Ministry Of Magic - Tumblr Posts

Watching the government deal with the COVID-19 crisis is very similar to the Minestry of Magic dealing with Voldemort’s return.

Kingsley Shacklebolt Headcanons

same year as the marauders

ace he/him

capricorn

6'3"

nigerian on his mothers side

hufflepuff 100%

friendly with Remus and Lily during his hogwarts years

he was definetely a prefect lmao

probably on good terms with James Potter

was terrible at Quidditch and broomstick flying

got N.E.W.T.s in DADA, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Muggle Studies, Potions and Arithmancy

a smart boi

joined the first Order of the Pheonix just after graduating as an Auror when he was 21

it was very shortly before the end of the first wizarding war

trained under Rufus Scrimgeour (very few people trained under Mad-Eye, because he's so well sought after and he's very paranoid about who to trust and to train)

did prove himself to Alastor eventually though, and they became good friends

i think he may have even been a DADA teacher one year during the time between the wars bur then returned to his Auror job

he encouraged Tonks to become an Auror despite everyone telling her she isn't fit for the job

was close with Frank and Alice Longbottom and often joined them on Auror mission

helped Tonks when she was worried about failing her Auror examinations

was the leading expert on Muggle Studies in the Auror office, which is why it was him who was sent to become the muggle prime ministers personal body guard

had a nice bond with Hermione, she often goes to him for advice on her career and personal life too

completely changed the ministry of magic's attitude to the wizarding world

he got rid of any laws that enabled blood supremacy, racism, classism and predudice about muggles

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody Headcanons

scorpio

he/him

ocd

6'2"

comes from a long line of aurors

his parents were aurors, as were there parents

none of his grandparents lived to meet him, they all died on the job

gryffindor (hatstall for slytherin tho)

when he started his first year, McGonagall was a fifth year prefect

he was actually really rebellious in his early years

and quite reckless

would end up in the hospital wing quite often

would often transfigure students into different animals as a prank

leading to a large telling off from McGonagall

she was secretly proud of his transfiguration abilities for such a young wizard

she encouraged him to join gryffindor quidditch team as a keeper as McGonagall was the captain

he always wanted to be an auror just like his parents

lost his dad in his fourth year

became a lot more serious after that

taught himself how to cast a patronus in his sixth year

it is a bull, but he prefers to cast it non-corporeally so his identity is more hidden

qualified from Hogwarts with N.E.W.T.s in DADA, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology

was one of the best Aurors by the time he was 25

he used to train many new recruits but his sixth mentee turned out to be a mole he didn't take on anymore

this gave him severe trust issues

gets very paranoid and has to make sure 3 times to make sure everything safe

taught himself occlumency

never accepts drinks from anybody

despite being extra cautious, due to being a high ranking auror, he is targeted quite alot which leads to him getting injured a lot

due to the excessive spell damage he recieves, his scars cannot be healed

he lost his eye from a death eater

he created his own new eye

when he met Tonks, she reminded him so much of himself as a child that he could not help but bond with her

she was the first person he mentored since having his trust broken

his sense of humour comes out with her around

its mainly sarcasm and dry wit

he definetely calls Tonks by her first name just to annoy her

she helped him to be hopeful and more trusting once again

until Barty Crouch Junior impersonated her and kidnapped him and lived out his life for a year

Mundungus Fletcher was a useful asset to Mad-Eye as he was usually his underground guy and was good at giving information

he's not always forth coming but a jinx or two always works

as soon as they were ambushed during the Battle of Seven Potters, Mad-Eye knew someone must have gotten the information from Mundungus

he died a few minutes later, after trying to get Mundungus to stick to the plan

had Mundungus not gotten cold feet, he could have easily survived a duel with Voldemort

Bill and Fleur, who witnesses Mad-Eyes demise, named their firstborn daughter Victoire Alastriona Weasley, after Mad-Eye

although Remus and Bill never managed to find his body, they found the broom he was riding before Mundungus dissapperated

when the Ministry of Magic was taken over, they found his body and transfigured it into a bone

Umbridge was the one who did this (with the power of the locket horcrux) and she took his powerful eye for herself

Sirius After Dying

Sirius: Am I in heaven?

Regulus: Hello, brother

Sirius: Fuck, I'm in hell

This is what I want as business card

He’s a bit breathless as he shoves through the dark wood door of the office and it takes him a second to realize that Malfoy is not at his desk. As he glances wildly around the room he locates Malfoy perched on the rug directly in front of him hidden by what looks like a cardboard replica of the entirety of the Ministry building. 

“Oh hello Potter,” Draco drawls in a bored tone. “I see you’ve found me. Do take a seat.” 

Harry looks for a chair before realizing that there are none to be found and plopping down criss-cross in front of a pile of cardboard scraps. 

“Er, What is this?” He questions feeling strangely uncomfortable in Draco’s space. 

“A replica of the entirety of the Ministry building” Draco chirps, sounding proud and also a bit unhinged. When he pokes his head out from behind his cardboard monstrosity Harry notices that his skin looks a little sallow and he has dark bruises under his eyes. Draco grins manically, giving him a thumbs up between disappearing again. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Harry wonders out loud feeling more concerned about Malfoy than he should, given that he was his nemesis. 

“Oh I haven’t slept” Draco winks at him through one of the larger ministry windows. “Sleep makes the mind weak and all, surely you’ve heard.” 

