giving in to the love
January 14 2022 / Prompt: Giving In To The Love - AURORA
T / CW drinking and smoking
“Look who it is,” Malfoy crows, arms spread out grandly. “The Saviour of the wizarding world!”
Harry frowns at him, taking note of the flush high on his cheeks, the flutes of champagne in each of his hands, and the loosened tie hanging down from his collar. He looks a mess—not unusual for him—but obnoxious and inappropriate for a high-profile Ministry function.
“Malfoy,” Harry grunts out, hoping this will be quick. He eyes the crowd to make sure neither Hermione nor Kingsley are keeping track of him. They’d expect him to give a speech soon.
“The one and only. Now, at least. God rest my sinner father’s soul.” Malfoy grins—a sharp, dangerous thing, downs a flute of champagne like a shot, then bows. The arm stretched out behind him wobbles as he bends and champagne sloshes onto Harry’s shoes. A witch standing nearby makes an affronted sound and steps back, glaring.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Harry says sharply, confiscating his remaining glass to discard on a table and grabbing hold of his arm to drag him into a secluded alcove.
Malfoy only laughs, high and bitter. “Why? Is it ruining your Golden Boy image to be seen with me?” Harry’s temper flares, quick as lightning.
“I told you not to call me that,” he bites out, roughly letting go of Malfoy’s sleeve. His back hits the wall and dishevels his already rumpled suit more.
Malfoy sneers. “But it fits you so well. You’re not the Boy Who Lived anymore, Potter. Not after you saved us all. No, you’ve been promoted!” His words are laced with alcohol and derision, mouth tilted in cruel humour.
“Fuck you,” Harry says, and Malfoy laughs again.
“You already did, Angel. Why hold back now?” He raises his brow, pulling a crumpled pack of Marlboros out from Merlin knows where, lighting a cig with a snap of his fingers and taking a drag. He’s not allowed to smoke in here, but Malfoy’s never cared about things like permission.
“You know why,” Harry replies, voice flat. He doesn’t want to have this conversation again, doesn’t want to have to explain what’s expected of him and how Malfoy can’t fit into that. It doesn’t matter what he wants.
Malfoy pushes off the wall to stand in front of him, eyes clear and sober despite the smell of champagne on his breath. “You‘ve never had the wizarding world, Harry, why change for it? You’re not theirs. Not their anything.”
“Yeah?” Harry leans in, inhaling the acrid smoke near Malfoy’s lips. “What am I then?”
“Mine,” Draco says, cupping the back of his head to pull him down, and Harry gives in.