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Chapter Text

Harry and Cho sat across from each other at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place awkwardly.

Harry finished his lunch first. ‘I think we need to talk.’

Cho quirked a smile. ‘About how this isn’t working?’

Harry ruffled his hair. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I thought maybe the second time...’

Cho laughed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘This time was better though. You’re going to the party later, right?’

‘Yeah. I hope it won’t be too awkward.’ Harry stood up.

‘Only if we make it so.’ Cho stood up too, and they cleared away the dishes together. After they finished, she said, ‘I’ll get my things, then.’

Harry bit his lip. ‘There’s no hurry. If you do leave anything behind, I’ll send it back to you.’

‘I know.’

Harry headed towards the door. ‘I’ll leave you to it? I think I’ll go over to Draco’s.’

Cho gave him a thoughtful look. ‘Now that we’re no longer dating, I can admit that I always wondered whether or not you’d ever dated him.’

Harry snorted. ‘Me, dating him? He’s definitely not into that kind of thing.’ Harry shuddered. ‘I can’t even imagine how horrible it’d be.’

Cho shook her head. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ she said. ‘Have fun with Draco.’

Harry chuckled. ‘I don’t know if you call it fun. I spend most of the time annoying him.’

Cho gave a little smile, and they went in separate directions: Harry to the Floo in the drawing room and Cho up to the bedroom.

When Harry arrived at Draco’s London flat, the first thing he noticed was the sound of music, resonating through the air like the hum of magic.

Harry grinned and cast a silencing charm on his feet, before creeping towards the music room. The door was slightly ajar, and Harry could see Draco sitting in his chair. From Harry’s position, the slight forward slope of the chair was obvious, and Draco’s head was slightly bent away over the cello between his legs. Draco’s arms moved in sharp and smooth movements, and the music emerged strong, deep and fast, with an underlying beat Harry could feel in his heart.

The moment the song finished and Draco’s arms relaxed, Harry stepped into the room. ‘Bravo!’ he said, clapping loudly.

Draco’s head twisted towards him, eyes startled wide. ‘Potter,’ he hissed. ‘How many times have I reprimanded you about this habit?’

Harry grinned easily. He crossed the room and lay down on the sofa pushed against the far wall. The red comfy thing was Harry’s addition to the room for the purposes of annoying Draco and gave Harry some place to sit when he wanted to listen to Draco play.

‘Why?’ Harry asked, still grinning. ‘Do you often play naked when I’m not around?’

Draco shuddered. ‘Regardless of how handsome I look, I doubt it’ll do either of us favours.’

Harry laughed.

Draco shifted his cello and gave Harry an exasperated look. ‘Why are you here, Potter?’

‘Me and Cho broke up,’ Harry shrugged.

‘Cho and I,’ Draco corrected. ‘Did you truly?’

Harry stared up at the ceiling. ‘Yeah, I guess we did. I don’t feel any different.’

‘Perhaps you spent too much time irritating me instead of romancing her,’ Draco said drily.

Harry turned his head and eyes to Draco. ‘You think so?’

‘It was your relationship.’

‘I ask you for relationship advice all the time,’ Harry pointed out.

‘Yes, because you never grew out of your Gryffindork stage,’ Draco drawled. ‘I suppose you parted as friends?’

Harry gave Draco an exaggerated narrowed-eye look. ‘How would you know?’

Draco smirked. ‘Perhaps I just know absolutely everything.’

Harry groaned and pressed his hands against his eyes.

‘Now, cease your inane chatter. You’ve interrupted my practice time yet again.’

Harry cracked one eye open. ‘What if I get bored listening?’

Draco straightened, looking haughtily at Harry. ‘I shall ignored the insinuation that I am boring. You are, however, entirely welcome to leave.’

Harry grinned and rolled over on the sofa so that his back was to Draco. It was Saturday afternoon, and he didn’t really have anything better to do before the party later. It was from experience that Harry learned to avoid Hermione and Ron’s place on Saturdays, after seeing a little bit too much of his closest friends. In contrast, Draco’s flat was always safe—Draco wasn’t one for conducting sexual activities, as the man himself had once told Harry.

‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake. Potter, you’re not going to fall asleep, are you?’

Harry grinned into the fabric of the sofa, but didn’t reply.

‘Git,’ Draco muttered.

Harry turned his head around. ‘You too!’ he said cheerily. He rolled his eyes when he felt Draco cast a silencing charm over him.

There was a rustling of pages, and then the first singing notes. Harry snuggled comfortably into the sofa, and settled down to listen.

*

Draco filled the room with music, loving the rush of creation and energy that spilled from his own hands and the bow and the strings as he played. He never played the same song the same: a slightly elongated note, a deepening of sound all changed the music in nuanced ways, just as no potion exactly alike because no set of ingredients could be exactly the same.

It was something that he had started as a child, yet another necessary skill for a Malfoy; but after the War, it was one of the few activities he could do that could not be construed as Dark. It crept up on him, from something to keep the boredom away to something he wanted to do for its own sake.

His mother and father were dismayed, but it was benign compared to other life ‘choices’ they also despaired of, so Draco did his best to take no notice.

Eventually, he felt his arms tire, and he eased from the music. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry dozing. Draco had been quite offended when Harry did that the first time, but by this point, he was more irritated that when the silencing charm wore off, Harry’s snores interrupted the flow of his playing.

With a flick of his wrist, Draco closed the music book and let it float back into its place on the shelves.

He momentarily rested the bow on the table to tend to his cello. With a soft cloth, he gently wiped down the body of the instrument, and the neck and the scroll; he used a different cloth to clean the strings. After a brief check to make sure the bridge remained nearly perpendicular to the belly of the cello, he adjusted the endpin back in, and placed the cello on its stand at the side of the room. To his bow, he loosened the hair, and wiped down the stick and frog, before also placing it on the stand.

Harry still hadn’t woken. Draco’s fingers itched to smooth down the dark tufts of Harry’s hair, but as always, he restrained himself. To ease the wanted-movement in his hand, Draco sent a little Stinging Hex to Harry’s arse.

‘Hey!’ Harry yelped. He rolled off the sofa and fell to the ground in a loud thump.

Draco took a stepped towards him, letting his shadow fall across Harry’s face. ‘Hello, Potter,’ he said nonchalantly.

‘I told you to stop doing that,’ Harry scowled, getting up in one fluid movement.

Draco kept his expression bland. ‘Likewise, I have requested you stop sleeping in my music room.’

Harry gave him sly look. ‘You left the sofa here.’

‘Perhaps others sit there stay awake,’ Draco retorted.

‘Who?’ Harry asked quickly, frowning.

Draco smirked and turned away. He gave his arms and fingers a little stretch. ‘None of your business, Potter.’

Harry grabbed him by the shoulders just at the doorway. ‘Who?’ he repeated, with all the curiosity of a small child.

Draco jabbed him in the side. ‘Potter, restrain yourself. I was merely referring to Pansy and Blaise. Astoria also occasionally plays with me.’ Draco decided it was time for some tea; Merlin knew that feeding Harry Potter made him more agreeable.

Harry trailed after him. ‘Should I learn a musical instrument?’

‘Don’t try something I know you’ll fail at,’ Draco said. Harry gave a predictable response.

‘I bet I can. I’m going to ask Hermione.’

Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry and raised an eyebrow. ‘You do that,’ he said in the most condescending tone he could muster.

Harry merely rolled his eyes. ‘What goes well with yours?’

‘With the cello?’

Draco entered the kitchen. With a few familiar swishes of his wand, his tea set and tea tin floated out of their respective cupboards. Harry moved past him to take out the biscuits from the cupboard by hand, and then sat at the table and waited expectantly for Draco to make some tea for him.

Draco made Harry’s tea with the same care he made his own, even though he doubted Harry could tell the difference.

‘Virtually any instrument could accompany the cello, if the musician is sufficiently skilled.’ Draco passed Harry’s his tea, and sat down.

Harry scowled. ‘That’s not helpful.’ He crunched a biscuit loudly. Draco wrinkled his nose at the crumbs dropping across the table.

‘Perhaps you can sing. I’ve certainly heard it before. What was it that you were singing last week?’

Harry let his head fall to the table, which did not disguise the flush crawling up his neck. ‘Nothing. It was nothing. I was drunk.’

‘Drunkenness doesn’t excuse you from that mess,’ Draco replied. Harry had gotten disgustingly drunk last Slytherin/Gryffindor meet up, and belted out a love song whilst squirming in the lap of an equally drunk Ronald Weasley. And then Harry had proceeded to do the same thing on Hermione Granger’s lap. Draco still wondered why Harry hadn’t ended up snogging his best friends.

‘I can’t help it,’ Harry said morosely, his mouth down turned.

‘Should I look forward to a repeat performance tonight? On the Granger-Weasleys’ anniversary, no less?’

Harry gave him a baleful glare. ‘No.’

Draco looked back coolly.

Eventually, Harry looked away, chuckling. ‘I suppose it was a little funny.’

‘Harry Potter accedes that Draco Malfoy is correct,’ Draco smirked.

Harry shook his head and smiled. ‘So, what are we going to do now?’

Draco raised an eyebrow, falling into a familiar exchange. ‘What will I do now,’ he corrected. ‘I will look over my potions notes. You will sit quietly.’

‘But that’s so boring.’ Harry pouted playfully.

And as always, Draco relented. With enough irritation to avoid sounding eager, he said, ‘Fine, Potter, what would you like to do?’

‘I was thinking of baking something for the party tonight.’

Both of Draco’s eyebrows rose. ‘Truly?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Why not. Are you going to help me?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘No,’ Harry replied cheerfully. ‘C’mon, Malfoy, we need to go the shops.’

Draco frowned. ‘You haven’t even bought the ingredients?’

Harry just grinned brighter. ‘Let’s go, then!’

If it weren’t so utterly plebeian, Draco might have let his head fall to the table in defeat.

Chapter Text

Harry had a good time at Hermione and Ron’s party. He and Cho hadn’t been awkward—though there had been a moment when she’d commented on how his baking had improved. He had replied that Draco had helped him, and then Cho gave him another thoughtful look.

Hermione and Ron’s party ended early enough, and Harry remembered that singing incident enough (and Draco smirked at him often enough) that he didn’t particularly drink much.

On the next morning, Sunday, Harry Flooed over to Hermione and Ron’s place to say goodbye to them before they left on their one-year-delayed honeymoon. When he arrived, Hermione was calm and composed, while Ron was flustered, running back and forth between rooms.

‘You didn’t have to come over this morning.’ Hermione said, giving Harry a hug.

‘I’m going to miss you, though. A month, is it?’

Hermione’s eyes followed Ron’s movements. ‘Yes. If we ever get going, that is.’

Ron gave them both a quick look. ‘I’ll be ready soon! Oh, hi, Harry!’

‘Hi,’ Harry said back, amused as Ron disappeared from view. He turned and gave Hermione a quizzical look. ‘I thought you’d both be prepared before last night.’

‘I was. Ron decided to ignore my plan, so...’ she trailed off, giving Harry a smug look.

‘Aren’t the port-keys time set?’ Harry asked, a little worried.

Hermione’s eyes brightened. ‘Yes. I told Ron that they’d leave an hour before they actually do,’ she whispered.

Harry laughed. ‘So, you’ve got everything planned?’

