Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry scrubbed at his eyes, attempting to banish the gritty feeling that often accompanied long study sessions. He was beginning to understand why, every year, the Seventh Years took to walking around the castle like half-dead creatures of the night. Harry was certain that his dark circles were enough to frighten a small child.

With a clumsy jump, he hopped onto a precariously swinging platform. Somewhere above him was a shimmering wall, and he needed to make his way there; the shortcut to the Room of Requirement was only open on Wednesdays. 

“Mr Potter,” came the drawling voice of Severus Snape, “It is almost time for dinner. Pray tell, why are you haunting the halls alone?”

Harry turned around, plastering a grin on his face, “No reason, Professor.”

Snape’s tenure as Harry’s Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had been frustrating at best, and catastrophic at worst. When Professor Slughorn had returned to Hogwarts at Dumbledore’s behest, Harry had held out hope that it would mean Snape would leave for good. He was out of luck, however, because Snape not only received the job of Defence professor, but had somehow managed to escape the misfortune that followed every other Defence teacher Harry had known. 

Despite Defence being Harry’s best subject, Snape hadn’t warmed up to him. Truth be told, Harry didn’t help matters with his far from respectful attitude towards the man.

“Looking for trouble, are we?” Snape glared down at him, his pale face standing out above the pitch-black robes he favoured.

“Oh, always, sir,” Harry smirked, “Trouble and I have a long history.”

“The moment I see a hair out of place, Potter, I’ll have you scrubbing the floors of the duelling rooms.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry said, all but running towards the Room the moment Snape turned away.

Smiling at passing students, giving the occasional wave to friends and acquaintances, Harry made his way past chattering portraits and torch-lit halls.

Marching back and forth in front of the blank wall where the Room was hidden, Harry startled as raised voices filtered through the door that appeared there. With no small amount of trepidation, Harry entered. 

He was met with the sight of Draco sitting sullenly on a ratty red couch and Hermione standing over him with a furious expression on her face. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice Harry entering.

“You tested it with your blood, Ron told me so,” Draco glared up at the scowling girl, “Why should it be any different with me?”

“Because we already know that it reacts negatively to your blood!”

“We cannot be certain that each instance will be the same until we try it!” Draco ran a hand through his white-blond hair, mussing up the perfectly styled strands. Harry found that he preferred it that way.

Draco noticed Harry standing awkwardly in the doorway, where he was internally debating whether or not he should make a break for it before he was dragged into the argument.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed, rising from the couch. He strode towards Harry with purpose; it was unnerving to be the focus of such furious attention. Or, perhaps, it was simply unnerving to be the focus of Draco. “Would you please tell Hermione that the only way to truly test our theories is through repetition?”

“Huh?”

“If we don’t test the outcome multiple times, we can’t be sure of anything.”

Harry stared between the two of them blankly.

“I don’t know how to settle this,” he said plainly, ignoring the way Draco’s slight frown tugged at him, “I was just coming to see if you had that book on conjuring inanimate objects.”

“I loaned it to Ron, sorry,” Hermione shook her head, turning to the Slytherin. “Draco,” she started, “I know you want to help, truly, I do. But we have no idea what the necklace is capable of. If you got hurt…” her voice trailed off.

His expression softening, Draco glanced at the necklace sitting innocuously on its pedestal. Harry followed his gaze, unwilling to acknowledge the horrifying image his mind conjured of Draco lying on the floor, blood pouring from wounds that Harry couldn’t heal.

It wouldn’t be the first time Harry saw him bleed, and yet, the thought of it grated. It was as if he simply couldn’t fathom a reality where Draco bled more than he already had.

“I understand,” Draco’s brow furrowed, causing his forehead to  wrinkle, “I do, Hermione. But this is so much more than us. We can’t leave this up to chance.”

“We can’t risk ourselves, either,” she countered.

They were both right, Harry realised. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes; what good would it do for them to figure this out and end up out of commission?

The problem was that they didn’t know enough. They never did. They couldn’t see the whole picture, and so they couldn’t act accordingly. They were all but going in blind, and although that was something they were used to, it certainly didn’t bring Harry any comfort.

“We’ve hit a dead end,” Draco sighed, voicing Harry’s internal thoughts. The blond leaned back against the stone wall, the lines of his body weary. “We can’t do anything without more information, but we have no way of getting it.”

“Welcome to the story of our lives,” Harry laughed sardonically, “Unfortunately, this is how most of our adventures go.”

“At least until the Death Eaters decide to speed things up,” Hermione added, slumping down onto the couch. She brushed the curling strands of her hair away from her face, pulling them back and securing them with a thick elastic. “I’ll have another read of the books you gave me, Draco,” she said, “there has to be something I missed.” The look on her face said that she didn’t truly believe that.

The rest of their evening was spent on their well-loved couch, squished together shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Harry, situated between his two friends, was pleasantly warm and surprisingly comfortable. He took on the less theoretical books of his own volition; he knew he couldn’t get through the highly complex magical tomes as quickly or successfully as Hermione and Draco.

Yawning, Harry tried to cover his mouth with his hand. Draco looked at him, disquieted, his brow furrowed lightly.

“You seem tired,” Draco regarded him with a searching look, “Did you stay up late coming up with new ways to piss Snape off?”

“I wish,” Harry snorted, “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That got Hermione’s attention.

“Still?” she questioned, frowning, “I thought you said it was getting better? Didn’t Madam Pomfrey give some Dreamless Sleep?”

Harry shrugged, explaining that there was apparently a limit to the amount of Dreamless Sleep the matron was allowed to give students. He tried to brush off both of his friends’ concerns and draw their attention back to their task. He wasn’t as successful as he would have liked, but they let it drop for the moment.

Ron found them right before dinner, barking out a laugh as he took in the sight of them poring over a stack of books together on the couch. 

~~~

Harry’s attempts at sleeping were entirely unsuccessful. It was as if he couldn’t turn his mind off and banish his racing thoughts.

It was while Harry was attempting to count his breaths that the thick curtains surrounding his bed were pulled open. Jerking upright, Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He sighed in relief when Ron peered through the small gap, his pale face shining in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

“Harry?” Ron whispered, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, “Are you still awake, mate?”

Shrugging, Harry replied, “Yeah. What are you doing up?”

Ron pushed past the curtains and climbed into bed. Harry shuffled over, making room for his best friend.

“I just had a feeling that you were having a rough night,” Ron shrugged, settling into Harry’s bed as if it were his own, “We’re worried, you know. Hermione and I. You haven’t had this many sleepless nights since Fifth Year.” Ron turned to him with too-keen eyes, “Want to talk about what’s been bothering you?”

Harry let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head.

“Funnily enough,” Harry said, “It’s the exact same thing as last time. The Death Eaters and the ever-increasing incidents they bring with them tend to exacerbate my nightmares.” He turned a grateful smile towards Ron, “Though I’m sure it’ll die down, just like it did last time. Thanks for checking up on me.”

“Anything for you, Harry,” Ron said seriously, though his earnest demeanour was broken by a wide yawn, “You’re my best mate, it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re not off your rocker.”

“Please, if anyone is off their rocker, it would be you.”

“Which of the two of us has been hit in the head with a bludger multiple times?”

Harry looked at him incredulously, “You!”

“Oh, yeah,”

They both chuckled, smothering the noise behind their hands. Ron began spouting off about bludgers and the need for their team to train even harder as they approached the end of the school year. Harry listened, offering his input when needed, and the ever-present tension that had been camping out in his shoulders began to ease.

~~~

“Crookshanks!” Hermione cried, “Pretzel is not a snack— stop it!”

Ron leapt from the ottoman to grab the yowling cat, pulling Crookshanks away from both Pretzel and the fireplace. Harry beckoned the snake towards him, settling him on his arm.

“I am so sorry,” Hermione apologised profusely, “I had no idea Crookshanks was here!” She turned the still-squirming cat caged in Ron’s arms, “You can’t attack Pretzel. He is Harry’s pet.”

“With the way he bosses Harry around, are we sure it isn’t Harry who is Pretzel’s pet?”

Harry lobbed a throw pillow at Ron’s face. With both of his hands occupied with Hermione’s cat, he couldn’t catch it. Harry snorted when it hit him square in the face.

‘I want to say hello,’ Pretzel said suddenly, his small head peeking out from underneath Harry’s sleeve, ‘I want to say hello to the cat.’

‘Crookshanks?’ Harry said in disbelief, ‘Buddy, the cat just tried to eat you.’

Pretzel regarded Crookshanks with a considering look, ‘I want to say hello.’

Groaning, Harry set the snake on the ground. He couldn’t keep Pretzel against his will even if he tried. Hermione gaped at him disapprovingly.

“Harry.”

“He insisted! I couldn’t stop him if I tried, ‘Mione,”

Pretzel slowly approached Crookshanks, who was still imprisoned in Ron’s arms. The cat narrowed his eyes at the stubbornly brave snake as if assessing how he would taste. Harry held his wand tightly at his side, ready to intervene again if necessary.

