Friday, January 12, 2018
Draco woke with a smile on his lips, that quickly morphed into a worried grimace as he began to convince himself it had all been a dream. Oh, please let it not have been a dream! He repeated it in his head, like a mantra, while getting ready for the day, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth until it was chapped and ragged - something he'd not done since he was a boy.
He bumped into someone as he left his room, and he apologized reflexively before looking up and into - the blazing green eyes of Harry bloody Potter.
Draco cringed away from the hatred he expected to see in those eyes, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn't there. Harry smiled tentatively and held out his hand. "Malfoy? Are you all right?"
Draco's pulse quickened as he hesitated, then clasped those warm, dry fingers for just a moment in his own. "Yes. Thank you, Potter - Harry?"
Harry's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, and his smile broadened. "If you like. Draco."
They stood there for a moment, staring at one another, with silly little grins. Then Draco shook himself and straightened his robes awkwardly. "Well. Right. Um. I - "
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you always this articulate? Come on, Draco. I'm off to breakfast. Walk with me?"
"I, er."
"Oh, come on. You're going there too. Are you really going to insist that we walk on opposite sides of the hall, or behind one another, ignoring each other?
"No," he snorted, "not when you put it that way."
"Good." Harry looked incredibly pleased with himself. "I have a question for you, anyway," he said, as he fell easily into step with Draco's long strides. "We're studying Red Caps today, and I seem to recall you being better than anyone else at defeating them. Willing to share your secrets?"
Draco studied him, trying to figure out what Harry wanted. He'd handled his own Red Cap just fine. "Possibly. What's in it for me?"
Harry flashed him a quicksilver grin. "Hmm. Depends. I've an idea for the play, but I need your help to carry it off."
---
Sunday, January 21, 2018
"What are we doing here, again?"
Draco shrugged. "Picking up something for the play for the girls. I wasn't really paying much attention. Why?"
Harry scuffed his toe on the ground, not meeting Draco's eye. "Only, the salesgirl keeps giving me funny looks..."
Draco snorted. "She's probably just overawed at meeting a childhood hero and wants your autograph."
"No, something tells me that's not it."
Draco looked curiously at the girl, who was whispering intently to her friend, both of them sneaking glances at them and giggling. Oh. Oh. Merlin.
—
Saturday, February 3, 2018
"You hold on to that one, dear. He's a keeper!" Draco felt himself flush, and hurriedly paid the shopkeeper, nearly knocking someone over in his rush to get out of the shop.
"Draco?" Harry looked up, startled, as Draco nearly barreled past him.
"Yeah. You got it?"
Harry nodded, looking puzzled.
"Good. Let's get out of here."
"Um, Draco?" Harry asked, as they headed back to the girls' house.
"Yes?"
"Why were you in such a hurry to leave?"
Draco shrugged. "No reason, really. Just hungry. Come on. You know how Blaise is about tea."
Harry looked as if he were about to say something else, but closed his mouth, frowning.
—
Saturday, February 10, 2018
"So, I have a question about these boxer parties," Harry said, waving his cup to get the group's attention.
They were at the Three Broomsticks, that evening, enjoying steaming mugs of chocolate after a hearty meal, and putting off venturing out into the frigid winter air.
Draco dropped his head into his hands.
"Draco!" Pansy shrieked, "You didn't tell him about the boxer parties!"
"Er," Draco said, refusing to look up. He knew they were all laughing. He could feel the table vibrating with it.
"Oh, come now, Pansy," Blaise said, deep voice ringing over the girls' hysterical laughter. "I'm quite fond of the old boxer parties. Been feeling rather nostalgic for 'em of late, as it happens. I think I'd like to hear Draco's rendition."
"But, Blaise!" Astoria giggled, "They're secret for a reason!"
"Yes, well. I mean, look at us. We're most of us Slytherin, anyway, or dating one. And it's not like we're in school anymore - surely it can't hurt."