‘Yes.’ Hermione gave Harry a pensive look. ‘Can we talk about Cho?’

Harry frowned. ‘I’m not going to—’

Hermione quickly shook her head. ‘No. I was just surprised that you and Cho had broken up by last night. I thought you were going well,’ she added, a little tentative.

Harry rubbed his hair self-consciously. ‘We broke up after lunch yesterday, actually. We thought we’d be better off as friends.’

‘You weren’t happy?’ Hermione looked at him with concerned eyes.

‘No, I was happy,’ Harry was quick to say. ‘We weren’t dating for marriage or anything, you know? We both had a good time, and then we both decided to end it.’

Hermione gave him a wistful smile. ‘I’m just worried.’

‘I’m fine,’ Harry insisted.

‘I just want you to find someone to love, and love you back like you deserve. Everyone’s starting to settle down, and you still haven’t.’

Something twisted in Harry’s gut; a deep yearning for exactly that. He wanted so much: Naively, after the War, he’d thought Ginny was his true love, but the process of the War had separated them, and Ginny soon started dating Luna. He couldn’t begrudge her for their break up, nor for liking Luna more. (Though, he had pestered her when she started dating Pansy Parkinson.)

In a way, he hadn’t wanted to break up with Cho. But it wasn’t right to keep a relationship going just to have someone to go to sleep with at night and wake up together or to have company at meal times instead of just Kreacher.

‘I know,’ he finally forced out.

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. ‘There’s someone out there for you.’

Harry chuckled weakly. ‘You keep saying. I don’t want to worry you on your honeymoon, Hermione.’

‘Don’t mope around in Grimmauld Place,’ Hermione said firmly, a light tone in her voice. ‘And Auror work doesn’t count.’

Harry cracked a grin. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Hermione smiled back, but she gave him a look. ‘Stay safe and try not to get hurt.’

‘Of course, Hermione. What do you take me for?’ Harry said, mock-offended.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked away, shouting, ‘Ron! Are you ready yet?’

Ron rushed into the room. ‘Yes, I think so,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Do we have to go now?’

Hermione smiled. ‘Not for another hour.’

‘What?’ Ron squawked. ‘I thought you said nine-thirty!’

Hermione’s entire countenance was calm. ‘I did, because I knew you wouldn’t be ready otherwise.’

Ron flopped onto the sofa with an almighty sigh. ‘I deserved that.’

Hermione leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Ron gave her a fond look and kissed her back.

Harry smiled at them both, feeling happy for them. And a tiny bit wistful that they had found love.

*

Ever since Draco moved out of the Manor, he had visited his parents every Sunday for lunch. Usually, he would arrive earlier—mid-morning—to spend some time with just his mother. Draco did not spend any time alone with his father.

Of late, though, Draco wished he could skip the mid-morning with his mother. He looked past her, a little longing at the clear skies just outside the window.

‘Draco.’

Draco turned his eyes back to his mother. ‘Yes?’ he asked, even though from her tone, he was certain of what she was going to say next. He was right, too.

‘Do you not think that you’ve been in this...phase long enough?’ Narcissa said gently, as though it would make him agree with her. Sometimes, Draco wished she’d actually act angry, so he could be angry back at her without looking a fool.

‘Mother, it’s not a phase,’ he said a little sharply.

‘Millicent has been married for three years now, Draco,’ Narcissa said, ‘and Pansy’s having her wedding in a few months. It’s time for you to find someone.’

Draco sipped his tea and ignored her edged look. He suddenly felt very weary. ‘Mother, we’ve talked about this.’

‘And you refuse to listen.’

‘You and Father do not understand.’ Draco took another sip. He hated how saying it made him sound juvenile.

Narcissa leaned forward, her face stern. ‘You have copulated with women—and men—in the past. How can I understand your refusal to now?’

Draco snorted inwardly. ‘And it showed how little interest I have in it. Look,’ he said abruptly, setting down his cup. ‘If the only reason you wanted to have tea with me was to berate me for my lack of interest—for my asexuality—’ Draco added harshly, just to see his mother’s face twist into a disbelieving sneer, ‘—then I’m leaving.’

Narcissa frowned. ‘I just want you to be happy. I want you to find a nice witch, settle down, and have children. You deserve happiness, Draco,’ she said earnestly, worry on her face.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. ‘I am happy,’ he said, eyes still closed. ‘I have my work, my music, and my friends.’

‘I cannot see how that can be enough,’ Narcissa said. ‘Draco, your father and I would like some grandchildren. You are of both the Black and Malfoy lines.’

Draco opened his eyes, trying to give his mother an honest look. ‘I’m not averse to having children. But surely there are other ways than marriage.’

He thought of bringing up that Pansy was marrying another witch, hence she’d have to do something extra in order to conceive, but—

Narcissa shuddered. ‘Draco,’ she started.

‘Mother,’ Draco said back in the same, sharp tone. ‘Why don’t you and Father have another child, then?’

Colour rose to Narcissa's cheeks, and she straightened. ‘Do not take that tone with me, Draco Lucius Malfoy.’

Draco stood. ‘You're not listening to me, and I’m not willing to be your doll, marrying whomever you and Father please.’ He turned for the door.

Narcissa rose from her seat. ‘Where are you going?’

Draco sighed. ‘The gardens. I’ll return inside for lunch.’

He ignored any more words his mother might have said. He needed the time to calm himself down, before facing both parents at once for lunch.

This was not the first time he’d wish he could skip weekly lunches at the Manor altogether.

Chapter Text

It was a bit after 5 when Harry returned to Level Two after a day of Auror fieldwork.

Auror Lela popped her head out of her office. ‘Done?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ Harry replied. ‘Brent’s taking the wizard to the cells.’

Lela emerged fully from her office, breathed in, and then pinched her nose in an exaggerated fashion. ‘You stink.’

Harry stripped off his Auror robes and after a too-deep sniff, decided to vanish the damn things. ‘Nasty guy.’ He unceremoniously sniffed his shirt and wrinkled his nose. Somehow, the smell had leached into that as well. ‘Must have chucked a stink potion.’

‘What happened?’

‘Me and Brent cornered him in a street off Knockturn. He didn’t fall for any of the usual tricks and didn’t do all the obvious things,’ Harry mused. ‘But me and Brent eventually got him, of course.’

Lela rolled her eyes. ‘Of course.’

‘It just—sorry—’ Harry choked. He turned away and covered his mouth with his hand as coughing overtook him.

Lela placed a hand on his arm. ‘Wow, you alright?’

‘Er—yeah.’ Harry cleared his throat. ‘Feels alright.’

Lela however had a horrified look on her face. ‘Na-uh,’ she said, poking at his hand. ‘That’s blood.’

Harry turned his palm up, and there was blood, bright deep red. ‘I feel fine—’ was all he could say before another coughing fit hit him.

‘St. Mungos, now.’ She held out her arm in an offer of Apparition.

‘No, I can, myself.’ Harry took a moment to lean against the wall. ‘Just, let me catch my breath...’

Lela’s scared face was the last thing he saw before he collapsed into her arms.

*

White walls. So boring, Harry thought. Many red and noisy swam into his view, but he was dozing off again.

*

There was a sword in Harry’s stomach and a five-tonne brick on his head when he woke up. A healer in too-bright green robes said something to him.

‘Awake,’ Harry mumbled. His own voice seem to bounce around in his head like a drum. He wondered where Lela went. Had Brent interrogated the dark wizard they’d caught yet?

There was more chattering he couldn’t pay attention to. He heard his name though, and shifted his eyes in lieu of his heavy head.

‘—Harry, you’re—‘ The rest of the words slurred and mixed with noise.

‘Ginny?’ Harry managed. He felt like convulsing against all the agony, if it weren’t for the fact that he could barely move at all.

A blur of red made some affirmative noise, Harry assumed. He started to doze again and startled awake upon hearing Ginny say Hermione’s and Ron’s names.

‘I’m oohh-kay,’ Harry cut in. The pain was fading already. ‘Don’t worry them.’

Ginny moved closer, falling better into Harry’s line of sight, a familiar blur-outline. ‘Hermione… Harry...hurt...honeymoon…don’t...’

‘It's fine,’ Harry insisted. He winced as a sudden rush of pain rippled up from his stomach. He needed something for the pain, quickly.

Draco makes potions! Harry felt very accomplished at remembering that through the miasma of everything.

‘Pain re-reliv...’

Harry frowned as Ginny said something he couldn’t understand.

‘Dra-co. Potions. For pain.’ He nodded inwardly to himself. Yes, Ginny should understand that, and he let himself slip away again.

*

When Harry woke up again, he couldn’t feel anything. It was rather funny, trying to wriggle his toes but not feeling them—or seeing them for that matter. He squinted at his toes to try to get a better look but couldn’t make out anything but the light-blue blur of blankets.

‘Fantastic, you’re awake, Mr. Potter,’ a person in green said briskly, moving in and out of Harry’s view.

‘Yeah.’ Hmm, the vibrations of his own voice buzzed in his head pleasantly. His glasses were placed carefully on his face, and Harry made a hum of appreciation.

The Healer tasked Harry to describe any sensation as they ran through some spells. Harry couldn’t feel the spells either.

‘How long before I can leave?’ Harry asked as he watched the Healer waving their wand.

‘When you’re well,’ the Healer replied sternly.

‘Feel well now.’

The Healer gave Harry a skeptical look. ‘Mr. Potter, you are currently under a large number of pain-relieving and pain-numbing potions. Most likely you are not feeling at all, if the potions are working correctly.’

Harry blinked. ‘Oh. Yeah. Did Draco make the potions?’

‘Potions Master Malfoy? I believe not. However, if you do feel well enough, the Weasley family are waiting outside.’

‘Alright. Bring them all in,’ Harry replied recklessly.

The Healer gave Harry a wane smile. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

The Weasley family filed in, unnaturally subdued. Harry tried counting them to make sure they were all there, but he gave up after two, and after remembering that Hermione and Ron were still away on their honeymoon.

‘You gave us a scare, Harry,’ Molly said, lip trembling.

‘I’m fine now,’ Harry replied positively.

Ginny snorted. ‘You seem fine now but you were coughing up your insides just hours ago. They think it’s a curse you got hit with while out Auroring.’

Harry frowned. ‘Really? I don’t remember getting hurt—’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘That’s the point. Mum, can I go now? Harry’s obviously going to be perfectly fine. The man took down Mr. V after all.’

‘Ginevra—’ Molly and Arthur started.

‘It’s true,’ George cut in, winking at Harry and Ginny. Ginny grinned back.

‘Err, Ginny, you haven’t told Hermione and Ron, have you?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘Nah. I told them. Told them not to come back early, too, though.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Molly neatened Harry’s blanket. ‘Why don’t you want to tell them?’

‘I’m not going to die, so there’s no need to interrupt them,’ Harry pointed out.

Ginny rolled her eyes as George chuckled.

‘But—’ Harry tried to point a finger at Ginny, but feeling uncommonly tired, glared at her instead. ‘I also told you to get Draco! You know, the greatest Potions Master of all Britain?’

Ginny stifled a laugh. ‘I can’t believe you said that! Merlin, do you actually think that he’s the best—how did he convince you to say that?’

Harry huffed. ‘It’s exaggeration, obviously.’