Harry dismisses this as the ravings of a lunatic. 

One of my fav excerpts from my new fic Bonded

escape

Harry’s least favorite part about being an Auror was arresting Draco Malfoy. He got arrested quite a lot. Probably every couple months. About once a year Harry was the one to do it.

Every time Draco escaped the arrest paperwork got more extensive and paperwork was Harry’s least favorite part of his job. Anyways, it wasn’t like the paperwork kept Draco locked up Harry thought aggressively as he stared down at the form in front of him. It asked him to describe Draco’s personality. Harry scoffed, like Draco’s personality was why he was so good at escaping. It wasn’t like he had a boyfriend with all the keys and a map of the ministry tunnel system or anything.

Harry pushed himself away from the desk leaning back in his chair and sighed. It was frustrating not being able to take credit for his own work. Draco Malfoy wasn’t the next Harry Houdini. He was just a stupid blonde git with a highly capable boyfriend.

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 the 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 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.

One of my fav excerpts from my new fic Inexplicable Things

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. 

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.

Read full work here 

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.

Inexplicable Things (Ch. 5)

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

Read on Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

When they make it into the kitchen everyone is already crowded around the kitchen table inhaling their pancakes.

“Well, well, well. What a nice surprise for us to have a second guest at breakfast.” Theo calls his mouth quirked up into a smirk.

Harry shoots him a glare before pulling out a chair and offering it to Draco. Draco slides into it gracefully and Harry revels in his ability to look so poised even rumpled with sleep.

Theo passes them piles of pancakes and they dig in in silence. The sunlight shining through the gossamer curtains blooms across Draco’s hair making it shimmer in the gentle warmth of the kitchen. Harry breathes in and he can smell his shower gel on Draco’s skin mingled with the sweet spring breeze. When Ginny makes a joke he laughs. There; his mouth open, his head thrown back, a bit of syrup smeared across his cheek, he looks so carefree. It leaves Harry a little squirmy, a little terrified. Maybe his fate was decided a long time ago.

“Alright,” Ginny says loudly, interrupting his thought process and pushing her chair back from the table, “I’ve just remembered I have some paperwork to finish from yesterday so I’ve got to head in early. Harry just meet me there at 9:30, okay?” She waits for Harry to nod slowly, for Draco to dip his head back to the plate in front of him, before winking dramatically. Harry feels the warmth of a blush spread across his cheeks.

After she leaves they finish their food quickly.

“Me and Dean are hoping to be late for work,” Theo explains happily, “So we’ll do the washing up.”

“Why are you hoping to be late?” Draco asks, his brow creased in confusion. Harry’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch him.

“Kingsley makes us do the discharge paperwork for criminals every Tuesday but it has to be in by a certain time,” Dean clarifies, “If we get there late enough he’ll give the work to someone else.”

“Hmm,” Draco muses, collecting the dirty dishes from the table and moving toward the sink. “That doesn’t seem the most ethical.”

“You’re right about that,” Theo says cheerfully. “But when has anyone in the Ministry really been ethical?”

Draco grins at him, “I like the way you think, Nott.”

Harry watches their banter in silence. Dean flicks a towel across Theo’s bum and he jumps, yelping. Draco giggles helplessly. He looks so open, so warm, that Harry wants to skip work and drag him back upstairs to bed. Instead he clears his throat and glances at the clock.

“We’d better get a move on since we’ve actually got to be at work on time.” He says, looking pointedly at Theo and Dean.

“We all know you’re just jealous Harry,” Theo taunts, flicking a bit of dishwater at him.

“Oh fuck off Theo,” Harry says kindly, gathering his work things from the living room, “Are you ready to go Draco?”

“I guessss,”Draco whines slowly backing out of the kitchen, “It’s so unfair we have to go in while Theo and Dean get to wash dishes.”

“You’re right,” Harry admits, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “But we won’t have to sit through the disciplinary meeting Theo gets everytime he encourages someone to act like this.”

Draco’s eyes light up, “How do you know he gets in trouble?”

Harry looks at the floor sheepishly, “Because I’m his partner. That means I’m usually the one here with him doing dishes when we should be at work.”

Draco elbows him in the side and breaks into laughter. Harry joins him.

Still laughing, Draco reaches for the basket by the fireplace that holds the floo powder. Harry reaches out and stops him. Tentatively he asks, “Do you want to walk to the ministry?” When Draco doesn’t respond immediately he continues, “It’s just so beautiful out this morning,” His eyes dart across Draco’s face for a sign of affirmation.

“I didn’t know you lived so close,” Draco tells him slowly, picking up his briefcase and moving towards the entranceway, “A walk sounds great.”

Harry breathes a quiet sigh of relief and pushes the door open ushering Draco out into the sunshine. The flowers in his neighbors yards are blooming in bright purples and reds, and the sweet scent reminds him of the spring blossoms that appeared by the lake at Hogwarts every year. It all feels so recent, as if the years that have passed since then were just a mirage.

“Do you remember that charm Mcgonagall taught us? The one where our wand bloomed roses?” Draco asks pensively, staring at the flowers that line the street.

