As May faded into early June, Draco thumped downstairs to start preparing breakfast. He paused mid-step when he saw Andromeda and Teddy dressed and ready to go out somewhere.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"London," she said, pushing the stroller towards the front door.
"London?" asked Draco confused. "You never said anything about going out. I'm not ready yet."
"You're not invited," she quipped, then rolled her eyes at Draco's affronted expression. "We can't have you accompany us if we're shopping for your birthday present, can we?"
"Oh," said Draco, feeling embarrassed. "You don't have to do that."
"I want to," she assured him. "There's not much for you to do today— housework's done, dinners in the fridge. We won't be back 'til late, so just have a nice day relaxing. That's an order."
"Okay," said Draco surprised. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she huffed pushing the pram out of the front door and marching down to the bottom of the garden, Draco following suit.
"You're not Apparating with Teddy, are you?" he asked, a jab of panic rising in his chest.
"Don't be ridiculous!" scoffed Andromeda. She pulled the front gate shut in front of Draco raising then her wand into the air. There was a loud bang and the triple-decker knight bus screeched to a halt at her feet. The sliding door creaked open and the conductor stepped off to help Andromeda with the pram.
"Leaky Cauldron, please," she said.
Andromeda waved goodbye to Draco before the bus pulled off just as suddenly as it had appeared. Draco stood at the bottom of the garden in nothing but his boxers, unsure of what to do with himself. Just then there was a loud popping sound, and Harry appeared at the Apparition point. He stared at Draco, mouth slightly ajar before Draco realised he was standing practically naked in the garden. He felt naked under Harry's intense scrutiny, and something warm and tight blossomed in the pit of his stomach. He crossed his arms over his bare chest nervously, doing little to cover himself.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" he demanded.
Harry seemed to snap out of his trance then and stuttered, "Uhh, breakfast." He raised his hands, brandishing a large, brown paper bag. "I have breakfast. For us."
Draco smirked. "Good, I'm bloody starving. I suppose you better come in."
He turned and marched confidently up the garden path with the air of a man who often wandered around his front garden in a state of undress. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the firm arse clad in tight, black boxers as Draco rolled his hips as he walked up the garden path.
Surely that wasn't deliberate , thought Harry, chasing after him.
"Go in the kitchen. The kettle's just boiled," said Draco before heading upstairs, Harry's eyes following him until he disappeared out of sight.
Harry felt something hot flutter in his stomach, and embarrassingly, further south. He hurried into the kitchen and began concentrating very hard on brewing cups of tea for everyone and plating up their breakfast. By the time Draco returned, Harry had composed himself again and had three cups of tea sitting on the table along with a selection of pastries and sandwiches. Draco was clothed this time, wearing grey sweatpants and a black tank top. He plopped down in his seat and took a cup of tea.
"Cheers," said Draco.
He took a sip of tea, but Harry kept staring at him. Perhaps stranger than seeing Draco practically naked was seeing the perpetually immaculate Draco in such casual attire. The tank top showed off Draco's athletic build, and the sweatpants sat low enough on his hips that a sliver of pale skin from his toned belly was on show. Harry began to wonder why he was taking notice of these minor details when he realised that Draco was looking at him inquisitively.
"What?" he asked sounding annoyed.
"Nothing," Harry replied quickly.
"Is there something wrong with my attire?" he asked sharply.
"No! No, I think it looks nice," Harry said quietly. Draco blinked.
"Oh," was all he could think to say. "Thanks."
Harry gave him a small smile, then asked, "Where's Andy and Teddy? Are they out at the shop?"
"London, actually," said Draco. "Will be gone all day, she said."
Harry frowned. "London? Are you sure?"
Draco glared at him. "Of course I'm sure! I saw her off on the Knight Bus just before you arrived."
"Why are they in London?"
"Shopping," said Draco, then added quietly, "For a birthday present."
Harry's eyes widened and asked, "It's not your birthday today, is it?"