At Pretzel’s request, passed on by Harry, Ron carefully released Crookshanks. Shaking his wild orange fur, Crookshanks stalked towards where Pretzel sat on the woven rug beneath their feet.

‘Hello, cat,’

Pretzel’s greeting was met with a strangely curious hiss from the half-Kneazle. Harry and his friends watched with bated breath as the small snake ducked into the dusty gap between the couch and wall, only to return with a dead cockroach in his mouth.

“Not again!” Ron cried, leaping up onto the ottoman, refusing to stand anywhere near the dead insect. “Harry,” he said desperately, “You’ve got to tell him to stop bringing dead bugs everywhere!”

As if Harry hadn’t tried that.

‘For you, cat,’ Pretzel said, dropping his disgusting prize at Crookshanks’ paws, ‘Food!’

Despite his dubious expression, Crookshanks lowered his head to sniff at the insect. Hermione screeched, attempting to discourage her pet from eating Pretzel’s gift. With a flick of her wand, the insect vanished into thin air, leaving two very confused animals sitting on the carpet. Ron’s sigh of relief was audible, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship. He liked insects, but cockroaches were where he drew the line.

Harry’s sense of calm was immediately disrupted by Crookshanks pouncing on Pretzel.

“Crookshanks!” Harry yelled, leaping towards them.

The cat landed right on top of the snake, paws first, and Harry lost sight of Pretzel underneath Crookshanks’ mass of fur. Hermione gasped, rushing forwards alongside Harry. 

‘Harry, look!’ came Pretzel’s muffled voice, ‘The cat is playing with me!’

To Harry’s surprise, Pretzel was half tucked under Crookshanks, held gently beneath the cat’s paw. Crookshanks batted softly at Pretzel’s swaying head, his claws sheathed. 

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry groaned, “Those two are going to kill me. I don’t need any more stress in my life!”

Hermione wasn’t as easily convinced that Crookshanks wouldn’t try to turn Pretzel into dinner, so she stayed close by the two, ready to step in at any moment.

Ron nodded, voicing his agreement vehemently, “Our NEWTs are more than enough for us to deal with.” 

Watching their pets play— Harry hoped it was playing, and not a disturbing game of Cat and Mouse— soothed something in him. He let his friends’ conversation flow over him, the normalcy of it bringing a smile to his face.

Moments like these were precious, Harry knew, and he treasured each one, hoarding them close to his chest like they could be snatched away at any moment. No matter how much he tried to escape it, his mind whispered that these things were finite, that they couldn’t last. A hazard of his childhood, Harry guessed, but he was unwilling to let that broken part of him infect the good in his life. He’d come too far for that.

Below him, Pretzel had somehow climbed onto Crookshanks’ back as if the cat were a horse. In a pale imitation of a knight and his noble steed, Pretzel coaxed Crookshanks forward towards the stained-glass windows lining the common room. Crookshanks humoured the snake wound over his back, ambling away from the giggling trio of Gryffindors.

Draco would love this, Harry thought, grinning as he tracked the animals’ progress. Crookshanks and Draco still hadn’t fully warmed up to each other, but Harry knew that the blond cared about the cat more than he let on. His adoration of their snake, however, was never in question.

Harry could imagine how the boy would laugh, his arm brushing against Harry’s as he watched Crookshanks and Pretzel pause, then charge swiftly at the windows, the cat's paws thudding against the wooden floors.  Harry’s hands itched for a camera to take a photo, if only so that Draco would have a glimpse of the two precious pets. The desire caught him off guard.

~~~

Harry was so, so late. He all but ran towards the library, cursing his inability to keep track of time. He had gotten so distracted attempting to study that he had missed the alarms he’d set. Tolis would be waiting in their usual spot in the library, ready for tutoring, and here Harry was, letting him down.

Rounding the corner, Harry barely paused to apologise to Madam Pince as he raced towards the back of the library. His urgency drained away as he approached, coming to a sudden halt as he spotted Tolis through a gap in the bookshelf. 

The tiny Gryffindor wasn’t alone at their table. Draco was sitting next to him, carefully pointing out a passage in Tolis’ Defence textbook, smiling as the kid asked him a question. Harry paused behind the bookshelf, unable to bring himself to interrupt the two of them.

“So, I need to flick my wand down?” Tolis frowned, gingerly picking up his wand from the table, “But Hilda said that I needed to do it slower.”

Draco shook his head, carefully placing his hands over Tolis’ as he guided him through the motions. 

“Going slower is the easiest way to master the charm, but it’s not the most effective. A disarming spell is used almost exclusively in duelling, meaning that you need to be able to cast it rapidly.” Draco released Tolis’ hands, closely watching the boy practice the motion, “If you train yourself to cast slowly, it’s nigh on impossible to break the habit.”

Harry watched as Tolis’ face lit up in a grin. The kid had the kind of face that looked perpetually cheeky, with one side of his smile always pulled up higher than the other.

“All I’m hearing is that I should challenge Hilda to a duel because I’ll have better technique,”

Draco’s laughter tugged at Harry’s heartstrings.

“Are you sure you aren’t a snake in lion’s clothing?”

“How dare you!” Tolis protested, rising from his seat, “Draco Malfoy, how could you say that?”

“You’ve got some very Slytherin ideas,” Draco shrugged, and Harry could tell from his smile that he was teasing Tolis, “We would welcome you into the dungeons with open arms.”

Tolis’ gasp of offence broke Draco’s composure, and the blond burst out laughing again, reassuring the irate child that he was joking. 

“Come on, Tolis, sit back down,” he chuckled, “I’m sorry for teasing. How about I sneak you some Jelly Slugs after you finish up with Harry today?”

“Tangerine ones?” Tolis asked suspiciously.

“Of course,” the blond reached over to ruffle Tolis’s hair, ignoring the Gryffindor’s squeaky protests. Tolis sat back down, disgruntled, and Harry had to muffle his laughter.

“Harry is too good for you,” he huffed, poking his tongue out, “You’re horrible.”

“As if,” Draco snorted good-naturedly.

Harry couldn’t hide his smile as he shook off his reverie and joined them at the table.

~~~

Dearest Mother,

I have completed the list of ingredients for the ritual Father asked me to compile. He will be well pleased to know that, despite the obscurity of the ritual, the components are relatively simple.

• A father’s bone, unknowingly given

• A servant’s willing sacrifice of flesh

• Blood forcibly taken from an enemy

In your last correspondence, you mentioned that Father has been under undue stress. Is this related to the Ministry or family business? I worry that familial obligations require more of you than is acceptable. I urge you both to reconsider the wisdom of your continued involvement.

As for your implications around my association with Harr Potter, they are unfounded. I assure you that— no matter how it might appear— our relationship has merely evolved from a juvenile rivalry to a dislike more befitting of our age. I appreciate your support, Mother, I truly do, but I’m afraid that romantic involvement with him is not… feasible. It is not a hope I will nurture. 

I send my love to you and Father. I miss you both.

With love,

Draco

“Draco?”

Looking up from where he had just signed his letter, Draco saw Pansy’s raised brow. The girl sat herself down on his desk, perching effortlessly on the wooden edge.

“What’s got you looking so morose?” she asked, a teasing grin forming, “Are you thinking about Harry again?”

With a gentle shove, Draco pushed her away from the desk, taking care to slide his letter under a pile of books.

“Do not go there,” Draco warned, “I’m not in the mood.” He ignored the frown she gave him, the concerned tilt of her head signalling that she wouldn’t give up so easily. “Since when do you call him Harry?”

“Not long,” Pansy shrugged, “He insisted.” She rested a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder, her touch light. “Are you all right, Draco?”

“Never better,” 

His tone didn’t invite further questioning. She sighed, draping her arm around his shoulder as she hugged him to her side. Pansy had been one of his best friends since he was an infant. She knew him better than he knew himself, at times.

“They’re trying,” she said softly, “They’re trying to understand. It’s hard for them; their whole lives, they’ve been told that Muggles and Muggle-borns are a threat to their way of life.”

“They’re not trying, Pans. Don’t lie to me,” he shook his head, “My parents aren’t the types to change their minds. They’re accepting of my decisions and ideology because they love me, not out of any sense of moral rightness.” Draco leaned into her embrace, “Mother keeps trying to subtly inform me that if I choose to court a Half-blood, they’d be willing to make their peace with it. She mentioned that there are many Half-bloods who come from ‘good stock’.”

“Ah. So, it is about Harry.”

“Of course it is,” Draco closed his eyes, allowing the familiar scent of her perfume to calm him, “It’s always about Harry.”

It truly was. Draco’s most recent conflict with his parents had been sparked by their probing questions about his intentions with the wild-haired boy. That, paired with his recent realisation that by working with Harry and his friends, he was effectively working against his parents, hadn’t helped Draco’s state of mind.

Draco loved his parents, he truly did, and he knew that they loved him more than anything. Yet love wasn’t enough to reason with them. He had tried, but his pleas and arguments had been disregarded. It filled him with guilt to go behind their backs and assist Harry, but they hadn’t given him a choice.