It shakes Harry at first, that they’re both on the same wavelength, but then he remembers how familiar it is. They’d always been like that. Mirrors of each other, the boy who chose, the boy who had no choice. It had made it easier for them to understand each other during eighth year. Harry sometimes felt like Draco knew what he was thinking minutes before he’d even opened his mouth.

“I think so,” Harry says, bending closer to the blooms to sniff.

“I do too,” Draco replies softly. When Harry straightens up Draco’s holding his wand in one hand and a long stemmed pale pink rose in the other.

“It’s beautiful,” He tells him, not sure if he’s allowed to take a step forward to look closer.

Draco spots his hesitation and moves closer himself. Breaking the stem off his flower he tucks it into Harry’s button hole.

“Here. A thank you for letting me stay the night,” He says hesitantly, stepping away in a flash. He ducks his head letting his blonde hair fall over his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Harry says, falling into step next to Draco.

They walk in silence for a few seconds. Draco slows to a leisurely pace tipping his head back to let the golden sunbeams soak into his skin. His silhouette against the bright blue sky is apollonian. Harry could move away but doesn’t, keeps walking so their arms brush with every step.

“Did you really take up hiking while you were in the States?” He asks. He finds it easier to picture Draco out in the wilderness now that he knows him to be a little less cruel, a little more boy.

“I did,” Draco says, his eyes arching up in surprise. “I think you might like it too. It felt like such a relief to be out there alone surrounded by so much beauty. It was the first time I truly felt like there were no expectations for me.”

“That makes sense,” Harry replies, guiding them to the left down a narrow alley, “I think I would enjoy that.”

“I could take you sometime,” Draco offers quickly, a light blush spreading over his cheekbones.

“I’d like that,” Harry says softly, carefully looking anywhere but Draco’s eyes.

They leave the narrow alleyway and step onto a busier street. The sound of cars and bicycle bells break the tension around them. Harry watches an old woman push a stroller quickly down the smooth sidewalk. The baby inside lets out a light cry of joy.

“How have things been with Hermione and Ron?” Draco asks, raising his voice over the din of the street.

“Good, Did you hear that they had a baby?”

“I did not,” Draco bumps him gently with an elbow, “Every time I’ve seen them I think they’ve been too busy glaring at me to fill me in.”

“Oh.” Harry feels a secret burst of pride for the unbreakable ties of Gryffindor loyalty. Whoever said Syltherins were the most loyal house were severely mistaken. “That’s my fault honestly. I might have complained about you a good amount when you first returned.”

“I assumed that was it,” Draco says sardonically as he avoids getting shoulder checked by a very wide businessman holding a large leather bag.

“If you’re good, I’ll tell them to give you a break.”

“I think I can do that,” Draco turns slightly to wink at him. Harry just barely stops himself from running headfirst into a telephone poll.

“Better watch where you’re going Potter,” Draco taunts, grabbing his arm in a vice grip and steering him around a group of young people walking dogs.

“Thanks,” Harry says gratefully, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest that’s awakened by the warm grip of Draco’s palm.

A few minutes later they take another turn onto a much quieter street. They’re nearing the entrance of the Ministry and Harry spots several people wearing robes.

“It seems silly that people don’t just carry their robes and change into them once they arrive,” Draco says quietly leaning in. Harry swears he can feel his breath tickle across his ear.

“I know,” He replies. “What’s the point of the Stature of Secrecy if a Muggle investigator could just follow a trail of people in robes to the door of the ministry?”

“Well, I don’t think the entrance would open for them,” Draco glances across at Harry and meets his eye in a flicker of gray, “But you’re right. The whole thing is a bit of an oversight.”

Harry’s about to respond when a woman across the street starts to shout. The sound of her yells curdle his blood and his Auror reflexes kick in. Before he can even take in what the woman is saying his hand darts to his thigh holster and wraps tightly around his wand-shaft.

As he goes to draw his wand he feels the gentle warmth of Draco’s hand blocking him. “It’s okay,” He says softly. “Don’t waste your time on her.”

It’s then that the woman's words sink in. “Death Eater scum! Sullying our savior! Go back to Azkaban where you belong!!” The woman's face is beet red. As she yells her spit sprays into the cool morning air.

It takes Harry a second to realize who she’s yelling at. He can’t remember the last time he thought about Draco as someone on the other side of the war.

Then, it clicks and he’s storming across the street before Draco can stop him, wand out, suit jacket flapping in the wind.

“Draco is a better person than you’ll ever be,” He barks at her, his tone sharpening to glass tones. “You should be ashamed, shouting at people in the street.”

“Oh, touched a nerve did I?” The woman hisses, “Has the Death Eater brainwashed you?”

Harry steps closer pushing up into her space, “And what were you doing during the war? I didn’t see you in the battle. In fact, I would bet you weren’t involved at all. It’s so easy to judge isn’t it? When you have no idea what we were even up against.”

The woman huffs at him, her face twisting into a snear.

“Harry,” Draco’s voice is quiet. “This happens sometimes, it's okay.”

With that, he tugs Harry along, and while Harry gives the woman a sidelong cutting glare, he follows. If he’s honest, his acceptance is mostly due to Draco’s hand covering his own, Draco’s long fingers wrapping around Harry’s warm brown skin, and how is Harry supposed to defend him properly when he’s being distracted like this?

Luckily, the woman seems as dumbstruck by the sudden hand holding as Harry is himself and she abruptly stops shouting. The street is silent for a second and Draco uses her distraction to tug Harry down a small alleyway.