"No, it's tomorrow. You can stop panicking, I'm not expecting anything from you. A free breakfast will suffice," he joked. "What are you doing here anyway? Surely you have your own kitchen you could make breakfast in."
"I, uh," Harry looked confused. "I thought Andy invited me here for breakfast this morning. But if she's in London..." he shook his head. "I must have got my dates mixed up. Sorry to bother you."
Draco shrugged. "No bother at all. I didn't have anything planned today."
"Me neither," said Harry. "I had planned to spend the day here."
Draco hesitated, then said as casually as possible, "You still can, if you want."
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Just the two of us?"
"It was merely a suggestion," Draco grumbled, regretting he'd even suggested such a thing. Of course, Harry wouldn't want to hang out with him, he's got friends he could be spending his time with instead.
"I'd like that," Harry assured him.
Draco paused, then nodded curtly. "Good. Well...good then. Right."
Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "So what would you like to do today?"
You .
The bizarre thought came loud and clear in Draco's head and he quickly suppressed it and said, "I don't know. I don't fancy wizard's chess again. If anything, I've gotten worse since I started playing with you."
"Well," said Harry slowly, thinking. "We could go flying if you like. Play Quidditch, two-on-two."
Draco's eyes lit up momentarily then he frowned. "I can't. I don't have a broomstick."
"Oh," Harry said, annoyed at himself for forgetting that Draco had lost literally everything after the trial, including his prized Nimbus 2001. Harry thought hard for an alternative. "We could play football." Draco looked at him blankly, and Harry continued, "It's like Muggle Quidditch. It's not as good as Quidditch obviously, but it's a good laugh."
"Fine," sighed Draco. "But I get to bring my guitar."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You play the guitar?"
"Yes," Draco replied, sounding exasperated. "Why do you look so surprised?"
"I dunno, I never pegged you as the musical type."
"Are you insulting my purported lack of creativity or my ability?"
"Neither since I haven't heard you play anything yet," said Harry coolly. "I didn't mean to suggest you couldn't play. I just thought you'd be into more wizardy stuff."
"Wizardy stuff," repeated Draco blankly.
Harry's cheeks burned red. "You know, like magic things— flying obviously, potions, spells. I dunno, playing guitar just seems like more of a Muggle thing."
Draco glared at Harry before storming out of the kitchen. Shit. Harry had managed to insult him before they'd even finished their breakfast. It had to be some kind of record. Either this was going to be a very long day at the cottage, or a very one. A moment later Draco reappeared armed with a steel-string, flat-top acoustic guitar and a look of steely determination. He strummed the guitar once, then proceeded to attack the strings with pinpoint precision and force. Harry was transfixed at the sight of Draco's nimble fingers moving up and down the frets with seamless grace. He was not so much playing the guitar as caressing the strings, filling the small kitchen with a quick-paced blues melody. Whereas Draco's hands were rapidly moving across the guitar, his face was still and set with a look of concentration and determination. His silky blonde hair which was normally precisely placed, fell across his face softening his strong, regal features. The music reached its crescendo and Harry felt goosebumps erupt all over his skin as the music thrummed through the room. Suddenly, Draco stopped playing and slammed the guitar defiantly onto the kitchen table.
"Was that to your satisfaction?" he drawled. Harry gaped at him.
"That was amazing," he breathed. "Where did you learn to play like that?"
"I play the violin," Draco explained, pleased with Harry's stunned response. "Or used to play, I should say. My mother taught me as a child and I kept it up as I got older. Unfortunately, the violin was repossessed along with everything else in the Manor. But when I came here, Andromeda lent me Ted's old guitar. The two instruments are similar in principle, it took me a while to get up to speed with it, but after a couple of weeks' practice, I managed to master the basics. I've been listening to a lot of the LP's here as well. Most of it is musicians that I've never listened to before— Lightnin' Hopkins, Big Bill Broonzy, Skip James and the like —I must admit, I didn't think Muggle music could be so...captivating."
"Uhuh," said Harry, crossing his legs uncomfortably in an effort to dissuade his growing erection.
