Fancy A Sweet?

What the fuck. what the fuck. what the fuck. what the fuck.

Draco had to take an extra long, extra cold shower after whatever the fuck that was. He was glad to know his dick still worked, he hadn’t had a real boner since the manor got invaded. He was less glad to know it was because of Potter. Potter had been acting strange the whole afternoon. The worst part? It wasn’t annoyingly strange. It was endearingly strange. He was funny, attentive, charming and fit, so fucking fit. With his ridiculous dimples, his stunning green eyes and his stupidly strong arms. 

Merlin, he still could feel his fingers rubbing comforting circles on his side. 

Draco wanted to kill him.

It had been such a nice evening. Draco had actual fun. He had laughed, for Merlin’s sake, a full on belly laugh. 

Draco considered just not meeting up with Potter at their agreed time. He could just go to the Potion classroom early, while Potter was in Quidditch training and finish up his part of the cauldrons.

But Salazar knows what Potter would do if Draco didn’t show up. The insane git. 

But that isn’t the whole reason you’ll go, now is it?

No, no it wasn’t the only reason.

Draco was going to go because he wanted to go. He wanted to hang out with Potter.

Oh, Merlin. What even is his life? Draco knew this would eventually blow up in his face. Anything relating to Potter always ended up badly. But Draco’s self destructive tendencies seemed to not have improved since the war. He should stop talking to Potter all together. Not even look at him. Enduring the month that Potter would probably do anything in his power to get his attention before getting bored and moving on, leaving Draco to finish his school year in boring peace. That would be the smart, proper and obviously the correct path to follow.

However, Draco could be incredibly stupid when he set his mind to it.

Of course he would meet up with Potter.

The next day, Draco overslept and only had time to grab an apple before Arithmancy. He didn’t do too bad. Charms wasn't bad either. It was mostly just taking notes and he found a far away table where he couldn’t feel Potter staring at him.

Potions was a different story. Potter went out of his way to have his table next to Draco’s. He seemed to not care about the weird looks that his friends gave him. But Potter did seem to care about the hateful looks his friend gave Draco. He elbowed Finnegan when he glared at Draco when he walked by to the only available table in the Potions classroom. Which was, conveniently for Potter, right next to his.

It was a practical lesson, they had to work on a Wound-Cleaning Potion. Easy enough. It was just a revision but it was a good potion to work on the fine skills they needed for the other, more important ones they needed to know for the N.E.W.T.S. 

Potter would glanced at him every few steps, somehow willing Draco to look up at him and then, with a childish knowing smile, he would show Draco how he was using one of his tricks and would not look away or move to the next step if Draco didn’t acknowledge him.

It was maddening how hard it was for Draco to maintain his neutral mask with Potter looking up at him and showing off proudly that he remembered what Draco taught him. 

The fucking idiot.

Draco struggled a bit to finish his potion but it turned out perfect, obviously. Draco could brew this potion with his eyes closed. Draco had to brew this potion under way more dire and tense circumstances than Potter just looking at him.

Slughorn did a round. He actually walked past Draco’s table, gave his potion a proper look and nodded at him before going to the next table. That had been the most amount of attention he had given any of Draco’s projects since the beginning of the school year.

Hanging out with Potter had its perks. Shocking.

“Oh Harry! What a wonderful potion. You sure have improved.”

Draco couldn’t help but to take a peak. Potter’s potion was mediocre at best, but given his track record, it was a surprising result.

“Thanks. I’m getting tutored.” Potter said way too casually. Alarm bells rang inside Draco’s head.

“Oh really? Well you need to give your tutor a proper thanks.” Slughorn said, being none the wiser. Potter, obviously without thinking it because that’s how he was. Leaned back to look at Draco and smiled.

You wouldn’t-

“Thank you, Malfoy.”

The whole classroom went deadly silent. The only sound being the bubbling potions. Draco’s eyes were on Harry’s but he knew that the whole class was looking at them. Slughorn looked taken aback but to his own credit, recovered quickly enough.

