Chapter 6
Returning to normal life was *supposed* to be easy.
For Harry, it meant going back to Auror training, dealing with paperwork, field exercises, and occasionally getting hexed in the face. For Draco, it meant returning to his cushy life as the son of a wealthy politician, lounging in silk robes and attending high-profile events where people pretended not to hate each other.
But there was *one* problem.
They couldn’t seem to *function* without each other anymore.
It started small.
Harry, fresh from being dumped back into the hustle of Auror training, kept *expecting* Draco to be there. He’d reach out to grab something and realize he wasn’t carrying Draco around anymore. He’d get off work and feel the *unnerving* absence of someone dramatically draping themselves over his lap.
Draco, meanwhile, found his life *insufferable*.
"*Where is my coconut, Potter*?" he had whined the first time they met up after returning. "*You used to *peel* them for me!*"
"*That was survival,*" Harry had groaned. "*You live in a mansion, Malfoy.*"
"*So?* Your point?*"
Harry hadn’t had a good answer.
It only got *worse* from there.
Draco started *showing up* at random times. During Harry’s Auror training breaks. At his flat. At the Ministry. Every time, he had a different excuse.
*"I was in the area."*
*"Father’s event was boring."*
*"I require entertainment."*
*"You left me for an entire *day*, Potter. Unacceptable."*
And Harry? He *let it happen*.
No, worse—he *enabled it*. He complained every time, but he still let Draco stretch across his couch, still made him tea, still let him sit way *too* close. And when Draco *pretended* to be exhausted after a long day of *doing absolutely nothing*, Harry *sighed* and pulled him into his lap *like an absolute fool*.
By the time Ron and Hermione noticed, it was too late.
"You *cannot* still be carrying Malfoy around," Hermione said one evening as they sat at the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry blinked, mid-sip of his drink. "I *don’t*."
Ron snorted. "Mate. He came in here, sat in your lap, and *demanded a drink* without even looking at the menu."
Draco, curled against Harry’s side, barely glanced up from his wine. "*And?*"
Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is *not* normal."
Draco yawned. "*Normal* is boring. Potter likes me like this, don’t you, darling?"
Harry groaned but didn’t push him off. *Because he did*. He liked knowing where Draco was. He liked *taking care* of him. Even if it made *absolutely no sense*.
Ron looked between them, horrified. "*You’re co-dependent.*"
Draco smirked. "*You’re jealous.*"
Hermione and Ron exchanged a long look.
"Lost cause," Hermione muttered.
"*Completely*," Ron agreed.
Harry just sighed and adjusted Draco more comfortably in his arms. *Maybe* it was a problem.
But if it was? He didn’t really want to fix it.