Draco shrugged. "On second thought, let's leave the guitar. I fancy going swimming."
Harry's eyes widened. "Swimming?"
"Yes, there's a lake not too far from here. It's a nice day for it," he said looking out the window at the bright, cloudless sky.
"Sure," Harry agreed weakly. "You're the birthday boy."
"Excellent," smiled Draco. "I'll make us some lunch to take with us and then we'll make tracks."
He opened the fridge door and paused.
"What the hell?" he whispered, pulling out a large Tupperware box with a note attached that read Lunch . Draco opened the box. Inside was a variety of sandwiches and pastries, a couple of apples and a flask of pumpkin juice. Enough for two people.
"What's that?" asked Harry.
Draco sat the box on the kitchen table. "Andromeda's made up lunch already. But I wasn't planning on going out today. How did she..."
Harry looked inside the Tupperware and his eyes lit up. "Corned beef sandwiches, brilliant!" He shrank the box and slipped it into his back pocket, "Ready to go, then?"
When they reached the lake they stripped quickly to their swimming trunks, keen to cool their skin from the merciless heat of the sun. Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Draco pulled the damp t-shirt over his head to reveal a pale, lithe body, all the muscles in his back tightening, his ribs shifting under his peaches-and-cream skin, flushed from the heat. Draco's body was slim, but not as slim as he had expected. During the trial, he was sickly thin and pale, but his time here at The Mill had done Draco wonders— mind, body and soul. There was so much smooth, pale skin.
Draco turned to face him and Harry felt as though a bucket of ice had been thrown over him. Draco's body would be sheer perfection, were it not for thin, white scars criss-crossing across his chest and abdomen. Draco frowned at the uncomfortable expression on Harry's face and looked down at his body, then it dawned on him what was bothering him.
"We've already made our apologies to each other," he said, then ran a hand across the scars on his flat abdomen. "They don't hurt. Besides, I think they give me character."
Harry's eyes fell on Draco's right arm and frowned. Where he had expected to see the striking black of the Dark Mark against pale flesh, he saw only a faded outline of the skull and snake. Without thinking, Harry reached out and touched it.
Draco gasped at the contact, in part because he wasn't expecting it but also where Harry had touched him. But when Harry touched his skin, the heat radiating off of his fingertips felt like it branded his flesh, deeper than the Dark Mark ever could.
"What happened to it?" asked Harry softly.
"I don't know," replied Draco quietly, keeping his arm very still. Harry was still touching him, lightly running his fingers along the faded outline of the tattoo. He was afraid if he moved, Harry would realise what he was doing and remove his hand. "After the Dark Lord died, it stopped hurting. Then over time, it's just faded on its own."
Harry gave a sad smile. "At least that's one scar that'll heal."
"Yes, well... I've grown rather attached to the others," teased Draco, eyeing the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead fondly.
He winked at Harry and waded into the water. Harry watched after him, his skin feeling hot and prickly, but he suspected it had little to do with the sun. Harry and Draco spent the rest of the afternoon swimming and splashing about in the lake. They took turns levitating each other to great heights before freefalling into the water, and Draco taught Harry the bubblehead charm so they could explore the lake's bottom. Even though they found nothing of real interest— plenty of seaweed and a few rainbow trout darted passed them —it was enjoyable nonetheless. Harry tried to teach Draco to do keepie-ups with a football he transfigured out of an apple, but Draco had more fun seeing how far he could punt the ball out into the lake and using the summoning charm to retrieve it.
Taking shade under a large oak tree facing the water, they enjoyed Andromeda's packed lunch. Draco ate his sandwich tidily, mechanically, chewing daintily with his lips closed, but every so often his wet tongue would slip out and run along his pink, plump bottom lip. Harry wondered briefly when he had become so attentive to the actions of Draco's lips before shaking the thought away and reaching for another pumpkin pasty.
Draco had enjoyed his time with Harry, but something kept niggling at him. Harry seemed to sense that something was wrong.