“Good job, Mister Malfoy.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Malfoy said tersely, sparing a glance at Slughorn before glaring at Potter who looked way too proud of himself for someone who was about to be hexed. Because Draco was gonna kill The Boy Who Could Not Keep His Mouth Shut.

The life sentence in Azkaban would be worth it.

Slughorn kept going as if Potter hadn’t shocked him beyond belief. Before Potter could make it all worse by doing something outrageous like coming over to talk with him, Draco began cleaning his work station. That, thankfully, deterred Potter from coming over. So Draco quickly cleaned up everything, bottled up a sample of the potion, finished up his written analysis, left both on Slughorn’s desk and fucking left before someone came after him for daring to talk with the Golden Boy.

\\\

“Your tutor is Draco fucking Malfoy?”

A new member of the team that Harry couldn’t even remember the name of, was the first to break the tense silence that followed them all the way from the Potions classroom to the Gryffindor dorms and to the Quidditch Pitch. Now they were warming up before what would surely be a gruesome last training before the match against Ravenclaw.  

“Yes. Why?”

“Why?!” The guy looked shocked, and the rest of the team looked shocked too? That was too much. They were looking at him with even more horrified expressions than when he had the Voldermort episodes. Ugh.

“Why him?!”

“He is good at potions.”

“Harry, are you fucking insane?”

Seamus looked over at Ron, who was keeping himself out of the discussion. Katie Bell raised one eyebrow at Ron, poking him harshly so he could not ignore them.

“Have you had him checked for spells and curses?”

“Why aren’t you shocked?”

Ron groaned loudly and stood up, now talking to the whole group. He tried to quiet the whole thing down but sadly, that had never been his forte.

“He told us, we talked and he didn’t listen, okay? We did what we could.”

That only fueled the fire of the team that were now upset at both Harry and Ron. All talking over the other. Asking questions or yelling their worthless opinions at them.

“And you didn't tell us!?”

That was the comment that bothered Harry the most.

“I don’t think it’s none of your business to know who I hang out with.” 

“That's because you aren’t thinking, dude.” Another random teammate said to him like he was daft. Then moved his attention to Ron who was trying to calm down others who were insisting that Harry needed to be tested.

“I am thinking. And it is none of any of your fucking business!”

“Yeah, but-”

“Harry is right.” Ginny’s voice cut through the chaos, bringing it all to a halt.

“You don't mind that-”

“As long as it doesn't affect his flying, I couldn't care less who he hangs out with.” Ginny looked at the whole team, another one was about to object. “And neither should any of you. Ravenclaw has been training hard and the only thing I want you all to be thinking about, is how to win. Is that clear?”

“Yes, captain!”

“Four laps. Now.”

Ginny was a godsend. The team began running and Harry mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her but she shook her head and began running next to him. Harry raised one eyebrow at her.

“You are doing an extra lap for not telling me.”

“Fair.”

“But be careful.” Harry was about to interrupt her but she didn’t let her. “Not because of Malfoy, but because of the school. You can’t be parading around with him this fresh after the war.”

“Why the fuck no-”

“Don’t be thick, Harry. You know why.” Ginny threw him a nasty look. “Look, I don’t know why you are doing this and honestly, I won’t waste my time trying to understand you.” She looked back to the front as they kept a light jog. “Just keep an eye out. The school is dying for some gossip and you two…Uff.” She shook her head.

Harry wanted to complain, wanted to be bitchy. But Ginny hasn’t been saying anything that wasn’t true. As much as people found their rivalry annoying in their younger years, it was always something people talked about. There wasn’t much to talk about now that wasn’t depressing or boring. Going back to regular classes after everything that had happened…affected everyone somehow.

As much as Harry understood the feeling, he really did. It still made him so fucking angry. Sure, they lost a lot in the war, everyone did. And everyone has been having trouble adjusting to a post-war world or whatever one of the fucking speeches he had read said. 

It was just tutoring. That was normal. Anybody could get a tutor. And it was working too! Harry was miraculously better at Potions. And he wanted to hang out with Malfoy. He had fun with him, a lot of fun. It wasn’t doing anyone any harm. So really fuck anyone who said-

“I mean what I said though.” Ginny looked back at him, bringing back to reality. “As long as it doesn’t affect your Quidditch, I don’t care who you hang out with.”

