I Will Be Your Dandelion
Draco’s POV:
Draco cast a quick tempus. “Already 8:20 p.m.,” he said. He was sitting on the floor in his room, waiting for Harry to arrive so they could finish working on their writing assignment for the healing potion. Harry was running late, as always.
“Punctuality really isn’t one of Potter’s greatest assets,” Draco thought to himself, shaking his head slightly.
Draco’s room was neat as always. He had sorted all the books and materials they needed on the floor, and he had even prepared some tea for the two of them—high-quality lavender tea from France. His mother sometimes sent him a package, as she knew about Draco’s sleeping issues. They often exchanged letters, and Draco would tell her about his life at Hogwarts.
Draco had a good relationship with his mother. She even knew he was gay, but she didn’t tell Lucius, knowing Draco wouldn’t be comfortable with it and fearing he might be disinherited. She sometimes asked in her letters if Draco had laid eyes on a cute boy. The blond-haired boy was reading one of her recent letters as he passed the time, waiting for Harry. He smiled as he read—he was really grateful for his understanding mother.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. It opened quickly, and he was greeted by a breathless, “Sorryyy, I know I’m late.” Harry’s face was a bit flushed—it seemed like he’d hurried.
“I presume, busy saving the world again, Mr. Saviour?” Draco said teasingly with a smirk.
“Oh come on, Malfoy!” Harry answered, seemingly embarrassed but also slightly amused by Draco’s joke. Draco always appreciated when someone understood his sense of humor.
“All right, Potter, I know punctuality isn’t exactly one of your strengths—now sit down so we can start.”
Harry pouted a bit at the accusation, but did as he was told. He took one of the books from the stack and started reading.
Both boys read quietly, concentrating on the books. In between, they scribbled some notes on parchment and occasionally discussed the contents.
“Ah right, I forgot something!” Draco announced. He stood up and walked to his nightstand to retrieve a wooden tray with two cups of tea. “Let me heat them up real quick,” he said and cast a quick warming charm.
As soon as the spell was cast, the air filled with the calming, lovely aroma of lavender. Since it was a high-quality tea, the scent was quite intense.
Harry took a deep breath. He paused, as if remembering something.
“Lavender?” he said. But his voice sounded more like realization than a question, as if a memory had surfaced. Within seconds, the color rose to his cheeks. He ruffled his hair and avoided Draco’s gaze. Then he nervously took one of the cups and took a sip.
Draco studied him. Something was off. Why was Harry suddenly so nervous? He had only said “lavender,” and now he looked like a tomato. Could the scent have triggered a memory?
“No... it can’t be...” Draco thought.
He had a hunch—a hunch he hoped wasn’t true.
But if it was...
“Please don’t be true...” he thought again.
“Ever been to a lavender field, Potter? I heard they’re quite breathtaking,” he then tested the water.
“Pffffft—” Harry nearly spat out his tea. He coughed heavily and wiped his mouth. “Sorry, just caught me off guard. I was... lost in thought,” he added with a nervous laugh.
Harry couldn’t have been more obvious. He scratched his neck, eyes flicking to the side, clearly distressed.
Draco didn’t press further—he’d gotten his answer. It wasn’t a direct confirmation yet, but it was enough. He decided to keep a close eye on Harry’s odd behavior.
They continued working on their assignment. At some point, Harry reached out for another book from the stack. Draco seized the moment and reached out too, pretending to be focused on his parchment.
Their hands touched. Warm.
“Keep your mind focused,” Draco told himself.
“Ahh sorry, didn’t see you reaching,” he lied with a small smirk.
Harry looked up, their eyes meeting for a heartbeat. Then, like being struck by lightning, as if he was shifted back into reality, he looked away quickly and withdrew his hand.
“He’s nervous,” Draco realized. “Because of me.”
The rest of the assignment was finished in silence.
“All right. It’s getting late. Let’s finish the rest some other time,” Draco said.
“Fine. I’m pretty tired anyway. Good night!” Harry replied, leaving quickly—like he needed to flee.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Draco now sat alone on the edge of his bed. There was a high probability that the dreams they had been sharing weren’t just coincidences or lucid dreams—they were actually meeting each other in them.
Something had gone wrong with the potion. He would visit the library tomorrow to learn more about Dreamless Sleep, the Draught of Peace, and what could go wrong in their brewing.
He couldn’t shake the thought. If Harry really had dreamt of him too... then tonight’s dose might give him the answer he wasn’t ready for—but desperately needed.
Tonight, more than ever, Draco was determined to take the potion—he needed to know if his theory was true.
Draco held the vial between his fingers, watching the silvery-purple liquid swirl like smoke in moonlight. One drop was enough. He tilted the bottle. Let two more fall.
“Just to be sure,” he muttered—but his chest ached with how badly he hoped it would work.
Draco drank the mixture and went straight to bed. It took only moments until he fell asleep.
Draco found himself in his dreams again. This time, he was standing near a small, quiet lake in a forest. He turned around, searching for Harry.