"If you glare any harder at that sandwich you're going to transfigure it into something," he mused.
Draco looked up at him and shrugged. "Just thinking."
"I'm not psychic, Draco. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," said Draco. "I've quite enjoyed your company today, actually."
"I'm glad my company has been to your satisfaction," joked Harry.
Draco cleared his throat. "As enchanting as my company is, I'm curious as to why you're not spending more time with your friends."
Harry frowned. "You are my friend, Draco."
"You know what I mean, your real friends, your other friends," he said waving his hand dismissively. "Granger and Weasley. All through school you couldn't prise you three apart from each other, now you spend all of your free time here."
"Do you not want me to spend my free time here?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.
"I didn't say that," he snapped. "I'm just curious why you're spending more time here than with them."
Harry shrugged. "Ron and Hermione are going through the honeymoon period of their relationship at the moment. I'm not particularly keen to be a third wheel to that, thanks very much. I'm just giving them space to enjoy their time together now and get it out of their system. Once they've calmed down a bit I'll start to see them more often again."
"Oh."
Draco was unsure if he was more or less satisfied with the honesty of that answer. So, Harry was spending more time with him because his friends were spending less time with him. Draco chucked his half-eaten sandwich into the water. He'd suddenly lost his appetite.
"And what about Weasley's sister?" he asked. "If Granger and Weasel are too busy shagging to hang out with you, I figured you two'd be taking a leaf out of their book and getting reacquainted after a year on the run."
Harry frowned at him. "Ginny and I aren't dating."
Draco stared. "Since when?"
"Since our sixth year. I broke up with her when I left Hogwarts to...you know. While I was on the road with Ron and Hermione, Ginny was stuck at Hogwarts. I had every expectation that I was going to die fighting, so I told her not to carry a torch for me. Life's too short waiting for someone who more than likely won't come back. And she didn't. She went back to school and she and Neville started up Dumbledore's Army again, recruiting and resisting from within. I guess while I was away, she and Neville got close. By the time I got back, they were already an item."
Draco gaped at Harry. "Longbottom stole your girl?" he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, ignoring the glare that Harry drew him. "Merlin, I never would have guessed. Mind you, the last time I saw him he was brandishing the sword of Gryffindor and beheading giant snakes. How could she resist?"
"Yeah, you don't see that every day," said Harry, recalling the time in the Chamber of Secrets when he did much the same thing. He'd have to remember to tell Draco about that at some point. "To be honest I don't think it's that surprising they got together. Neville's been crazy about Ginny for years, and she spent so long being fixated on me that she never gave anyone else much notice. My leaving gave her the chance to see life beyond me and all my drama. And she saw Neville, and that was that, I guess. I'm happy for them, you know. And Neville's a great guy, they're well suited to one another. Love's in short supply nowadays, you should grab it with both hands if you get the chance."
Draco gave Harry a commissary pat on the shoulder. "Her loss, then."
"Thanks," said Harry with a small smile, then grinned more widely and asked, "So what about you? I thought you and Pansy Parkinson were an item?"
Draco looked affronted. "What on earth gave you that idea?"
"You took her to the Yule Ball."
"Yes, and you took Parvati Patil. We were fourteen, Harry. Merlin, could you imagine if we all married our high school crushes?"
"Fair point," Harry conceded. "I didn't even want to go with Parvati, anyway. She's nice enough, but she wasn't who I really liked at the time."
"Really?" asked Draco, his interest piqued. "Do tell."
"What's the point? It's ancient history."
"Exactly, so it doesn't matter now, does it?" he implored. "Go on, this is fun reminiscing over all the gossip and rumours from our school days. Tell me, who did you really want to go with?"
Harry sighed and said quietly, "Cho Chang."
"Ah," Draco nodded slowly. "Diggory beat you to the punch?"
"Yep." Harry always felt a small pang of guilt when his thoughts turned to Cedric. He shook off the feeling and turned to Draco, "So did you really want to go with Pansy or was she the only one who'd agree to go with you?"
