complimentary colours • drarry •

21: the daily prophet

Sunday 4th April 1999

Harry watched as Draco pulled the material of his jumper over his head. It was the last day he would need to wear Harry's clothes and he would miss seeing him in his hoodies. Draco never wore anything comfortable and he looked particularly cuddly in the baggy material. Draco had insisted he needed to go home to change. Apparently, he couldn't turn up at the Weasley's looking like he'd raided his wardrobe. Harry doubted they would notice.

Draco caught him watching and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you going to get up?" he asked as he grabbed some jeans.

"We don't have to be there until one," Harry said, pulling his covers up to his chin. "It's too early to be doing anything but lying in bed."

"It's 10am."

"It's a weekend and it's the holidays," he argued. "Getting up before noon is a crime."

Draco walked over to the side of the bed and crouching beside him, running his hand through Harry's hair. "Too bad."

As Draco looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face, the corners of his mouth twitched up. Harry reached up and took the hand that had been in his hair, threading their fingers together.

"Come on, get up," Draco insisted. "I want to show you something."

Harry frowned at him. "Can't I see it from here?"

"No," he said, standing up with Harry's hand still in his, pulling him up. "It requires your help."

Curious, Harry pushed back the covers and let himself be pulled out of bed. Draco said nothing as he took Harry's other hand in his and placed them on his waist. Harry followed his lead and wrapped his arms around him. He was surprisingly nice to hug, with his lean frame and general dislike of physical contact.

"You're being weird," Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes at his impatience.

"Just keep holding me and watch," he said, pulling his wand from his pocket. He turned in Harry's arms so he was behind him as they both looked into the room. Harry rested his chin on his shoulder, watching expectantly.

With Harry's his lips pressed under his ear, Draco pointed his wand into the empty space in front of them and with little effort, he said, "Expecto Patronum."

Almost immediately, a shape burst from the tip of his wand and the room was filled with the blue light of a patronus. It had nowhere to fly in Harry's bedroom, so it landed in front of them, long feathered tail trailing behind it. The animal looked like an exact copy of the white peacock that Harry had seen in Draco's garden at Christmas.

Harry's face broke out in a smile at the sight and his arms tightened around Draco's middle. "I told you you could do it."

Draco looked back at him, and when he saw Harry's proud grin, he dipped his head.

"I've been practicing," he said. Harry spun him around, lifting his arms to his shoulders.

"What memory did you use?" he asked. He wanted to know which of Draco's memories was powerful enough to fuel a patronus. Had he suddenly recalled a childhood memory? Or was there something new that had happened since they last tried?

Draco was avoiding his eye. "I didn't think of a memory."

When Harry didn't reply he reluctantly looked at him, irrational worry on his face. Harry was just looking at him with soft eyes and a small smile on his face. His chest felt like it might burst. Draco didn't tell him he loved him often. He wasn't the most openly affectionate person, so Harry savoured the times he let himself show how he felt. He didn't mind. It made him all the more happy when the moments did come.