“Thank you.”

“No thank-yous. I want the Cup. Now run faster.”

Harry smirked and nodded at her. Running faster and doing the extra lap. Training was, of course, gruesome. So much so that nobody in the team had time to bring up the Malfoy-thing again. They could barely speak after Ginny called the Training over.

He ran late too. Dinner had already started but Harry wanted to shower and change before meeting up with Malfoy. While the rest of the team was too starved and just used spells, Harry was not going to risk Malfoy commenting about him being smelly.

He was done just shy of 7:15pm, just enough time to rush to the Great Hall and grab a few sandwiches and down three pumpkin juice glasses before rushing to the Potions classroom.

He thought he heard Ron whispered something like:

“For fuck’s sake, mate.”

But it didn’t matter. He was just finishing up his detention like the proper student he was.

“Hey.”

“You are late.”

“Only like a minute.”

“Still late.” Harry held the door for him, Malfoy shrugged and walked inside the classroom. “We have a lot to clean up.” Malfoy put his bag on a table, took off his robe and sat down to begin polishing. Harry followed suit.

“Are you coming to the Quidditch game tomorrow?”

“No.”

Harry stopped polishing and looked at him.

“Why?”

“I’m not interested in it.”

Ouch.

“Gryffindor is playing.”

Malfoy stopped polishing and looked at Harry with a disinterested look that would hurt if Harry didn’t know it was bullshit.

“I am aware of that, Potter. The whole school is aware of that.”

“Then why aren't you going?”

\\\

Potter could be one annoying prick when he put his mind into it, that’s for sure.

“Because I don’t feel like going.”

Potter looked distraught. As if he actually cared that Draco wasn’t going. Which was ridiculous. Why would he care? The ghost feeling of Potter’s fingers came back and distracted him. He willed his face not to flush and focussed back on polishing the cauldron.

“Wanna do a bet?”

“A bet?”

Potter nodded. Draco hesitated for a second and apparently decided to be stupid and nod. A bright smile appeared on Potter’s face.

“Don’t get too excited. What type of bet?”

“Whoever cleans the most cauldrons, wins.”

“And what do I get if I win?”

“Anything you want from Honeydukes.”

“It will be expensive.”

“I can afford it.”

“You would never be able to tell with what you’re wearing.” Draco smirked a bit and Potter snorted, shrugging. “And what do you get if, out of a miracle, you win?”

Potter acted as if he was thinking it over. Rubbing his chin as he looked up at the ceiling. Then snapped his fingers as if he just got the most perfect idea ever.

“Come to watch me play tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to watch the game.” Draco was going to go back to polishing when Potter stopped him with one word. It forced him to look back at Harry.

“No,” Potter said with a bit of harshness in his tone. “Don’t watch the game. I don't want you watching the others.” Potter looked serious, looking at Draco right in the eyes as if what he was saying was one of the most important things in the world. 

“I want you watching me.”

That made Draco feel…Ugh. Fucking Potter being him. Draco needed to remain cool. This was just Potter being Potter. He just loved getting a raise out of Draco. He was not going to let Potter win.

“Bit self centred, don't you think?”

“Wouldn't be that different from our usual matches. You were always keeping your eyes on me.”

“On the Snitch.”

“Do you take the bet or not?”

It was so infuriating how chill Potter looked. Leaning back against his wall, head slightly tilted with all his attention on Draco. Merlin, he fucking hate him. He hated him so much.

“Why should I?”

“I mean,” Potter shrugged, grabbing a cauldron. “If you are so sure you are gonna lose that you don’t want to take the bet-”

“Oh fuck off. Fine. I’m going to win anyway and I’m going to bleed your vault dry.”

Draco was sure he fucked up the moment he saw the satisfied smirk on Potter’s face. Potter pulled out his wand, but Draco didn’t feel himself flinch. Oh Merlin, he was starting to feel safe around the asshole.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to use an Anti-Bet Breaker spell. So you don’t slip away after I win the bet.”