Draco groaned.
"Come on, Draco," Harry wheedled. "Please?"
"Ugh. Fine. Whatever. I'm going to kill you Blaise, see if I don't." He heaved a put-upon sigh. "Right. Well. Where shall I start."
"At the beginning?" Ginny suggested helpfully.
Draco snorted. "Yes, yes, Weaselette, well done."
"You do recall that I'm dating your ex-wife, and am probably not the best person to insult?"
"Er." He actually had forgotten, for a moment.
She smiled at him, a smile that had far too many teeth. "As I'm feeling rather nostalgic myself, and rather liked that nickname, truth be told, I'll give you a pass. This time." She examined her nails, painted a deep blood-red. "Go on, then. Before we all perish of boredom."
He glared at her, but decided not to pick a fight. "I don't know how it started," he said, clearing his throat and pitching his voice lower, nodding his thanks to Pansy as she cast a discrete muffliato over their table, "or when, but it was already a tradition, when we were in Slytherin. Once a term, the seventh-years would organize a party and invite the fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-years. We would wake up one morning to an intricately folded note, elaborately penned in emerald-green ink, inviting us to a party in the common room that night, at two in the morning. With the note, that first morning, was a pair of Slytherin green silk boxers, and a post-script informing us that the party would have a dress-code - the enclosed boxers, and nothing else."
"The girls too?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.
Pansy giggled. "Yes. Well, and a bra, of course. We weren't complete libertines, Potter, no matter what you might have thought."
"Ahem," Draco said, annoyed at the interruption. "As I was saying, the party was to start at two, long past the bedtime of even the most insomniac first- though third-years. Snape helped with that, too - it wouldn't do for the littles to go blabbing it about. They each got a tiny drop of sleeping draught in their hot chocolate that night; just enough to send them peacefully off to sleep well before the night's festivities."
"Hot chocolate?" Harry interrupted to ask, and Draco noted with some surprise that he hadn't batted an eye at the revelation that Snape gave sleeping draughts to the littles, and, in true Harry fashion, chose to question something else.
"We Slytherins take our chocolate very seriously," Astoria put in, holding up her steaming mug of cocoa. "That's one of the duties of Head of House, you know. Providing the nightly cup of chocolate."
Harry stared at Draco. "You mean to tell me that you've been sending your students off to bed with Hot Chocolate all year?"
"Er, yes?" Draco didn't really see the problem with that. It wasn't like the little buggers were going to get tooth decay. But it seemed that Harry wasn't going to take offense at it after all. He slumped a little, instead, scrubbing at his face.
"Merlin. I really have been a terrible Head of House. I don't think I've even properly greeted half of them."
Draco stared at him in surprise, but didn't quite know how to articulate his firm belief that Harry could never be anything but a fabulous Head of House - or would be, once they figured out the mess between them. Thankfully, he didn't have to
"Oh, Harry," Ginny said fondly, "you know that's not true. Even James - who is not happy at all with you, as you might have guessed - admits that you're more effective at keeping them in line and making sure they're OK than he expected. And his cousins agree. They give you a hard time, but they think you're doing a decent job. And with a bit more time and practice, I think you'll be really great. And I'm not the only one."
Harry smiled faintly at her, accepting the sentiment - if not the content - of her reassurance. "Thanks, Gin."
"Ahem," Blaise said, instantly drawing their attention with his almost magnetic presence, "we've gotten off-track. Draco?"
Draco smiled gratefully at him. "Indeed. Once the littles were safely in bed, Snape would take his bribe - a bottle of the finest firewhisky and a selection of chocolates from an exclusive Patisserie in Paris, and retire to his quarters with a book, leaving the common room empty for the events to follow."
"At two, precisely, all of the upper years would make their way to the common room. The seventh-years would set warming charms, and provide wine, cheese, and chocolate. They would transfigure the common room floor into a giant fluffy mattress - no, Harry we did not have an orgy, so get that look off your face right now - dotted with pillows and blankets that were so soft it was like being wrapped in a cloud. Then we'd all lounge around and grumble about our love lives and chat with the mermaids until dawn."
