Worth It.

Draco's Birthday

“Honestly, ties are ridiculous.”

Harry sighed, crossing and recrossing the pieces of the emerald green silk tie and getting nowhere with it. Strewn about him were shirts and slacks, a sea of clothing he had wade through to finally get hold of the one Malfoy approved of.

After much banter and an unfortunate incident involving messed up blond hair and a balled up hand knit jumper, they had finally decided on an outfit for Harry-  black slacks and a pale silver white shirt, a slim green tie and a black blazer. Of course. Trust Malfoy to make him look like the grim reaper.

Harry was still struggling with his tie when Draco entered their room, or what was left of it- buried under the pile of clothes and books and papers that he was sure were of import- and heaved a weary sigh.

“Would it kill you to clean up a bit?!” he moaned, but Harry only shrugged in response. He was this close to chucking another one of Molly’s jumpers at him. But it was his birthday, despite everything. And he couldn't deny that he looked fine in the clothes Draco had picked out. The tie still made him mad, though, so he wasn't so keen on helping.

With a flick of his wand, Draco sent the clothes to the wardrobe, having them fold themselves on their way. Another swish and the papers flew to the desk drawers, some twirling in the wind as if part of a well-choreographed ballet, before settling down on the desk or flying out into the living room drawers.

Harry ignored the motion around him and tried to fasten the tie once more, this time almost strangling himself. He could swear it was easier when he was in school. He didn't even know how he had done it every day for seven goddamn years.

“Here, let me,” said Draco, stepping towards him, dodging the objects zooming about the room. “Honestly, Potter, you're such a kid!”

Harry would have retorted. But at that very moment, Draco Malfoy, alluringly dressed in all black, pulled him closer by his tie, and he was distracted. Draco’s movements were swift and sure, his slim fingers nimble. His brow furrowed a bit, as he worked, inadvertently pulling him closer, and it was all very, very cute.

Harry smirked, lifting his arms and draping them around Draco’s neck, just as he was finishing up. The look on his face as he straightened was almost worth putting up with his uptight ways, thought Harry. His pale skin had reddened to the lovely shade of a cherry tomato, and he blinked rapidly, visibly thrown off.  

“Umm..we- We're getting late,” he stuttered, and Harry burst out laughing, pulling Draco closer to bring his forehead to rest against his own.

“Shut up, Potter,” he muttered, flustered, but he leaned into the embrace nonetheless, momentarily, before pushing him off and stomping out. Harry followed suit, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face.

****

Draco Malfoy didn't understand why they owned a muggle transportation vehicle. It was bad enough that Harry had refused to live at the Manor. Or their cottage down in Scotland. He had wanted to live in a place of his own, and it annoyed Malfoy to bits. They had fought and fought, and as always, Potter had got his way. Here he was, stuffed into a cozy two bedroom house on the outskirts of London with the most annoying man on the planet.

It was a deplorable condition, really.

He loved every minute of it.

Still, it had seemed like an utter waste of fortune, investing in this motor vehicle they called a ‘'car”, Draco thought, when they could just apparate. But Harry would not have a word of it.