Draco was very much done with life, he did not want to return to Hogwarts but here he was and he was loathing it. The Great Hall was too loud, whenever he walked into the library Hermione was there and it seemed that her revenge for his actions in the war were to make him translate every French book in the restricted section for her, Pansy was on his back much like his mother about those dastardly nightmares he had which pierced through his silencing spells and echoed through the chambers, Snape and Pomfrey (As it turns out that both of them have the same sharp tongues and after Pomfrey giving a pec of her mind to Dumbledore 11yrs ago had been having tea every second day since.) were both nagging at him to help with their new dangerous project and on top of all that there was fucking Potter who had had a complete transformation in personality, he had become unabashedly flirty and sarcastic.
Much to Hermione and Weasleys amusement (and everyone else's horror) he had basically succumbed to his true self. This transformation took place on the first day back for their 8th year when Harry, mid McGonagall's speech, had stood on the Gryffindor table and said word for word ‘Listen up dipshits, if any funky stuff happens this year deal with it yourself. If I see it, and I do not care if it is the giant squid wearing a purple sombrero dancing to mamma mia on the roof I will be walking the other way or so help me god you all will discover why I am supposed to be a Slytherin’ and sit down. The Headmaster hadn’t even scolded him, instead she levitated a biscuit and a bottle of firewhiskey into his hands and continued with her speech. The first years preconceived ideas of HArry Potter were shattered to smithereens and the entire house of Slytherin was left reeling.
And, yet, Draco had still been naïve enough to think that Potter would not be fucking shit up.
This, he should've thought through before heading into the forbidden forest for a stroll and a break. Especially just before dawn.
He had meandered under the luscious trees, collecting some ingredients to definitely not help Snape and Pomfrey’s childish shenanigans. Crouching over some glowing moss he heard grunts and a loud crack, followed by a ‘shit!’ that was all too unmistakable. In the clearing (Which certainly had NOT been there the day prior) was the boy who live, alone, covered in mud, with light pink pyjamas so torn there was more skin showing then covered, dragging a Basilisk corpse. Like a deer in headlights he looked at Draco, looked at the rotting Basilisk, looked back at Draco and with a completely blank face twirled his finger, a clear message; Walk away. Draco, who had been standing with an open mouth ready to berate him, shut his mouth, squinted and walked away.
When he got back to the Castle he looked out over the forest, the sun was peeking behind the tree’s and Harry had not emerged. He would drop the ingredients off at Snape’s office and would hope that his godfather was in the shower so he would not have to hear the moss joke another time (I used to not like moss… then it grew on me.).
He sat down for breakfast with the other Slytherins plating up a croissant, a green apple along with three black coffees trying not to think about Potter’s expeditions in the forest. In particular his frustration that no only was he to be kept in the dark with why he was lugging a fucking Basilisk corpse through the forest at night, but why he had no wand on him, what the book under his arm had been, the sheer stupidity of dragging it via its poisonous fangs and finally why his pyjamas had tiny radishes on them. He reckoned his cousin had something to do with the final one.
His thoughts were kindly interrupted when Potter himself banged open the doors, still in his torn up pink pyjamas covered in first and what the whole hall hoped not to be his blood, and had the audacity to look shocked enough to see people inside that he dropped his book. The book thudded loudly and let out a litany of swear words in a complete other language, the only recognisable word was a ‘Potter’ ever so often hunting the book was somewhat sentient, until it deemed itself to have assaulted the wizard with enough verbal abuse and shit up. Potter tiredly picked up the book and walked into the silent hall aiming for the Gryffindor table where neither Hermione nor Weasley looked amused.
Draco massaged his temples and cut through the undisturbed quiet.
“Potter, what the Fuck where you doing this morning.” This raised several teachers' eyebrows and Pomfrey handed Snape a muggle $20 bill.
“Good morning Draco, what a fine way to start my day by seeing your merry face in the forest.” Pomfrey retracted her $20.
“If I were to grab you by the ear and drag you down to the chamber of secrets will what I think I saw still be where it's supposed to be?” The entire hall was watching like it was a tennis match. Harry leant back and looked over his shoulder with a sly grin which had McGonagall fuming that Snape had slithered his way out of having Harry in his house.
“Spending quality time with you alone in a chamber? I would love that.”
“What the hell happened to staying out of shit this year?”
“Well, its a bit different because I am making said shit. Besides, Minnie told me I need a hobby.” The headmaster looked affronted.