"How dare you insinuate that I didn't have a line of suitors waiting in the wings for me!" he joked. "Well funnily enough we were in the same boat when it came to our prospective dates. I'd planned on asking Astoria Greengrass to come with me."
"Daphne's little sister?" asked Harry and Draco nodded.
"Yeah, she was quite something— slim, tanned, long black hair, wicked fast on a broomstick, and she had some mouth on her, too."
Harry snorted and Draco punched his arm. "Not like that! Merlin, your mind's in the gutter. She had a wicked sense of humour. And she was a real smart-arse, had a cutting retort for everything."
"Sounds like you would have been well-suited."
Draco shrugged. "Probably. Theo asked her before I had the chance to and she said yes. But like you said, it's ancient history now."
"Her loss," smiled Harry.
"Too right it was," he smirked.
Andromeda still hadn't returned from London once they came back from the lake late in the afternoon but had kindly left dinner in the fridge— a slow-cooked boeuf bourguignon —to be reheated and served. Enough for two people, Draco noted curiously.
"I'm going for a shower before dinner," he informed Harry.
"Okay," Harry replied. "Can I have one after you?"
"Yeah sure. You can borrow some of clean clothes from me if you like, we're about the same size."
"Which bedroom's yours?" Harry shouted after him.
"First on the right," called Draco before slamming the bathroom door shut. Harry climbed the stairs, trying hard not to think about how Draco was now naked in the next room. It made him feel incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden. He went into Draco's room and wasn't surprised to see that all of the fixtures and furniture were green and black. He tried to avoid looking at the large bed but couldn't help but notice that the sheets were black silk. He thought it must feel better than the cheap cotton sheets he had at home, and made a mental note to go shopping for new ones.
He could hear the water of the shower running in the next room. He didn't want Draco questioning why Harry was lingering in his bedroom, so he quickly opened the dresser drawer, pulled out a clean shirt and casual cotton trousers (all black, of course) and strode back onto the landing, where he paused.
The soothing thrum of water echoed into the hallway, but over the sound of running water, Harry could hear Draco making noises. They were quiet, but he could still hear long, deep sighs, then a hoarse groan, and a low murmured fuck , then more sighing. The noise sent a jolt of pleasure right through Harry to his cock, and he had to stifle a moan just thinking about what Draco must be doing to himself to make that kind of noise.
Harry knew he shouldn't be listening, but he couldn't help himself. He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, pressing the bundle of clothes to his throbbing erection, trying his hardest not to rub himself. Draco made another noise, quietly at first, and then let out a shivery moan that made Harry's cock ache. He had struggled to keep his eyes off of Draco when they were at the lake since the man was all lean muscle and long legs. Now he couldn't help but imagine Draco in excruciating detail, standing under the water, one hand braced against the back wall, head hung as the hot water cascaded down his flushed skin in glistening droplets that traced every line and curve of his long, lithe body. Slipping his other hand between his legs, moving it slowly over his swollen, slick cock.
Another shower-blissed moan trailed lazily into the hallway and Harry couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips. The shower was suddenly switched off and silence followed. Harry froze in horror. Had Draco heard him? After a few moments of tense silence, he heard Draco shuffling about the bathroom, and Harry quickly and quietly snuck back downstairs into the kitchen, wishing desperately for his erection to disappear. Draco entered the kitchen a few minutes later, his damp hair slicked back from his face. It looked like it did when they had first met at Hogwarts, but his white-blonde hair was darker when it was wet, and his cheeks were flushed a delicate pink from the hot water of the shower. Harry smiled, trying to look casual.
"Bathroom's free," Draco announced.
Harry hurried past him to take his own shower. Only his would need to be a cold one. When he returned Draco had laid out dinner at the kitchen table. There was soft music playing from the small, portable radio on the windowsill, and Draco had taken the trouble to light a few candles. Harry swallowed hard. The mood in the room hung heavy, it felt like more than sitting down to dinner with a friend.
Draco smiled at him, "Feel better?"