“Anti-Bet Breaker spell? From what sweet package did you get that shit from?”

“Special edition of Exploding Bonbons.” Potter flashed him that stupidly charming smile of his. “Come on, with this spell, if you win, you will be able to run one of my vaults dry.”

“One of your vaults?”

“Two if you feel like it.” Potter shrugged in that cocky way of his. What an insufferable bastard.

“Fine.” Draco shook Potter’s hand and let him use the ridiculous spell on them.

“If Draco Malfoy wins, I will be buying all the sweets he wants, no matter the cost.” Potter winked at Draco while he casted the spell. He rolled his eyes in return. “If I, Harry Potter, win the bet, then Draco Malfoy has to come and watch me play tomorrow…wearing my red scarf.”

“What- That wasn’t part of the bet!”

“How am I supposed to see you in the stands all the way up in the air.”

“Ugh. Fine. If I, Draco Malfoy, win then Harry Potter has to have his hair be bright purple for a whole month.”

“Done.”

Potter finished off the spell with way too much confidence for someone who was going to lose. He didn’t feel different but that would probably change when the bet started. Both got ready, cauldron in hand and rag ready. Potter put a timer and once it reached 0, they both started scrubbing.

They had never scrubbed that fast in their 6 or so detentions. Each of them moving from one cauldron to the other and stacking them neatly to count. They were down to one and both reached for it. But Draco elbowed Potter out of the way and grabbed the last cauldron. He kept Potter away with his legs as he finished up polishing.

“You fucking loser! I won.” Draco sat up, holding up the cauldron triumphantly. Instead of finding a moping Potter, he found him with a non-sour smile on his face. “I won, Potter. There aren’t any more cauldrons and we had the same amount.” Draco waved the last cauldron in front of Potter’s face to erase that stupid smile on his face but the thing just grew bigger. “Why do you have that face?”

“I was born with it.”

“Seriously, Potter?”

“I guess you won…Oh wait,” Potter had his hands behind his back and slowly pulled them to the front, holding two perfectly polished cauldrons. “Oh would you look at that, I guess I forgot to put them on my stack.” He said the last part with a singsong voice and waved both cauldrons at Malfoy.

“You piece of-”

“The game is at 11:00. I will pick you up at 10.”

“I agreed to go to the Game, not for you to pick me up.” Draco pushed Potter away who just laughed, putting the cauldrons down. 

“No good luck breakfast?”

“I’m going to give you a good luck punch if you keep this shit up.” Draco stood up and put the cauldrons away, finishing just in time for his alarm to ring. “Alright. I’m leaving.”

“So soon?” Potter stood up and casted a Tempus. “It’s only 30 minutes before curfew.”

“I’m not risking it again, Potter.”

“I can walk you to the Dungeons like last time.”

“We almost got caught last time.”

“Keyword being almost.”

“No.” Draco stopped Potter from walking closer to him with his finger, pushing him away, Potter let himself be pushed. “You will go straight to the Gryffindor common room and I will go straight to mine.”

“And we will see each other tomorrow?”

“We always see each other.” Draco put on his robe and grabbed his bag on his way to the door. “We live in the same castle.”

“Are you going to watch me play?” Potter, very rudely, got in the way of him and the door. What was with him and his obsession over…actually who was he to judge him about obsessions.

“Yes, Potter. I am going to go to the game and I’ll keep my eyes on you the whole time. Now, will you let me go?”

Draco was cursed with a nice, honest smile. The one that made his dimples stand out. Draco hated it. Potter moved to the side and opened the door for him.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you to the Slytherin common room?”

Draco sighed and leaned against the doorframe, facing Potter now.

“Another ploy to figure out our password, Potter?”

“You caught me.” Potter leaned against the other side of the doorframe, that adorably annoying smile still on his face. “This is all a ploy to get inside the snake pit.”

“Bye, Potter.” Draco didn’t want to leave. Oh fuck. But he had to, just as he was about to take his first step to finally leave the doorway, Potter spoke again.

“It’s our last detention.”

Draco stopped, let out a sigh and looked at Potter again.

“It is.”