Molly lay a reassuring hand on his forehead. ‘That’s alright, Harry. I think you should go back to resting. All the faster to heal.’

‘I’m fine—’

‘We’ll see you soon, Harry.’ Molly kissed him on the forehead and patted the blankets about him.

Harry vaguely remembered protesting, but then the Healer returned, and they waved their wand, and he was slipping again.

*

When Draco returned to his flat after another day at the Ministry labs, an unfamiliar short-eared owl was waiting for him outside the window. He opened it with a flick of his wand, and the owl flew in, dropped the letter, and flew out again.

Draco wrinkled his nose at the owl’s terrible manners. He shrugged off his cloak before testing to make sure the letter was safe.

Malfoy, Harry’s injured. At St Mungos. He was asking for you. Something about pain potions. Ginny.

The initial spike of fear and heart-thumping passed quickly. No, Draco had enough experience to know that Harry would yet again make it through.

‘Not again,’ he muttered. He’d hope that Harry had learnt a lesson about being more careful last time he’d landed in St Mungos. Clearly, Draco had thought too highly of the great Harry Potter.

*

‘Dear Merlin, finally. If you’d wish to see me, at least be awake for the grand event.’

That was the first thing Harry heard when he woke up. The first thing he saw was the white ceiling. Harry turned his head towards the sound and grinned.

‘Draco!’

Draco was sitting in the chair beside his bed. A briefcase rested on the bedside table. Draco tilted his head slightly, giving Harry an unamused look. ‘Yes, Saint Potter has yet again bypassed Ministry procedure for health and safety checks after undertaking a duel.’

‘I was feeling fine—’ Harry shut his mouth. He supposed he should get those checks, but they always felt like a waste of time for everyone involved.

Draco shook his head. ‘I don’t think I can trust you to remember.’

‘Hmm, when did you get here?’

‘Just after dinner, if I don’t count the previous days.’

‘How long?’ Harry tried not to whine.

‘A few hours,’ Draco replied. ‘I doubt you’ve been conscious enough to notice, but it has been a week since you were admitted.’

Harry scrunched his nose. ‘A few hours? Are you sure you’re the real Draco Malfoy?’

Draco propped an arm on his other hand and leaned forward. ‘I would not tell you if I weren’t.’

Harry nodded. ‘That sounds perfectly reasonable. A week though—that means that I’m ready to leave.’

‘No.’ Draco’s hand came firmly down on Harry’s arm that was trying to pull back the covers.

‘What?’

‘Potter, you’re still filled up the very tips of your stupid hair in potions to keep you from dying. You do not want me to list them all for you.’

Harry huffed. ‘Fine. Then you can at least tell me why there are apparently so much potions in me that I can’t even feel it.’

Draco grimaced. ‘Potter, you were never a Potions theorist. Do you truly want to know?’

Harry grinned. ‘Nope, I just wanted to see your face—hey!’ The prat-named-Draco had pulled the covers over Harry’s head.

It was only after Harry protested heaps that Draco reluctantly allowed Harry to see the light.

After rolling his head back forth, Harry said listlessly, ‘I’m bored.’

‘I wouldn’t have known,’ Draco muttered.

‘If you’re not allowing me to leave, then do keep me company,’ Harry demanded in his best Draco-Malfoy-voice.

With exaggerated defeat, Draco revealed a Quidditch magazine from his briefcase.

Harry squinted at it. ‘I think I’ve seen that one already.’

Draco glared at him. ‘Take it or leave it.’

Harry found himself smiling at Draco, and he couldn’t stop even as Draco’s glare intensified.

‘Potter,’ Draco started.

‘You can actually be funny,’ Harry said.

Draco tilted his head up, and his nostrils flared a bit. ‘I resent that statement.’

Harry grinned. ‘See?’

‘I don’t,’ Draco retorted, eyebrows slightly lifted in disdain.

Harry started laughing, and at the very back of his mind, he thought that maybe he had an oxygen deficiency, or the potions were doing something to his brain.

‘Your face. I love it, your expressions are just—’ Harry said, in-between bouts of laughter.

Draco turned his head half away as he smoothed down his hair. ‘Potter, desist laughing,’ he said with a haughty sniff. ‘You’d break something.’

Harry pressed his hands over his mouth and tried to breathe deeply. ‘I think—I think we should read the magazine now,’ he finally forced out.

He tried not to look at Draco in fear of breaking out in laughter again. He’d never realised realised before just how interesting Draco’s face and body language was. He used to think that Draco was just another haughty, blanked face pureblood, but now that Harry actually took notice, he could see emotions and mannerisms everywhere. Maybe he could copy one of Draco’s mannerisms, because that would be fun, and if Harry could copy them, it’d annoy Draco so much—and Harry started laughing again.

Harry sneaked a look at Draco, and he was able to catch the puzzled grin on Draco’s face before Draco curved one corner of his mouth down.

‘If you’re done,’ Draco said blandly, after Harry’s laughter had died down again.

‘Yes,’ Harry said, still breathless. He reached out for the magazine and flipped through it. ‘Oh, I haven’t seen this yet.’

Draco raised one eyebrow. ‘Oh, really?’

Harry just grinned back.

Chapter Text

Bored, bored, bored, Harry thought as he picked at the stitching of the blanket. He was starting to get bloody bored of thinking of how bored he was.

Over the last few days, the Weasleys, Draco, Luna, Neville, and a few Aurors had visited him. But that didn’t change the fact that he was alone right now and utterly bored. He’d had read Hermione and Ron’s reply to the letter Ginny had sent for him; although he was happy that they’d listened to him and decided to continue on their honeymoon, he admitted to himself that he wouldn’t have minded if Hermione and Ron had come back to keep him company.

The door creaked opened and Harry turned towards it with utter relief at something to do. His mouth curved into a grin when he saw Draco’s white-blond hair.

‘Potions Master!’ Harry said gleefully.

Draco gave Harry a dubious look. ‘Perhaps I should return in an hour,’ he said slowly, inching backwards.

‘No!’ Harry said hurriedly. ‘I’m just so bored.’

Draco remained dubious, but he sat down on the bedside chair.

‘The Healers are so slow, you know? It’s been weeks, and I can’t remember the last time I walked more than a few metres.’

‘If you had just had your check-up after your duel, the Healers may have caught the curse before it manifested,’ Draco said drily. ‘And it has been six days, not weeks.’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I’m so bored.’ He waved his hands in the air ineffectually before letting them fall down to the bed again.

Draco’s eyebrow arched. ‘Are you a man or a child?’

‘The potions,’ Harry denied. ‘I accept no responsibility for what I say, do or imply while I’m drugged to the tips of my hair in potions.’ He ended it with a winning smile at Draco.

Draco put a hand to his forehead. ‘Dear Merlin, a Harry Potter, drugged and bored. Where are the Weasleys? Why aren’t they entertaining you?’

Harry shrugged. ‘They were here before. But I’m bored now. Did you bring any more magazines?’

A pile of stuff was dropped on Harry’s stomach. He grabbed the top magazine. ‘Oh, nice,’ he said distractedly.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Draco said.

‘Wait! You can’t just leave!’

‘Do you realise how much you’re acting like a child, Potter?’

‘Yeah. It’s just, I don’t want to lie down in a bed all day. I’m used to being about, solving cases. C’mon, Draco. Sit down again. Tell me about your potions research.’ Harry shifted the magazines to the bedside table.

Draco sighed, but his mouth had a small smile. ‘Very well then. Remember, you asked for it.’

*

‘Auror Potter,’ Healer Tran said as she entered the room. Her eyes turned to Draco, and she nodded. ‘Potions Master Malfoy. I apologise for interrupting your visit.’

Draco nodded back. ‘You’re quite welcome to interrupt whenever you wish.’

Harry looked at her with hope and anticipation. She’d never interrupted any guest visits before.

‘Do you mind if Potions Master Malfoy remains?’ she asked delicately, even as she cast absent diagnostics.

‘No, he can stay,’ Harry said dismissively. He caught the last of Draco’s eye roll and gave him a grin.

‘Very well. We have determined a potion that will remove the curse and its effects. However, due to the potion’s toxicity and volatile nature, we will have to administer it over a few weeks,’ Healer Tran said somberly. ‘Furthermore, we will have to reduce the amount of pain blocking potions you’re currently on, both to prevent a potions dependency, and as to not interfere with your healing. Thus, you will soon be feeling some pain.’

Harry looked at her hopefully. ‘That means I can go home now?’

‘The pain will most likely leave you bed-ridden, Auror Potter,’ she said sternly. ‘The potions must be taken consistently, at precise times, in precise order, in precise amounts.’

Harry turned to Draco and gave him a slow smile. ‘Potions Master Malfoy...’

Draco raised an eyebrow.

‘Draco, you can make sure I take my potions, right?’

‘I don’t think it is fair on Potions Master Malfoy to take over your care. It is our job to make sure you return to full health,’ the Healer said.

‘I’d be more comfortable at home. Wouldn’t that aid my healing?’ Harry asked. ‘I’m sure the Healers are sick of me now. And I have a house elf who’ll cook and clean.’

Healer Tran straightened, narrowing her eyes. ‘We will start the recovery process. If no complications arise, and you find the pain is manageable and we are satisfied with the standard of care you will receive if you leave—then, and only then, will we discharge you.’

Oh, he was definitely going home soon. Harry grinned. ‘Thank you.’

‘We will start in two hours, once the effects of the pain potions diminishes,’ Healer Tran continued sternly. ‘As such, you will start feeling some pain, and that amount will increase. If you do feel it unbearable, please alert us immediately. You may start coughing up blood. In small amounts, we expect, but nonetheless, please alert us.’

Harry nodded. ‘Is that all?’

‘For now.’ Healer Tran’s eyes flickered between Draco and Harry. ‘Have a nice day, Potions Master Malfoy. And I will see you soon, Auror Potter,’ she said with a nod.

Once she left, Draco leaned back in his chair and regarded Harry. ‘What makes you believe that I would have time to babysit you?’

‘You’re here,’ Harry said innocently. ‘And the Healers hold you in high regard, so...’

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘The Healers may hold me in high regard because I am very often working. Surely there are enough Weasleys to babysit you.’

Harry grinned and shrugged. ‘Probably. But they simply aren’t as accurate as you are. Consistency and precision are all you.’

‘I don’t know whether or not I should be affronted,’ Draco said, eyebrows drawing together.

‘I’ll even live with you, to make things easier,’ Harry offered, quite enjoying Draco’s expressions and manner.

‘Perhaps not.’ Draco’s nose was slightly scrunched in distaste.

Harry lounged back. ‘And since you’re a Potions Master, you can brew the potions, right?’

Draco crossed his arms. ‘Now that’s breaking all sorts of official procedures.’

Harry shrugged. ‘Rules are made to be broken on occasion. Anyhow, someone from St Mungos or the Ministry labs will have to brew the potions, and I trust you the most,’ Harry said earnestly.

Draco’s eyes softened, and Harry felt his heart flutter in his chest.

Draco shifted in his seat. ‘I expect compensation,’ he said stiffly.

‘Okay. Anything you want.’

Draco’s eyes narrowed. ‘Anything?’

Harry grinned. ‘Anything. I hope you don’t want something illegal,’ he joked.