His only saving grace was that he hadn’t been forced to join the Death Eaters. Bellatrix had tried so, so hard to convince his parents, but to no avail. Draco didn’t know what she had expected after what she did to him. She hadn’t been allowed back into their home in years. 

Pansy made a soothing, shushing noise, having felt his shivering. She gently smoothed down the fabric covering his shoulders.

“At least they won’t fight the matter if you decide to pursue him?” she tried for a hopeful tone, “That’s a start.”

“So they say,” Draco huffed, his humour weak but present, “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I won’t be pursuing Harry, of all people. Gryffindor’s golden boy is hardly my type.”

Pansy pulled away, regarding him with a captious expression. Draco grinned, enjoying the way she rolled her eyes.

“Draco Malfoy, you are a horrid, horrid liar,” she swatted at his shoulder, “Not your type? Not your type?”

“I said what I said.”

“Your insistence on lying to yourself is fascinating, darling, truly,”

“Oh, go away, you beast,” Draco snorted, rising from his chair, “You shouldn’t be in the boys’ dormitories anyway; Snape will have you in detention for the rest of the year if he finds out you’ve snuck up here again.”

They left together, making their way towards the common room. Blaise caught sight of them from across the room, where he was playing a game of chess with Theo. Draco allowed Pansy’s soft grip on his arm and Blaise’s bright smile to soothe the last of his frayed nerves.

~~~

“Remind me why I’m giving up my restful afternoon to go on a walk with you?” Harry asked, staring at Draco suspiciously, “You haven’t suddenly remembered that you want me dead, have you?”

Draco rolled his eyes, snickering. The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees in the Forbidden Forest lit their path as they continued on their mysterious journey.

“However did you figure out my plan?” Draco exclaimed, clutching at his chest, the silk fabric there gathered in his grip, “All this time, I’ve been pretending to be your friend all so that I could gain your trust.” The Slytherin threw his arm over Harry’s shoulders, ignoring his half-hearted protests, “Now that I’ve lured you to a secluded place, I can finally murder you in cold blood!”

“I knew it,” Harry grinned, attempting to shove the blond away, “Get off me, you oaf, there are much more dignified ways to kill me that don’t involve smothering or crushing.”

Looking down at him imperiously, Draco scrunched his nose as if smelling something foul. Somehow, he managed to make even the most plebian of expressions seem elegant. Harry was sure that Draco practised making faces in the mirror; he just couldn’t prove it yet.

“It’s hardly my fault that you’re short,” 

“Better to be short than an ungainly giant,”

Draco gasped, “You take that back!”

Snorting, Harry ducked under Draco’s arm, pulling away from the offended boy. As much as he complained, he was relieved to be outside, breathing in fresh air. The amount of time he had been spending inside grated against his claustrophobic nature. 

A small object flew through the air, hitting Harry square on the head. A glance down revealed that the projectile was a small stick, the end of it still sporting a few leaves.

“Did that make you feel better?” Harry asked dryly.

“Yes, it did,”

Draco led him deeper into the forest, following some unseen path that Harry couldn’t identify. Harry followed willingly, despite his apprehension. If Draco was planning something nefarious, Harry would find a way to outsmart him. The blond had been increasingly distracted recently; it wouldn’t take much effort. Not to mention the many, many pranks Harry had planned and ready to go at any given moment.

A cluster of colour in the corner of his eye caught Harry’s attention.

“It’s hard to believe that we’re graduating in a few months,” Harry said, pausing to bend down and look at a small bunch of bright yellow flowers, “I’m going to miss Hogwarts.”

“I think we all will,” Draco leaned against a particularly tall tree, surveying the small clearing they had found themselves in.

“Do you still want to be a Healer?”

Draco turned to look at him, “Pardon?”

“After we graduate,” Harry said, rubbing a silken, yellow petal between his thumb and forefinger, “You said that you wanted to be a Healer.”

“I’m expected to take my place next to my father in the Wizengamot,”

Harry hesitated. “That’s what is expected.” He plucked a single flower, “I asked if you still wanted to be a Healer.” Harry smiled up at the other boy, “I think I’ve decided to do a bit of travelling and then try my hand at teaching.”

Holding the bright flower out to Draco, Harry motioned for him to take it. The blond plucked the flower from his hand with an indulgent smile, tucking the flower behind his ear. The bright petals, coupled with the shining hoop decorating his ear, were beautiful.

“You mentioned that at Yule,” Draco murmured, distractedly adjusting the flower amongst stands of white blond hair, “I think you’d be a great teacher.”

“I know I would,” Harry agreed readily before he again asked, “Do you still want to be a Healer?”

Draco shrugged, not meeting Harry’s imploring gaze. Harry refused to let him avoid the question.

“Come on,” Harry goaded, unable to resist, “Surely you’ve thought about it.”

“Of course not,” Draco turned away, resuming their trek towards an unknown location.

Harry wouldn’t give up that easily.

“If not a Healer, what about a professional Quidditch player?” he guessed, running after Draco, “Curse breaker?” He studied Draco’s shuttered expression, “Krup trainer?”

“Krup trainer?” Draco asked incredulously, staring down at him, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Dragon keeper?”

“No.”

“Auror? Broom maker?”

“You should stop guessing,”

“The Owl Post!”

“Seriously, Potter?” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow at him in mock disappointment.

Harry shuddered, “Don’t call me that, it’s weird now.” He rolled his eyes at Draco’s amused expression, “It gives me flashbacks.”

“Very well… Potter.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy!” Harry exclaimed, tugging at his collar, “Clearly, you’ve decided to become a professional blight upon the innocent.”

Laughing, Draco ruffled Harry’s hair, running his hands through the unruly strands slightly longer than was strictly acceptable. Harry didn’t mind.

“All right, all right,” he huffed, amused, “If I had the chance, I would become a Healer.”

“I knew it!” Harry crowed in victory, the sunlight around them complementing his mood perfectly. “You could do it, you know.”

Draco’s smile was rueful.

“I can’t,”

Sometimes, Harry thought he understood the pressure Draco faced, the unrelenting attrition that steadily wore him down to fit into a mould. It was similar to the expectations Harry faced from the Wizarding world, the constant comments about what he was supposed to do and what he was supposed to be. But other times, Harry realised that he couldn’t truly understand this.

It was different when it was family, when it was the people you loved who told you what they wanted from you, what you needed to do. Sirius and Remus, even Hermione and Ron, had never placed that burden on him. Harry had a safe space to simply be. Did Draco?

“You could,” Harry insisted, filled with the need to make Draco understand. He could almost hear Hermione admonishing him about his saviour complex. “You could do both. You could be a unique combination of politician and Healer! Personally, I think that’d be rather cool.”

Draco stared at him.

“You are so strange,” Draco smirked, his grey eyes shining, “Yeah, I guess I could.” He took Harry’s elbow and dragged him along, insisting that they were losing sunlight.

Despite the pleasant weather, Harry couldn’t be entirely comfortable in the Forbidden Forest. He had been attacked by magical creatures one too many times to let his guard down. Draco, on the other hand, forged forward as if he were invulnerable, ignoring the moving shadows deep in the bushes and the occasional noises filtering through the trees.

The sound of rushing water was what clued Harry into their destination. The forest was filled with many, many ponds and streams hidden among ancient flora, and clearly, Draco was leading him towards one of them.

They pushed through a shroud of oddly translucent hanging leaves into a clearing. Housed there was a trickling stream, accompanied by piles of pebbles and rocks. Draco exclaimed in excitement, grabbing Harry’s arm to pull him forward.

“Look!” he said, gesturing towards the ground.

Harry stared at the midnight blue plant, unsure why Draco was looking at him so expectantly.

“It’s a leaf,” he said flatly, wondering what he was missing, “You dragged me all the way out here for a leaf?”

Draco’s bright expression shuttered for a moment, and Harry kicked himself. Before he could apologise for whatever mistake he had made, Draco was talking.

“This is Nyx Root,” Draco said slowly, as if explaining to a child, “The rarest and most important ingredient in Morpheus’ Draught.”

Harry had no idea what anything Draco had just said meant.

“Oh, for the love of-” Draco groaned, “It’s used in a sleep potion! I searched for days to find it.” The Slytherin looked down at him strangely, “It’s- well, it’s for you. Morpheus’ Draught is one of the most effective sleep potions we know of, and it’s not addictive like Dreamless Sleep.”

It hit Harry all at once. 

“You found it for me?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“Yes,” Draco replied, a hand running through the soft waves in his hair as his gaze dropped away from Harry’s, “You said you were having trouble sleeping. I thought maybe I could help… if you wanted.” His mouth pulled into a crooked grin, “Nimueh knows you need your beauty sleep; your dark circles are terribly unflattering.”

The feeling that filled up Harry’s chest was too complicated to name. Even Draco’s teasing couldn’t stop Harry from feeling as if his heart could give out. Harry launched himself at Draco, wrapping his arms around his back as he buried his face in Draco’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

The innocuous-looking plant meant more than a sleep potion. It meant that Draco cared.

Draco’s arms circled Harry, holding him up. Harry could feel Draco’s smile against his hair as the blond leaned closer, the familiar, heady scent of cinnamon and apples filling Harry’s senses.

“Of course, Harry,”

It was so small, so simple.

Except that it wasn’t. Draco had put all of this effort into finding this plant simply because he wanted to help Harry. Because years of antagonising each other had softened into teasing remarks and gentle smiles. Because they were friends now. 

Friends.

Was this what friendship felt like?

The warm feeling choking Harry’s voice intensified, and he was finally forced to face it. He had been trying to ignore it for months, but it refused to be pushed away.

The warmth of Draco’s arms still lingered when Harry pulled back from their embrace. He looked up at Draco, and as he took in the way the sunlight lit up his hair, his eyes, the delicate flower tucked behind his ear, Harry came to a terrifying conclusion. 