“This way,” He says softly, as he pulls Harry into the narrow brick pathway. “It’s a bit of a short cut.”

“Does that happen to you often?” Harry asks, his tone sharp. He’s still seething inside. The hand Draco isn’t holding is clenched into a fist and his blood is burning through his veins. He wants to punch someone. Preferably the old women they’d left behind. Though, it’s probably better that he didn’t. She didn’t deserve the publicity that would come with getting punched in the face by the Savior of the Wizarding World.

“Yes sometimes,” Draco says, his mild tone makes Harry’s blood rush faster, his feet stomp harder against the pavement.

“You know,” He adds conversationally, his finger clutch Harry’s had tighter, “that was one of the reasons I left you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry’s tone is sharp. His feet halt underneath him and they stumble before coming to a stop in the dim alleyway. “Why would that be a reason for you to leave?”

“Because I believed them,” Draco replies simply, his fingers leaving imprints against the back of Harry’s palm. “I was on the wrong side of the war. I tortured people. I was cruel and bigoted and I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t even understand how you could bring yourself to speak to me let alone…” He pauses for a second, “Let alone like me enough for us to have whatever it was we had.” He dips his eyes down towards the cobbles beneath his feet.

The dim light of the alleyway leaves Draco’s skin pale. With his shoulders hunched and his hand in Harry’s palm they could almost be back at Hogwarts hiding in one of the stone passageways before classes. Harry suddenly finds it hard to catch a breath against the iron band of his ribs. Back then Draco had expected the blade of life to keep right on cutting. When he left it had been him asking it to do the small mercy of whittling him into someone too sharp to touch.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes. Draco’s eyes drift hesitantly off the floor and settle somewhere near Harry’s face. “I didn’t realize. I should have. It’s so clear now. My head was just so messed up from the war. I think we both couldn’t see straight.”

“It’s not your fault,” Draco rushes, his eyes finally meeting Harry’s in a flash of frantic gray. “None of it was ever your fault. And, you might hate me for saying this but I think leaving was for the best. I needed to figure myself out. I needed to educate myself more. I needed to learn how to become proud of the person I could become. I don’t know if it would have been as easy for me to find myself if we’d stayed together all that time.” He exhales in a huff and tries to pull his hand away. Harry holds on.

“Draco, I could never hate you,” Harry pulls him closer, relishing the weight of Draco’s palm against his. “What you said makes sense. I wish things had gone differently but you’re right. Without the time apart we wouldn’t be who we are today. And, I think I like us like this.”

A small smile peaks its way out of the corner of Draco’s lips. “Thank you,” He sighs, “for understanding.” His shoulders loosen, sag a little in relief.

Harry looks at the wrung out man in front of him. He looks bone tired, like he could use a long nap. Harry can’t believe it isn’t even 9:30am yet. He remembers the kiss in his bedroom. Breakfast with his friends. All at once it hits him that he’s allowed to touch Draco now. Whatever’s between them has blossomed, spreading it’s petals out to the sun. Harry takes one swift step forward and reaches up, cradling Draco in his arms.

Draco collapses into him. His body against Harry’s is firm and lithe and as his muscles relax Harry feels the ache in his chest dissipate.

“Come on, let's get ourselves to work before Kingsley has a hissy fit,” He says softly. Draco’s hair tickles against his lips.

“Can’t let that happen can we?” Draco quips. He steps back from Harry and drops his hand slowly before turning and continuing down the alley.

They’re close enough to the Ministry that the rest of their walk passes quickly. They enter through the toilets and quickly join an elevator for the second floor.

They arrive just on time and watch as the hands of the clock above Kingsley's office tick ominously into the position for 9:30. Draco quietly highfives him and mouths, “We made it.”

There’s a fractured second, in the hallway, at the doorstep of Harry’s office where he thinks they might kiss. They don’t though. Just look at each other for several long beats before Draco rocks back on his heels, hands laced together behind his back.

“Do you want to come to dinner with me tonight?” He says quickly, fidgeting back and forth.

“Yes,” Harry says slowly, his lips turning up in a languid smile. “Yes, I would love to.”

“Good,” Draco says curtly. “I’ll meet you at your house at 7.”

That’ll give Harry just enough time to rush home for a quick shower and change. “Perfect,” he says and watches as Draco strides down the corridor a couple paces before disappearing into his office.

