Draco sat on his pristine grey fabric sofa, lounging with his feet inclined across to the other side. His sitting-room was filled with blissful unperturbed silence, Draco revelled in it.
He sighed deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring as he leans his head back and closes his tired eyes. It was late on a Friday evening and, as per usual, Draco was by himself. Not that he minded, in fact, he opted to be. Pansy would often invite him to the pub, just like she had done tonight, but Draco would rather curl up on his expensive furniture with a good book in his clutches.
It was nearly midnight but Draco couldn't bring himself to go off to bed, his sofa was comfortable enough. He was opting to sit, warmed by the blanket he had thrown over his plaid pyjama clad legs, he could drift off any moment now.
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by an unceremonious knocking at his front door. His eyes snapped open at the sound of the wrapping at the door which seemed to have no sense of rhythm.
Draco scowled at the irritating cacophony of noise and stood from his spot, adjusting his reading glasses and platinum locks as he walked towards the door of his flat.
Draco flung the door open with a frown and eyebrows furrowed but his expression immediately softened when he saw who was standing behind the door. Well, slumped against the doorframe.
"Harry?" Draco asked confused. Since the war the two had managed to form a sort of friendship, now that they both worked for the ministry, Harry as an Auror and Draco as an Unspeakable, they saw each other frequently.
Harry's eyebrows were furrowed and his hair was scruffier than it normally was, Draco noted, eyes raking over Harry’s crumpled form.
"I'm coming in!" Harry slurred, pushing past Draco. As he went on into the flat, Draco could smell the alcohol that was radiating off of the shorter boy. Draco rolled his eyes as he followed his friend into the living room, of course, he had ended up at the pub night Pansy and Hermione had organised.
Harry had already plonked himself confidently onto Draco's extravagant sofa by the time Draco entered the room. With an amused smile, he joined the boy who lived, looking at him expectantly.
"I'm so mad at you!" Harry yelled at Draco, an accusing finger thrust at the blonde. Draco gaped at the drunken man confusedly, unsure of what he had done to inspire such rage.
“I’m sorry?” He was completely dumbfounded. As far as he was aware Draco hadn’t done anything to harm Harry since the war.
“You should be!” Harry exclaims, standing up from the sofa and stumbling over the coffee table to have a higher position than Draco.
“Harry you’re going to need to tell me what I’ve done.” Draco tried to remain calm, hoping it would mellow Harry’s anger. He looked up at Harry who was scowling back at him, arms folded childishly over his chest.
“You’re so oblivious!” Draco had absolutely no idea what he was oblivious to. As a Slytherin in his youth he had always been commended for his observation that had been necessary for his life.
“No matter what I say or do you have absolutely no idea, do you?” This angry expression wasn’t something Draco had seen on Harry since he had defended him from a group of self righteous students in Eighth year.
“Harry I have absolutely no idea as to what you’re talking about.” Draco sighed exasperatedly.
“See! That’s the bloody issue! You’re so fucking blind to it.” Harry’s words began to slur more as his volume increased.
“Please can you just tell me what I’ve done so I can get to bed.” Draco groaned, he was growing more and more frustrated with each moment that passed.
“You haven’t noticed that I’m in love with you!” Harry finally exclaimed, his arms sloppily thrown up in the air.
Draco gaped at Harry disbelievingly, his eyes bulging from his head. “I’m sorry you’re what?” He managed to ask after a few more moments of silence.
“In love with you!” Harry repeated, walking toward Draco who fumbled to stand up. His hands were shaking and his heart thumped heavy in his chest. Draco, himself, has had feelings for Harry ever since he saw him at Malfoy manor in sixth year.
“You can’t be.” Draco took a step back from Harry, fearful that if he touched Harry he would disappear and it would all just be a dream.
“I am! I have been since eighth year.” Harry pouted in a quieter voice. Harry shuffled on the balls of his feet, suddenly shy.
