Cartography of Us

Draco Malfoy said yes. And that was how they found themselves on another balcony, together again—but this time, in Bath.

Bath was beautiful. The night air was cool, and the sky stretched above them, scattered with stars. Harry knew Draco liked looking at stars. He always had. He always would. Harry realised, with a quiet sort of amusement, that he must have too—after all, hadn’t he always ended up beside Draco in the Astronomy Tower, staring up at the same sky?

"Do you remember us decorating the Christmas tree?" Harry asked suddenly, his voice light with nostalgia.

Draco chuckled. "Yes."

"Do you remember everything?"

"Of course."

"We were always smiling back then," Harry mused.

Draco hummed. "We do now too."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, glancing at him. "But this time, without the potion."

They both grinned at that, something unspoken but understood passing between them.

Harry took a breath. "I like being with you." The words came out before he had really thought about them.

Draco blinked, visibly surprised.

"Do you like being with me?" Harry asked, tilting his head.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why do you think I left my entire press to be here?"

Harry smirked. "Because you wanted new pictures for your magazine?"

Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "Merlin, you really ruin the moment, Potter."

Harry just laughed, warmth spreading through his chest as they leaned back against the railing, gazing at the stars.

"I haven’t told my friends about you," Harry said, breaking the silence once again.

Draco smirked. "What a tragedy, Potter. How do you even sleep at night?"

Harry ignored the sarcasm. "I don’t know why."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Are you scared?"

"I said I don’t know."

"You’re hopeless, Potter."

Harry huffed. "Should I tell them about you?"

Draco shrugged, smirking. "That’s your problem."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You just don’t want to deal with Hermione’s interrogation, do you?"

Draco took a slow sip of his drink, utterly unbothered. "Potter, I don’t give a damn what your friends think. Or what anyone thinks, for that matter."

Harry sighed dramatically. "I liked you a minute ago."

Draco smirked. "Tragic, really. Must be tough for you."

"It is," Harry said, shaking his head. "Truly heartbreaking."

Draco clinked his glass against Harry’s. "To your suffering, then."

—

The next morning, they set off to a spot in Bath that Harry had picked. The building was barely standing—half-crumbled, swallowed by greenery, perched slightly uphill like it had given up on life and let nature take over.

Draco seemed to like it. He stood there silently for a moment, eyes scanning the ruins before lifting his camera. Harry, on the other hand, was in no mood for work. He felt… playful. Goofy, even. He tried to focus on his maps for a grand total of five minutes before declaring himself officially off-duty.

So, naturally, he went to bother Draco.

He grinned and stepped into the frame just as Draco clicked the shutter.

"Potter." Draco didn’t even lower the camera.

Harry beamed and did it again.

"Potter." This time, his name came with a warning.

Still, Harry persisted.

Draco sighed. "Don’t you have work to do?"

"Nope. Gave myself a holiday."

"Then go back to the hotel."

"Oh, you don’t have to be so rude, Draco."

"And you don’t have to be so infuriating."

"That’s literally you," Harry shot back.

Before Draco could retort, a girl wandered up the hill. She wasn’t from Britain, judging by her clothes, and she kept sneaking glances at Draco. Harry smirked.

"She’s looking at you," he whispered.

Draco didn’t even glance up.

"Oi, Draco, do you have a girlfriend? Wait—is Astoria your girlfriend?"

Draco stayed silent.

Harry huffed and plopped onto a crumbling stone. A few minutes later, Draco walked over and wordlessly pointed the camera at Harry.

Harry grinned for the photo.

Then Draco sat down beside him. The breeze was nice, the weather was perfect, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

"So, is Astoria—"

"No, Potter. I don’t have time for that."

"Same," Harry admitted.

Draco glanced up. "What about Girl Weasley?"

"Broke up half a decade ago."

Draco hummed in response, flipping through the photos on his camera. Harry, meanwhile, was watching the scenery—until something caught his eye.