~~~

“Who do I need to kill?” Sirius asked the moment he popped his head through the Floo. 

Without missing a beat, Remus smacked him over the head.

“What?” Sirius cried, “Harry said it was an emergency!”

“Hear him out first!” Remus admonished, turning to look at Harry, “Are you all right, pup?”

Harry could barely choke out a word. He had desperately sent his godfathers a letter begging them to Floo call him, and now he had no idea where to start.

“Harry?” Sirius said gently, his eyes full of worry, “What-”

“I think I’m falling for Draco!” Harry blurted out, clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. He was beyond grateful that everyone else was fast asleep, far away in their beds. “I have no idea how this happened; honest! I don’t— I—” His godfathers’ matching looks of bewilderment spurred him on. “I only just realised today because he found a plant for me and I had no idea he cared enough to help me, now I think I’m in shock—”

“Harry!” Remus interjected. His eyes were wide, but his smile was even wider. Harry realised that while he had been rambling, his godfathers had been trying to get his attention. “Breath,” Remus said, and Harry breathed. “Start from the beginning.”

And so, he did. He told them about how Draco had dragged him out of the common room into the forest, only to reveal that he had found an incredibly rare plant, all because he knew Harry was having trouble sleeping. 

“He cares,” Harry said mournfully, “He actually cares, and now he’s gone and made a fool of me!”

“How has he made a fool of you?” Sirius asked, his brow furrowed.

“He’s made me fall for him!” Harry exclaimed as loudly as he dared, “He had to go and be all lovely, the absolute prat, and look where it’s landed me.” Harry buried his face in his hands, “He even had the audacity to look so fucking gorgeous as he did it. It’s his stupid hair— no, his earring! I don’t even know how he—”

Remus and Sirius didn’t even attempt to hide their amusement.

“Why are you laughing?!” Harry cried, running a distressed hand through his hair, “This is serious! I’m going to die. This is the worst thing to ever happen to me!”

His godfathers were absolutely no help.

~~~

Days later, Harry was nearing the end of the rope. He stared up at the canopy of his bed, sleep far from his mind as he tried to calm his racing heart. He was lying in bed, replaying every little interaction of the day like a madman. How did that one saying go? Love makes you crazy?

Now that he was aware of how he felt, it seemed that he was unable to think about anything else. It was concerning just how many times he caught himself staring at Draco throughout the day. Honestly, it was worse than the year Harry had spent stalking him.

Mortifyingly, Draco had seemed to pick up on Harry’s strange behaviour, sending him questioning looks and confused faces when Harry’s composure fractured every time they were near each other. Harry had thought —hoped—he was beyond such juvenile infatuation.

He couldn’t keep going like this. Not even six hours earlier, Harry had spilled a bowl of soup all over Ron because he’d been distracted by Draco’s stupid hair. While his friend had been quick to forgive him, Luna had sauntered over to their table and begun spouting off about Wrackspurts. The wink she gave Harry had been enough to send his already racing heart into a tailspin; Luna had always been a touch too perceptive.

Groaning, Harry rubbed at his eyes, dragging his hands down his face in despair. He had no outlet for all these feelings. There was no way on earth he could tell Ron and Hermione, they would tease him half to death just like Sirius had, despite Remus’ attempts at tempering him. The sheer mortification would carry him over the edge.

Plus, he didn’t imagine his friends would be too delighted to hear that he fancied Draco Malfoy of all people.

Harry had been on the receiving end of many rants and excited ramblings from Ron in their younger years, going on and on about whoever had caught his eye. He wouldn’t subject his friend to that, because as hilariously invested Ron had once seemed, Harry knew without a doubt that his own infatuation went far beyond anything Ron had ever rambled about.

Harry was obsessed with Draco, he always had been, and now that obsession had clearly taken on a new form.

He was so messed up.

Finally giving up on his endeavour to sleep, Harry sat up, the sheets pooling at his waist. He needed to move, to get up off his arse and keep himself sane. Harry snatched his glasses and wand from beneath his pillow, pushing aside the heavy fabric draped around his bed. With soft footsteps, he crept towards the door, pulling his invisibility cloak over himself to avoid detection. 

The Astronomy Tower was cold at night, despite the increasingly warm weather threatening Hogwarts with an uncomfortably hot summer. It was a common theory amongst the students that Professor Bulstrode had placed absurdly strong cooling charms all over the tower after he’d suddenly replaced Professor Sinistra. 

Sitting on the ledge of the tower, his legs hanging in the air, Harry slipped the cloak off his shoulders, revelling in the cold. He stared up at the stars, letting the breathtaking sight clear his racing mind. Unwittingly, his eyes found the Dragon constellation.

Ladon, a loyal guardian. Draco had said that the dragon was a protector. The thought brought a fond smile to Harry’s face as he recalled the many, many times Draco had acted in cowardice throughout their childhood.

“Don’t scream,” came a dreamy voice from the shadows.

Harry, never one to follow instructions, screamed as he startled, almost throwing himself off the edge of the tower.

“Luna!” he panted, clutching his chest as the robe-clad girl came to sit next to him, “You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“Ah, but you make it so fun!”

Harry levelled her with his most scathing frown to no avail.

“You’ve been overthinking again,” Luna said with no preamble, offering no explanation as to how she had found him or why she was still awake, “Walk with me.”

How could Harry refuse?

The Quidditch Pitch was oddly peaceful in the odd hours of the morning. Luna guided them along the stands, following a path only she knew. Harry only just managed to avoid stubbing his toe on the seats; the light spilling from the end of his wand barely lit the way.

“One of the Thestrals had a foal recently,” Luna informed him, picking her way around a short wooden guardrail, “Hagrid needs some help naming him; we should go and visit tomorrow.”

“That sounds great,” Harry smiled, “It’s been too long since I’ve visited the herd.”

When they finally settled on one of the benches on the Ravenclaw stands, Luna turned to stare at him with her fathomless eyes. Harry avoided her gaze, hoping that it would deter her from questioning him about why he had been awake.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

No such luck.

It was so like Luna to see past all of the walls Harry built up around himself. And it was so like her to simply call him out on what he was hiding. She didn’t even need to clarify what she meant.

“I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘maybe’ for an answer?”

“Harry,” Luna laughed.

Despite the sinking feeling of anxiety in his stomach, Harry wanted to share this with Luna. Luna was one of his dearest friends. She was safe.

“I think I’m falling for Draco,” Harry started before shaking his head, letting out a mortified chuckle, “Actually, I’m fairly certain I’m half in love with him.”

The girl beside him nodded her head sagely, letting him get it all off of his chest.

“I hadn’t realised it was happening,” Harry stared up at the constellations. “Or maybe I did, and I’ve been trying to ignore it. I’m not sure, at this point. But he’s…” his voice trailed off, “He’s everything, Luna. He’s arrogant, and annoying, and sometimes I can’t stand him. He’s so frustratingly wonderful.” Harry thumbed at the silver ring sitting on his finger, the metal warm as he admitted, “I can’t help but care about him.”

Harry was weak for affection, for love of any kind. He craved it, as if his mind and heart knew that what he had been deprived of for so long was finally on offer. 

Draco wasn’t shy with his affection. He showered Harry with teasing words and absent-minded touches. His attention was always on Harry.

Luna watched him carefully, tucking a small braid laden with flowers behind her ear. Harry let her soft expression wash over him, pushing down his anxiety.

“Luna, what do I do?” Harry asked helplessly.

She reached over to take his hands in hers, her gaze resting on where Draco’s ring sat heavy on his finger before she looked up at him.

“What do you want?” Luna asked earnestly, her eyes sparkling in the starlight.

“Draco,”

She smiled.

“Then go get him.”

~~~

“Seventh Years! Seventh Years, please gather over here!” Professor Burbage called out to the small group that had elected to attend the excursion she’d organised, “Yes, thank you, quiet now.”

Draco stood behind Harry, smugly looking over the shorter boy’s head. Harry turned back to glare at him, but Draco refused to acknowledge him. It was far more amusing to rile the Gryffindor up by ignoring him.