“I am almost certain she was not referring to whatever the fuck you were doing in the forest. Just keep it out of my way, I go there a lot.”
“Fine, I like the bun by the way.” Harry smirked and wordlessly summoned Draco's apple into his hand and took a bite. Draco flipped him off and the hall took that as a sign the conversation was over. Several of the teachers added money to a pot.
∞
When Potter burst into the potions room twenty minutes late wearing short blue boxers and nothing else Draco banged his head on the table. All he wanted was a calm year.
“Sev I fucked up. Big time.” The whole castle rumbled and Potter at least had the decency to wince. Everyone looked mildly worried and confused, not even Hermione seemed to know what Potter had been up to.
“Potter if this has something to do with the fucking Basilisk so help me god I will have your head for dinner and my mother will get more flowerbed fertiliser.” Blaise looked alarmed.
“Draco, is that why your mother has so many flower beds?!” He shot him a glare. Not the time. Potter grimaced, Snape looked alarmed as he got, which was not a good sign. Harrys flicked through his book quickly, searching for something while intermittently looking around in mild concern.
“Would you by any chance have, uh, tooth of a Ramora?” Hermione blanched. The castle quaked again and Snape quickly disappeared into his cupboard, returning with an semi-ancient, small, black package.
“Harry, what have you done?” Snape looked pained, not even bothering to fake hatred, clearly regretting returning to teaching.
Draco refused to be dragged into Potter shenanigans. Not this year, not ever (He was pointedly ignoring how his skin warmed whenever he saw him scantily dressed looking worse for wear, there was nothing hot about an apathetic troublemaker he told himself, even if he had the physique of an athlete. No, especially then.).
Of course he wishes were never granted.
∞
Four days later of eerie peace Potter burst through the Slytherin common room at night only wearing low slung tracksuit pants. Once again every Slytherin immediately frowned, confused how he had managed to escape the dungeons with eyes that had green and persuasive skills so good he could get in without a passcode. Draco looked up at him, raked his eyes up and down, and refocused them on the book, ignoring him with everything he had.
“Malfoy, would I be mistaken to say Poppy has taught you basic healing?” Draco looked up and arched a brow at the boy in front of him who had perfectly unharmed tan in sight.
“Perhaps.” Harry looked relieved and glared around the common room.
“This stays here, not a fucking peep or so help me god I will send the basilisk after you in your sleep.”
“The basilisk is dead.” Draco slowly said, accentuating each word. The boy’s face contorted into a grimace everyone was coming to learn meant ‘I fucked up shit.’ and then passed out, taking down with him his glamour which revealed quite deep fang wounds piercing his torso.
“If I walked away now, who would dob me in?” The entire common room raised there hands, fucking house unity. Fucking Potter and his curls. And fuck those grey trackies in particular which as he lay unconscious on the floor and the material fell on his body it was clear he was not wearing any underwear.
“Oh fuck me.”
“If you say please.” A voice said from behind him, where a ghost of Potter hovered glaring at Draco with crossed arms. “No I’m not dead, but I will be, hurry the fuck up.”. The slytherin knit by the body and took out his wands.
“I expect a thank you for saving my life gift.”
∞
The next morning (Of which POtter had stayed on the common room couch, which every slytherin will deny readjusting his blankets and pillows or checking his temperature.) when he waltzed into the Great Hall in his bloodied grey trackies no one even blinked. Not even at the large, large bottle of whiskey he held. Which he walked over to Draco and plonked on the table.
“Thanks for saving my life, git, now we aren’t even anymore. What books does Malfoy Manor have on necromancy?” He said this all in rapid succession which took a moment for Draco to process. He tracked cold perspiration down the side of his face and swore, taking off his emerald sweater and handing it to Potter leaving him in only a white shirt with several buttons undone and sleeves rolled up (Dark mark bandaged with green tape) and relaxed light blue jeans. Harry looked at what he wore and bit his lip, yet another thing Draco needed to add to his ignore list.
“No. I am not getting you those books.” Harry pulled the sweater over his head and his muscles rippled, Draco’s will power to continue denying him.
“Cissa and I have tea every three days. Last time I asked her what you were like as a child. She wasn't to show me a whole photobook next time we have tea.” Draco paled. He had not known that POtter and his mother had tea with each other, yet another weird thing to ignore. He swished his word and immediately a large stack of books fell into his hands, Harry winked and took them off him. It was unfair that he was only a cm shorter than the blonde, the whole growing thing had done a number on Draco’s hormones and he was not enjoying himself.