Two boys, younger than them, were making their way up the hill. And to Harry’s surprise, one of them leaned in and kissed the other on the lips.

Harry blinked. "Draco, look. There." He nudged him.

Draco turned, glanced at the boys, and then—like it was the most normal thing in the world—went right back to his photos. "What, Potter? Never seen a couple before?"

"I have," Harry said quickly. "But not—you know—two boys."

Draco gave him a flat look. "Yes, Potter. Boys can fall in love with boys. Groundbreaking revelation, I know."

Harry frowned. "I don’t think I could."

"Maybe you’re straight. Maybe you’re bi. Who cares?" Draco shrugged. "Maybe you just have a tragic lack of imagination."

Harry huffed. "I do appreciate beauty."

"Oh? Go on then."

"Charlie Weasley’s fit. Bill, too."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You appreciate Weasley beauty?"

"Hey, not just Weasleys!" Harry protested. "Even Tom was handsome."

Draco looked up, horrified. "Tom?"

"Yeah," Harry said cautiously. "Voldemort."

There was a long pause.

Draco stared at him.

Harry stared back.

Draco blinked. "Potter."

"What?"

"You’ve got appalling taste."

Harry exhaled. "I meant when he was young!"

Draco shook his head, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"What about you, Draco?" Harry asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Draco didn’t look up from his camera. "I love women."

"Same," Harry said easily.

Draco finally stood, dusting off his trousers. Harry groaned dramatically.

"Just a few minutes, Potter," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Let me finish this, and then we can go wherever your heart desires. But for the love of Merlin, keep quiet."

Harry beamed. "Oh, absolutely."

Draco eyed him suspiciously. "That was too enthusiastic."

"No, no, I swear! Not a peep from me."

Draco sighed and raised his camera.

Harry immediately began humming. Loudly.

Draco lowered the camera. "Potter."

"That wasn’t a peep, that was a tune," Harry said, grinning.

Draco exhaled, long and suffering. "Why am I here?"

Harry grinned wider. "Because you love it."

—

That night, after a day of wandering and eating far too much, Harry had a realisation.

He was goofy around Draco.

Sure, he was good fun with his friends, but with Draco? It was different. It was exciting. Unpredictable. Draco kept him on his toes—mostly by insulting him, exasperating him, and somehow making him enjoy it.

It was ridiculous, really.

Harry stared at the ceiling.

Oh no.

He liked this.

—

The next morning, Harry had a brilliant idea.

"Draco, let's rent bicycles."

Draco looked up from his book, unimpressed. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I’m not sitting on one of those death traps while you cycle like a lunatic."

"Then let’s rent two," Harry said, undeterred.

Draco just stared at him again.

"I’ll teach you how to ride," Harry added, all innocence.

Draco turned a page. "No need. I already know."

Harry perked up. "Brilliant! Then let’s race—like we used to in the sky."

Draco’s lips twitched. He tried to hide it, but Harry saw it.

"That’s a yes, then."

"That’s a let me think about it," Draco corrected.

Which, as Harry well knew, meant yes.

Predictably, they ended up renting two bicycles. Both were sky blue, which Harry found amusing and Draco pretended not to care about.

It took ages to find the rental shop—mostly because Harry was not allowed to ask for directions, on Draco’s orders. But somehow, they managed.

They decided not to use the bikes just yet, leaving them at the hotel.

For once, Harry actually did his work properly.

Though he did spend an unreasonable amount of time imagining Draco trying to balance on a bicycle.

—

That night, as they lounged on the balcony, Harry had another brilliant idea.

"Let’s go for a ride."

Draco sniffed. "If you teach me."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Funny, I seem to remember someone claiming they already knew how to ride one."

Draco huffed. "I can return it, you know."

Harry grinned. "Alright, alright. I’ll shut up. Let’s go. I’ll teach you."

Draco sniffed again, like this was all deeply beneath him, but still followed Harry downstairs.

