Chapter 40
Harry wakes up tired. His eyes sting from the night before and his body feels like lead. But underneath the bone-deep exhaustion he wonders if will ever leave him permanently, is a sense of absoulute contentment.
Because even after seeing Harry like that, Draco still lays next to him, a hand resting softly in the dip of his waist. Even after seeing Harry at his lowest time and time again, his boyfriend still pulls him closer in the night with a soft smile on his face. Even after seeing Harry Potter, The Savior of the Wizarding World so broken, he still lets him wear his sweaters. Still lets him be here with him.
Harry thinks he’s found his soulmate. Who else would stay after all that? Certainly no one who wasn’t meant to share a soul with him?
Draco stirs, squinting at him, “What time is it?”
Harry casts a lazy tempus charm and directs it towards his boyfriend.
“We’ve got about an hour to get ready…” Harry says, voice scratchy from the morning.
“An hour?” Draco shoots up josteling Harry, who falls face down on the floor, “Merlins tits, you didn’t think to wake me up sooner.”
Harry just grunts, mouth full of carpet making it more then just a little difficult to speak.
“You will be the death of me,” Draco says nudging Harry out of his way with his foot, not super gently, “I never slept in before sharing a bed with you.”
Harry flips himself over so he’s laying on his back, “You’re welcome… I think?”
Draco only says, “No.” While dropping Harry’s glasses onto his face making Harry wince.
Harry stands up from his place on the floor and goes to the bathroom giving himself a onceover. He looks awful. His eyes are red and puffy and there are dark circles beneath his eyes but worst of all… His hair.
He made the mistake of sleeping on it wet, nary a drying charm to save him from his now fluffy state. He looks like a glorified poodle. An exhausted glorified poodle.
“Draco you’ve done this to me.” Draco peeks his head of the shower, and upon laying eyes on him his hand flys to his face.
“Oh Harry, honey, what happened?” Draco does not stifle his giggles, much to Harry’s chagrin.
“I slept on it.” He groans, trying to run a hand through it and failing, his fingers being caught in all the knots.
Draco eyes him, “I can see that?”
“I need to call Hermione,” Harry walks dejectedly to the floo.
Hermione answers swiftly, looking rather frazled herself, “Harry?”
“Help.”
“Oh my god, you look like shit?” She says looking over him with sympathetic eyes.
“Please, how do I fix the hair,” He pleads, hands clasped and everything, “Everything else I can make Draco fix, but have you seen his hair? It’s-”
“Inherently flawless?” Draco questions coming out of the bathroom.
“Yes.” Harry deadpans, before turning to catching his eye and instead catching an eye-full of all of his shirtless glory. He feels his deadpan turn from stoic to slightly dazed.
“I thought you guys were denying being together?” Hermione looks between them with a raised eyebrow.
“We are.” Draco glares at her pulling his shirt over his head, “It would be rather uncouth for two professors with romantic relations to be sharing a living space in the school.”
Harry grins up at his boyfriend, “Yeah uncouth, anyways we didnt call for you to-”
“We didn’t call at all, you did.” Draco interjects.
“I didn’t call for you to asses my relationship.” Harry says emphasizing I and rolling his eyes, “The hair ‘Mione, the hair.”
“Oh, did you try asking your hair in the language of magic?” She suggests and Harry can’t help but get a sense of being disected.
“You’re just trying to study me,” Harry pouts before asking his hair to calm down, not with particularly kind language, but his hair isn’t being kind to him.
He hates that it works immediately.
“Thats so handy,” Hermione marvels.
Harry doesn’t bother saying good bye, ending the floo call abruptly.
“Tell me I’m not only a means for research, Draco.” Harry pleads falling backwards to look at him, “Theres more to me then bad hair and powerful magic right.”
Draco steps over his head, “Sure, love, go get dressed.”
Harry sighs and scootches dramatically towards the door.
***
Draco laid clothes out of Harry. He may regret this when he has to hear about how hot the wonderful Harry Potter is from a bunch of twelve year olds, but it’s a sacrifice he’s making today.
Harry walked out of the room looking very confused in black ripped jeans and a wrinkled black button up. Wrinkled.
“That was a gift from my mother Potter, and you’ve immediately wrinkled it.” Draco smooths it out, adjusting Harrys coller so the embroidered DM isn’t visible.
Harry doesn’t say anything just smiles up at him, “Do you know how many tailoring charms I used on that?”
“A lot,” Harry says in a mockingly solom tone, “All these mucles must’ve been hard to work around.”
Draco swats Harry when he flexs in his dirrection, “Stop that, and the height differnece was my main problem.”
Harry pouts as Draco takes a step back to admire his handy work. It’s missing something. Draco walks into the bathroom to grab an eyeliner but when he comes back Harry’s got two buttons unnbuttoned.
“It’s awfully stuffy.” Harry comments, “I don’t know how you stand it,”
“Cooling charms, sit down.” Harry sits obediently and Draco stradles him and uncaps the eyeliner, “Do not move, I will not be responsible for you loosing an eye.”
Draco pulls at his undereye and carefully applies the eyeliner. As he’s just finishing the second eye, he hears the door slam open, he jerks and stabs Harry directly in the eye.
“For fucks sake, Draco.” Harrys hand flies up to cover his now wounded eye.
“Hello Draco darling.” A familiar voice says, “Intresting perdicament you’re in,”