Chapter 12
When Draco wakes up his mouth is dry and he’s still covered in ink. Looking down at himself he notices Harry Potter looking like death had crawled into his skin is wrapped around him like a distasteful scarf. Draco squints as Harry untangles himself and falls to ground in a pile of limbs and crawls his way to the dressers.
“Go back to bed.” Draco croaks, burying himself into the bedding.
“I have a job.” Harry returns his croak.
Draco groans. “Its Friday though.”
Harry meerly grunts.
Draco peers out of one eye as Harry digs through the drawers. Eventually he seems to decide on a jumper.
“‘M borrowing this,” He rubs his head, “I feel like I was hit by a car, where do you keep the hangover potion.”
“Left bathroom cabinet, the fuck is a car?”
“Uhh,” Harry gestures wildly on his way to the bathroom, “Vroom.”
“Very helpful, grab me some of that will you.”
Harry floats the potion over to Draco, who chuggs it gratefully.
“I call the first shower,” Harry says already peeling the remaining, feeling slightly better with the hangover potion in his system.
As Draco stretches, he regrets not calling the first shower. The sound of the dried ink cracking on his skin fills the room and his muscles are stiff.
As he ventures into the bathroom to brush his teeth, Harrys already in the shower and the room is filled with steam.
Apparently sensing his presence Harry calls out to him, “Do you mind handing me my toothbrush.”
Draco grabs Harry’s toothbrush and peels back the shower curtain to hand it to him. Peering in by complete and total accident, Draco barely holds back a gasp.
Harry Potter is fit and dripping wet and surrounded by steam and dripping wet and Oh god Draco is really quite gay. Unlike the man standing in Dracos shower Dracos mouth is dry. Maybe dyer then it should be. Draco shoves the toothbrush into the shower and turns around.
Its not like Draco didn’t know Harry was fit, but knowing Harrys fit and seeing him naked dripping wet in your shower are two completly different things.
He begins brushing his own teeth to try and take his mind off the situation.
“Draco, I might need a little toothpaste.” Draco wants to bang his head into the counter.
He brings the toothpaste to Harry and gets another glimpse of his fit, wet, and naked body.
“You’re looking a little red are you alright.” Draco wants to bang Harrys head into the counter.
“Just fine.” Draco manages to push out, “It’s quite warm in here thats all.”
“Alright.”
***
Harry thinks he might be reading a little to far into this, but also, is Draco… Flustered?
Oh Merlin he might be.
Does Harry want him to be flustered?
Yes. And he wants to melt into a puddle because, holy shit, he flustered Draco Malfoy.
He finished rinsing himself off and gets out of the shower wrapping a towel around his waist. He meets Draco pointedly averted gaze in the mirror.
Fuck, Harry really can’t be certain. Harry decides to take drastic mesures. He leans over Dracos shoulder, making sure to press into it as he leans over him.
“‘Scuse me, just need to put this back.” Draco is tense. Very tense. Harry wants to giggle, “Showers all yours”
***
He has to be doing this on purpose. Surely not. But pushing into Dracos shoulder like that. Draco is a weak man, and this is not fair. Two can play at the game.
Draco slowly peels the paint soaked pants from his body and stretches his sore muscles one last time before stepping into the still running shower and sighing under the hotspray, not bothering to close the curtain just yet. Staring out of the corner of his eyes he can see Harrys adams apple bob as he swallowed.
***
He noticed. He one hundred percent noticed. Draco was playing with him. Fuck. Draco was beautiful, all lean muscle and sharp lines. Harry wanted to run his thumb over the divot in his hip. Fuck.
Well it would be rude not to join the game. Harry drops the towel from his waist. Doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t noticed The Game he bent over to retrieve the black jeans he had chosen to pair with the jumper he had stolen from Draco and slipped them on, not bothering to wear the pants he originally had intended to put under it. It’s going to be uncomfortable but at least he has a chance at winning The Game.
***
Draco watches out of the corner his eye as Harry decides to taunt him further. Draco washes himself completely shamelessly as if he did not leave the curtain open, as if there is not a man who is standing in his bathroom wearing a jumper with an embroidered D on it.
***
Harry can not win against a man who is completely naked. The Game is not fair. Harry walks over to his drawer and pulls out an eyeliner before returning to the bathroom. Rolling up his sleeves and waving away the steam from the mirror he leans foreward and begins to apply it the way Hermione had taught him.
Smearing it slightly he leans back and peers into the mirror. It could be better but its good enough.
***
Who taught him eye liner? Why did they empower this living sex symbol with eye liner.
Draco gets out of the shower and drys himself off. Slowly. Mercy is for people who were not taught how to apply eyeliner. Once he’s dry he summons some of his favourite robes to the bathroom and pulls them on.
Harry smiles, “You look great,”
“Thank you, eyeliner?” Draco inquires.
“Went to a concert with ‘Mione and she taught me how,” Thought I’d try to be independent today.”
Draco casts a quick tempus.
“As lovely as that is we are running very late pack up some of that tiramisu you’re not leaving it in the fridge.”