There he was. Sitting on a large stone at the edge of the lake, his bare feet gently splashing in the water. His gaze was fixed on the full moon hanging high above, its reflection shimmering on the lake’s surface.
Draco hesitated. What should he do? Harry was here again, and Draco was certain now—this wasn’t a coincidence.
Once was random.
Twice, suspicious.
A third time... undeniable.
Harry could remember the dreams, just like Draco could.
Draco had longed for this—for a chance to meet Harry without the weight of the real world between them. A space where it felt possible. But now that he was here, doubt crept in.
It didn’t feel right.
It was like touching someone who was drunk or unconscious—someone who couldn’t give real consent. And Draco didn’t want to be that person. He wanted Harry to want him too, fully aware.
Not because of a dream.
So he decided: no more romantic gestures. No hugging, no unnecessary touching. Well maybe small things—if they stayed innocent. But nothing that crossed a line.
Draco’s eyes met Harry’s.
“Oh hi, Draco! I was waiting for you!” Harry called out cheerfully, still kicking his feet in the water.
Draco stepped back.
Then another step.
He turned and started walking away slowly.
“Hey, wait!! Draco! Why are you walking away?” Harry’s voice came behind him, a little hurt, a little confused. Draco paused.
“Wait for me, I’m coming!” the other boy called and ran after him.
Draco didn’t move. He felt torn.
How can I walk away from someone who wants me here?
Voluntarily. No potion forcing him.
So he stayed. He wouldn’t push, but he wouldn't run either.
Harry caught up and stood beside him.
“So… what are we doing today?” he asked with a smile.
“I’m not sure yet,” Draco answered softly. “But I know a place. Let’s go there.”
The dream shifted, the time turning to early morning. The two of them walked to a blooming dandelion field, the air filled with tiny tufts of dandelion fluff floating like snowflakes. The golden light of sunrise bathed everything in a warm glow.
“Woah… it’s beautiful!” Harry laughed, spinning joyfully in a circle.
“And what now?” he grinned. “Are we going to fly around like dandelions in the air?”
Draco couldn’t help but laugh. Harry looked so free, so happy—it made his heart ache in the best way.
“All right, Potter. Come here. I’ll show you something truly amazing…”
Harry stepped closer.
“Now close your eyes,” Draco instructed, wearing a smirk.
Harry closed them, his body tensing slightly, but his hands swinging happily by his sides.
Draco bent down, picked up a dandelion.
“Okay—open them.”
As soon as Harry opened his eyes—poof—Draco blew the dandelion right into his face.
“Ahhh!” Harry burst out laughing. “That tickles!”
Some of the fluff stuck to his messy hair, making him look even cuter.
Draco laughed harder than he had in a long time. He took a few playful steps back, winked, and said:
“Catch me if you can, Potter!”
“Oh, just wait till I catch you—you’ll regret that!” Harry called, grabbing a few dandelions and charging after him.
They ran. Draco tried to escape, but Harry was fast.
Draco tripped slightly on a stone—Harry caught him just in time.
But it was too late.
They both lost balance and fell to the ground—tangled together, laughing.
“Ahhh—that hurt,” Draco groaned.
“Oh come on, Malfoy, don’t be such a wimp!” Harry teased, eyes gleaming. He blew a handful of dandelion fluff into Draco’s neck.
“Ahh—it tickles!! Hahaha—stop it, please—”
They rolled in the grass, tossing fluff at each other, giggling like two boys with no war behind them.
Until they stopped.
Harry was now lying on top of Draco, both catching their breath. Their eyes locked. Harry’s gaze flickered—from Draco’s eyes to his lips, and back.
He licked his lips.
His expression shifted.
Playful. Curious. Needing.
Draco’s breath hitched.
He could feel Harry’s warmth, his breath on his cheek. The golden light, the floating seeds—it all blurred around them.
His heart was beating so fast, it felt deafening.
“Please don’t look at me like that,” Draco whispered.
“What if I don’t want to?” Harry replied, voice soft, gaze intense.
“You don’t want this,” Draco said, more to himself than to Harry.
He reached up, fingers sliding gently through Harry’s hair—just like he’d always imagined.Then he gently pushed him off and sat up.
So did Harry.
They stayed quiet, staring at each other. Then Draco leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of Harry’s head.
Without another word, he got up and walked away.
Harry stayed behind, sitting on the grass.
Still.
Breathless.
Eyes wide with longing.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Harry’s POV:
Harry woke in his bed, gasping for breath.
His heart raced. He sat up slowly, blinking in the morning light.
His fingers touched his lips.
“We almost kissed…”
He whispered the words like a confession.
Then he said it. Out loud.
“It was me. I wanted him to kiss me.”
And suddenly, everything felt different.Was he…?
He thought about Ginny.
He had loved her. Still did, in a way. But it wasn’t the same.
Not like that.
Not like with Draco.
The tension. The closeness. The way his chest tightened when their eyes met.
It wasn’t just a dream anymore.
It was something real.
And now, he had to face it.