‘Saint Potter,’ Draco muttered, but Harry already knew that everything was going to be great.

***

‘Oh, shite,’ Harry said as he stared at the blood he’d just coughed up into the kitchen bin.

‘Master should be returning to his bed,’ Kreacher grumbled. He gave Harry a dark look.

Harry ignored him, opting to lean against the wall instead. The brief activity had made him forget about the constant pain in his stomach and the headache in his eyes, but it was returning. ‘How long?’ Harry forced out.

‘How long what?’ Kreacher asked warily.

‘Til I need to drink the next round of potions.’ Harry’s hand went over his mouth and he swallowed against the iron tang of blood.

‘Ten minutes. Plenty of time for Master to be returning to bed.’ Without Harry’s permission, Kreacher flicked his fingers and levitated Harry back into his bedroom, destroying all of Harry’s hard work in walking down to his kitchen.

Harry was back to staring at the cream walls of his bedroom. Molly’s visit felt so long ago, and Ginny’s even longer. And damn it, he should have installed that Muggle television when he could.

‘Drink,’ Kreacher ordered.

Harry shifted to sitting position and downed the three potions; red, pink and yellow. His stomach churned and then settled, and his headache faded just a bit.

‘Is Master being hungry?’

‘No,’ Harry replied weakly. He could still taste the blood.

‘Then Master be sleeping.’ Kreacher spelled blankets over Harry and turned off the lights. In the low glow the numbers by his bed that told how long till his next dose, Harry dozed.

*

‘Potter.’

Harry started guiltily, until he realised he had nothing to be guilty about. ‘Draco,’ he moaned. He raised an arm to block the sudden light in the room.

‘Don’t think I didn’t see the blood in your kitchen bin. I told you to stay put,’ Draco said accusingly.

‘Draco,’ Harry moaned again.

‘Don’t Draco me, Potter. One would think that if you truly wished to get well faster, you’d listen—’

Harry blanked out Draco’s ranting. His stomach was hurting like shit, and he felt like vomiting again, and he was hungry.

‘—Oh, for Salazar’s sake—’

Harry sighed a little as the light dimmed and warmth spread across his tummy. Draco’s hand was cool across his forehead.

‘Kreacher, dinner, if you please.’

Harry’s bed shifted him into a sitting position, and he opened his eyes. ‘Porridge, again?’ Harry frowned.

Draco looked unamused, sitting at the chair by his bed. ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t my fault you’d coughed up blood again, now is it?’ He scooped out a spoonful of the whitish-cream gunk and held it close to Harry’s mouth.

Harry glared at it.

‘Don’t make me say something utterly demeaning,’ Draco said darkly.

Steeling himself, Harry opened his mouth and ate it. He was surprised. ‘It’s savoury. A bit spicy, too.’

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Brilliant deduction.’ He handed Harry the bowl and spoon. ‘Now eat.’

Harry obligingly ate up his porridge and drank the half-glass of orange juice, too. He was feeling pleasant as Draco lowered his bed again.

‘Draco, read me a magazine.’

Draco’s eyes narrowed. ‘For what reason? I’m highly doubtful being sick has taken away your reading ability.’

‘My eyes hurt.’ Harry closed his eyes to make that point clear.

Draco’s voice was scornful. ‘If you close your eyes, how are you going to look at the pictures?’

Harry opened on eyes, grinning. ‘Are you offering to read me a novel instead?’

‘Perhaps I should read you a Potions textbook. It’ll surely put you to sleep.’

Harry started to laugh. ‘You don’t really—’ Draco dropped a tome over Harry’s blankets. ‘Please, no, I never want to see that book again!’

‘All the more reason,’ Draco smirked.

‘No, Draco, no,’ Harry said, putting his best pout on.

Draco snickered. ‘I was planning to read you some wizarding fairytales, so be quiet and listen.’

Harry blinked. ‘What? Why?’

Draco shrugged, and he settled back down on the bedside chair. ‘You said once that you didn’t know them.’

‘Oh.’ Harry couldn’t remember saying that, but it was true. He felt a smile come up unbidden. ‘That’s so sweet of you,’ he said in a simpering tone.

Draco scowled. ‘Be quiet and listen. After all, this is in my time. Shouldn’t Granger and the Weasleys be here?’

Harry continued to smile nonetheless. ‘Hm, the Weasleys come during the day. You know Hermione and Ron aren’t even in the country. But thank you, I really appreciate it.’

Draco stared at him. Harry stared back.

Harry decided that since he did want Draco to read to him, he should cave first, so he lowered his eyes.

Draco huffed and rearranged the fall of his robes. He shot one last glare at Harry, but he took out and opened a book nonetheless.

Harry let his eyes close as Draco started reading, feeling warm and comfortable. He wouldn’t have minded if Draco would continue to read to him like this even after Harry got better. And he felt himself smile when he realised that he didn’t think Draco would mind it either.

*

Pansy lifted her wine glass and took a sip, giving Draco a measured look. They were seated at Wizarding restaurant, the privacy bubble around them reducing the noise down to a pleasant hum and tinkle of cutlery.

Draco gave her a look back. ‘Something on your mind?’ he said drily.

‘You’ve been spending a lot of time with our dear Saviour. He broke up with Chang...a month ago, didn’t he?’

Draco scoffed, ‘Indeed, and he then proceeded to interrupt my cello practice to tell me about it.’

Pansy smirked. ‘A little odd. And now you’re nursing him back to health.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ Draco sighed. ‘That man is an utter juvenile when he’s off work.’

‘So domestic, darling. You’re practically dating each other, but without the sex.’

Draco frowned a little. ‘I cannot believe you uttered those words in the context of me.’

Pansy continued to smirk. ‘You like him. Admit it.’

‘Afraid that I like him more than you?’ Draco sniped ‘Merlin knows I have little patience to spend time with those I dislike.’

‘Your parents?’

Draco arched an eyebrow. ‘For obvious reasons, I do not want to talk about them.’

Pansy gave him a predatory smile. ‘I much rather hear about Harry. You like him.’

‘I do,’ Draco admitted sulkily.

‘Have you told him?’

‘Whatever for?’

Pansy rolled her eyes. ‘Before he goes off and finds another girlfriend or boyfriend.’

Draco glared at her. ‘That would imply our relationship is like that. When it happens, I do as I always do. I make a partial-exit from his life, as friends do when other friends gain partners.’ It was the ebb and flow of Draco’s life, and he gave Pansy a pointed look. ‘As I did when you started dating Ginevra.’

Pansy frowned. ‘I hadn’t meant to alienate you, Draco.’

Draco shrugged, a plebeian habit he’d picked up from Harry. ‘That was when I started becoming closer to Potter. Our ex-girlfriends dating each other—it was rather amusing, at the time.’

Pansy rolled her eyes, but she smiled. ‘Quite. Small mercies that you didn’t ask us to kiss in front of you.’

‘Why would I ever?’ Draco said with a mock hurt. ‘You both go around kissing in public without my prompting.’

Pansy narrowed her eyes. ‘If I were sitting any closer, I would pinch you.’

Draco crinkled his nose. ‘How vulgar. I suppose Ginevra indulges in such a habit with you?’

Pansy grinned wickedly. ‘Hmm, it depends where she pinches. How is Potter in bed?’

‘Often in need to entertainment and rather incapable of thinking quietly to himself,’ Draco replied blandly, valiantly not feeling happy at the level of trust and warmth that Harry consistently showed him.

Pansy smiled nonetheless. ‘How sweet,’

Draco scoffed, but couldn’t help but smile back. Of course, Pansy ruined it by putting her hand to heart and fluttering her eyelashes.

Chapter Text

Draco shifted the case of potions more securely in his arm and stepped through the Floo to Grimmauld place. Harry had his way in the end—he cajoled his Healer into asking Draco to brew his potions. Hence, still in his work robes, Draco went directly from the Ministry to Harry’s place.

Kreacher immediately appeared in front of him, bowing low.

‘Master Malfoy, Master Potter is being in bed all day, as you requested.’

‘Very well,’ Draco said curtly. No matter how often Draco was at Grimmauld place, and regardless of how Kreacher treated him better than Harry, Kreacher still unnerved him. ‘Go make dinner. You are dismissed.’

Kreacher bowed again. ‘Thank you, Master Malfoy,’ and disapparated in a loud crack.

Draco strode to Harry’s bedroom. The room was dark aside from the low glow of the numbers that marked the time left before Harry’s next dose of potions. Half an hour. He set the case of potions on the ground by the bedside table. The bucket by his bed gleamed with a little blood in the dim light, which Draco promptly vanished.

Harry was still asleep, flat on his back and tucked in. The faint light of the numbers brought a shine to Harry’s hair, messy across his pillow—a temptation Draco avoided by tucking his hands inside his robes.

Draco decided that he had enough time to return to his own flat to make a change of robes and retrieve his cello. When he arrived back at Grimmauld, he rested the case on the floor of Harry’s room and went forward to the task of waking Harry up.

With five minutes remaining, Draco swished his wand to light up the room. Harry’s arm came up groggily.

‘Turn it off,’ Harry slurred.

‘Four minutes, fifteen seconds. Sit up,’ Draco said without remorse.

Harry blinked up at him, green eyes still hazy. Draco gave in to a smudge of pity and handed Harry his glasses.

Draco graciously allowed Harry some time to fully wake up. He moved the next round of potions from their case to Harry’s bedside table.

‘They always taste disgusting,’ Harry said, his face contorting.

Draco inwardly rolled his eyes. ‘Have you learnt your lesson?’

Harry looked at him innocently and then busied himself with shifting his blankets to sit up.

‘A no, I gather’ Draco muttered. ‘Kreacher,’ he said more loudly.

Kreacher immediately appeared. ‘Master Malfoy,’ he intoned.

‘Fetch a glass of warm water and honey. In an hour, we will be taking dinner here.’

Kreacher’s face twisted into a grimace, looking about the room with undisguised dislike. ‘Very well, Master Malfoy.’ He was quickly gone and back, with the glass of water on a tray.

Draco took the glass. ‘Dismissed.’ He gave the numbers a quick glance and turned back to Harry.

‘I am going to drink them,’ Harry mumbled.

Draco said nothing in return, silently handing Harry the potions: three of them, to be taken half a minute apart. The glass of water was last, which Harry gulped down before thrusting the empty glass into Draco’s stomach. Draco took it, a little irritated by the action.

Harry snuggled back under the covers of his bed. ‘I’m getting better,’ he said. ‘I only coughed up blood once today.’

Draco raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. ‘And another Auror would not have gotten to the point in which they started coughing up blood at all.’

‘What matters is that I caught the criminal. I’m not going to die.’ Harry’s look hardened slightly.

Draco bowed his head slightly, acceding a partial defeat. ‘I shall leave you to your rest prior to dinner, then,’ he said nonchalantly. He started turning away, suppressing a smirk when Harry replied.

‘I’ll be bored if you go.’

Draco looked back over his shoulder and was met with Harry’s narrowed eyes.

‘And I see you brought your cello today!’ Harry said accusingly.

‘It was a mistake, I assure you,’ Draco drawled.

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I know you were going to play for me,’ he said with all the confidence of a Gryffindor.

Draco just arched an eyebrow and made to leave, picking up his cello. He was half out the door when Harry cracked.

‘Malfoy! Please?’