Harry stands in the hallway for several minutes. Is this a date? He wonders. He doesn’t dare ask. He might not like the answer.

~~~~~~~~~

Ginny’s sitting in Harry’s chair slumped over his desk. At the click of the door she looks up, her bright eyes mischievous.

“You better be ready to tell me all the juicy details,” She calls across the room, sitting up straight.

“There’s not much to spill,” Harry lies, trying to hide a smile behind his hand.

“Yeah right,” Ginny waves her wand, conjuring a second armchair for him to sit in. “He slept over. You must have something to say for yourself.”

Harry sinks into the chair gratefully. “I mean, nothing really happened. We talked. I kissed him and you walked in on it. We went to work.” He can feel a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Okay, I can work with that,” Ginny says mischievously. Harry watches as she spins a quill back and forth between her fingers. “So what did you talk about?”

Harry feels the old inclination rise in his throat, the one that wants him to lock his jaw, the one that wants him to keep Draco all to himself. “We talked about eighth year, why he left me, why he never came back.”

Ginny nods silently and prompts him with her hands to keep going.

“Wait a second,” Harry asks feeling a bit betrayed, “You should be asking a million questions right now. Did Theo tell you about our talk?”

“Obviously,” Ginny says, not the least bit guilty. “You were acting crazy, we were both worried about you. And hey,” She adds brightly, “It worked out because now you don’t have to explain everything to me detail by detail.”

Harry groans, dropping his head to the table for a split second. Sometimes he hates his two friends almost as much as he loves them. He’s got to admit though, it does make it easier to not have to explain everything all over again.

“Okay,” He sighs, raising his head to look at her again. “So anyways, it turns out that he left because he didn’t think I loved him enough to make things work while he was in France. And then,” He pauses to add a bit of dramatic flair, “He didn’t come back because he thought you and I had gotten back together.”

Ginny chokes on the air in her throat before collapsing in hysterical giggles. Harry watches grinning as her face flushes to bright red.

“Oh my god,” She sputters, “I’m never going to let him live this down.”

“It is pretty hilarious,” Harry admits, looking down at his hands.

“So you talked,” Ginny says when she finally catches her breath. “And that led to kissing?”

“Pretty much,” Harry admits. “And also he asked me to dinner tonight,” He adds in a rush before he can convince himself not to.

“Oh my god, He asked you to dinner?!” Ginny squeals loudly.

“Say it a little louder will you,” Harry says techily, gesturing at the thin walls of his office.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Ginny quiets down but continues leaning forward in her seat. She looks like the cat who caught the canary, her face pleased and smug and begging for more. “So what did you say?”

“I said yes,” Harry says hesitantly. If he would have known opening up to Ginny would be like facing the grand inquisition he might have made some different choices.

“Oh well, obviously,” Ginny says with a dismissive flick of her hand. “I don’t know why I even asked. I mean who would say no to Draco. He’s brilliant.”

Harry feels a small irrational spark of jealousy flicker in his chest. He ignores it.

“Sooo, do you think it’s a date?” Harry bites down a smile at the sight of Ginny practically bouncing up and down in excitement.

“I don’t know?” He responds hesitantly, “I mean it might be? But we didn’t really talk about what we wanted. Only what went wrong in the past.”

“Hmm,” Ginny says pensively, drumming her fingers on the oak in front of them. “I’d say it’s a date. Or at least, you should act like it’s one.”

“Okay.” Harry’s hands start to sweat in adrenaline. “Ginny, how do I act like it’s a date?”

“Harry, don’t freak out about this,” Ginny says calmly, “You’ve been on dates before.”

“Yes, but not with Draco,” Harry says frantically as the reality of the coming evening finally sets in.

“Yes, but not with Draco,” Ginny mimics him in a high pitched voice, before laughing a bit. “Sorry, it’s not funny. It’s insane to see you finally admit you feel something for him.”

“I know, I’ve been a total pillock,” Harry admits, swallowing softly. “I should have asked you and Theo for advice at the beginning. I don’t know why I kept it to myself.”

Ginny looks at him silently.

“Actually okay, I do know.” He admits softly. “It just felt like loving Draco was paramount to who I was. I don't know how to talk about it without feeling like I was losing a piece of me.”

“That makes sense,” Ginny says, reaching out across the desk and clasping one of his hands. “How does it feel now that you have talked about it?”

“Way better than I thought it would,” Harry responds, his mouth softening into a smile. “It doesn’t feel like giving away a piece of myself at all.” He pauses for a second gathering his thoughts, “It feels more like by sharing I’m setting it free. Like it’s allowing my love to get bigger. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“Harry,” Ginny says quietly, looking at him with wide shocked eyes. “Did you just say you still love him?”

Harry’s mind races frantically combing over his words. Love, he thinks, is that what this is? Can you love someone who’s only been back in your life for a handful of weeks?

“I’m not sure,” He confesses, “I think I’ll always love him after our time in eighth year.” Ginny’s eyes narrow and she waits for him to elaborate. “It would take me time to be able to say I was in love with him again.”

“I hear that,” Ginny says, “You need time to trust him again and to understand the person he’s become without you.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Well,” Ginny sits up straight again, a glint in her warm brown eyes. “If that’s the case then we need to get started on work so we can get you out of here early. We have to make sure you have time to get ready for your hot date.”

Harry grins at her. He feels so light."I think," he admits, words kind of dislodged and tumbling around his head, " I could get used to going on dates with him, waking up next to him, having breakfast together.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow. “Hearing those words come out of your mouth almost scares me,” She admits, “I can’t believe our Harry is finally growing up.” She reaches over and rumbles his hair, making him duck away.