“You’re drunk.” Draco stated bluntly, shaking his head, dismissing Harry’s admission as nothing but drunken stupor. He didn’t believe the words Harry was saying, it was too good to be true.
“No I’m not.” Harry’s eyes looked sad but Draco thought he looked more tired with each moment that passed.
“You are. You’ll regret all of this in the morning when you realise all the lies you’ve said.” Draco sighed, a frown on his lips. As much as he wanted this, Draco knew that Harry’s intoxication wasn’t something he could look past.
“I haven’t lied!” Harry was growing more and more frustrated every time Draco dismissed him.
“Come on, lets get you in the spare room.” Draco stepped towards Harry, beckoning for the shorter man to come over to him.
“Draco I’m being serious!” Harry argued but still did as he was told, stumbling over to Draco.
“So am I. You need to go to bed.” Draco gently placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, ready to guide the drunken man to bed.
Harry immediately melted at Draco’s touch, allowing himself to be pulled through the flat and into Draco’s spare room. As soon as Harry hit the mattress he curled up into a ball, loving the feel of the silken sheets on his skin.
Draco then went and crawled into his own bed with a heavy heart. They were the words he had longed to hear for the past 6 years, just not in these circumstances. When Draco eventually fell asleep he dreamed of the nights events on loop.
-
Draco woke with the sun the next morning. The nights events still fresh on his mind. He groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing harshly at the supple flesh.
Draco thought to Harry, who would undoubtedly wake up soon with a hangover. With that in mind he stood from his bed, leaving his room clad in pyjamas to fetch a hangover potion from his bathroom. (which he kept in store for Pansy, who suffered no matter how little she drank. Poor sod.)
Once he procured a vial he took it to his spare room, creeping in quietly as to not wake the boy who lived. Draco placed the vial on the bedside table by Harry’s head, which was covered by a silk covered duvet, the only evidence of it’s occupant being tufts of curly dark hair which poked out from the top.
Draco spent time in his kitchen afterwards, brewing coffee and fixing some pancakes with magic as his mother had taught him to do. Life without a house elf catering to your every whim had definitely been an adjustment for Draco but almost five years on he had got the hang of things.
It was as Draco was sipping coffee at his table that Harry emerged, clothes from the previous night rumpled and movement languid.
“Morning.” Harry voice was hoarse as he greeted Draco, something he couldn’t help but think was attractive.
“Good Morning. I made coffee and breakfast.” Draco gestured to the plate and mug that rested on the kitchen side. Harry thanked him quietly and joined him at the table, plate and mug in hand.
Harry took small sips from the steaming mug, savouring the taste. “How did I end up here last night?” Harry inquired.
“You barged in insisting that you were upset with me. I had no choice but to let you into my home.” Draco explained, leaving out the key details, afraid of hearing Harry telling him that he didn’t mean what he had said.
“What was I mad for?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows at Draco over the rim of his mug of coffee in question.
“Oh, well. You see- You sort of were mad at me for not noticing that you were in love with me.” Draco paused briefly to gauge Harry’s response. Harry just gaped at Draco so the taller man continued. “I knew it was just drunken words so I took you to the spare room.”
Harry’s eyes widened as he clearly remembered what had happened the night before. He dropped his mug to the table and walked purposefully out of the kitchen. Draco followed closely behind. “Harry wait-” Harry had apparated away before Draco could finish his sentence.
-
Over the next week it seemed that Harry was doing his best to avoid Draco. Harry usually came to Wednesday dinners that Pansy and Hermione hosted at their flat but when Draco arrived the man was absent. Apparently with no explanation other than being busy. This led to Pansy incessantly asking if Draco had done anything to upset Harry.
“Come on Dray! You must have done something! He’s been acting off since the Pub night last week and I know he went to your flat!” Pansy pleaded with Draco to tell him what had happened.
“Pans please leave it. I did nothing wrong. It was Harry’s own actions so I don’t understand why he’s choosing to act like a child.” Draco scowled, plying his arm from out of Pansy’s vice-like grip.
