Chapter 2
The pub was heaving. The Golden Hind was a new wizarding establishment, right around the corner from the ministry and was now essentially just an extension of the ministry, like an after-work alcohol-serving version of the canteen and various break rooms. It was always overly warm, but given that it had only opened about five years ago, and was in the middle of central London, the owners had decorated it so it felt like a centuries old cosy haven. The beer was always cold, their chips were always hot, and it was relatively cheap.
After the ministry fundraisers it was always packed to the brim, with nearly every ministry worker slotting in like sardines. There was always a fight to get to the bar- Draco was never more grateful for his pointy elbows- and a ten minute wait for one pint, but it was also usually one of the most fun nights of the year. Everyone really let loose, with the four-day weekend ahead of them, and this evening was looking like it would shape up similarly to the rest.
His celebrity status meant that Harry had secured their little group the pub’s biggest booth, tucked behind the bar, with a steady supply of alcohol, a lot of which was free, when it was ordered by one of the golden trio. Extra stools had been conjured and the table had been magically enlarged, and what felt like most of their year at Hogwarts was crammed around the table. Even those who didn’t work for the ministry and had missed the ‘performance’ earlier had joined them for a few rounds. Draco was sandwiched between Luna and Neville, and opposite Harry and Dean. The aurors had changed back into their normal clothes, but now Draco knew how deliciously sculpted they all were under their baggy t-shirts, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Harry in particular. After what had happened on the stage, Draco found himself unable to make any eye contact with Harry at all, so Draco was giving his all to trying to follow a conversation with Luna, which was no mean feat whilst sober, but he was four pints in and the last word from her mouth that he had understood had been about five minutes ago, and the nodding was beginning to make him feel dizzy.
“Who’s coming for a smoke?” Pansy said, standing down and pulling down the hem of her black pencil skirt, which had ridden dangerously high. She was like an angel sent from heaven. Draco was immediately out of his seat, climbing over people to reach her. She looped her arm through his and they were just turning to the exit into the little sheltered walled patio that made up the smoking area, a deep voice came from behind,
“I’ll come.”
“You don’t smoke, Harry.” Ron said, and Draco watched as Harry threw a peanut at him.
“Could do with some fresh air.” Harry replied, extricating himself from the table. Draco felt his stomach flip with nerves at the thought of being nearly all alone with Harry, which was something he tried to avoid at the best of times, let alone now he’d felt the other man's thighs up close and personal.
“Come on, Potty, we don’t have all day.” Pansy trilled, dragging Draco outside as she rummaged in her little clutch for her rolling tobacco.
“You want?” she asked Draco as she rolled for herself, and he nodded, desperately needing the calming effect of a cigarette, even though he really should be trying to quit. He only smoked socially, but he knew it was a bad habit, and he was unhealthy enough besides, without adding smoking into the mix.
But he knew it would calm him down, so he accepted the cigarette with a grateful nod, and leaned against the wall for some stability as Harry emerged behind them. Harry was clad in upsettingly short running shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that glowed against his brown skin. His long hair had been pulled into a bun at the back of his head, but curly fly aways framed his face, lit up like a halo in the light of the sinking sun, and Draco’s hands began to shake a little as they clutched his cigarette like a lifeline.
Pansy was sucking on hers like it was a straw, and in record time she was down to the filter, which she dropped on the floor and crushed under her black platform boots, before claiming she was dying for a piss and disappearing back inside. All of a sudden, Draco was utterly alone with Harry, who was leaning on the wall perpendicular to Draco, observing Draco with half-lidded eyes, through the thick glass of his glasses, which at some point between the fundraiser and the pub, he had swapped his contacts for.
“How did you find the show?” Harry asked after a minute of unbearable silence. Draco took a drag on his cigarette.
“It was… unexpected.” Draco said finally, feeling like his blood had turned fizzy.
“Oh? Is that good?” Harry pushed off the wall and came closer, and Draco felt his hairline prickle with sweat. He just knew he was the most unattractive shade of blotchy red, and it wasn’t doing anything to ease his nerves.
“Did you think it was a good show?” Draco shot back, desperate for Harry’s intensity to ease.
“I did, yeah. I really enjoyed it. Was a good laugh.” Harry said surprisingly earnestly. “We wanted to do something a bit different, and Ginny’s muggle friends had shown her this film about male strippers, and we all thought why not?”
“I’m surprised the minister signed off on it.” Draco said, tilting his head back to blow smoke up to the sky.
“The minister didn’t know. No one knew, that was part of the surprise.” Harry said, chuckling, before his hand deftly slipped the cigarette from between Draco’s fingers, and before Draco knew what was happening, Harry was taking a long drag, his eyes closed in relaxation.
He looked magnificent.
Draco’s brain stuck on the fact that their mouths had touched the same little piece of rizla.
“That was mine you prick.” Draco said weakly, glaring at Harry, who just laughed.
“My apologies, Malfoy, here.” Harry held the cigarette up to Draco’s lips, like he was expecting Draco to lean forward and take a drag from between Harry’s fingers. Draco did so, helpless in the face of Harry, as he always was, and he felt the skin of Harry’s palm brush the skin of his lips and his whole body started to tingle. Draco leant back, pursing his lips to blow the smoke out and suddenly Harry was there, his arm leaning against the wall next to Draco’s head, his lips hovering nanometres from Draco’s, and he was inhaling the smoke that danced from between Draco’s lips, and Draco thought that maybe he was going to die here, trapped between a brick wall and Harry Potter, with whom he had been in love since he was sixteen years old, and who was currently- literally- breathing Draco’s air.
Draco shut his eyes at the first brush of Harry’s lips against his. It was tentative, light. Then Draco pressed upwards, adding a firm pressure, and in the blink of an eye it turned hungry, raw. Harry was pressing Draco into the wall, and Draco could feel the grooves of the brick through his thin shirt. Harry tasted of smoke, and lager, and his lips were soft and the rim of his glasses dug into the skin of Draco’s cheek a little bit and Draco felt like he’d died and gone to heaven.
Too soon, much too soon, Harry pulled away. He slid a hand over Draco’s hip, his fingers lingering over Draco’s arse and twitching a bit, before he kissed Draco on the cheek and murmured “nice pockets.” in Draco’s ear. He then pulled away and grinned a boyish grin that lit up his whole face, before sauntering inside. Draco smacked his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and reliving what had just happened. He pinched himself, the thin skin on the inside of his wrist to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“Nice pockets?” he said to himself when he was in his right mind again, and he checked his front pockets, which were empty save for his wallet and his wand, like always. He then slid his hands back to his back pockets, and- there. In one of them was a sliver of paper, on which was scrawled ‘Lily cottage, Godric’s Hollow’ and Draco realised Harry had given him his floo coordinates.
Draco physically couldn’t stop grinning as he walked back inside, sat back down at the table, and started chatting to Luna again about whatever mad adventure she was going on next. In a few hours, when people started going home, Draco stayed until it was only him, Harry, Ron and Neville. When Harry stood up and fake yawned, he made direct eye-contact, before turning and heading out to the floos. Draco only made five more minutes of pretend conversation with Neville, practically bouncing in his seat, before following, already undoing the top buttons of his shirt.