Pansy coughed, and Draco sighed. "Yes, Pans? What is it?"
"Well, you've left out a very important detail, darling."
"And that would be?"
"Why, that while we were all grumbling about our love lives, or fantasizing about our crushes, you ranted about Harry, here."
Draco felt himself blushing. "Pansy!"
"It's true!" Astoria put in, laughing. "You wouldn't shut up, no matter how many people complained. We finally had to forbid you to mention Harry's name - and even then it took some pretty dark magic to get even a few Potter-free hours."
Draco closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm hurt, Pansy, Tori. Why would you betray me like this?"
Harry snickered.
"Don't be so quick to laugh, Harry," Granger said, tone laced with a dark amusement that had Draco staring at her before he knew he'd moved. "We had to ban you from the Gryffindor parties, remember?"
"You had boxer parties, too?" Pansy asked, eyes gleaming avidly.
Granger snorted. "Not exactly. We just wore our pajamas. But otherwise it was pretty similar. Well, except that we played games - truth-or-dare, and exploding snap, and strip poker, once. We drank whatever Seamus could smuggle in - butterbeer, more often than not - and ate sandwiches and treacle tarts from the kitchens."
Pansy snorted. "Heathens," she said fondly, placing a kiss on Granger's forehead.
"Why did you have to ban Harry from the parties?" Draco found himself asking, quite against his will.
Granger flashed him a sly grin that told him she'd been waiting for him to ask. "Because he wouldn't shut up about you, Draco."
Oh. He looked at Harry, to see that his face had gone very red, indeed. Oh.
"We had parties in Ravenclaw, too," Luna said, startling Draco, who'd quite forgotten she was there. "They weren't quite so interesting as those, though."
"What did you do?" he asked, curious about what the eccentric brainiacs did for fun. He didn't look away from Harry, whose face was returning to its normal sun-kissed bronze, though the tips of his ears were still very red.
"Oh, lots of things. We had themes, you see. Sometimes we all played our musical instruments, and sometimes we read poetry. Once, we turned the floor of our common room into a giant canvas and tied ropes to the rafters. That was my favorite. We all took turns swinging across the room, splattering the canvas with buckets of paint. It was lovely." She sighed wistfully, and Draco smiled.
"I wonder what Hufflepuff parties are like?" said Ginny idly. They all looked at one another. "Orgies," they said, all at once, and dissolved into helpless laughter.
"Oh, I hope not," Astoria said, eyes bright with suppressed laughter. "Or we're going to have to have words with Scorpius." Draco groaned, and so did Harry.
"We'll have to ask them in a few years," Ginny said thoughtfully, "though, knowing them, they'll be too wrapped up in books and each other to even notice."
Draco pretended not to notice the looks everyone sent him and Harry, or the tentative brush of Harry's fingers beneath the table. But when that soft touch was repeated, he curled his fingers around Harry's, holding them against his thigh. He thought the others were teasing them about their mutual obsession, but he wasn't sure. He couldn't focus on anything but the soft, warm press of fingers against his own, of the pulse he could feel that matched the frantic fluttering of his own heart. He rather suspected that Harry didn't hear the ribbing either.
—
Sunday, February 11, 2018
"You've all grown up to be such lovely witches and wizards," gushed Madam Malkin, as they prepared to leave her shop, several galleons lighter and several pounds of fabric heavier. "Especially you, dears." She patted Harry and Draco's arms as she handed them their bags. "I remember that first day, when you were both here being fitted. Oh, yes, don't look so surprised, dears. I may not have said anything at the time, but I knew who you were. And I'm so very glad you've managed to get past your differences and schoolboy rivalry." She smiled up at them, aged face crinkling around laughing, still-sharp eyes, and lowered her voice. "You're the talk of the town, you know. Rumor is you're the favorite for 'cutest couple' this year."