“Hey, I wasn’t that useless,” He cries indignantly.

“Harry. It took you five years to even admit to ever having feelings for him.”

“Fine. Okay. Whatever.” Harry grumbles, pushing himself out of his chair and picking up their case notes. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They get off of work late. Harry should have expected it really, Aurors are always working overtime.

He manages to take the quickest shower of his life and shove his body into some dark green suit pants and a white button down before he hears the doorbell ring. He tumbles down the stairs and jams his feet into some dress shoes ignoring the wolf whistles and various catcalls coming from where Theo and Ginny are sitting in the living room.

“Hello,” He breathes as he opens the door. Draco looks effortless as usual. Harry watches breathlessly as his eyes trail over Harry’s shoulders and down, then back up. Harry preens a little under the attention, his chest puffing up a little bit. He fights the urge to run a hand through his hair.

“You look good,” Draco says, his voice husky.

“Ooo,” Ginny’s shrill scream pierces the air. Harry watches in wry amusement as Draco jumps a little, “Draco thinks you look hottt Harryyy.”

“Oh my god. Will you fuck off,” Harry tells her laughing as he steps out of the house and shuts the door firmly behind him. “Sorry about that. She’s a little over enthusiastic.”

“I can see that,” Draco says, his lips twitching in his effort to keep from laughing. “For the record I do think you look hot.”

Harry blushes then and falls into step next to him. “So where are we going?”

“I thought maybe I could make you dinner at mine?” Draco says tentatively. “I just figured we didn’t want to deal with people gossiping, and coming up to us, and slinging insults at me like that woman this morning.” He looks at the ground sheepishly. “But if you want to go out we can totally do that.”

“No,” Harry says softly, nudging their shoulders together. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~

Draco’s house isn’t how Harry pictured it. For starters it’s smaller than Harry expected. A little cottage situated in the rolling green hills of the countryside outside London. Inside the entryway opens up to an open floor plan. There's a small living room full of colorful furniture connected to a kitchen/dining room combo where all the cupboards are painted a light sage green. All around them the walls are covered in artistic prints. The long windows along the walls open up to grassy fields and the sky is glowing in dark blue shades of dusk.

“I love it here,” Harry tells him, looking around in awe.

“Not what you expected for someone who just moved back to town is it?” Draco asks sheepishly. Harry watches as he carefully toes off his shoes leaving them by the door.

“Yeah, you’ve clearly put a lot of work into it,” Harry says, spinning on his heel to fully take in the scene around him.

“Well, I might have owned it for a while,” Draco admits softly, focusing firmly on lining up his shoes perfectly.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

“I may have lied a bit when I said I only came back because my mother was sick.” Draco finally looks up at him. His cheeks are pale. “I wanted to come back. I missed London. And, maybe I couldn’t admit it to myself until I was in the DMLE looking at you for the first time in years, but I missed you too. I think maybe part of me was hoping we might get a second chance.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh. Well, here I am. So it looks like you’re getting your second chance.”

“Thank you,” Draco says breathlessly.

They stand there for a second staring at each other the way people normally wouldn’t unless they were furious or flirting. Harry wonders if Draco can tell how fast his heart is beating. The air is so silent around them that he can hear when Draco takes a huge gasping breath.

“This way,” Draco says, ripping his gaze away from Harry’s and turning away. He leads Harry towards the open kitchen and gestures to a stool by the breakfast bar. “You can sit here and watch while I cook. I know better than to trust you in a kitchen Harry.”

“What do you mean? I can cook.” Harry tells him feeling a bit put out.

“Harry, in eighth year we tried to have a picnic and you sliced your hand open cutting a sandwich.” Draco scoffs as he begins to pull ingredients out of the cupboards. He leans down and Harry’s gaze flicks to the swell of his bum, his long lithe legs. He suddenly finds it a bit difficult to follow the conversation.

“What?” He says. “Sorry. I spaced out for a second.”

Draco moves across the kitchen, puts a pan on the burner. “I was mentioning the hand slicing incident in eighth year.”

“Oh that. I’m just bad around knives. I can still cook,” Harry whines.

“60% of cooking is just cutting things up,” Draco scoffs. The oil in the pan starts to sizzle and he turns back to the stove.

Harry watches him in silence for a while reveling in the way his clothing clings to his lean body and the steam from the stove turns his hair slightly wavy.

“I forgot,” Draco says, breaking the comfortable silence. “There’s wine in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Harry’s suddenly struck with the knowledge that the house is furnished almost entirely Muggle. He can’t believe he didn’t notice before. He slips off of his chair and wanders over to the fridge. As he opens the wine and pores a glass he asks, “Why do you live in a Muggle house?”

“The Wizarding World is much more integrated with Muggles in France,” Draco explains. Harry watches as his broad hands lift meat and place it carefully into the pan. “A lot of their buildings mix Muggle and Wizarding technology. I just got used to it.”

“Oh.” Harry says. He’s struck by how much Draco has matured. It's beautiful, the way he’s grown into himself, the things he’s learned from traveling the world. He’s so familiar and yet, all at once fundamentally changed. Harry wonders what Draco sees when he looks at him, if he feels the same way about Harry.

Draco reaches up into the highest cabinet to grab some spices. His back arches. Harry grips the counter to keep himself from moving across the kitchen and wrapping his hands around his neck and pulling him back to the floor until their lips touch.