Draco hid a smirk, a little thrilled to hear Harry beg. ‘Pardon?’

Harry swore quietly, before saying, ‘Draco, can you please play your cello? So that I can listen?’

Draco could just hear Harry’s internal monologue of, or I’ll get so bored. Draco turned back with a flick of his hair and sweep of his robes. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I shall make this concession.’ He opened the case and began setting up.

Harry watched silently and gave an exaggerated sigh when Draco was seated. ‘Phew. So, are you going to serenade me?’

Draco smirked. ‘Pansy wishes.’

Harry laughed and settled down again in his bed. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’ Harry smiled. ‘I really do like your playing, you know. Even if I do have a tendency to fall asleep.’

‘Indeed,’ Draco said lowly, narrowing his eyes even as he fought against the burst of warmth in his chest. ‘Now, hush.’

Draco started to play. A ghost of a smile never left Harry’s lips, even as he predictably dozed off.

*

After making sure Harry had his Sunday morning potions, Draco forced himself to Floo over to the Manor. There, he met his mother, and they chatted about inane things, like the current political climate. However, his asexuality was clearly something of an open wound to her, and she inevitably poked at it.

‘It has come our attention—’ Narcissa started.

Draco gave her a steady look.

‘—that you have been seen frequently with Mr. Potter of late.’

‘He’s my friend,’ he replied, starting to bristle at her implication.

‘Friend.’ She said it like it was disgusting. ‘You talk and shout that you’re not attracted to people.’

‘Perhaps that’s because it’s true—’ Draco retorted.

His mother gave him a sharp look. ‘You’re queer for Mr. Potter, aren’t you?’

Draco clenched his teeth and breathed deeply. ‘I’m not homosexual,’ he said bluntly.

‘I beg to differ. You have been visiting him at hours that cannot be deemed polite. Do not lie with me.’

‘Mother, please,’ Draco tried. ‘May we play a game of wizard chess?’

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. ‘Very well,’ she finally said, acting as though she was being gracious.

Draco exhaled. ‘Thank you,’ he said. He quickly accioed their customary chess set.

*

When Draco finally left the Manor after lunch and returned to his flat, he discovered Harry lurking in his music room.

Draco sighed. ‘Potter, what, may I ask, are you doing here?’

Harry shrugged, but he did back away from Draco’s cello case. Harry frowned. ‘You look tired. Why do you subject yourself to it?’

Draco feigned ignorance. ‘To what?’ he said. He made to examine his cello, opening the case and trailing his fingers across the strings to produce a low hum.

‘Lunch with your parents.’ Harry sat down on the ground in front of Draco. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, and I don’t care what your parents say otherwise.’

‘I know,’ Draco said a little sharply. ‘It’s...difficult.’ He shook his head. ‘Now, I am still awaiting the answer to the first question. What are you doing here?’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I accept your change of topic for now. Is it so terrible that I want to spend more time with you?’ He fluttered his eyelashes ridiculously.

‘Yes,’ Draco said instantly. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Did you cough up any blood on your trip here?’

Harry looked away. ‘No-o.’

‘Potter,’ Draco said.

‘Malfoy,’ Harry said. ‘I deny this change of topic.’

‘Well, I support this change of topic.’ Draco leaned back. ‘We are at an impasse.’

They stared at each other.

‘Admit defeat,’ Harry said deeply. ‘Admit defeat.’

Draco narrowed his eyes. ‘I shan’t,’ he hissed back.

Harry narrowed his eyes in turn. ‘Neither will I.’

Their narrowed eyes became squints, until Draco was forced to close his eyes—the only redeeming thing was that Harry had to close his eyes too.

Harry chuckled. ‘So, feel better now?’

‘Not at all,’ Draco said haughtily even as Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Now go back home.’

Harry grinned. ‘Or I could lie down on this convenient sofa. Or even in your bed.’

‘And put your Gryffindorishness over everything? I think not.’

Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed. ‘Alright. As long as you remember not to take what your parents say to heart. You know yourself best.’

Draco swallowed, unwillingly touched. ‘You just don’t like my parents,’ he said, to cover it up.

Harry grimaced. ‘That’s no secret.’ Harry looked up at him and then grinned. ‘Tonight’s my last set of potions.’

‘Thank Merlin. I expect compensation, Potter.’

‘Okay,’ Harry said easily.

‘For those potions and for your insufferableness,’ Draco continued sharply.

‘Sorry.’ Harry sounded a little bit remorseful.

Draco sighed. ‘Merlin help me, but I cannot wait until you return to work again.’

Harry saluted him. ‘Yes, Malfoy.’

Draco rolled his eyes, barely restraining himself from hexing him. ‘I suppose you can stay,’ he finally said, aggrieved.

Harry settled down on the sofa. ‘I knew you’ll cave in. Hermione and Ron should be in a few days, so I’ll leave you to your brooding and melancholy playing soon.’

Lucky for Harry, he ducked Draco’s responding hex in time.

Chapter Text

‘Harry!’

Hermione and Ron stepped out of the Floo in the drawing room, immediately engulfing him in a tight hug.

‘Hi,’ Harry finally managed to say after they’d released him.

Ron grinned and shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you got yourself in St Mungo’s just a few days after we left.’

Harry shrugged. ‘It’s an occupation hazard.’

Hermione sighed. ‘It could have been worse. We heard that you made Draco look after you,’ Hermione added, accusation creeping into her voice.

‘He offered?’ Harry tried. From the looks on their faces, they didn’t believe it. Harry rolled his eyes. ‘He didn’t have to. Kreacher can look after me all by himself. Anyway, if you were here, you would have insisted you help!’

Hermione’s gaze wandered away, a sure sign of guiltiness. ‘Have you given him a thank-you gift, then?’

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. ‘No? Am I supposed to?’

Hermione smiled. ‘You don’t have to, but given Draco was nice enough to look after you...’

‘Fine, fine,’ Harry said, putting his hands up in defence. ‘Will do, ma’am.’

‘Harry,’ Hermione huffed.

Harry grinned. ‘Anyway, enough about me. How was your honeymoon? Did you a lot of—you know?’

Ron turned a shade of red. ‘Harry!’ he spluttered.

Harry bumped him on the shoulder and rolled his eyes. ‘Mate, I was joking! I mean, I’ve been lying around in bed all day because of the curse, and it’s been pretty boring. I want to know what you guys have been doing.’

Hermione smiled broadly. ‘Where do we even start?’

*

Harry walked down Diagon Alley, and peered into the shop-fronts. After everything, Draco hadn’t asked for compensation after all, aside from a stern note for Harry to stop falling asleep whilst I’m playing, you tosser.

Nevertheless, Hermione said he should get Draco something anyway, so here he was. But Harry had no idea what to buy a man who could literally buy anything he wanted.

Harry’s ears picked up the sound of laughter—and idea struck him. Well, people were always saying you couldn’t buy happiness—and when was Draco most happy? When he was insulting Harry, of course. Harry couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face.

Harry turned away from the fancy high-end shiny shops and headed for the grocers instead.

*

He had sent Draco an important looking invitation for lunch; he and Kreacher redecorated the dining room, and he even asked Hermione about the best wines to go with the lunch he had in mind.

Despite the lack of malintent, Draco came through the Floo on the day like a big cat: slowly and carefully with narrowed eyes.

‘Welcome!’ Harry said grandiosely. ‘May I take your cloak?’

Draco wrinkled his nose. ‘Are you Potter?’

Harry grinned, unable to keep a straight face. ‘Hey, Draco.’

Draco’s posture remained suspicious, but his eyes danced with humour. ‘How can I be sure?’

Harry scrunched his own nose to parody Draco. ‘Hard to be really sure. I suppose I could tell you an embarrassing secret about you that only I know, but then you’d hex me.’

Draco gave a laugh, but then frowned and gave Harry a suspicious look.

Harry grinned back, warmth and success flooding him. ‘Point scored to Harry Potter.’

‘Have you swapped bodies with Ronald Weasley? Or perhaps Hermione Granger’—Draco looked him up and down—‘given that you have finally gained some dress sense?’

‘This was Hermione’s idea.’ Harry admitted. ‘I mean, she said I should do something to thank you for caring for me.’

‘Care for you?’ Draco said incredulously. ‘I was trying to make sure you didn’t off yourself by running around and doing who knows what!’

‘Malfoy,’ Harry huffed. ‘Moving on—I cooked all your favourites, so you better eat.’

Draco groaned. ‘I can’t eat all my favourites, all at once.’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I meant every dish is one of your favourites, Malfoy.’ Harry headed towards the dining room.

Draco snorted. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you, Potter.’

At the entrance of the dining room though, Draco stopped. He looked around curiously. ‘Is this how you romance someone?’

Harry swore inwardly. Maybe the candles were a bit too much. ‘No!’ he denied. ‘People normally go about romancing me. I just—wanted something fancy and traditional, you know? You’re always complaining about how I’m not proper and—’

Draco smirked.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Draco was laughing at him, he just knew it. But then Harry remembered that was his aim, and he grinned. ‘Another point!’

Draco’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Playing an absurd game by yourself?’

‘That’s for me to know, and for you to enjoy,’ Harry said smugly. He stepped forward and spread his hand out invitingly. ‘Would you like to have a seat, Mr Malfoy?’

Draco tilted his head demurely. ‘If you stop talking in such an unbecoming manner, Mr Potter.’ However, he accepted the seat Harry pulled out for him.

*

Harry couldn’t act fancy for long. Oh, he tried—if not very hard—but Draco seemed to like it more (in short, smirk) when he was coarse and vulgar, even though Draco berated him for it.

‘Stay right here!’ he told Draco, right after the lunch as Kreacher was clearing away the dishes.

‘Pardon?’

‘I just need to go to the loo,’ Harry said bluntly. ‘If you need to as well, go to one of the bathrooms on the other floors.’

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Very well, Potter.’

Harry went off. When he returned, he found Draco flicking through the magazines he left out in the drawing room.

‘Find anything scandalous?’ Harry asked drily.

Draco’s eyebrow flicked up. ‘Rumour is that I’m feeding you love and obedience potions.’ He smirked. ‘As if I’d need them if that was my aim.’

Harry went to poke him in the shoulder, and he dodged with a sneer. ‘Ha, ha,’ Harry said. He sat down with a flomf on the sofa space Draco just cleared. ‘I was thinking about what instrument I should learn.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Well, you’re the one who keeps saying how good I am picking things up,’ Harry said, lifting his own eyebrows.

Draco maintained his skeptical look, but he said, ‘Well then. Which instrument do you like?’

‘The cello?’ Harry grinned.

‘Do you wish to be my disciple?’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Or not. Hey, what’s the difference between a cello and a violin?’

‘Potter, surely you aren’t that—’

‘The cello burns for longer!’

Draco’s face fell into his hands.

‘Draco?!’ Harry shifted closer, trying to see what was wrong.

Draco started shaking. ‘Oh, hell, that was terrible,’ he said as he lifted his head. He had a pained smile on his face.

‘But, seriously, though. What instrument?’

Draco leaned back. ‘I’ve always wanted to play with a harpist.’

Harry leaned in closer. ‘Really? That sounds pretty cool. It’ll surprise Hermione.’

‘More likely, it’ll surprise Ronald.’

Harry tilted his head back. ‘Yeah...’