Looking around the crowded area, Draco fought to keep his face neutral. There were more Muggles here than he had ever seen in one place before. Huge crowds were making their way up a small set of stairs and past colossal limestone columns into the museum Burbage had been excitedly telling them about for the past week.

Initially, Draco had intended to stay at Hogwarts with Blaise and Pansy. But when he’d gone to let their professor know, Harry had turned those unreasonably green eyes up at him, asking him so nicely to come, and Draco folded like a wet piece of parchment. He was a weak, weak man around Harry Potter.

Beside them, Hermione and Ron were going over their itinerary. Hermione was pointing out the colour-coded system she had implemented, explaining the meanings of each shade of ink as Ron nodded along.

“You should all be in the groups we organised earlier this week,” Professor Burbage looked over them, nodding in satisfaction, “As you can see in the itineraries Professor Bulstrode handed out, we will spend most of the day exploring the Muggle part of the museum. After lunch, we will be meeting at the entrance to the magical exhibitions.”

Despite the long-lasting Notice-Me-Not charms placed on their small group, Draco couldn’t help but look around to ensure none of the Muggles had heard them discussing magic. He’d had quite enough lectures from the Unspeakables in charge of his and Harry’s project about the Statute.

In front of him, Harry angled his body slightly, turning to look at Draco from the corner of his eye.

“Sirius mentioned wanting a nice painting for the dining room back home,” he whispered conspiratorially, “What would you say my chances of successfully stealing a painting for him are?”

“From the museum?”

“Of course,”

“You would be apprehended immediately,” Draco whispered back, shaking his head, “You should absolutely do it.”

Harry grinned, “If I get caught, I’m naming you as an accomplice.”

“Please, they would never catch me,”

They followed Professor Burbage and Professor Bulstrode up the sprawling stairs and into the Museum. Draco waved goodbye to Megan, Layla and Wendell as they broke off from the group, heading in the opposite direction to Draco and the three Gryffindors he had somehow gotten stuck with. 

Hermione herded them past a large atrium filled to the brim with books and long desks, the cerulean carpets casting a blue sheen on the wooden furnishings. The girl cast a poorly hidden look of longing behind them as they found an unoccupied bench to sit on.

“If we start here,” Hermione said, pointing to a section on the map they’d been given upon entry, “Then we can make our way around the Ground floor before heading to the Upper floor.”

Draco nodded, looking over her shoulder at the impressively complicated map. Clearly, the museum had more to offer than Draco had initially assumed. Beside him, Harry was wriggling about, bumping into his side.

“Got it!” Harry exclaimed as he brandished their phone, “It was stuck beneath my jumper.” He shoved his belongings back into his bag, the offending jumper crumpled into a heap. “Draco, are you ready?”

Casting a glance around them, Draco reassured himself that none of the Muggles were watching them, despite the Notice-Me-Not. It had been a little while since they’d filmed in such a public location.

“Let’s get it over with,” he said with a long-suffering sigh, leaning into Harry to ensure he was within frame.

“Don’t get whiny,” Harry snorted, poking his arm with his free hand, Draco’s ring glittering in the sunlight streaming from high-up windows, “You enjoy making videos as much as I do.”

“I’d enjoy it more if I weren’t stuck with you for a partner,”

Beside them, Ron groaned.

“Can you two give it a rest?” Ron pleaded, “I know you live off of arguing with each other, but I’m not sure I’ll survive today if you keep this up.”

Draco had thought they were being relatively tame, considering their temperaments at the start of the year. Looking down at Harry with a grin, he tilted his head to the side.

“I reckon we could be worse,” Draco teased, glancing back at the redhead, “Don’t you think, Harry?”

“Oh, of course!”

With that, Harry lifted their phone and began to record.

“Hey everyone, it’s Harry and Draco!” he said animatedly, “Today, we’re on an excursion to the British Museum and our goal for today is to annoy our lovely friend here—” he angled the camera towards Ron, “as much as possible!”

“It’s Draco and Harry,” Draco corrected without venom, ruffling Harry’s curls, “And, for once, I’m with Harry on this one.”

“You guys are going to send me to an early grave,”

“You brought this on yourself, Weasel,” Draco shrugged, accidentally jostling the girl next to him.

Hermione, who was thoroughly engrossed in the map sitting on her lap, waved in the general direction of the camera. 

“Hi, Minions,” she said, not bothering to look up from the map, “Ron is to blame for his predicament.”

“‘Mione!”

Draco grinned down at her, immensely pleased. He then plucked the phone from Harry's grip, rising to his feet. He held a hand out, offering it to the scarred boy.

“Shall we, Harry?”

Harry snorted, batting his hand away and standing swiftly on his own. Soon, the group of four found themselves in a large room filled to the brim with ancient artifacts, the high ceilings serving to enhance the opulent feel of the building.

Draco aimed the camera towards a glass case housing a slab of stone, the bright lighting illuminating lines of symbols etched into the tablet. Squinting, he realised that there were different groups of distinct writing.

Next to him, Hermione gasped softly, her dark eyes shining with academic interest.

“The Rosetta Stone!” she exclaimed, tugging on Draco’s sleeve, “This is how we first learned to interpret Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphics!” The rapt expression on her face was a sight to behold. “I haven’t seen it since I was a child.”

Aiming the camera towards Hermione, Draco grinned.

“Go on, Hermione,” he prompted, “Tell us all about it.”

As Hermione began explaining how the artifact had been found, Harry and Ron began inching away. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw them make their way out of Hermione’s field of vision before dashing away. 

“It’s been here since 1802,” Hermione continued, oblivious to how her best friends had moved on to look at a series of stone busts. 

Draco, who had always been an academic at heart, listened attentively. Internally, he shook his head at Harry and Ron’s antics; they had no idea how lucky they were to have Hermione.

By the time Draco and Hermione caught up with them, Harry and Ron were halfway through the inscriptions describing the ancient statues. 

“Amr told me about some of these busts!” Harry exclaimed, looking up at the statue reverently, “Although he, uh, did say that some of them were… stolen.”

“I’m not surprised,” Hermione shook her head as Draco focused the camera on the stolen statue, “There are quite a few controversial artifacts displayed here.”

“Amr said the same thing, albeit not as politely,” Harry laughed.

Ron tugged at Draco’s arm, aiming the phone at himself as he explained to their unseen audience.

“For context, Amr is Harry’s pen pal. He’s an Un—”

“A scientist!” Hermione interjected, “Amr is a scientist.”

Taking the camera from Draco, Hermione dragged Ron towards a display case that housed a series of stone murals. Harry, still looking up at the busts, huffed in laughter.

“The Unspeakables in Egypt have so many of these,” he admitted, “When Cedric and I were at their facility, they showed us how they restored them. It was pretty cool.”

“One of these days,” Draco said as he guided Harry towards their friends, moving away from the statues, “You’re going to have to introduce me to these Unspeakables you somehow charmed into being your friends.” They side-stepped a small child who ran past on short legs, their parents trailing behind them frantically, “Of all the people in the world, of course it’s you who gets to exchange letters with them.”

“Hey, we speak plenty with the Unspeakables back home!”

“It is not so much ‘speak with’ as it is ‘get told off by’ them,”

Harry couldn’t argue with that.

~~~

Agreeing to return to the Ground floor to visit the Ancient Greek exhibits before lunch, they made their way up a sweeping set of wide stairs, pushing past throngs of people as they attempted to climb higher.

The crowds were dense, flowing like streams in nonsensical directions. Draco tried to keep close to Harry, refusing to lose sight of him in the chaos. Even his attempts to keep his hands and the phone steady as he recorded seemed fruitless.

“Harry,” he hissed when the boy began to pull away from him, “Stop walking ahead!”

“Why, afraid you’ll get lost?”

“Only a fool wouldn’t be,”

With a bright laugh, Harry turned back and took Draco’s free hand in his, threading their fingers together.

“There,” he said, “Now you won’t get lost.”

The instinctual urge to let go is strong. But the need to keep Harry close was stronger, and Draco was just a man… he gripped Harry’s hand as if it were a lifeline. 

Harry’s hand was familiar to him these days, the wand and broom callouses were well-mapped. Draco shook his head as Pansy and Blaise’s teasing voices filled his head; he refused to acknowledge any possibility that he and Harry could be… more.

Once they had caught up with Ron and Hermione, who had long since navigated their way to the next exhibit, Draco had decided that he wouldn’t mind if Harry kept holding his hand for the rest of the day.

“Oh, come on!” Ron groaned, gesturing to them, “Really?”

“All in the name of irritating you, Weasel,” Draco smirked, leaning close to Harry as he aimed the camera at Ron’s disgruntled face.

Harry paused, looking down at their joined hands.

“Of course,” he said after a beat, “We did promise to annoy you today, after all.”

Harry squeezed his hand gently. Unthinkingly, Draco returned the gesture. As they followed Ron through well-lit, timber floored rooms, Harry kept a hold of his hand, pointing out different items and facts for the camera. Draco dutifully followed along.

While searching through the museum guide they had been given, Ron had stumbled upon an old chess set and immediately decided that he had to go and see it. Hidden in a room full of ancient European artifacts, what Hermione said were the ‘Lewis Chessmen’stood proudly on a red chequered board.

“Bloody hell!” Ron was all but pressed flat against the glass, “Look at them!”

“They’re made of walrus ivory and whale teeth,” Hermione read from the plaque, clearly impressed.

“They’re gorgeous is what they are,” Ron breathed, causing Draco to snort, “If someone got me a chess set like that, I’d marry them on the spot.”

“Well,” Harry said with a wink, blowing a kiss towards the redhead, “I guess I’d better find a set then.”

“I’ll get the wedding rings sorted,” Ron replied, grinning.

Deadpanned, Draco videoed the two of them blowing kisses to each other before panning the camera towards where Harry was still holding Draco’s hand. The gold ring Harry had given Draco shone brightly on his finger.

“Someone needs to stop this man,” Draco whispered into the phone as Hermione laughed at the scene they were making, “He cannot get away with this.”

Harry shouldered Draco away, tugging his hand from his grip with a wry grin.

“I’m running away with Ron,”

“In that case,” Draco proclaimed, handing the still-recording phone to the dark-haired boy, “Hermione and I take our leave.” Turning to a delighted Hermione, Draco offered his arm out to her. She took it with grace, waving goodbye to a gaping Harry and Ron as they walked away. “We’ll see you in half an hour; do try not to do anything foolish while we’re gone!”