He stays silent as Draco finishes putting their meal together. His eyes track the bend and sway of his hips as he paces across the floor in front of him. As he moves plates and cuts through meat Harry finds himself hypnotized by the flex of his muscles through his shirt. By the time the meal is ready Harry’s throat is dry and he can feel the heat or arousal pooling in his stomach.

“Here,” Draco says softly sliding a plate in front of him. The cut of meat is steaming into the cool air, Harry can smell hints of butter and sage and when Draco places a fork and napkin down beside him his mouth starts to water.

“I figure we can just eat here instead of moving to the dining table,” Draco says, a question in his eyes.

“That’s fine,” Harry replies casually leaning in closer to his food and sniffing it again with an appreciative hum. Draco slides onto the stool next to him.

Harry’s always liked to eat next to people rather than across from them, liked to lean into their side, feel the warmth of their close proximity. He wonders if Draco remembers.

Harry lifts a bit of food to his mouth and flits his gaze sideways to take in Draco’s profile. His cheeks go warm as Draco scrapes his long golden waves into a knot at his crown. Small wisps of hair dangle down and frame his cheekbones. Harry’s mouth waters again. He forces his gaze back on the food in front of him, cataloging the shiny green vegetables, the creamy white potatoes. He shoves the bite on his fork into his mouth and groans around it.

“Merlin, where did you learn to cook like this?” He asks, quickly shoveling two more bites into his mouth and groaning again in appreciation.

Draco’s cheeks pinken, “I learned in France. It was the first time I really had to live without house elves so I picked up a couple cookbooks at a bookshop.”

Of course Draco Malfoy would only need a few cook books to make the best cooking Harry’s ever tasted. He would spend some time being put out about it if he could rip himself away from his plate for even two seconds. “Nice,” He mumbles through his food.

“I can’t believe you didn’t learn a single table manner in the five years I’ve been away.” Draco says, shaking his head and taking a sip of wine. He sounds fond.

“They aren’t that bad,” Harry grumbles, gulping down a mouthful of creamy potato.

“Harry, you have gravy on your cheek and a green bean sitting on your thigh,” Draco admonishes. He reaches over and plucks the bean from Harry’s pants placing it neatly on his napkin.

Then, before Harry can even comprehend what’s happening his dry finger is pressing soft against Harry’s brown cheek. Harry leans into it. Can’t think of anything but want, and more, and Draco. Quicker than it appeared the finger is gone. Harry sways on his stool, feels slightly dizzy. He turns back to his food and focuses on swallowing one bite at a time. The knowledge of Draco beside him sends electricity up and down his spine.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The meal finishes in what feels like mere seconds. Harry stares at the empty plate in front of him and suddenly feels twitchy. He doesn’t know how to be normal like this. It feels strange sitting in Draco’s house with nothing to do with his hands. He wants to place both his palms against the soft skin of Draco’s neck, feel his adams apple bob as he finishes his last bites. He wants to breathe through Draco’s airways, hold their bodies against each other until each beat of their hearts feels like an echo. He wants wet lips, and naked skin, a love so deep he can drown in.

Harry clenches his fists and stays still.

He doesn’t realize what he’s been waiting for until Draco pushes his chair back and walks to the other side of the counter. He stays silent as Draco casts a quick scourify before levitating the plates back onto their high shelf. Then, Draco walks back towards him and Harry swings his chair so they’re facing, so Draco is close enough that their toes line up. Harry watches the muscles of Draco’s chest clench and release.

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

Draco’s looking at him like prey, like he’s hunting him for sport.

Harry feels like he’s standing at a precipice, a strong wind blowing him closer to the edge.

Draco presses in closer, slides his hands up his sides. When he cups Harry’s cheeks in trembling hands Harry remembers to draw a breath against the tightness of his ribcage. Heat crackles down his spine.

Draco tilts his lips to Harry’s ear, “This okay?”

Harry nods slightly, his heart in his throat and leans into Draco’s touch, eyelids low, lashes fluttering.

Draco leans in slowly and Harry hooks a hand under his shirt, pulling him in faster. His fingertips ghost over Draco’s lower abdomen, the rough hairs of his happy trail scrape on his palm. Harry tugs him closer and their lips meet. Draco tastes like wine. Harry thinks about the soft shape of his lips, their rosy pout, how they’re always glistening, and then Draco opens his mouth, lets their tongues tangle, and Harry finds he can’t think at all.

Harry’s hand brushes up towards Draco’s chest and his breath hitches. His hands drop from Harry’s chest to find his waist and then in a smooth pivot he’s lifting Harry up till he’s standing, shoving the stool aside until Harry’s back is pressed against the cool edge of the granite table top.

Draco’s long fingers fall under his shirt pressing their way across Harry’s hip bones and Harry lets out a low groan. He pulls his head away from Draco’s lips and mouths at his neck, teeth digging into salty skin and tender veins. Draco leans his head back, exposes the tender skin of a delicate neck and lets Harry bruise him, lets Harry mark him as his own.

Their bodies press together. Harry can feel the swell of Draco’s chest, the jut of his hipbones. Draco slides a palm along his shoulder, up the back of his neck and applies light pressure, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Harry gasps and ruts up against Draco. Draco pulls away from his lips just long enough to ask, “Should I show you my bedroom?” He voice is hoarse, strained.

Harry nods once and then Draco’s hand is gripping his wrist tightly. His stomach swoops with the tug of aperation and in a split second he’s standing on the wood floor of Draco’s bedroom.