*

It was Sunday again.

Draco trudged through the Floo with reluctance...and he almost recoiled at seeing both Lucius and Narcissa waiting for him.

‘Draco, my son,’ his father said.

Draco felt his stomach tighten at the words my son. He swallowed and bowed his head. ‘Hello, Father. Good morning, Mother.’

‘Follow me,’ Lucius commanded.

His father led them to his study—coincidentally one of the rooms Draco found most imposing. His father had him seated in a chair like a wayward child. His parents stood, and it heightened the power imbalance.

His parents glanced at each other, and his father spoke. ‘Draco.’

Draco breathed, tried not to be irrationally angry. ‘Yes?’

‘I have had enough of your disobedience. You are the Malfoy heir. It is past time you take a wife,’ Lucius said.

Draco sat up straighter. ‘I understand that I am your heir, but I will not enter a marriage just because you want me to!’ He immediately clenched his teeth before he could say something angrier.

Lucius’ cane thumped against the floor. ‘Excuses,’ he grounded out. ‘Your so-called “asexuality” is nothing but a phase. You may see it as a cute little rebellion. But the truth is, you have no sense of duty.’

Draco looked to Narcissa, but his mother offered no help. ‘I’m willing to have children, I’ve told you. Is having a child with a surrogate mother somehow lesser?’

His father became quiet, and Draco had a spark of hope. Before it was crushed.

‘You do not love us, then,’ Narcissa said quietly.

‘No—’

‘You’ve said it yourself,’ she continued, not louder nor softer. ‘You do not fall in love. You cannot love.’

‘I can—I do.’ Draco stood up and made an aborted step towards her. ‘I do love you, Mother. Father.’

‘You do not love us enough, then.’ Narcissa murmured.

The air left Draco’s lungs in a whoosh, and he felt sick. They were trying to bait him. They knew he loved them. They knew, academically, that he was not that-way attracted to people.

He knew what they wanted from him.

And he knew he couldn’t give it to them.

Draco swallowed, and then shook his head. ‘I’m...I am sorry.’ He took a step away from them. ‘I love you both. You’re my parents, you’ve raised me, I know. I just—’ He took another step away.

‘Draco, where are you going?’ Lucius said sharply.

Draco felt his shoulders rise in defence. ‘I’m leaving. You don’t understand. I will not subject myself to this.’

Then Draco walked out.

And it was the simultaneously the most freeing and crushing moment in his recent memory.

*

Harry was just getting up when his Floo chimed. He quickly threw some clothes on and found Draco slumped on his sofa.

‘Hey...’ Harry said quietly.

Draco didn’t lift his head; his hand went to cover his face. ‘Shit happened.’

Harry cast a Tempus. ‘Oh, shouldn’t you be at your parents?’

‘Quite. That shit happened. They fucking accused me of—’ Draco spluttered, apparently so enraged he could not utter what it was.

Harry took a few steps over and sat down on the neighbouring sofa. ‘It’s not true, whatever they accused you of,’ Harry said, trying not to be angry himself. Where Draco’s parents were concerned, Harry liked to take what they thought and do the complete opposite.

‘Loving them. I don’t know if they truly believed it, or they were trying to push me, but they accused me of being incapable of love.’ Draco’s face turned towards him, and one eye opened to glare at Harry. ‘Just because I don’t feel the urge to fuck someone’s brains out doesn’t mean I’m incapable of feeling.’

Harry put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘I don’t think your parents love you enough to accept that,’ he couldn’t help but say.

Draco’s eye closed again, releasing Harry from his gaze.

‘I love my parents. They’re...they were everything for a long time,’ Draco whispered.

And that was the exact reason Harry hadn’t gone and ranted and raved at Draco’s parents to just give Draco a fucking rest from all the marriage talk.

‘Your parents were talking about romantic love?’

‘Is it lesser, the love a child feels for their parents? Or their parents, the child?’ Draco said quietly. ‘Is it lesser, the love friends feel, or family?’

Harry felt that inexplicably warm him. ‘Am I your friend?’

Draco’s eyes opened again. ‘I shan’t deign you an answer. There are such things as stupid questions.’

Harry put a hand to his heart and fluttered his eyes. ‘Do I count as one of the friends you love?’

Draco threw a sofa cushion in his face before Harry could check if Draco had blushed or not. Harry batted away the cushion, and his stomach took the opportune time to grumble.

‘Oh, I’m hungry.’ Harry stood up. ‘Shall I fetch you breakfast, good sir?’ he said, elongating his vowels.

‘Breakfast? What sort of heathen are you? It’s time for morning tea!’

Harry folded his arms. ‘My house, my rules. And I say we’re having breakfast.’

Draco made a disgusted sound. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Clearly, you are not a man after my heart,’ he muttered under his breath.

Harry laughed. ‘C’mon, Dwaco,’ he cooed. ‘I have all the Muggle cereals you could ever want. So much sugar that your teeth will rot off.’

Draco suddenly looked curious at the word sugar, just like Harry knew he would. He stood up with a sweep. ‘Well, lead the way, my good man.’

Harry bowed to him. ‘T’is my pleasure, kind sir,’ he said, grinning.

Chapter Text

One Sunday, then two Sundays passed, since Draco saw his parents. He had planned to use that extra time to research on his potions, but Harry never gave him the chance. Harry always seemed to have yet another activity that Draco just had to participate in.

Let it be said that Pansy had teased him mercilessly when Draco told her about Harry’s interventions. (Draco’s own payback will be sweet.)

Since Hermione and Ronald had returned, it was deemed by a number of people that another Gryffindor/Slytherin meet-up was highly necessary—to be held at Abbott’s pub, as usual.

The pub was filled by the time Draco arrived. Harry was already there, sitting on a sofa rather morosely as his best friends snogged next to him.

Draco found some pity for Harry. He approached Harry from the side and tapped him on the shoulder.

Harry turned around, and his eyes lit up. ‘Malfoy!’

‘Don’t you sound excited to see me,’ Draco deadpanned. Harry shifted over and Draco sat down, casting a privacy and muffling charm around them.

Harry sighed dramatically. ‘Everyone’s paired up ‘cept me.’

‘Be a Gryffindor, Potter. Chin up,’ Draco said, relaxing back on the sofa. ‘Are you sure you’re not dating?’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘It’s only been a few weeks since I got rid of that curse.’

Draco arched an eyebrow. ‘The Potter I know would not let something so...simple hinder him.’

Harry gave him a glare. ‘Why are you so interested in my love life?’

Draco smirked. ‘Or lack of, at the moment?’

Harry crossed his arms childishly. ‘It’s not my fault it never works out. Every single person I’ve dated just happened to work better as friends.’

‘You poor boy. Tell me more,’ Draco said with a straight face.

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘It’s not that interesting, is it?’

Draco shrugged. ‘You know me. I always do want to find more blackmail material about you.’

Harry gave a short laugh. ‘It’ll be all so much easier if I was asexual, like you,’ he said.

Draco blinked at him, incredulous. Had he heard a hint of envy in Harry’s voice? ‘Indeed,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s not a choice.’

*

‘I know. But, it would be easier,’ Harry said unthinkingly.

Draco flinched, and Harry looked at him guiltily. Draco’s face was starting to close up.

‘Sorry,’ Harry quickly said. ‘It—your parents—I’m really glad you stood up for yourself...’ He trailed off, squirming a little. He couldn’t help but make off-the-spur comments when Draco was around.

Draco remained silent.

‘Or, maybe we get some drinks.’ Harry said, trying to lighten up. ‘A little bit of liquid courage? A little bit of temporary amnesia?’

The corner of Draco’s lips turned up. ‘I am not so plebeian as to require liquid courage,’ he said imperiously. ‘Nor would I advocate for willing temporary amnesia.’

Harry laughed. ‘Of course not. Stay here.’ He patted Draco on the shoulder and went to fetch two firewhiskeys for both of them.

When he came back, Hermione and Ron had stopped snogging, and Hermione was talking with Draco.

Hermione looked up, grinning. ‘Draco has been telling about what happened while I was gone.’

Harry handed Draco his drink, giving him a suspicious look. ‘Is he, now?’

Draco smirked. ‘Blackmail material, Potter.’

Hermione leaned forward. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going to pick up the harp, Harry.’

‘It was a bit of joke,’ Harry admitted under the pressure of their gazes. ‘I mean, I want to learn something, but the harp’s a bit...’

Both of them looked at him expectantly. Draco had a rather self-satisfied look, and Hermione a curious one.

‘I knew you’re too scared to learn how to play the harp,’ Draco said.

‘Sshh!’ Harry hissed, glancing to Ron. Thankfully, Ron was occupied talking to Seamus. ‘It was supposed to be a secret.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ Draco said, not looking a bit contrite.

‘Oh, wasn’t I meant to know?’ Hermione asked.

Harry sighed. ‘It’s fine. I wasn’t going to learn it anyway. I don’t think it...matches?’ He shrugged. ‘I want to play something big and exciting, you know?’

‘Surely you have enough excitement from your job,’ Draco drawled.

Hermione laughed. ‘I don’t think getting injured is very exciting.’ Then she added, ‘I understand you were very bored, Harry.’

Harry threw an arm around Draco. ‘Draco here ever so kindly kept me company,’ he said grandly. ‘A toast to the kindness that is Draco Malfoy!’

Those around apparently heard the word ‘toast’ coming from Harry’s mouth, and a round of hands with drinks went up in the air. Harry joined in by taking a swig of his own firewhiskey, the alcohol burning down his throat.

Draco flushed a little. ‘Potter,’ he hissed. ‘You’ve bloody ruined my reputation.’

Harry smirked back in his best impression of Draco Malfoy. ‘Blackmail, Malfoy. Now, what did you do for me?’ He started ticking off his fingers, ‘You serenaded me, and hand-fed me, and read fairytales to me—omff!’ Draco’s hand landed firmly over his mouth.

‘Clearly, none of which I shall ever do for you again,’ Draco said threateningly.

Harry removed Draco’s hand and smiled. ‘That’s what you said last time. Um, I’m really grateful, you know.’ Harry was entirely focused on Draco and barely noticed Hermione chuckling and turning back to Ron

Draco sniffed. ‘And so you should be.’ He lowered his eyelids and gave Harry a smirk. ‘You’ve given up on learning an instrument. All talk, but no commitment.’

‘I can be committed. The harp’s a little...girly, you know?’

Draco’s lip curled. ‘The truth comes out. You are quite the uncultured pleb. I believe it is time for me to take you to see a true orchestra in play, not that rubbish you listen to on the wireless.’

‘I listen to you play,’ Harry said innocently.

‘And you fall asleep every single time.’

Harry stretched his arms, and he settled one over Draco’s shoulder. ‘I like your playing. I fall asleep because it’s so soothing,’ he said with utter honesty. He was charmed by the tiny smile Draco had before he pressed his lips down.

‘You,’ Draco finally muttered.

Harry grinned. ‘Me.’

*

The night was fun, food, and errant displays of magic. Time passed in a haze.

Harry was watching the golden liquid swirl around his cup one minute—when he blinked again, he realised he was slumped against Draco. He tilted his head, breathing Draco in.

Draco shook him. ‘Merlin, Potter. Let’s get you home.’

