Threatening To Love You.

Title: Honesty Is The Best Policy.
Author: Pekeleke
Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.
Rating: M
Challenge: Written for the adventdrabbles 2021. Prompt #8: Christmas charades.
Word Count: 956
Warnings: Explicit Language. Dramatic Draco. Humor.
Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and the HP franchise are owned by JKR and not me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
A/N: Unbeated. Ch 8 of my Christmas Series: Threatening To Love You.
Summary: Draco gapes in scandalized outrage, “Nobody has ever gotten food poisoning at an event my department organized, Potter. Our catering selection process is the most rigorous in the business. I outlined it myself!”

Honesty Is The Best Policy.

Draco holds onto his ridiculously ugly award as he walks dazedly beside Potter. His day feels bizarre and dreamlike, like a mind-trick, or a vivid hallucination. He still can’t believe he was on the nice list. Him! A former school bully, dark wizard, and death eater.

Draco had walked into the auror’s commons half-expecting Potter’s claim to be a prank, and was shocked anew when he’d seen his mother sitting primly beside minister Shaklebolt. She'd been wearing pink indeed, and looked gorgeous, as usual. Draco has always been partial to the color on her, even though she claims it washes out her complexion. He used to demand she dressed up only in pink when he was little, and it became a family tradition for her to honor his preference on special occasions.

Draco barely remembers the award ceremony now, even though it hadn’t been long, and he just walked out of it. There had been speeches and a lot of back-slapping. Kingsley Shaklebolt himself had shaken Draco’s hand before pressing his award into them. Everyone had been smiling. And applauding. And wolf-whistling, that had been another shock. Juliet had been there too. She’d hugged him in front of everyone, and Draco had felt so— so cherished.

“You alright?” Potter asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. Draco looks at him and feels strange. They’re halfway between the ministry building and Diagon Alley, two coworkers ambling down the road together at the end of the day. Potter does this sort of thing with Weasley all the time. He does it with Finnigan too. With Granger. With minister Shaklebolt himself. Draco can’t believe he is part of that crowd now.

“I feel weird,” Draco says, more sincere than usual in present company, and blinks awkwardly in surprise when Potter stops walking altogether, looking him over with concern.

“Weird how? You look a little pale, and have gone awfully quiet. You think you’ve got food poisoning?”

Draco gapes in scandalized outrage, “Nobody has ever gotten food poisoning at an event my department organized, Potter. Our catering selection process is the most rigorous in the business. I outlined it myself!”

Potter’s slightly anxious smile softens instantly, “There you are. Welcome back, you, snarky git. I was worried we’d broken you. You haven’t called me an oaf in four hours, and didn’t even twitch when Ron ate six sausage rolls at the same time and started talking to you while his mouth was still full.”

Draco shudders, “Ewww. Don’t remind me, please. Weasley’s eating habits are disgusting.”

Potter comes even closer, “What’s going on? Do you really feel sick, or are just freaking out? I get you didn’t expect the award, but I promise you deserve it. It’s not a joke, and it’s not— I don’t know. A publicity stunt.”

Draco’s gaze drops down to the award. He is surprised at how accurately Potter can read him, “It feels like a dream. All of it. It’s— disorienting.”

“You’re awake. And probably hungry. Did you even have breakfast this morning?”

Potter’s unexpected coddling startles a laugh out of Draco, “You sound like my mother.”

Potter frowns, “And you sound like one of those blokes who regularly skips breakfast.”

Draco smirks and resumes walking, forcing Potter to do the same, “A cup of tea counts as breakfast.”

“No, it doesn’t. Tea is just boiled water, you, berk. And water is not food.”

“Fine! I’m hungry, then. And you promised to feed me, Potter. I don’t see a single restaurant around here.”

“Harry,” Potter says, apropos of nothing, and when Draco looks at him askance, explains bashfully, “We agreed to first names, remember?”

Draco blinks, positively stunned by the bewildering realization that just crossed in his mind, “Y-you— we are flirting. Aren’t we? T-this entire thing, the food, I mean, it’s a date. Isn’t it?”

Potter rubs the back of his neck nervously. A shy little smile curves his lips upwards, and his famous green eyes shine with unmasked hope, “I like you. A lot. I’ve been trying to catch your attention for a while.”

“You like me,” Draco repeats, incredulous.

Potter fidgets where he stands. He looks nervous enough to throw up. Draco has never seen him so earnest, “You mean it,” He realizes, “You truly, really, like me.”

“Yeah,” Potter confirms, his usual appalling eloquence in display. Draco doesn’t mind. He’ll probably faint -or become instantly suspicious- if Potter wasn’t acting so— Potterish.

“I— it’s a lot to take in,” Draco says, “I thought you hated me.”

“I really don’t.”

“I-I’m not dressed for a date. You sneaked this one up on me, Pott-er Harry. And I haven’t been out with a bloke in ages. I— might be a bit rusty, a-and-

“Draco,” Potter says softly, halting Draco’s nervous babbling, then takes hold of Draco’s free hand and squeezes it reassuringly, “It’s alright. We’re only popping in for a bite at the deli round the corner. They run family-friendly competitions between the customers. It’s Christmas charades on Wednesdays, and the players wear Santa hats. It’s ridiculous. I thought you’d like the idea. It’ll, hopefully, make you laugh. Afterward, I’ll walk you to the closest Apparition point and wish you goodnight. It’ll be nice, and easy, and— slow.”

Something warm and fuzzy and gooey enough to make him feel like a cheesy Hufflepuff settles inside Draco’s chest, “Are you trying to say you don’t want a hookup?”

Potter grins with delight. He’s all green eyes and crazy hair and kindness personified, “I’m trying to say that I like you, Draco. And I want to date you. Seriously, you know? Like— boyfriends and shit.”

“That’s— er- Let’s not label anything yet,” Draco says cautiously, “But I’d like to see where this goes first, Pot—er Harry.”