“You should know better by now than to tease Pansy with half of the answer she’s looking for.” Blaise snorted, his arm thrown around the back of Ron’s chair.
“Pansy he’ll tell us if he wants to.” Hermione reprimanded her girlfriend, rolling her eyes as she dished up the food.
“He’ll tell me now if he doesn’t want me to spill about what I walked in on in eighth year.” Pansy narrowed her eyes at Draco threateningly, knowing she had him pinned.
“You wouldn’t.” Draco gasped in shock.
“Wouldn’t I?” Came the teasing reply.
“Fine!” Draco then went on to explain friday nights events to his friends who all stared at him in disbelief. They all seemed to be confused by Harry’s behaviour and agreed that, for once, Draco hadn’t done anything wrong.
Whenever Draco was in the Auror offices to help with a case Harry would usually greet him at the door and follow him around, constantly getting under his feet. Draco thought that Harry’s annoying following was a bit endearing and now he wanted nothing more than Harry looking over his shoulder at whatever confidential file he was reading.
Now every time Draco entered the Auror floor he occasionally caught a glimpse of raven hair but it was gone before he even got the chance to investigate who it was. His visits were now boring and monotonous. Why the hell was Harry so desperate to avoid him?
-
By the Friday of the second week that Harry was avoiding him, Draco had finally had enough. So here he was, he was clad in black Muggle skinny jeans, a white shirt and a leather jacket, Pansy Parkinson happily on his arm as he entered the pub he was so used to avoiding.
The pub was filled with familiar faces. Namely people who he had spent time with in class for eight years of his life. Thanks to the union of Pansy and Hermione, and more recently Ron and Blaise, Draco had been accepted by the other house members and many of them he now considered good friends. But still, he was disappointed not to see Harry there.
So, Draco did what he thought was best. He drank his problems away. But that’s how he found himself on Harry’s porch just shy of three hours later.
Draco knocked on Harry’s door rhythmically. Even drunk he still kept his grace. The door swung open to reveal Harry, who looked sadder than he normally did. Once Harry saw Draco his muscles visibly stiffened but Draco paid it no mind.
“Potter, I’m coming in.” Draco slurred, barging past Harry’s stiff form. He made his way through Harry’s house and into the kitchen, where he opened the cupboards in search of a drink.
Harry settled in the doorway as Draco grabbed a bottle of firewiskey from the top shelf, popping the lid off. “Back to potter are we?” Harry chuckled.
“We are since you ignored me for the past two weeks for no fucking reason.” Draco spat before taking a swig straight from the bottle. Harry looked ashamed, a deep sigh passing through his lips.
“I'm sorry.” Harry muttered, avoiding Draco’s eyes.
“No! I don’t want to hear it! You come into my home telling me you’re in love with me and then just fuck off the next morning before we can talk about it? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Draco yells in anger. Harry just stands there and lets Draco berate him. “I understand you didn’t mean it but did you not stop for a second to think about how i feel?”
“Wait you think I didn’t mean it?” Harry’s eyes darted to Draco who nodded as if it were obvious. “I ran because I meant it.” Harry explained, shyness returning.
“If you meant it why did you leave?” Draco's anger returned. Harry took the bottle from Draco’s clutches and placed it on the side.
“I didn’t want to hear how you didn’t feel that way for me.”
“Are you insane? Of course I feel that way! I’ve been in love with you since sixth year.” Draco was flushing red with rage.
“This is a conversation we should have sober.” Harry grasped Draco by the shoulders, steadying the drunken man. Draco’s anger slipped away as he crumbled into Harry’s embrace, comforted by the warmth he was radiating.
“I’m going to take you to bed now.” Harry told Draco, squeezing him tight.
“Okay. But we’re talking about this tomorrow.” Draco pulled away from Harry’s embrace and walked through Harry’s house and taking the familiar route to the spare room.
“Tomorrow.” Harry echoed, smiling softly to himself as he followed Draco up the stairs.