The streets were quiet, the lamps casting long shadows as they walked their bicycles towards the park.

To Harry’s surprise, Draco was actually decent at strolling along with the bike. That was a good sign, right?

But when they finally reached the park, Harry stopped, turned, and took a long look at Draco.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Harry smirked. "Just mentally preparing myself for what’s about to happen."

"Alright, Malfoy, first things first—you don’t fight the bicycle."

Draco, gripping the handlebars like they had personally insulted his family, scowled. "I’m not fighting it, Potter."

"You are absolutely fighting it," Harry said, barely holding back a laugh. "Relax."

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose. "I am relaxed."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're holding onto that thing like it owes you money."

Draco shot him a glare but loosened his grip. A little.

"Okay," Harry continued. "Now, you just push off, get some momentum, and—"

Draco pushed off. And immediately wobbled like a newborn deer.

Harry reached out on instinct, grabbing the back of Draco’s shirt just before he toppled over.

"Steady," Harry said, trying not to laugh. "You need balance."

"Oh, do I?" Draco snapped, regaining his footing. "I thought I needed sheer willpower and blind faith."

"That helps too," Harry admitted, grinning.

They tried again. And again. Draco veered left, then right, then straight into a bush.

"Well," Draco muttered from the shrubbery. "This is going well."

Harry, doubled over laughing, pulled him out. "Alright, I’ve got an idea. I’ll hold onto the seat and run alongside you."

Draco gave him a sceptical look. "Are you sure you’re fit enough for that, Potter?"

Harry gasped in mock offence. "I’ll have you know, Malfoy, I have the stamina of a—"

But Draco had already started pedalling. And, miraculously, he was actually moving.

Harry jogged beside him, hands still on the seat. "That’s it! Keep going—don’t overthink it!"

"Don’t tell me what to—"

Harry let go.

Draco kept going.

For exactly five glorious seconds.

Then he realised Harry wasn’t holding on anymore, panicked, and crashed spectacularly into the grass.

Harry winced. "You okay?"

Draco groaned from the ground. "I hate you."

Harry flopped down next to him, grinning. "You rode it, though."

Draco turned his head, meeting Harry’s gaze. And, despite himself, he smiled. "Yeah. I did, didn’t I?"

They lay there for a moment, the night quiet around them, breathless and laughing softly.

"Same time tomorrow?" Harry asked.

Draco sighed dramatically. "I suppose."

And Harry knew—Draco Malfoy would be the death of him. Or at least the death of his dignity.

—

It took four nights for Draco to get the hang of cycling—well, he wasn’t exactly a pro, but at least he no longer looked like he was being chased by an invisible Dementor. And the next day, they decided to ditch work altogether.

They spent the day weaving through Bath’s streets, mostly sticking to Muggle areas. Since Bath was a Muggle city, there weren’t many magical spots to explore—just a handful of places where old enchantments still lingered. Those, of course, were reserved for work. But today? Today was for cycling, sightseeing, and—if Harry had his way—stuffing their faces.

Draco, to Harry’s amusement, took his photography just as seriously as he took his sulking. He snapped pictures of everything—grand Georgian architecture, hidden alleyways, even a particularly angry-looking pigeon. He also tried a variety of Muggle foods, and Harry still couldn’t tell if he was enjoying them or barely tolerating them. Every bite was met with the same unreadable expression.

"Well?" Harry asked as Draco chewed on a Cornish pasty.

Draco swallowed, considering. "I respect the effort," he said at last.

Harry snorted. "That's a very polite way of saying you hate it."

Draco shrugged. "Not my fault Muggles have a deep, unwavering love for carbohydrates."

"Yeah, well, we’re cycling all day, Malfoy. You need the energy."

Draco gave him a look. "Potter, I am many things, but I am not a Quidditch player anymore. I do not require the dietary plan of a human Golden Retriever."

Harry just laughed, already dragging him towards the next food stall.