"Uh-huh," was the best that Harry could muster.
Draco's eyes ran over Harry's body, from his chest, across his torso where the silk shirt clung in all the right places, then lingered over Harry's thighs and the light, cotton-covered bulge between them. Something dark flickered in his eyes, but his face was the familiar mask of indifference Harry knew so well.
"My clothes look better on you," he breathed, and Harry felt heat prickling across his neck and chest. "Sit down, dinner's ready."
Draco sat at the head of the table, and Harry took the seat closest to him. Pulling his chair in, their knees knocked together a little, and Harry immediately jerked his away. Draco stared at him for a moment, then picked up his fork and they proceeded to eat their meal in silence. After they'd cleared their plates, Draco clicked his fingers and a bottle of red wine and two glasses appeared on the table.
"Drink?" he asked.
"Please," agreed Harry, more hoarsely than he'd intended. He downed the drink in two large gulps, and Draco drew him an indignant look.
"You really are an animal sometimes."
"Sorry," said Harry. "Just a little thirsty."
"Evidently," he smirked and filled up Harry's glass again. "Take your time and enjoy it. To taste it properly, you should focus on the different ways your tongue reacts to the wine. If there's a tingling sensation, that's an indicator of sweetness. Go on, try it."
Harry took another sip of the wine, Draco watching his lips intently. "Focus on the tip of your tongue— how does it taste?"
"Umm. Sweet?"
Harry was finding it difficult to focus on the taste of the wine when he was so fixated on Draco's mouth and the way his lips rolled over the words. Draco's thigh pressed into Harry's, feeling warm and firm against his own. His grey eyes were smouldering, and Harry couldn't tear away from his gaze.
"When you take a sip, your mouth should feel wet, like you've just bitten into an apple," Draco explained. Harry's mouth was incredibly dry, but he nodded. "You should feel a tingling sensation on the front and sides of your tongue," he continued huskily, "If you rub your tongue to the roof of your mouth it feels gravelly. Try it."
Harry obeyed and rubbed his tongue, which right now felt too large for his mouth, along the smooth roof of his mouth, trying hard not to imagine it was Draco's tongue.
"Do you feel it?" asked Draco, his voice low and husky. Harry nodded and pressed his thigh back into Draco's.
"Yes," said Harry breathlessly. "I feel it."
The air thrummed with soft music and ragged breaths, it felt heavy with anticipation. Harry stared at Draco's lips which were stained red with wine. They were wet, slack, so kissable. The moment seemed to stretch out forever but was shattered by the sudden appearance of a bright white light filling their vision and they recoiled, startled. A silver fox appeared before them and when it spoke, Andromeda's voice filled the kitchen.
"Draco, Teddy and I are on the Knight Bus. We'll be home soon. We've already had dinner. See you when we get home."
Draco gaped as the fox dissolved into nothing. "What the bloody hell was that?"
"You can use your Patronus to send out messages. It's a lot quicker and more secure than sending owls," Harry informed him, grabbing their empty plates and taking them to the sink.
"Really?" said Draco with genuine interest.
"I can teach you if you like?" said Harry.
Draco frowned and murmured, "I can't."
"You don't want to?"
"No, I mean I can't," said Draco slamming the wine glasses next to the sink. "I can't produce a Patronus."
"Not a corporeal one, you mean?" asked Harry.
Draco shook his head. "I mean not at all. It's a side-effect of dabbling in the Dark Arts."
"Who told you that?" asked Harry frowning, running the sink to wash the dishes. Draco rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand.
"Do you forget you're a wizard, Harry?" He waved his wand and the dishes were instantly clean and proceeded to stack themselves back into the cupboards.
Harry smiled and shook his head. "Sometimes I do forget." His grin faded and he asked again, "Who said you couldn't produce a Patronus Charm?"
"My Aunt Bellatrix," he answered, shifting uncomfortably at even the mention of the woman. "She said by mastering the Dark Arts I wouldn't ever need to learn it anyway. To be able to produce something like that, you need to be on the side of the light. I've never been a good enough person to produce one anyway. And even if I wasn't I think I'm too damaged to ever produce one now."