Harry turned around to walk over to the Gryffindor table where Ron and Hermione attempted to conceal their held hands. The entire Ravenclaw table levitated into the air, along with the benches and kids sitting on the benches, allowing HArry to walk under. Draco hadn't seen the boy’s wand in weeks nor heard him mutter anything. If heat pooled in his abdomen absolutely no one needed to know.
McGonagall's head fell into her porridge as Flitwick silently poured what looked like rum into her coffee.
∞
Draco was going to take his chances and go collect some ingredients he desperately needed from the forest. technically, he was the only student with a pass to go there, but clearly that rule was bent by POtter.
Underneath his footfall a twig snapped and he immediately looked down, what he hadn’t noticed was stepping over a carved line that had glowing purple dust in it. Yay. Fuck. It was not like anything could get anything worse so he continued in with just a slight more caution then he usually would hold.
After walking for a while and still not encountering the special grass he needed he decided it was best to look on the other side of the grounds, which is when he heard a distinctive voice, the very same that he had denied any emotions for since he was hormonal 13 yr old. It was yelling rather frantically in another language that wasn’t parseltongue, greatly confusing Draco and also making him hesitant to walk back to the castle as he would inevitably have to walk right through whatever mess HArry had caused now.
Signing deeply he decided he would tip toe around the mess and ignore whatever the hell was going on. As it turned out, he could not ignore what was going on.
In a clearing that had not been there a mere 20 min ago a milky eyed Basilisk slithered in between the tall trees following the boy reading from a book shouting or chanting. It was the Dead Lands LAnguage, Potter was a fucking Necromancer. And instead of reanimating a dead rabbit or calling someone's ghost he was bringing back a bloody Basilisk. He was actually glowing purple, which matched well with the short purple boxers he wore. Well at least Draco knew why he insisted on such revealing clothing, it was because this level of magic would generate enormous body heat. Wait, no, scratch that, this level of magic shouldn’t be possible. He also noticed around the boy's waist Draco’s green sweater was tied, he still hadn’t given it back annoyingly enough.
As Draco shook his head and snuck through the forest, keeping his head down pretending that he saw nothing he came to the realisation that Harry hadn’t had a wand since he gave Draco’s back and snapped the Elder wand. He was doing necromancy without a wand. The slytherin was three moments away from an aneurysm and decided to postpone his grass hunt for a lie down before dinner.
∞
Harry tiredly opened the Great Hall's doors, everyone now used to his underwear and pyjama prone clothing, so no one batted an eye at the purple boxers, at least he wore loose ones. If it had not been for the commotion a now rested Draco had made no one would have looked at HArry, everyone had figured out pretty early in the year the boy was not back for an education or on his own accord and therefore a blind eye could be turned to the saviour of the wizarding race.
“Harry Fucking POtter, what on gods green earth was that” his voice rose over the crowds.
“Didn’t know you were religious Draco.” This was met with a glare from the pale part veela storming towards him
“You. Chose necromancy as a hobby, then decided it's a genius idea to raise a dead basilisk as what I presume is your first endeavour in your new hobby, have not had a wand since the battle of Hogwarts and have unthinkable amounts of power.” Draco had been yelling at him while moving closer. “I do not want to have to console my mother at the funeral of her new favourite person for whatever inexplicable reason because you do not value your life.” The last three words of his spiel were accompanied by cold hands shoving a hot, muscular chest three times, each on beat, ending up with Harry’s back against the door and Draco standing uncomfortably close. Fuck, Draco should not been turned on right now, and HArry did not make matters better.
If the chatter of the hall had not dwindled considerably there was no way Draco would have heard the way Harry moaned as his back collided with the door. But he did. And he still is. Conflicted and breathing heavily, eyes drifting to his lips and back up. Harry began to smirk and Draco surged forward kissing him with as much strength as he had, eliciting a much deeper moan from the boy who flipped him against the door and pushed it open. As they stumbled out of the Hall, between desperate kisses Draco managed to mutter.
“You are not getting away with not answering me.” Feeling Harry laugh against his lips, his body shaking pressed up against his was the best thing he had ever felt.
Luna Lovegood stood up and collected the pot of cash on the staff table. She had placed her bet for ‘6pm Great Hall Thursday Purple’, which had had every professor so amused they let her into their pool. They really should’ve learnt from their past mistakes of betting against the blonde.