“Let me walk you to the Dungeons. You know, end your detentions with a bang.”

The way Potter phrased it made Draco blushed. For Merlin’s sake, how did he get here?

“In case you haven’t realised, we are in the Dungeons.”

Potter’s spirit seemed to wither a bit. That was what Draco wanted. He wanted for Potter to walk away, he wanted Potter to leave him alone and have a quiet year. This was exactly what he wanted. This was the goal. It was time to finish it. This was the opportunity to close whatever door he had opened that let Potter inside his life. It was time to shut, with Potter outside and throw away the key.

“Ask me again, Potter.”

This was it. It was the moment to crush whatever was keeping Potter around him. Draco was good at that. He had always been good at keeping people at a distance. It’s a fine art that was passed down from her mother and father to him. A skill that people like him needed to know, according to his mother. She taught him the art of turning people down when he started to go to galas as an active guest and not just a kid. So around close to his 14th birthday. He got a lot of practice pushing people away from him. That jackass Macmillan was a good example. He wasn't the only guy who had tried with him. Of course, getting people away from him was easier when he had the power of his name. Now, he had to adapt his tactics. Potter could be good practice.

“Can I walk you to the Slytherin Common Room?”

Of course, nothing ever worked the way Draco intended to because instead of crushing Potter’s spirit with sharp harsh words, he said:

“How many Sugar Quills do you have on you?”

Oh, how he hated the way Potter looked at him and how he rushed to find the sweets in that awful bag of his. How eager he looked. Why? It was so confusing.

“Three! All reds.”

“How could I say no to that?”

Pathetic and weak. That was what Draco was. Weak, needy and pathetic when he agreed to let Potter walk him down to the Slytherin Common Room for just three red Sugar Quills. Oh what would mother say?

“Any tips for me for tomorrow?”

“Ravenclaw plays a tight game. They probably have a game plan that they will follow to the dot.” Draco leaned against the wall, they reached the Slytherin wall in no time, obviously. “Be unpredictable, stupid even. It will throw the Seeker off their game. Shouldn’t be hard for you.”

“Not a bad tip.”

“Some of us are smart and think before acting.”

“And thank Merlin for that.”

Draco rolled his eyes, he was about to turn to get inside the common room but Potter was still standing there as if he had all the time in the world.

“It’s late, Potter.”

“We still have time before the curfew ends.”

“Barely.”

“Let’s see.”

Potter casted a Tempus. He began counting down the seconds until it was just about thirty seconds before it was 15 minutes until curfew. Then he met Draco’s eyes and winked at him.

“Good night, Malfoy.”

“Bye, Potter.” 

Then he turned around as if this was something they did all the time, and walked away, giving Draco enough time to walk inside just before curfew ended.

Thankfully, the common room was empty. He had to sit down in front of the fire for a second to process everything that happened. Draco could feel his cheeks being all flushed. Draco felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t had since before the war and a warm feeling in his stomach, a fluttery feeling that could be associated with butterflies if Draco was ridiculous enough to think that. 

He wanted to squash it. 

Potter was going to be the death of him. Thank Merlin that this was their last detention. Draco wasn’t sure he could take more of this Potter. Angry Potter? He could handle that easily. But this…nice, charming Potter…

He was going to throw up. It was all so confusing.

And tomorrow he was going to have to make a fool of himself wearing Potter’s scarf to the Quidditch game.

Maybe this was all a very complex plot to kill Draco. Give him a heart attack or something.

Draco decided to try and sleep, better to be at least a bit rested for the torture he would have to endure tomorrow.

\\\

To be quite honest, Harry wasn’t sure what all of that was all about. But Malfoy’s reactions were addictive. And there were far worse things Harry could be addicted to. It was fun. It felt dangerous, exciting yet safe? Harry couldn’t explain it and he didn’t want to. 

He didn’t need an explanation. After everything that he had gone through, he needed to have fun. He deserved it.

They both did.

Harry got ready for bed. He messed around with his friends, they all hyped each other up for the big game tomorrow. As he got into bed, he saw his red scarf hanging at the end of it. 

Harry was so going to win the game tomorrow.