The night air whipped through the open windows, cool and sharp, as Harry’s car sped down the nearly empty London streets. Draco wasn’t sure how they’d ended up here, only that they had. It had started with an impulsive idea—a getaway from the suffocating routine of their eighth year at Hogwarts, a temporary escape from everything that came with surviving a war.
And now here they were, free, reckless, the world a blur outside the windows. Harry’s hands were steady on the wheel, but there was a wildness in his eyes, the same wildness that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface. Draco watched him from the passenger seat, watched the way the streetlights flickered across his face, casting shadows that made him look older, but somehow still the same.
“What if we get caught?” Draco shouted over the roar of the engine, half laughing, half serious. There was no one else on the road, but still, this felt too dangerous, too real.
Harry just smirked, eyes never leaving the road. “Then we get caught.”
Draco’s heart was pounding, a mixture of adrenaline and something he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t fear, not really. It was something closer to freedom, the kind that felt too big for his chest. He leaned his head back, letting the wind mess up his hair, feeling the speed in his bones, the weightlessness that came with moving too fast.
“What if we crash?” Draco asked, his voice less certain this time.
Harry glanced at him, that stupid, reckless grin still on his face. “Then we crash.”
Draco huffed, rolling his eyes, but there was something about the way Harry said it—like none of it mattered. Not the road, not the rules, not the war they’d left behind. None of it was real right now. All that was real was this—this moment, this drive, this feeling that they could do anything.
Harry pressed harder on the accelerator, and Draco could feel the car surge beneath him, feel the way the tires seemed to barely grip the road. For a second, he wanted to tell Harry to slow down, to stop being an idiot, but then he realized he didn’t want that. Not really.
They sped through a red light, and Draco’s heart leapt into his throat, but still, Harry didn’t slow down. Draco closed his eyes, just for a second, feeling the rush, feeling the way the world seemed to tilt and spin around them. And then, suddenly, Harry laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh or even a triumphant one—it was just... free.
Draco opened his eyes, and for a moment, all he could see was Harry. The streetlights, the road, the city—they all blurred into the background. It was just Harry, and the way his face lit up like this was the best thing he’d ever done. Maybe it was. Maybe this was what freedom felt like. No rules, no expectations, no bloody Slytherin versus Gryffindor nonsense. Just the two of them, alive, driving through the night like nothing could touch them.
“Merlin, you’re insane,” Draco muttered, shaking his head, but there was no real heat in his words.
Harry shrugged, grinning even wider. “And you love it.”
Draco didn’t respond, didn’t want to give Harry the satisfaction of being right, but... maybe he did love it. This feeling, this recklessness, this chance to forget about everything that had happened. Maybe this was the closest they’d get to feeling normal again.
Harry’s hand slipped off the gearshift, and for a second, Draco thought he was going to rest it on his knee, but he didn’t. He just hovered there, close enough that Draco could feel the warmth of his skin. Close enough that Draco could feel the weight of everything unsaid between them.
“Why’d you come with me tonight?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice quieter now, softer.
Draco swallowed, looking out the window. The city was a blur of lights, but none of it mattered. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.
Harry didn’t push, didn’t demand an answer like he used to. He just drove, the car speeding through the night, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Draco didn’t feel like running away.
Maybe this was enough, this night, this drive. Maybe this was the closest thing to peace they’d ever get.
Draco turned his head, looking at Harry again, and for a second, everything slowed. The wild grin, the messy hair, the scar that cut across his forehead—it was all still there, but tonight, it felt... different. Harry wasn’t just Harry anymore. He was something more. Something Draco couldn’t quite put into words, but something he knew he didn’t want to lose.
“Pull over,” Draco said suddenly, his voice tight, and Harry’s eyebrows shot up.
“What? Why?”
“Just—pull over.”
Harry hesitated for a second, but then he did, the car skidding to a stop on the side of the road. The city was quieter here, the lights dimmer, the world a little softer around the edges. Draco didn’t know why he’d asked him to stop. Maybe because the feeling in his chest had grown too big, too much to ignore.
“Draco—”
But before Harry could finish, Draco reached over, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close. Their lips crashed together, hard and desperate, like they were both afraid the world would end if they didn’t.
For a second, Draco’s mind went blank, and all he could feel was Harry—Harry’s hands on his face, Harry’s breath mixing with his, Harry’s heartbeat pounding against his chest. And then, slowly, the desperation melted away, and the kiss softened, became something else. Something gentler.
When they finally pulled apart, Harry’s forehead rested against Draco’s, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “That’s why,” Draco whispered, answering the question neither of them had asked.
Harry just smiled, his hand still tangled in Draco’s shirt. “Good enough for me.”
And for the first time in a long time, Draco thought... maybe it was good enough for him too.