He has just enough time to take in the white walls and the drapery of plant vines climbing across every surface before Draco is pushing him back onto the bed behind him, his eyes serious, his mouth a firm line.

Draco straightens up, leaves Harry gasping, alone on the bed. “Come here,” Harry whines, his dick throbs between his legs, his lips feel hot, swollen.

“Oh, believe me I will,” Draco’s tone is smooth and sultry, his smile slow and self assured. In one brief movement he lifts his shirt off of his shoulder, steps out of his trousers, shucks off his pants, and then there is just him, bare and standing in front of Harry. Harry swears softly and reaches under the waistband of his pants to palm himself.

Draco gracefully slides onto the bed and straddles Harry’s hips. Harry gives himself another squeeze, drifting his eyes across Draco’s heaving chest to where his cock stands out red and wet, juxtaposed against Harry’s clothed stomach.

“Going to let me take my clothes off too?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrow.

“I’ll do it for you,” Draco promises, his voice husky, his eyes blown sky wide. He smooths his hands deftly across Harry’s chest and opens his shirt gently, one button at a time. Harry wriggles and suddenly his shirt is off and Draco’s rough palms are ghosting against his delicate brown skin. He gasps and bites his tongue in an effort to ground himself. Draco’s fingers dip under his waistband, examining his hip bones pushing back to the space where his waist dips and swells.

Then Draco eases off again, pushing himself back and coaxing Harry to lift his hips so he can pull his trousers away. Draco leans down and kisses the newly exposed skin. His lips against Harry’s thigh feel charged, electric. Harry lets out a shaky breath and winds his fingers through Draco’s hair urging him on.

Draco lifts his head for a second. His cheeks flushed, his pupils so wide and black that Harry thinks he could get lost in them. Draco’s lips are swollen and scarlet. When he flicks his tongue out to wetten them Harry’s stomach sways like he’s standing at an unbearable height.

Draco’s hand moves till it’s clasping Harry’s hip into place. His eyebrow quirks slightly and before Harry can prepare himself for it he drops his head down sucking the head of his cock into his mouth.

“Draco,” He breathes, “Fuck.”

Draco tilts his head up looking at him. His perfect lips are stretched around the girth of Harry, his eyes burning grey. Draco’s mouth is soft, his tongue presses velvety against the head of Harry’s dick. He pushes his head back down and the whole room spins.

Harry feels the weight of Draco’s upper body against his thighs and drags his hand out of Draco’s hair, digging his nails firmly into the firm muscle of his back. Draco hums in appreciation and Harry feels the noise buzz against the base of his cock.

He circles his hips forward and Draco closes his eyes, dropping down, taking him in deeper. Draco swallows around the tip of Harry’s cock and the inside of Harry’s head becomes a swimming mess of noise. He gives his hips a nudge, a little bolder, and Draco holds still, lets Harry fuck his mouth, hot and rhythmic.

Harry tightens his hand in Draco’s hair. gathers it into a fist so he can watch more clearly. Draco glances up, eyes narrowed into slits, lips swollen. Harry feels the edges of his vision darken and lets out a ragged groan.

Draco sinks down again, smooth and graceful, the picture of debauched aristocracy. Harry stares at the arches of Draco’s shoulder blades, broader now, covered in freckles. He watches the bunch and flex of Draco’s muscles, pulls one hand out of Draco’s hair to feel the way they move under his palm.

Draco’s throat around him is perfect, wet heat and pressure. Harry’s eyelashes flutter and he lets them fall shut focusing on the warmth of Draco’s skin under his palms, he pressure of his body that pins Harry to the mattress. Draco sinks down further, the roof of his mouth pressing across the head of Harry’s cock. Harry tugs on his hair firmer and jerks forward losing himself in a few erratic thrusts. He comes so hard he swears he sees stars bloom against the obsidian of his eyelids and Draco swallows him down all hot lips and warmth, and softness.

Harry lies there gasping for a second, peels his eyes open to watch as Draco pushes himself upwards and holds himself there, above Harry. Harry reaches up and tugs him down until their chests touch, until he can taste himself in Draco's mouth. Draco groans against him and they move in tandem, breath for breath.

Harry can feel Draco’s still swollen cock caught between the hot slick of their bodies. He reaches between them and takes it in his palm rubbing back and forth until Draco’s hips twitch into tremors. Rutting against Harry he finally reaches his peak. Harry watches as his face screws up and then relaxes. He stays still as slippery warm liquid pools across his stomach and Draco rolls off of him collapsing boneless into the sheets.

“Fuck,” Harry exhales and lifts his head up to trace his eyes down the length of Draco’s body. “I missed that so much.”

A blissful smile curls across Draco’s face and he moves in closer, wrapping himself into Harry’s body heat. When his hand touches Harry’s slippery stomach he recoils a little and pulls himself up into a sitting position.

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up,” He explains, standing up and offering a hand to Harry. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of my bathing facilities.” He smirks and walks out of the room. Harry follows him.

When Harry steps into the shower Draco follows him. Immediately, the guise of a practical cleaning is shattered and the shower devolves into an impractical half hour of hot skin and wet moans and fragrant steam that leaves Harry’s head spinning. It climaxes in a loss of balance that leaves them both in peels of laughter. They stumble back to bed and collapse into the sheets naked, their skin hot and flushed, smelling like Draco’s shampoo.

In bed Draco curls around him and Harry revels in the comfort of his presence. His heartbeat slows as Draco huffs sleepy breath across his chest and Harry lets his eyes flutter closed.

It’s early, but they fall asleep anyways. Two boys enveloped in each other, all loose limbs and wild hair curled across snowy sheets.

Got crafty this evening, making ministry of magic memos.