The words felt blurry, and Harry was engrossed in feeling the vibration and hum of Draco’s neck and chest as he spoke, rather than his words. Gingerly, he set the cup down on the table and manoeuvred his arm around Draco’s shoulder, trying to get more of Draco. Draco’s arm curled around his back, and Harry felt everything go hazy again.

‘Potter and I will be off, then.’

The chorus of farewells jerked Harry from his doze. He blinked blearily and waved back, saying something he hoped meant ‘goodbye’.

Draco’s arm gripped him firmly around the waist as they made their shuffling way to the pub’s Floo. Draco called out Grimmauld Place and Harry felt secure enough to let Draco keep him from falling.

‘Let’s get you to bed.’

‘No,’ Harry mumbled back. He pushed Draco towards the sofa closest to the fireplace. He was a little surprised that Draco collapsed back onto the sofa, but thought no more of it as he himself collapsed onto the sofa on top of Draco.

‘Potter—’ Draco rolled them over and got up. He twirled his wand, and Harry was helpless against the magic that lifted him up.

Soon, Draco was tucking him into bed. Harry reached an arm out, snagging Draco’s hand.

‘Thank you.’

Draco gave him a little smile. ‘As friends do,’ he said, and then Harry fell asleep.

*

Harry woke up with a bleeding headache, and the biggest epiphany of his life. He was half-dressed when he called out Draco’s flat in the Floo, and perhaps later, he would wonder how lucky he was to make it there in one piece.

But at that very moment, Harry had only one thing in his mind, and that was to tell Draco of his epiphany.

He stumbled through the flat. He had no idea what time it was, but he headed to Draco’s bedroom first. The man himself emerged from the kitchen.

‘Draco! I had an epiphany!’ Harry said, whilst clutching his head to ward back his hangover.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. He placed one warm hand on the small of Harry’s back and pushed him back towards the living room. ‘Sit down, and I’ll fetch you a Hangover Potion.’

Harry collapsed on the sofa and grabbed Draco down with him. ‘I think,’ Harry said slowly, ‘that I’m in love with you.’ He felt warm and tingly just saying it out loud.

Draco froze. ‘Quite,’ he finally said. ‘Stay still and I’ll fetch that potion.’

Harry found something through his headache to smile at him. ‘Thanks. Love you.’

Draco gave a jerky nod and left, leaving Harry to close his eyes. Eventually, familiar hands were helping him up, and he dutifully drank the potion and washed it down the terrible after-taste with a glass of water.

‘Are you awake now?’ Draco asked.

‘I was always awake, you prat,’ Harry said. He looked at Draco, and grinned. ‘I do love you.’ And he loved saying it.

Draco gave him an unreadable look. ‘I would like to know why and how,’ Draco said carefully.

Harry shook his head. ‘I know what love feels like, Draco.’ Harry lifted a hand and placed it over Draco’s heart. ‘I love spending time with you. I love talking with you, and I love laughing with you, and I love annoying the hell out of you.’ Draco’s heart seemed to be beating hard and fast in his chest. ‘I’m in love with you, and there’s nothing you can do about it,’ Harry concluded decisively.

Draco sighed. ‘I—if we’re talking about this, then I supposed I should inform you I have strong feelings towards you.’ His hand reached up to remove Harry’s hand from his chest.

Harry took a moment to sift through Draco’s words. ‘Not hateful feelings, I hope,’ Harry said lightly.

Draco arched an eyebrow.

Harry grinned back. ‘It feels—feels a little different. But maybe it’s because it’s you.’

‘However,‘ Draco started.

Harry sat up straighter.

‘However, will anything change?’

Harry frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Draco frowned back. ‘Clearly, I do not wish to conduct in sexual activities with you.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about that,’ Harry said quickly. ‘I...we...we’ll just do what feels good, right? Not in the sexual way, I know you don’t.’

Draco raised an eyebrow. ‘You plan to blunder through this in your standard manner?’

Harry let the corner of his mouth lift. ‘Well, that’s how we approached being friends.’

Draco snorted. ‘Of course.’

But, a thought caught Harry’s brain. ‘Do you actually want a relationship with me? You’re asexual so...you don’t date?’

‘I’m not sexually attracted to people,’ Draco corrected.

‘I know—’

‘But that is quite different, from my view, as to being romantically attracted, or to a deeper platonic attraction,’ Draco cut in. ‘It’s—’ He gave a frustrated sigh. ‘It’s a nuance thing, I don’t expect you to understand.’

Harry shook his head. He looked down and realised that he and Draco were still holding hands. ‘I want to understand.’ He gave a little experimental squeeze, and Draco squeezed back. ‘Can we hold hands?’ he asked innocently.

Draco made a laugh of surprise. ‘I do believe we’re already doing so, Potter.’

‘Communication. Hermione’s always reminding me that a good relationship requires communication,’ Harry said. ‘So, if you don’t mind, can we have breakfast now?’

Draco shook his head, but he was smirking. ‘You’re at my place now, and it’s time for morning tea.’

Harry groaned. ‘I knew that’ll come back to bite me.’

Chapter Text

To be honest with himself, Draco believed that even before Harry had made his grand announcement they had already been quite close. As close as Draco could ever imagine himself to be with another person that wasn’t Pansy—he wouldn’t have stood Harry otherwise.

Thus, in many senses, Draco had not expected a thing to change, aside from a different name for their relationship. But then again, things did change. For one, Harry was quite insistent on holding Draco’s hand.

Harry stared at Draco’s fingers, touching them and turning them around as though he held the secrets of the universe in the creases of his hands.

‘Potter, if you kept doing that, I’ll never finish morning tea, and then we’ll never proceed to lunch.’ Draco gave a little tug.

‘You don’t mind, though, do you?’ Harry asked, still gripping on the fingers of Draco’s right hand. ‘I’ll look and touch my fill, and then I won’t bother you about it ever again.’

Draco sighed, and wriggled his fingers a little. ‘Very well,’ he said in an aggrieved tone. ‘My hands are rather perfect. Whilst you’re doing that, you should think of something to do because I’d planned to catch up my reading on a number of potions’ journals.’

‘Again?’ Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Alright.’

Draco should have realised that it would lead to Harry being distracting. While Draco sat his home office and did his best to trawl through various potion papers, Harry dragged the music room sofa in and had a lie-down.

And of course, Harry Potter cannot have a simple, ordinary lie-down. He had the gall to toss and turn, taking up the oddest positions on the sofa.

‘Potter.’ Draco closed the potions journals.

Harry immediately sat up, bright eyed. ‘Yeah?’

‘Just because we are apparently together does not imply you are required to remain in my presence.’

Harry put a hand over his heart. ‘You wound me, Draco.’

Draco rolled his eyes and changed the topic. ‘Would you prefer a string instrument, woodwind, or brass?’

‘String—like your cello—are cool and all, but it looks a bit like copying you, you know?’ Harry grinned sheepishly.

‘Of course,’ Draco smiled wickedly. ‘I forgot, I need to take you to a concert. If we are to be dating, I require you to be the slightest bit cultured.’

Harry sighed. ‘As long as I don’t fall asleep.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Draco hissed.

Harry gave him a rueful smile. ‘You know too well, Mr Malfoy.’

Draco stood up. ‘I will be gracious and let you decide what we do till lunch.’

Harry rolled his eyes and did an exaggerated bow. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’ He leaned over and took Draco’s hand. ‘The sun awaits us. I always thought you looked a bit pale.’

Draco raised an eyebrow. ‘It comes with being white, if you must know.’

Harry tilted his head back and laughed. ‘Come on, the weekend is for getting your vitamin D.’

*

After his epiphany, Harry was both more and less aware of Draco. More in the sense that he could feel Draco even if they weren’t touching, if they sat down next to each other. But less in the sense that the moment they started talking, Harry felt his inhibitions fade away and the words that spilled out of his mouth were exactly his thoughts, so caught up in the moment of just talking to Draco.

For example, Harry was aware of Draco sitting next to him as they had dinner with Ron and Hermione, and Pansy and Ginny.

Pansy had a smirk on her face. ‘So you ended up dating after all,’ she said smugly.

Ginny smacked on her the arm. ‘I was the one who said it to you first.’

Harry looked at them suspiciously. ‘What?’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘Draco Malfoy, greatest potions master in the universe?’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Remember that?’

Harry was very aware of Draco’s smirk.

‘Did he say that?’ Draco drawled. ‘How flattering.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Ron said. ‘I thought you were asexual.’

‘I still am,’ Draco retorted, just as Harry said, ‘He still is.’

‘I’ve allowed Potter to call it dating such that you may understand,’ Draco said condescendingly. ‘Granger, why do you keep this Neanderthal around?’

‘Yeah, Harry, why do you keep this prick around?’ Ron muttered. He put on a little smile when Hermione kissed him on the cheek though.

Kissing. Harry had asked Draco about that once, and Draco had said that he wasn’t comfortable with it.

‘Why do I keep him around?’ Harry joked. ‘I think I’ve forgotten.’

Draco sniffed. ‘That is unacceptable. I allow you around because I am a benevolent wizard, too kind to leave you to your boredom.’

Hugging, though, Draco was fine with, so Harry gave Draco a squeeze. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you!’

Harry could feel Draco’s smirk as Draco patted him on the head.

‘Is that sarcasm?’ Ron butted in.

Harry released Draco and rolled his eyes at Ron ‘You never know when I’m sarcastic or not.’

‘Which is why you’re not dating Ron,’ Ginny said. She suddenly grinned. ‘Remember when you sang those love songs?’ she said, laughing.

‘I’d like an encore,’ Pansy said, leaning forward and smirking.

Harry flushed, and he was only slightly comforted that Ron flushed too. ‘Can you guys stop bringing that up?’ He glared at Draco, who was chuckling. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side!’

Draco smirked. ‘Why ever so? We Slytherins do love seeing you flustered.’

Harry turned to Hermione. ‘Why aren’t you protesting?’

Hermione had a grin on her face. ‘You seem to be having fun regardless.’

Harry threw his hands up in defeat. ‘Friends, useless.’

The others laughed, and finally, Harry gave in and laughed too.

***

They had been dating for over a month when Harry convinced Draco to finally see his parents again. Draco only agreed on the condition that Harry come too.

When they arrived for afternoon tea, one of the house elves greeted them. Draco exchanged a look with Harry before following the house elf to one of the drawing rooms. His parents were dressed in matching robes, and they stood up in one fluid movement.

‘Good afternoon, Mother, Father,’ Draco said first, stepping forward.

‘Draco.’ Narcissa’s voice was cool. ‘How wonderful of you to join us.’

Draco inclined his head. ‘And this is my boyfriend, for the lack of a better term.’

Draco saw precisely the moment his father’s jaw clench.

Harry stepped forward, smiling affably. ‘Harry Potter, pleased to re-make your acquaintance.’ He held his hand out, but neither of Draco’s parents took it. Harry continued to smile as he let his hand drop back down, and Draco drew strength and patience from that.

‘Draco, may I have a private word with you?’ Narcissa asked.

Harry’s hand brushed Draco’s arm lightly as Draco answered, ‘Yes.’

Draco gave Harry a stern look, to which Harry shrugged slightly, before following his mother out of the room. Narcissa wasn’t as uncouth as to talk in the corridor—she led him to a nearby drawing room.

‘Draco,’ she said quietly, ‘what is the meaning of this?’