"She's talking nonsense," said Harry fiercely. "Practicing the Dark Arts has nothing to do with it. It's about what's in here."
Harry placed the palm of his hand on Draco's chest above his heart. Its pace had quickened under Harry's touch, but Draco drawled, "You are the sentimental type, aren't you?"
Harry groaned and lowered his hand. "Give me your wand."
Draco hesitated a moment but handed over his wand to Harry's outstretched hand.
"You're not getting to keep it this time," he warned, but Harry ignored him and inspected the wand closely.
"Ten-inch hawthorn, unicorn hair core. Yes?"
"Yes," Draco confirmed, eyebrow raised.
Harry gave him a small smile. "After all the trouble caused by the Elder wand, I've taken a bit more of an interest in wandlore. The properties of a wizard's wand can say quite a lot about you." He twirled Draco's wand in his hands as he spoke, "Hawthorn wands are adept at curses."
"They are my speciality," smirked Draco.
Harry nodded. "They may also be particularly suited to healing magic. Hawthorns also tend to favour wizards who have a conflicted nature, or are passing through a period of turmoil."
"Well, that makes sense now," said Draco. "Not when I was eleven. I was perfectly happy then."
"I'm sure," said Harry lightly. "Leaving home for the first time in your life to live far away from everything and everyone you know. The conflict between you and your father—"
"Don't talk about my father," Draco interrupted.
Harry gave him an apologetic look, but continued, "Most telling of all is the core of the wand. Unicorns are creatures of the light, of purity. Incidentally, wands with unicorn hair cores are the hardest to turn to the Dark Arts."
"Difficult but not impossible," said Draco, unconsciously touching the faded dark mark on his left forearm.
"You didn't kill Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower," said Harry. "I was there that night, I heard what he said to you. He said he knew a boy a long time ago who made all the wrong choices, and that you had a choice too, not to repeat the mistakes of the past. And you chose to lower your wand."
Harry grabbed Draco's hand, and Draco felt his heart leap.
"You were an insufferable prick in school, Draco. You still are sometimes. But you weren't born bad and you're not damaged goods." He gently placed Draco's wand back into his hand, "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Malfoy."
Harry intoned in a mysterious voice, mimicking Mr Ollivander's catchphrase. Draco gave a weak laugh. He had the overwhelming urge to kiss Harry then, but the sound of the front door opening snapped him back to reality and he hurried to help Andromeda with the pram and shopping. Andromeda looked tired but happy, and not surprised to see Harry in her house.
"Hello, Harry dear," she said passing him several shopping bags. "Put these things away in the kitchen for me, will you?"
Harry took the proffered bags from her and headed back to the kitchen and out of sight.
Andromeda smirked at her nephew. "Have a good day?"
"It was pleasant enough," Draco agreed lightly, which elicited an even wider grin from his aunt.
Once they'd got Teddy settled into bed, the three of them sat at the kitchen table with cups of tea and recounted their activities for the day. Andromeda invited Harry to stay the night but he declined, saying he had to be up early in the morning.
"But you will be coming over tomorrow?" she asked expectantly. "It's Draco's birthday, you know."
"He doesn't need to visit if he doesn't want to," murmured Draco, his cheeks tingeing pink. "He said he's busy."
"Yeah, I'll pop over later in the afternoon," Harry confirmed, and Draco suppressed a smile.
Andromeda, however, grinned mischievously. "Excellent, then you'll be staying for dinner. There will be cake, of course."
"Well, I'm not going to pass up on cake, am I?" Harry kissed Andromeda goodbye on the cheek. He hesitated for a moment looking at Draco, opting to give him a half-wave and said, "See you tomorrow, then."
"I'll walk you out," Draco offered, jumping to his feet perhaps a little too eagerly because Andromeda smirked into her cup. Draco walked Harry down to the Apparition point and said as casually as possible, "You know you don't have to come by tomorrow if you don't want to. It's just going to be the three of us. Not much of a birthday party, I know."