~~~

Harry watched Draco and Hermione saunter away, his eyes wide.

“Ron,” he started, “We’ve just been abandoned.”

“I always knew they would leave us,” Ron cried dramatically, wiping at faux tears, “Harry, whisk me away from here!”

Adjusting his grip on their phone, Harry laughed, following as Ron trudged dejectedly towards glass cases full of jewellery and broken pieces of armour.

When they made it all the way through the exhibit, skipping a couple of rooms in favour of finishing on time, Draco and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. 

Harry’s stomach fluttered at the thought of the blond. After his time with Luna, he had decided to try to signal that he was interested as much as possible. He’d stuck close to the other boy and held Draco’s hand for no reason other than that he’d wanted to. Harry tried not to look into the way Draco hadn’t pulled away from him.

His cheeks flushed as he wondered if he could somehow find an excuse to hold his hand again. For Merlin’s sake, Harry thought, admonishing himself, I’ve seen Fourth Years with more tact than this.

“You don’t think they’ve actually gone and done it, do you?” Ron asked, looking around the entrance to the room where they’d last seen their friends.

“Run away together?” Harry chuckled, “Look, mate, I’d love to say that they haven’t, but I’m not sure that I can.” He shrugged, “I’m surprised they put up with us for this long.”

Eventually, they located Draco and Hermione studying wall after wall of drawings and prints, wholly absorbed in the art. Draco’s blue-clad form blended in with the muted tones of the room, juxtaposed by the brightness of Hermione’s yellow skirt. 

Silently, Harry handed the phone to Ron, gesturing for him to stay quiet. With light footsteps, Harry crept towards the pair, careful to keep out of their line of sight. Slowly, he came to stand just behind Draco, lifting to his tiptoes as he spoke right into the blond’s ear.

“Boo!”

Draco startled, whipping around to face Harry with wide eyes. As he did so, his arm came up and smacked Harry resoundingly in the face, striking his nose with deadly aim.

“Shit!” Draco exclaimed, his face the picture of concern as Hermione gasped, “Shit, Harry, are you ok?”

“Ow,” Harry groaned, his hands clutching at his face, “I suppose I brought that upon myself.”

“I’m so sorry,” Draco said, ignoring him as he reached for Harry’s face, gently turning it to the side, “Harry, I’m so sorry. Come here, there's a bench over this way.” He urgently guided Harry to one of the many wooden benches lining the hall.

As Harry sat, Draco’s hand cradled his face tenderly, his brow furrowed. Harry would have enjoyed the way Draco fretted over him if his nose didn’t hurt so much.

“Here,” Hermione said, discreetly tucking her wand in her sleeve, looking around furtively before she cast a quick healing spell, “Is that ok?”

Harry groaned as he felt the cartilage in his nose shift ever so slightly.

“Are you ok?” Draco asked frantically, eyes scanning his face in alarm.

“I’m all good,” Harry waved him off reluctantly, “I—”

He was interrupted by Ron rushing over to him, his freckled face flushed with laughter.

“Harry,” he gasped, clutching at his side, “That was beautiful, mate, I got all of that in the camera!”

“On camera,” Hermione corrected, turning to stare Harry down, “I can’t believe you would sneak up on us like that!”

“In my defence,” Harry started, “Ron is right. That was hilarious.”

Draco, who was still watching him with concern, scowled.

“You’re an imbecile,” Draco huffed, “Honestly, Harry.” His haze softened ever so slightly, “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Harry grinned.

“You’ve hit me harder than that before,”

“Yes, well,” Draco cocked his head to the side, his nose scrunching, “You were always hitting me back.”

“I mean, I could hit you back now?”

Ron choked back laughter, hiding his smile behind his hand at Harry’s suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” Draco’s worried expression gave way to exasperation, “I take you joking to mean that I am forgiven for maiming you?”

“Yes, although—” Harry said cheekily, grinning up at the wide-eyed boy, “Holding your hand would probably make me feel better.” He offered his hand, waiting for Draco’s reply.

“You’re an idiot,” Draco breathed. He took Harry’s hand in his tightly, dragging him up, “Come on, then.”

Harry realised that he would suffer an elbow to the nose every day if it meant that Draco would keep holding his hand. 

He was pathetically head over heels.

They stood, taking their phone from a still-laughing Ron as Draco guided them towards the winding staircase that would take them back to the Ground floor.

“We’ll catch up,” Hermione shooed them away, “I wanted to show Ron some of the art.”

Bidding Ron and Hermione goodbye, Harry dragged Draco away. Swinging their joined hands between them as they navigated the crowds, Harry held their phone up to Draco’s face with his free hand. 

“After we graduate,” Harry promised, “I’m going to find a way to keep tormenting you.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope that I’d be free of you in three months,” Draco retorted, glaring at Harry over their phone, “Clearly, you’re obsessed with me.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed without hesitation, smirking at him.

Draco’s steps faltered for a second, as if he were unprepared for Harry’s response.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, the light flush on his cheeks causing Harry to grin, “I am glad that you are finally admitting it.”

Harry laughed as they stepped off the stairs, their shoes clicking against stone floors.

“You know,” he said, holding their phone up to capture both of their faces, “We haven’t really thought about what we’re going to do with our channel after we graduate.” Harry glanced at Draco, “I mean, ‘Potter and Malfoy’ is a labour of love at this point. I’m almost sad at the thought of leaving it behind.”

Draco tilted his head thoughtfully.

“I’m inclined to agree,” he said slowly, “It would be such a waste to have suffered your company all this time for no reason.” He smirked down at Harry, “I suppose we’ll just have to keep making videos.”

“Arse,” Harry grinned, “If anyone has suffered here, it’s me.” They passed under a section of the hall sheltered by a glass roof, the sunlight filtering through catching on motes of dust. “If we do keep this going,” he said, “We’ll definitely have to post a bit less. I expect that we’ll be quite busy.”

“Quite,” Draco leaned in towards him, speaking to the camera, “Minions, what do you think? Let us know if you would like us to continue our project after we graduate.”

The walk back down to the Ground floor felt shorter than it had previously, although Harry was unsure whether this was due to its familiarity or because there were fewer crowds. It felt like far too little time had passed before they found themselves standing before rows and rows of pale marble statues.

The hall that housed statues was magnificent, with tall stone walls framed by pillars and carved reliefs. Even the floors seemed to shine from within, the natural patterns in the tiles catching the light. The crowds that filled the room couldn’t detract from the sight. There was something beautiful about seeing groups of people appreciating the ancient art. In a far corner, Harry spotted someone hunched over a sketchbook, their pencil flying in rapid lines over the page. 

Harry thought that he could spend hours in that room, simply admiring it. He likely would have spent a touch too much time with his mouth hanging awkwardly open had Draco not dragged him forward, eager to get a closer look.

Each wall was lined with slabs of stone reliefs, each one depicting similar scenes. They came to stand as close as they could, pressed up against the barrier.

“They look like one continuous mural,” Draco observed, his hand pulling at Harry’s, keeping him close amongst the crowd, “I wonder how long it took to make.”

“Months, surely,” 

Following the flow of the room, they walked past each relief in awe. The precision needed to carve such intricate details was beyond either of their imaginations.

“Hermione told me they used to be painted,” Harry said, drawing Draco’s attention to a carving of a group of horses.

“Painted?”

“Yes. She said that the paint wore off over time, but most of the reliefs and statues would have been really colourful.”

Draco regarded the stone with an impressed expression, staring as if he were searching for the long-lost colours. He led Harry further down the room before saying, “What do you think these people would have looked like?”