Draco started to scowl, and Narcissa gave him a sharp look. Draco smoothed his face and said, ‘I wanted you and Father to meet Harry.’

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you courting him?’

Draco let a small smile play on his lips. ‘No, I’m not. It is, however, the closest thing I will come to courting.’

Narcissa took a half step forward. ‘I’m trying to understand you.’

‘I know,’ Draco replied shortly.

‘What will you have your mother do, Draco?’

Draco let his head drop as he sighed. He squared his shoulders and met his mother’s eyes. ‘I would like you to accept me, and my relationship with Harry.’ His mother remained silent, so he added, ‘That’s all.’

Draco took a risk and took a step forward, capturing Narcissa’s hand. ‘I...I want to make you happy, Mother.’

‘Draco.’

Draco shook his head. ‘But I can’t do it my own expense.’ He was about to draw away when Narcissa tugged him closer and embraced him. Draco ducked his head, burying his nose in her hair.

‘I shan’t lie and say I understand,’ Narcissa warned. ‘But if you’re happy...’

‘I am.’

‘—then I am too.’

Draco breathed, ‘Thank you.’

*

Harry felt almost gleeful, being left alone with Lucius Malfoy when Draco stepped out with his mother. He grinned brightly when Lucius gave him a glare.

Lucius tapped his cane. ‘How much?’

‘How much what?’ Harry asked, faking naivety.

Lucius’ glare deepened. ‘For you to break up with Draco.’

Harry shrugged. ‘Nothing, because I can’t imagine breaking up with him.’

‘You have led my son astray—’

Harry scoffed. ‘And who was the one had made him bend and scrape and bow to Voldemort?’ Harry shook his head. ‘I’m in love with him, and you can’t change that.’

Lucius’ jaw tightened. ‘You may love him, but he can never love you. He can never give you what you need, and you cannot give Draco what he needs. All you have is a glorified friendship, is it not?’

Harry flinched inwardly. ‘Maybe you should ask whether or not you truly love your own son,’ he said sharply.

‘How dare you accuse me—’

Harry grinned cockily. ‘Oh, but I do dare, because I know Draco loves you more than you deserve. If you can’t respect Draco’s wishes to not marry a witch, then you should just fuck off.’

‘Did you come into my home to sling around accusations and vulgarities?’ Lucius hissed. ‘Your words and actions are unacceptable. You know nothing of myself nor my son.’

Harry folded his arms. ‘What, are you attracted to women?’ he said, sharply changing the subject. Lucius spluttered, and Harry frowned. ‘Just answer the question.’

‘That goes without saying,’ Lucius bit out.

‘And you aren’t attracted to men.’

‘Obviously.’

Harry gave him a wane smile. ‘As hard as it is to believe, Draco shares that in common with you. He isn’t attracted to men. And,’ Harry spoke a little louder, forcing Lucius to close his mouth, ‘I will go out on a limb and assume that Narcissa Malfoy isn’t attracted women. Draco shares that in common with her.’

‘That is unimportant, but I cannot expect you to understand,’ Lucius narrowed his eyes.

‘But wouldn’t you be miserable if your father forced you to marry a man?’

Lucius’ cane thumped. ‘That is an utterly ridiculous notion.’

Harry shrugged. ‘You know, I don’t really care what you think. But you should try putting Draco’s wellbeing and happiness before your own for once.’ Harry turned away to the door, ignoring Lucius’ spluttering. Harry didn't want to spend one moment longer with Lucius Malfoy.

When he opened the door, Narcissa and Draco were just beyond it. ‘Hello,’ he said, smiling. He smiled wider when Narcissa and Draco took on identical skeptical expressions.

‘Draco, Mrs Malfoy, you wouldn’t mind if we go home now?’ Harry asked. He exchanged look with Draco.

Draco turned to his mother. ‘Would you mind?’

Narcissa’s eyes flickered past Harry to Lucius behind him. ‘Only if you promise to return another time.’

Draco took Narcissa’s hands. ‘Of course, Mother.’

Narcissa nodded. ‘Stay well,’ she said.

Draco kissed her on the cheek, and Harry finally shook her hand.

They left and Flooed back to Draco’s flat.

Harry turned to Draco. ‘I love you,’ Harry blurted out.

Draco smiled a little. ‘You keep telling me.’ He frowned. ‘Did Father say something to you?’

Harry shook his head. ‘It’s fine,’ he muttered. ‘It’s not like he knows what our relationship is like.’

Draco nodded, touching Harry lightly on the arm. ‘Indeed. Afternoon tea?’

‘Yeah,’ Harry said, and he followed Draco into the kitchen.

*

Harry stared at the pages of his novel, but it did nothing for his belly of nervousness. He looked over to Draco on the adjacent sofa, apparently much more engrossed in his reading than Harry. For all that things changed between them, some things didn’t.

Glorified friendship. Harry hated to admit it, but it had the tone of truth: Lucius Malfoy was neither the first—nor would he be the last—person to have said that. Those people believed that a relationship must have more.

And there was something more that Harry wanted.

Fuck it. He put down his novel gently and went over to Draco’s sofa. ‘Is it alright if I sit?’

Draco looked up and gave a slight nod.

So Harry sat down next to him. ‘Is it alright if I lean on you?’

Draco’s eyes narrowed a bit. ‘Yes.’

Harry settled more comfortably against Draco, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. He closed his eyes. He had something more to say, but Draco was a warm solid presence, and Harry felt himself relaxing and...

‘Harry.’ A sharp voice roused Harry from sleep.

Harry scrunched his eyes tighter. ‘I want to sleep with you,’ he mumbled.

The grip on his arm tightened. ‘Pardon?’

‘Just. Want to sleep with you, Draco.’ His hands searched and found Draco’s shoulders. He pressed himself against Draco’s chest. The thump thump of Draco’s heartbeat was reassuring and comforting.

Draco was silent for a few minutes, long enough for Harry to start to doze off again.

‘Only sleeping,’ Draco finally said.

Harry struggled to open his eyes and smile at Draco. ‘Thanks. Carry me?’

Draco huffed. ‘And who’s supposed to be the Auror and hero?’

‘Don’t you love me?’

Draco poked him.

Harry hummed. ‘Something deep, you feel...’

‘Very coherent, Potter.’ Nonetheless, a tingling spell later, Draco scooped him up.

It was a blurry haze of Harry stripping off his clothes before collapsing onto the bed. He stayed just awake enough, just long enough, to remember Draco slipping into bed.

He caught Draco’s fingers and entangled their hands together and then promptly fell asleep.

*

Draco woke first, lying on his side and facing Harry, fingers still captured. He tensed and tried to remove his hands from Harry’s grip.

‘Whh,’ Harry mumbled.

Draco rolled his eyes and stilled his movements. He closed his eyes again and listened to Harry’s breathing. In a few minutes, Draco relaxed.

‘Potter,’ he started.

‘Hmm?’

‘Don’t you think you’re late for work?’

Draco felt a welling of feeling as Harry went from confused immediately to wide awake.

‘Shite!’ Harry sat straight up. ‘What are you doing? You have work too!’

And Draco let that feeling emerge as laughter. ‘It’s a public holiday, you dolt!’

Harry glared at him. Draco forced his laughter down to chuckles. Harry flopped back down.

‘That wasn’t very funny,’ he said sourly.

‘Not to you,’ Draco conceded. He nudged Harry. ‘Now, I’d like to know the reason why you wanted to sleep in the same bed as me. Is my presence that superior?’

Harry looked away and fiddled with the sheets. ‘I like sleeping with someone. Did you like it?’

Draco regarded Harry. ‘It was acceptable. I wouldn’t be averse to repeating this.’

Harry looked up at him and grinned. ‘And in Malfoy-speak, that means you really liked it.’

Draco curled his lip. ‘Incorrect,’ he said haughtily.

Harry continued grinning. ‘I know-oh,’ he said in a sing-song voice.

Draco got up. ‘Go make me breakfast,’ he said dismissively. ‘I’d like to have a shower.’

Harry made no move to get up. ‘I feel like I’ve been the one to ask for things.’

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Your requests have been mutually beneficial.’

Harry scrunched his nose in an oddly familiar way. ‘You always hide behind fancy words.’

‘Did I not request you make my breakfast?’

‘I’ve made breakfast for you before, though.’

Draco sighed and sat down on the bed again. ‘Precisely.’

‘Don’t you want anything more?’ Harry reached his hand out, and then withdrew it.

Draco reached out his own hand and grasped Harry’s fingers. ‘Sleeping in the same bed is quite a large something more for me,’ he said quietly. He straightened, and arched an eyebrow. ‘If you meant something more like sex, then you should leave.’

‘But I’m in love with you.’

‘Harry, answer me this. What difference do you see between loving, and being in love?’

Harry bit his bottom lip. ‘I...I can’t really explain it. It’s a feeling...’

Draco nodded; he hadn’t expected more from Harry. ‘And being in love, is that tied to sexual attraction for you?’

Harry narrowed his eyes, and his fingers twitched in Draco’s grip.

‘Are you saying we should break up? Even if I did want to have sex with you, I’m not some disgusting person. I can deal with it with my right hand.’

‘No. I understand that you’re dissatisfied with what we have. I’m not, however.’ Draco resisted the urge to rub his hand over his eyes. ‘By all means, keep asking me. I may say no, but surely it’s better knowing than worrying your little Gryffindor brain.’

Harry cracked a weak grin. ‘Right.’

A silence settled over them, and Draco’s eyes were drawn to their hands, where Harry’s thumb was slowly caressing Draco’s palm.

‘I...’ Harry started. ‘I want you to touch me more often?’ He ducked his head.

A slow grin curved on Draco’s lips. He flung an arm over Harry’s shoulder and rubbed Harry’s head hard with his knuckles. ‘Like this?’

Harry let out a laugh. ‘Hey!’

Harry bucked, and they fell back onto the bed. Draco kept up his relentlessly head-rubbing, and Harry tried to roll them over. Their positions were reversed for barely a second, and Draco rolled them over again, and they tussled—

*

Harry flopped back on the bed, panting and laughing. ‘I’ve never done that with someone I’m dating before.’ Harry turned his head, smiling at Draco who was all dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks.

‘Clearly not,’ Draco replied. ‘Are you quite done moping now?’

Harry stretched. ‘I wasn’t moping.’

The bed dipped as Draco got up. ‘I believe you promised me breakfast.’

Harry laughed again. ‘I did not! But for you, my darling,’ Harry fluttered his eyes, ‘I shall make a concession.’

Draco’s nose crinkled. ‘Indeed. I expect a full English breakfast when I come down.’

‘Of course, babe,’ Harry grinned. He ducked his head, but was caught nonetheless in Draco’s rigorous head rub.

‘There are only two names you may call me. Draco, or Malfoy,’ he whispered smoothly into Harry’s ear. ‘Or I’ll hex off your cock.’

Harry’s legs automatically pressed together and he cringed. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Oh, but I would,’ Draco said. ‘Understand, Potter?’

Harry stuck out his bottom lip. ‘Fine,’ he grumbled.

Draco released him and smiled. ‘I’m glad we had this chat.’ And he went into the bathroom.

A feeling spread in Harry’s chest. Everything was different with Draco, but that was what Harry loved about him.

The End.