Chapter one of this fic was originally written for the Writing School drabble portion of the International Wizarding School Championship! It has since been updated/edited to expand the parameters of the competition, but I kept the judging info in the AN. Happy reading :)
Technique: Kinship Addresses and Compound Words
School: Beauxbatons
Year: 5
Words: 1,017
Disclaimer: This fic is part three of my 'Planning-Verse' series! Of course, as per IWSC rules, this can be read on its own and make perfect sense, but you'll really get the most out of it if you read the other two fics — especially Pansy's Plan because this takes place smack dab in the middle of that. Additional info on my series can be found on my profile! Lastly, the title of this fic comes from Harry Styles' song, "Two Ghosts." I think it's a very fitting song for post-war Drarry, and for this fic in particular :)
.: we're not who we used to be :.
part I
Draco lay on his back, and he was covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. He was loath to move. The very idea of rousing himself from his prone position — of vacating Harry Potter's bed — made him break out in a cold sweat. There wasn't anything particularly special about the bed itself that held Draco captive; the soft grey duvet was covered in multi-colored patches, the sheets were plain cotton, and the pillows were missing about half their feathers.
And fine, it smelled like Harry — Draco didn't mind that bit, though it made him flush to admit it. Every time Draco shifted, a plume of Harry's sandalwood shampoo and oaky cologne settled around Draco like a welcomed second skin. He supposed, his cheeks pinking, this was one of the reasons he didn't want to move.
The real reason he wanted to stay in bed was what awaited him once he left it.
In less than an hour, he was going with Harry for drinks with Granger and Weasley, and hiding under the covers was preferable to whatever train wreck was about to occur. He'd enlisted the help of Pansy and Theo, and though they'd agreed to come, Draco was worried that they'd just add to the impending disaster. It was important to Draco that the night go well, and even though he didn't particularly care one way or another if he became friends with Granger and Weasley, Harry did. Draco didn't want to disappoint him.
Draco's logic? If he didn't move, it wouldn't happen. If it didn't happen, there wasn't a chance for that disappointment to form.
"Get up, babe," Harry ordered, smacking Draco's thigh in order to rouse him. "If we're late, Hermione will lecture us on punctuality, and I don't need another reason to drink tonight."
"Oh, God," Draco groaned, turning his head away from Harry. "Am I already driving you to the bottle?"
"Don't be dramatic." Draco peeked out from under his arm in time to see Harry roll his eyes. "I'll be drinking because if Theo doesn't like me, he won't let Teddy ride the horses at your farm anymore. I'm more likable when I'm a little tipsy."
Draco snorted.
"And Pansy might stab me with her high heel if I say something to offend her," Harry continued. He climbed onto the bed next to Draco, sprawling half on his bare chest and forcibly removing Draco's arm from his eyes. "Tonight will go perfectly. They'll take one look at you, and see exactly what I do."
"Well, I hope they don't see exactly what you do — I have no desire to shag them."
Harry scoffed and shoved off him with a tiny grin, but Draco wrapped an arm around Harry's waist before he could make his escape. Draco was the one grinning now because Harry put up no fight at all, just retook his position on Draco's chest with an exaggerated sigh.
"What exactly are you worried about?" Harry asked. Draco put his arm behind his head and looked down at Harry. He had his forearm braced on Draco's chest and his chin propped on his hand. He looked devastatingly handsome — his dark hair flopping into his bright green eyes and his skin still flushed from his shower.
"Nothing, I—" Draco broke off. What he'd been about to say would've been a lie, and he hated lying to Harry — even small white ones.
Harry was patient, and he waited him out in silence, letting Draco gather his thoughts. Harry traced absentminded and comforting circles across Draco's chest.
"I was horrible to them," Draco haltingly began. "And my family was horrible to them — hell, Aunt Bella tortured Granger in my fucking drawing room. I won't be surprised if she can't even look at me."
"Draco…" Harry whispered.
"Sometimes, I don't know how you can look at me," Draco added quietly.
"Because you are not the same person you were," Harry said vehemently. "None of us are the same as we were in school — thank Merlin. We can even leave the harder conversations for another night, and tonight can just be a-a-a reintroduction to each other. You shouldn't worry, Draco. You teased me before, but I wasn't lying when I said they'd take one look at you and see what I do."
Draco closed his eyes and turned his face away, only for Harry to cup his jaw and redirect his attention. It was a hopeless pursuit for him to try and keep his eyes shut.
"You are a fantastic person. You are kind, and generous, and anyone who doesn't see how you've changed are fools. Yeah?"
Draco nodded.
"Good." Harry kissed him again, lingering this time and teasing at Draco's lower lip. It was only when Draco surged forward and attempted to roll Harry onto his back that Harry planted a firm hand on Draco's chest and pulled back with a satisfied grin. "I also wasn't lying when I said Hermione would lecture us on punctuality."
.:..:.
The Muggle pub was loud, but that was one of the reasons Draco favored it. The noise was comforting — mindless and happy-sounding — and he'd been here many times with Pansy and Theo after the war. He enjoyed the anonymity of the place and how he could get lost in the crowd of Muggles — Muggles who couldn't give two shits about his past and whose stares didn't linger on the tattoo on his forearm.
Harry had agreed quickly when Draco suggested this be the place they meet. It was a ridiculously nice gesture to let Draco pick a familiar establishment, and he might just love Harry for it.
Draco pulled Harry through the low-lit pub, but he stopped short when he saw the red of Weasley's hair. Harry bumped into him at his sudden stop, but instead of stepping away, he remained a warm, comfortable presence at Draco's back.
"Deep breaths," Harry coached, and he didn't let Draco falter for long. Draco took a purposeful step forward as Harry called out his friend's names in greeting.
thanks for reading part one! and i hope you got as much enjoyment from this as i did. i'd love to know all you're thoughts :))