"I want to come," said Harry. Draco's heart leapt as he felt Harry's hand graze against his own.
"Well, if you insist."
"I'll see you tomorrow," Harry promised.
He stepped back with a smile, then disappeared with a loud pop. Draco stared at the empty spot where Harry had been standing moments before, his head swimming. He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered back up to the house, thinking tomorrow could turn out to be the best birthday he's ever had.
***
Harry lay in bed that night unable to sleep. He kept replaying that charged moment between them in the kitchen in his mind over and over again. Was Draco just teasing him or had he meant to take things further if they hadn't been interrupted? Old suspicions resurfaced in Harry's mind. It seemed just the sort of thing that Malfoy would have done in school; he would go to any effort to humiliate the boy he hated, even going so far as to feign attraction.
No. Harry rolled over again and punched his pillow hard. Draco and he were friends now, he wouldn't do that. Friends that teased and flirted and rubbed their thighs together and made even the most mundane things like drinking a glass of wine give him a hard-on. Christ, what was wrong with him?
He rolled onto his back and sighed, looking up at the dark ceiling and seeing nothing but blackness. After all these years of hating his guts, he'd finally managed to get on good terms with Draco. And he was going to ruin it all with these feelings. He didn't want to put his friendship in jeopardy, and misreading the signals would permanently kill any chance of maintaining civility between the two of them. And where the hell had these feelings come from? They seemed to sneak up on him from nowhere.
He thought back to all the times they had fought one another. Nobody else could elicit such a visceral response from him, how had he never noticed before how responsive he was to Draco's presence? Draco's piercing gaze always made Harry's skin flush, his relentless teasing making his heart race, and his mouth with those pink, pouting lips drawn into that smirk lit up his face, making him a porcelain, patrician beauty.
Harry groaned in frustration. Perhaps he had been harbouring these feelings for Draco for a while now— far longer than he'd care to admit even to himself. Silently admitting defeat, Harry slid his boxers down past his thighs and palmed his erection. He wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise, he reasoned. Thinking about Draco in the shower, however...well, he tried not to understand the reasons behind that.
He wrapped his right hand tightly around the base of his cock, imagining it was Draco's hand instead of his own. He slowly worked his hand up and down his shaft, remembering the long, deep sighs and hoarse groans that Draco made in the shower earlier in the day. The mere thought of Draco pleasuring himself made Harry's already throbbing cock ache. He moved his free hand up to his mouth and sucked wetly on his fingers, thoroughly lubricating them before moving them to his hole. He traced the rim before sliding a digit in and out of himself, pumping his cock to the same rhythm as his finger. He moved his hand faster over his heated cock but it wasn't enough. He started thrusting into his own fist, his hips bucking off of the creaking bed as he fucked himself with his fingers and fist, the wet sounds and his panting seemed almost deafening as they echoed between the walls of the empty bedroom. He drove himself closer and closer to climax as he fingerfucked himself as deep as he could, again and again, imagining Draco above him, slick with sweat, panting, moaning, kissing him, fucking him. The mere image pushed Harry over the edge.
"Fuuuuuuck, Draco, uuuhh..."
Harry crested and the darkened room exploded with light around him. He threw his head back as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him and he took a shuddering breath, feeling warm and sated.
Then the moment passed, and he felt uncomfortably self-aware, the bed feeling cold. Harry threw an arm out to the empty space beside him and imagined Draco lying there, languidly opening his eyes and smiling at him, his soft blond hair falling carelessly over his face. But the moment was gone, slipping like sand between his fingers. Just a fantasy, nothing more. The mess of humiliation and lingering desire swimming inside of him was confusing, especially since he was still reeling from his climax. He quickly spelled away his release and pulled his bedsheets closer, wishing for a dreamless sleep, not to forget images of the war, but to wash away this tangle of conflicting feelings. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it close, lying in the fetal position, feeling more alone than ever before.