"But I - we - we're not -" Draco spluttered.
She put one pudgy finger beside her nose and winked at them, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Of course, dear, of course. Go on then, off with you - your friends are waiting, and it's quite nippy out today."
Draco turned mechanically and headed for the door, not even sure if Harry was following. But he had to get out of that stuffy, peppermint-scented shop and into the fresh air. He took several deep breaths, pushing away the nausea. She didn't know that they were a couple, once. No one did - not even Harry. He remembered, of course, as if it were yesterday, but — He sighed. It was lonely, being the only person in the world to know something like that. He was so fucking tired of it.
"Well," he joked, as Harry stepped silently up beside him, "I guess we must make convincing friends, if people mistake us for a couple."
Harry sighed. "Would it be so bad?" he asked wistfully. Draco stood frozen, watching Harry force a smile. "Never mind. Come on - it's bloody cold out." He turned and strode off, and Draco could only stare.
Because, fuck, Blaise was right. Harry did want him. But he deserved to know the truth of what they were. Even if it meant he wouldn't want Draco anymore, after.
He strode after Harry, thinking fast. By the time he overtook him, shamelessly exploiting his longer legs, he'd decided.
"All right."
Harry turned to glance sidelong at him, amused. "All right, what? I wasn't aware we were having a conversation. Have you mistaken me for one of your invisible friends?"
"Ha, bloody ha. I mean all right, we can try it."
Harry jerked to a stop. "Sorry, what? Try - what, exactly?"
Draco waved his gloved hand impatiently between them. "You. Me. Us."
Harry's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Articulate."
"Shut up."
"So..."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Must I do everything? Fine. Meet me Wednesday night at eight. On top of the Astronomy tower.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Valentine's day?"
Draco felt himself flush. "If you'd rather —"
"No, it's fine. I'm sorry. I'll... see you then."
"Indeed." Draco said softly, as Harry grinned at him. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
—
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Draco paced the top of the Astronomy tower, nerves writhing and congealing in his stomach. He's not going to show. He's going to stand me up, the git. He cast a tempus, hardly able to control his shaking fingers enough to make the proper wand movement. 8:01. He continued pacing. At 8:03 he decided to give Harry two more minutes. At 8:04, Harry burst through the door, searching frantically for Draco. Harry's entire body relaxed when they locked eyes, and Draco tried to suppress his smile. "You're late," he said.
"Sorry," Harry blurted. "I was getting these."
He pulled a bag from behind his back, that looked to contain chocolates and a bottle of wine. Draco made a mental note to thank Astoria later, for suggesting his favorite kind. Then he produced a single red rose, smiling sheepishly as he twirled it between his fingers.
Draco smiled at him, noting with some surprise that Harry's clothes - new, by the looks of them - suited him much better than what he usually wore, and that his hair was neater than Draco had ever seen it. It was obvious that he'd put quite a bit of effort into his appearance, and Draco let the last of his annoyance go. "You look nice," he said, and Harry blushed.
"I - the girls helped, with the clothes. They thought you'd like them."
Draco smiled, feeling on much surer footing. "I do. They suit you." He circled Harry, smiling predatorily at him. "You do clean up nicely, you know."
But when Harry leaned closer, making to kiss him, Draco took him by the shoulders and gently pushed him away.
"What —" Harry stared at him, hurt and confusion writ large on his face.
Draco smiled, a soft, sad smile. "I want nothing more than to kiss you, Harry - Merlin, you don't even know how much - but I need to tell you something first."
Harry frowned. "Oh, Draco, it's OK - you don't have to —"
Draco cut him off, pressing a long, pale finger to Harry's lips. "Shh. I do." He took a deep breath, taking a moment to savor the expression on Harry's face, so open and trusting. "Harry," he said gently. "I lied to you.