He was looking up at a depiction of two people sitting side by side, their hands clasped between them. Harry couldn’t help but notice how it mirrored the way he and Draco stood. The bare marble revealed minute details, looking almost lifelike, but there was only so much of a story that a carving could tell. 

“Greek, perhaps?” Harry said cheekily, grinning up at Draco.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes, a look of long-suffering sigh gracing his fine features. Harry was delighted that he could put that expression there with so little effort; a lifetime of rivalry was not wasted with their newfound friendship. And it would not be wasted if that friendship ever became more.

“You’re hilarious,” Draco deadpanned, tugging gently on Harry’s hand, “I meant it in the sense of who they were. What they looked like is only part of their lives.”

Harry regarded the relief with critical eyes, cataloguing the way the people depicted were angled towards one another, the fold of their clothing draped artfully across what looked to be a long bench. There was something about the way they held each other’s gazes that caught Harry’s attention and refused to let it go.

“I suppose they were either very good friends,” Harry began, tugging at his sleeve as he thought, “Or they were madly in love.”

“You would look at it with such a dichotomous perspective,” Draco laughed, “Must it be either-or?

“In English, please?”

“Why must it be so black and white? Could they not be good friends who are madly in love with each other?”

“They could,” Harry said slowly, “But something about them gives me the impression of…” he searched for the word he wanted, “finality. They look to be as far as they’ll ever go.”

Again, Draco laughed.

“You’re beginning to sound like my mother,” he teased, “She used to take me to art galleries and spend hours analysing the art.”

“I’m appreciating the art, thank you very much,”

“Appreciating in a very academic way,”

“Me?” Harry said in faux offence, pulling away only far enough to lift his free hand dramatically up to his heart, “Academic? How dare you?”

“You sound like a seasoned professor,” Draco insisted, “Mr Potter.”

“Oh, now you’ve gone far!”

Draco’s retort was interrupted by a meek voice behind them.

“Excuse me?”

It was strange that someone was addressing them; the Notice-Me-Not charms must have finally worn off.

Harry released Draco’s hand as they turned and came face to face with the artist Harry had seen when they entered. The young woman was gently holding her sketchpad to her chest, a smile on her face as she introduced herself.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, “I know that this is a bit random, but I watch your channel. It’s so cool to meet you!” She continued, “I hope this is all right, but I couldn’t help but draw you two.”

She held out a loose piece of paper to them, allowing Harry to take it from her. Harry gasped in delight, his eyes wide. There, on a slightly wrinkled page, was a sketch of him and Draco standing in front of the relief they had just been looking at. The artist had somehow captured them mid-laugh, their joined hands and bright expressions rendered in pencil.

They mirrored the people carved into the stone behind them.

“Bloody hell,” Harry breathed, “This is beautiful!” he grinned at the artist, “You drew this just now? We can’t have been standing here for more than five minutes!”

Beside him, Draco was speechless, staring down at the sketch reverently.

“I was initially sketching the art,” she admitted, “But the moment I saw you two, I knew that I had to add you into the sketch.”

Draco found his voice, “I cannot believe you managed to draw us so well.”

“Thank you,” the artist flushed, shrugging in a self-deprecating way, “My nan’s been teaching me for a few years now.”

By the time the artist excused herself, insisting that they keep the sketch, Harry was smiling so much that his cheeks hurt. 

~~~

“Have you guys seen Professor Burbage?” Hermione asked, scanning the group of Seventh Years as they walked through an innocuous-looking archway to enter the magical past of the museum, “She wasn’t standing with Professor Bulstrode after we finished lunch.”

Looking around, Harry realised that she was right; Burbage was nowhere to be seen. 

“Professor Bulstrode?” Draco called out, getting their professor’s attention from where he was thumbing through a booklet, “Have you seen Professor Burbage?”

The man looked up at them, frowning.

“Not since this morning,” he said, his brow furrowed, “I hadn’t realised. The last I saw of her, she was talking to a couple of wizards she knew.”

Harry looked at his friends in concern. It was unlike their teacher to disappear for such a long period of time.

“We’ll keep an eye out for her,” Hermione promised.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco hurried away, ducking under a group of floating lanterns that lit the small entrance. The different coloured lights bathed them in various shades and hues, creating a psychedelic effect that had Harry’s head spinning.

Glancing around to ensure that they weren’t overheard, Ron was the first one to speak.

“We’re all in agreement that this is suspicious, right?” he asked as each of them nodded.

“We should err on the side of caution,” Hermione said, taking out her wand, “Invenire Hominem!”

Instantly, Harry felt a tug in his gut, leading him somewhere downward. She was somewhere in the lower levels of the museum, he realised. From what Harry remembered from the brief class they’d had on the museum, only the magical areas had below-ground archives and laboratories.

Harry took a moment to mourn the fact that their field trip couldn’t have stayed calmly uneventful.

“Well,” Hermione said, her sigh mirroring exactly how Harry felt, “How does everyone feel about breaking into the lower levels?”

~~~

“Our teacher has gone missing,” Harry whispered into the phone, peeking around a sharp corner, the cold stone causing goosebumps to break out over his skin, “So we’re taking you on an adventure with us as we try to find her.”

Draco, who was a few steps behind him, looked at him in disbelief.

“You’re seriously recording this?”

“I’ll be careful!”

Harry was hyper-aware of the many magical objects around. He resolved to be cautious about where he pointed the camera.

Earlier, after slipping into the archives through a cleverly hidden door that Ron had discovered, they had separated from Ron and Hermione to cover as much ground as possible, taking two different routes in an attempt to find Burbage. The insistent tugging sensation created by the spell kept them on track, but it could only lead them to a general area.

“We’re technically not supposed to be here,” Harry said quietly, “But we’ve been lucky in avoiding the museum staff up until this point.” He looked back to grin at Draco, “Care to comment on our mission?”

Draco glowered at him, walking past him into an empty hallway. They followed the path as quickly as they could, listening closely for footsteps or voices. They were lucky, in a sense, that the lower levels seemed to be made exclusively out of white stone that amplified even the smallest of sounds. Their own footsteps were muffled, the echoes combatted by a cleverly cast Imperturbable Charm.

Shoving their phone in his pocket, Harry followed behind Draco, his wand at the ready. They paused next to an open doorway, peeking in to see walls laden with an assortment of meticulously labelled items. Above each item, different coloured lights swirled about in strange patterns that presumably meant something to the wixen who worked there.

“We’re clear,” Draco said, dashing past the doorway as Harry followed close behind, “I can see more light up ahead.”

Sure enough, the hallway opened up into a brightly lit atrium. The space was massive, spanning multiple levels, and filled to the brim with magical plants. The amount of nature on display was juxtaposed with how deep underground they were, a place where no sunlight could reach.

Around the atrium, robe-clad wixen moved about, their conversations quiet and composed. Harry amended that thought when he spied a group of people arguing beneath a tall, tree filled with purple leaves, their arms waving wildly about.

“Let’s go this way,” Harry said, pulling Draco behind a cluster of thick vines climbing up a wooden trellis.

“There’s another staircase over there,” Draco pointed across the atrium, “We need to go lower.”

Traversing the populated area was a challenge in itself. Harry and Draco ducked under tightly packed bushes to avoid detection, the dense plant life lending itself to their goal. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when they slipped into the stairwell undetected. 

With each step they took, the tugging sensation in Harry’s stomach grew more intense. They were getting close to wherever Professor Burbage was. 

“We’ve somehow gotten almost five floors down without being caught,” Harry said as he resumed recording their escapade, “I sure hope Ron and Hermione are having as easy a time as we are.”

They stepped off the staircase and were immediately hit with the sound of shoes walking across stone. Harry and Draco looked at each other with wide eyes.

“I jinxed it,” Harry despaired, “There’s a room over there!”

They dashed towards a closed wooden door, pulling it open desperately. It turned out not to be a room, but rather a small storage closet filled to the brim with cleaning supplies. Wasting no time, Harry pushed Draco inside, clambering in after him.

He had barely shut the door before the footsteps had reached them.

“You know,” Draco whispered, “This is the second time you’ve shoved me into a closet.”

Harry was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, the standing space available to them limited by the piles of cleaning apparatus. He willed his beating heart to calm, if only for a little while.

“It’s a hobby of mine,” Harry retorted, their phone clutched in his hand as he strained to hear how far away the footsteps were.

“Apparently so. I’m flattered that you get so much enjoyment out of it.”

Harry was sorely tempted to push Draco into the stack of brooms leaning against the wall behind him. Once the footsteps had receded, Harry slowly opened the door, peering out to confirm that they were alone once more. 

Counting themselves lucky that there seemed to be very few people out and about, the two of them continued down through the archives, passing rooms full of oddities, laboratories, and one particularly memorable area filled to the brim with what looked to be dinosaur bones. Despite how sorely tempted he was to take a look, Harry moved on.

It was in one of the rooms they checked that they found piles of discarded and broken items.

