I bet you didn’t read a single word of your silly little case file.”
“You’re just self obsessed Malfoy, I was very focused on my reading.” Harry responds casually. He hopes Draco doesn’t hear the tiny tremor in his voice.
“Oh?” Draco steps even closer, caging Harry in against the counter behind him. Harry’s throat goes dry, his lungs feel tight like he’s forgotten how to breathe. “Then what was your case about?”
And, Harry should know because he’s spent two weeks on the case they’re talking about. He’s spent hours on it, named suspects, even chased several through the streets and yet now, when it’s most important he draws a blank. Draco’s eyes are fixed on his face and there’s tension in the set of his shoulders, a twist in the shape of his lips. He looks like a wolf who’s caught it’s prey, like he’s waiting for Harry to give in.
“Fuck you,” Harry says again, but this time there’s no heat behind it. He’s aware of how soft his voice sounds but there’s not much he can do about it with Draco’s lips so close that he can feel his breath on his face. The space between them feels charged, electric. Harry wants to touch Draco so badly his hands shake. He shifts slightly gripping the counter behind him in an effort to stop himself. He watches as Draco’s eyes track his movement.
Draco leans in until his lips graze across Harry's ear. “What Potter,” He pauses, placing a hand on Harry’s waist. His touch feels like an electric shock, “What are you scared of?”
“Actually,” Harry’s muscles feel tense, caught between fight and flight,“I think you’re the one who’s scared. After all, you're the one who left me.”
Harry watches as Draco’s breath catches in his throat and his gray eyes shutter. Then he’s stepping forwards pushing his body up flush against Harry. The buttons of their shirts catch against each other. Draco’s hip digs sharply into Harry’s stomach. The slight pain feels like a relief until Harry glances up and green meets gray and suddenly he can’t think anymore. Can’t think of anything, except for how close Draco is right now, how shudderingly hot Harry feels just from this, the way Draco is staring at him like he couldn’t look away if he tried.
When Draco speaks it comes out slightly choked like he’s forcing words out of his throat one by one, “You can’t blame me for all of it Harry, you know it’s your mess too.”
Then he places his second palm against Harry’s side and Harry’s head is spinning from the contact and also because what does Draco mean it’s his fault too? He’s wracking his brain for what he could have done when suddenly Draco grinds his hips forward and Harry’s mind goes completely blank.
When Draco kisses him Harry wonders for a second if this is just another dream. It wouldn’t be the first time that Harry’s subconscious conjured him up, soft and pliant, standing close, only for Harry to wake alone. But no, he thinks, because this Draco is taller than dream Draco, has tired lines around his eyes. This Draco kisses him like a fistfight, like a forest fire. His body against Harry’s feels like a long time coming, like ready or not.
Before he can stop himself Harry leans into the kiss, biting back a sigh as he licks upwards into Draco’s hot mouth. Draco groans in response and as if on their own accord Harry's hands raise from where they were gripping the countertop to smooth their way across Draco’s firm chest. Harry’s breath catches as he cups the rapid beat of Draco’s heart in his hand before sliding it over, pushing the open buttons on Draco’s shirt. One of the buttons tears and pops off, the soft sound of it hitting the floor rings bright and loud in the silent room. Draco pulls back angrily, his mouth a firm line but then Harry’s palms are on his smooth chest and he’s gasping for breath, buttons forgotten.
“Fuck,” Draco murmurs as he leans in kissing a line down Harry’s jaw and pausing where he meets neck. He pulls back for a second and Harry glances up at him. His irises are blown out leaving his eyes dark against his lightly tanned skin. His breath shudders for a second and then he’s licking a stripe down Harry’s brown skin, mouthing it until Harry’s head starts to spin. He shifts, slotting a thigh between Draco’s and dragging his hands down to Draco’s waist. He pulls him in, pressing them flush together and feels Draco, a hot hard line against his hip. Harry snaps his hips up again pressing against him and Draco’s groaning again, louder this time.
It doesn’t take them long to find a rhythm. Their hips jerk against each other in hot friction and then Draco’s broad hands are running over Harry’s back, down his sides. With Draco’s hands on him Harry finally understands what it must be like to be a Phoenix; it feels like he’s going up in flames, like he’s losing himself to smoke. He can’t think about anything but Draco; doesn’t want anything but him. He tries to focus on taking long deep breaths, worried for his stamina with the small noises Draco keeps making against his throat.
Abruptly, Draco reaches between them, palming Harry through his jeans and Harry bites down hard on Draco’s lip in an attempt to keep even an ounce of composure. Draco mumbles something softly, something that sounds like Harry’s name and the heat that’s been building at his core gives way and rushes euphoric through his bloodstream.
Vaguely, his hips still twitching, Harry is aware of Draco pulling back. He tries to control his ragged gasps, they ring loudly in the silence of the conference room.
“Well,” Draco growls down at him, voice low and taunting, “Have fun explaining this to Ginny tonight.” He presses soft fingertips along his neck where Harry assumes there’s a line of hickeys red and raw across tender skin before leaning back down, pressing his hips to Harry’s once again.
Head reeling Harry stands frozen for a second before he reaches out and shoves Draco back. Draco stumbles. His eyes are shocked and wide. “You’re such a prat,” Harry spits at him, wincing at the lack of heat in his words, “What in Circe’s name has Ginny got to do with any of this?”
Draco’s mouth opens slowly, his lips are swollen and red. Harry’s eyes track down his body, find the bulge in his pants, flicker up back to Draco’s face. He still doesn’t say anything, his eyes are narrowed on Harry’s and he looks almost confused.
All at once Harry wants to laugh almost as much as he wants to punch Draco because wait what? Did Draco just imply that he’s with Ginny? That he’s cheating on her?
“God, you always do expect the worst from me, don’t you,” He tells Draco coldy, pushing past him and shoving through the heavy wooden door of the conference room into the hallway.
As he walks Harry ignores the uncomfortable itch of wet fabric between his legs. His whole body feels numb and icy. He brings a hand to his face, presses it across his hot lips and then upwards along his jaw. His careful fingertips explore everywhere Draco’s touched him. When he pulls his hand down, dragging it off of his skin he’s surprised to see wetness. It’s only then that he notices the tears spilling from his eyes.
He thinks the only thing that could make things any worse is if Draco has followed him - so he catches his breath and turns scanning the hallway, and discovers that actually the worst thing is that Draco hasn’t.
He spins back, forcing his feet forward towards the nearest floo and disappears in a quick flash of green, his mind back in the conference room where Draco’s still standing, left wanting and alone.
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.
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.
Excerpt from my new fic Inexplicable Things