“Look at all of this stuff,” Harry exclaimed, noting that none of the objects appeared to be magical in any sense of the word, “Do you think this is the museum’s junk drawer?”

“Junk drawer?” Draco regarded him curiously, “What is a junk drawer?”

Harry threw their phone at Draco, eager to dig around and see what he could find. The blond caught it without question.

“You know, that one drawer that you fill with random things you don’t know where to store,” Harry gestured around the room, “Or, in this case, things that are broken.”

He inspected a tower of what looked to be twigs arranged into a pyramid. There was a tiny flag situated at its peak, which caused Harry to smile.

“You’re so strange,” Draco snorted, “Come on, Professor Burbage clearly isn’t here.”

Harry reluctantly followed, and was halfway out the door when a flash of colour caught his eye. Hidden amongst a pile of canvases was a deep blue painting, half shadowed where it leaned against a table leg. Very few of the items littered across tables and overflowing shelves had descriptions, yet this one did. Its label read: Unidentified artist, unknown time period (To be discarded)

The painting depicted a ship sailing over rough waters, the waves white and frothy even under the shadow of a storm. Without a second thought, Harry whipped out his wand and shrunk the painting, shoving it in his pocket. 

When he turned around, Draco was watching him with an incredulous expression.

“Sirius wants a painting!” Harry exclaimed, attempting to defend himself from Draco’s accusing eyes, “You were encouraging my thievery earlier!”

“I didn’t think you would actually go through with it!”

“Please, you know me better than that,”

“Oh for the love of—” Draco groaned, grabbing Harry’s arm and tugging him forward, “We don’t have time for this; we need to go.”

Harry let himself be maneuvered away from the room, patting the pocket that housed the now-stolen painting.

“In my defence,” he said, “It had a label on it that said it was going to be discarded.”

Draco scoffed in disbelief, dragging a hand through his hair.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

~~~

They found Burbage passed out in a library. 

“Professor!” Harry yelled, attempting to rush forward before he was pulled back.

“Harry, wait!” Draco refused to let him go, “Something isn’t right.”

Harry wanted to go to her despite Draco’s warning.

“Draco—”

Draco pulled out his wand and said a hushed incantation, casting a spell Harry couldn’t identify. Within seconds, the boundaries of the library lit up with lines of runes forming a criss-cross pattern along every wall.

“I’m not sure what it is,” Draco said hesitantly, “But it doesn’t look safe.” He looked down at Harry, “We can’t go in there.”

Harry wasn’t about to let a strange, magical barrier stop him. Lifting his own wand, he carefully cast a levitation spell, lifting Burbage from where she was slumped on the floor. Shakily, she rose up and drifted towards them. Harry lifted the spell only once she was out of the room and away from the still-glowing runes. She crumpled to the ground softly, but unceremoniously.

Harry was just about to send a Patronus letting Hermione and Ron know that they’d found their teacher when the two of them rounded the corner.

“Nimueh’s sword,” Ron cursed, running up to them, “Is she breathing?”

“Barely,” Draco confirmed, “We need to get her out of here.”

~~~

Burbage was rushed off to St Mungo’s, and the Healers deemed it a head injury. She apparently had no memory of the event, and with the help of some heavy-duty potions, would suffer no more than a light headache for the next week. Professor Bulstrode, who came to break the news to them the next day, appeared relieved.

“Thank goodness you found her,” he said, “Who knows how long she would have been down there if not for you four.”

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco were not so quick to dismiss the incident. But, given their woeful lack of information, there wasn’t much they could do about it.

~~~

She is going to kill me, Pelion thought hopelessly as he walked to his classroom, She is going to flay me alive and dance over my grave. 

He had failed to capture Malfoy and the Potter brat again. He had thought that luring them away from their friends on a school trip would work. He had trapped Charity in the museum and set up a barrier spell that would activate once the two boys crossed the threshold, but they had evaded it.

“Professor Bulstrode!” a student called out cheerfully, waving at him.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Pelion waved back, not letting his expression fall until he was safely hidden within the walls of his classroom.

His fireplace was already lit, a masked figure waiting ominously for him in the flames. Turning his wand to the door, Pelion rushed to lock it before approaching her.

“Pelion,” the masked woman said, her voice acrid, “Your constant failures are testing my patience. Perhaps the consequences of your inability to capture two school children and retrieve Rowle’s  necklace were not made clear enough.”

“I cannot do this alone,” Pelion said through gritted teeth, “There are too many eyes on me, and the more attempts at capture I make, the more attention I draw.”

The woman tilted her head at him, the eerie face etched into her silver mask glowing in the flames. It instilled a sense of horror in him.

“You are lucky,” she sneered, “That I have more pressing matters to attend to.” 

Pelion thanked Merlin that leading Death Eaters in their Lord’s stead occupied so much of her time and efforts. 

“I will send someone to assist you,” she said, shaking her head in disdain as she pointed an accusing finger at him, “Be sure that the next time you contact me, you have both the boys and the necklace in hand.”

The fire went out with a soft crackle, the afterimage of the flames lingering in Pelion’s vision. He swore in frustration, fighting the urge to kick at the desks lining the classroom.

This would be the last time he got away with failure; she would not give him another chance.

Bellatrix Lestrange was not known for her mercy.

~~~

“Remind me why I agreed to let you keep the picture?” Harry said as Draco balanced precariously on top of his desk, “It would look great on my bedside table.”

“Because, Harry,” Draco said as he adjusted the framed drawing they had been gifted, “Those absolute hippogriffs you share a dorm with would wreck it within days.”

Carefully stepping over a stray Ancient Runes textbook on his desk, Draco moved back to gauge the placement of the frame. It was hanging on the wall above his desk, nestled among a variety of photographs— both Muggle and magical— that he had carefully placed and arranged.

Harry could remember when he had seen Draco’s dorm room for the first time. It had been clean and orderly, much like it was now, but woefully green and prim. Nowadays, thanks to Harry’s efforts, the collage of photographs and small trinkets Draco had collected over the past seven or eight months had brought some much-needed colour and variety to the room.

While Harry had argued valiantly for the drawing to be displayed in his room, he had to admit that it looked perfectly at home sitting between a photograph of them flipping each other off in front of the lake and another of Draco building a sandcastle at the beach. 

Lifting their phone, Harry took a picture of a small section of the wall, careful to ensure that nothing magical or otherwise hard-to-explain was caught in frame.

“There,” Draco declared, gingerly hopping down from his desk to survey his work, “Now it hangs in a proper place of prominence, free from the threat of destruction.”

“I’m going to set a pack of Blast-Ended Skrewts loose in here,” Harry whispered under his breath, laughing to himself.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing!”

Harry threw himself down on Draco’s perfectly made bed, ignoring Draco’s shouts of protest. Unlocking their phone with the password that the Unspeakables had built into the device, Harry grinned, searching for the app he wanted.

“Did Sirius like the painting you sent him?” Draco asked, coming to sit next to him on the bed.

Harry grinned up at him, utterly delighted.

“He loved it,” Harry said brazenly, “The fact that I stole it made his week.”

Harry quickly wrote a caption for the photo he had taken while Draco lamented the many oddities of Sirius Black and his good-for-nothing godson.

potterandmalfoy Someone gifted us this beautiful drawing when we went to the museum, and we just had to display it! (I’m going to steal it from Draco the first chance I get- Harry)

~~~

A Royal Engagement?

By Crown Watch Entertainment

Yesterday, the internet was taken by storm when pictures of Draco Malfoy (suspected to be an illegitimate member of the royal family) and his paramour, Harry Potter, surfaced. The influencer couple who rapidly rose to fame with their YouTube channel (Potter and Malfoy) were seen recording their latest video when a fan snapped the pictures below.

Depicted in the images is the couple perusing an exhibit in the British Museum together. While the image quality is blurry, you can just make out two matching rings worn on the couple’s left hands. Upon further investigation, it is clear that fans have been speculating about their relationship since January of this year, when Potter was first seen sporting the rather impressive ring. The following month, Malfoy appeared on their channel wearing his own ring, sending their fans into a craze of theories and guesswork.

Rumours of Malfoy’s position in the royal family first surfaced on a fan blog last year, and he has yet to comment on this.

~~~

thoseracoonsinatrenchcoat and 891.2k others liked your video

thoseracoonsinatrenchcoat commented: Museum date! 

CouldUPls and 82k others followed you

Jels commented: I love Hermione and Ron, they need to feature in more videos

Pandalover and 59.3k others followed you

troublezzz commented: the way these two are soooooo married

redroseblueviolet commented: Potter and Malfoy, at it again! 

TheGrant commented: Anybody else want to know how they managed to sneak into the employee only areas of the museum? 

lumb3r commented: You are the strangest couple ever and I love it with everything in me

tootiredforthis commented: Only these two would manage to lose their teacher and then proceed to find her entirely on their own.

tootiredforthis and 724.9k others liked your video

Hi_the_way commented: I want to visit there someday!

June43 commented: Malfoy, where did you get your top from?