"Neville asks if he can bring his girlfriend," Harry says to Draco on Thursday. They're cleaning out one of the bedrooms on the third floor, boxing up any personal effects so that they can put them in the storage room until they figure out something else to do with them. Draco has plans to strip the wallpaper from the walls as well, if he has the time once they're done.
"And?" Draco asks.
"Erm. Should he?"
"It's your house, Harry."
"Right," Harry says nodding. "I just… Well you're here too, now." Draco fights to keep the smile off of his face, even though he knows it's hidden by his mask. He's ridiculously pleased that Harry cares about his opinion on this.
"It would be supremely unfair to separate Longbottom from his girlfriend in the middle of a pandemic," Draco says. "Who is he going out with anyway?"
"Hannah Abbott."
"The Hufflepuff?"
"Do you know any other Hannah Abbotts?" Harry asks, and Draco rolls his eyes. "I'll tell him yes then." Draco nods once, and then pulls open one of the drawers in the dresser he's standing in front of. It's empty save for an old hairbrush, plated in silver. Draco reaches to pick it up, and the hairbrush bristles start to move as his hand gets closer, so he stops. Instead, he walks over to the box that they're going to put in storage — or the rubbish tip, they haven't decided which— and pulls out a shoe horn. He brings it over to the dresser, and lowers the shoehorn to the brush. As he feared might be the case, the brush latches onto the shoehorn, using its bristles like teeth.
"We've got another cursed one here," Draco says. He gingerly lifts the shoehorn up and the brush stays attached, which is convenient. He carries the pair of them over to the box and drops them in.
"Why there are so many dark artifacts in this house," Harry says. "I shall never know."
"Many old families found them useful," Draco says. "The items don't affect the owner, so it's a good theft deterrent."
"I guess that makes sense. I just wish someone else had taken care of the objects when the original owners had died."
"But then we wouldn't get to have this fun, quality time together," Draco says, his tone bright with over the top sarcasm.
"Mm," Harry says. "Quality time."
"You say that like this isn't."
"Quality time is sitting around a dinner table drinking good wine and having a nice conversation. This? This is just time."
"Hey," Draco says. "It could be worse. At least the company's decent."
"Are you saying I'm decent company?" Harry almost sounds hopeful.
"No," Draco says. "I was talking about myself."
"Prick." Draco just winks at him and goes back to working on the dresser.
…
"What would you say if I suggested that we invite more people to join us in quarantine?" Harry asks that Saturday night as they're playing their post Doctor Who game of Monopoly. They're both sitting on the floor this time, their legs competing for space under the coffee table. Draco is currently winning, or at least he thinks he is. He has more properties than Harry, but also much less money.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"I mean I have another, what? Five, six bedrooms? We can invite more people than just Hannah and Neville." Draco frowns and picks up the dice.
"Would these other people be helping out with the house or would they just be here to take advantage of your very good cooking and hospitality?" Draco moves his token five spaces and glowers as he hands fourteen pounds over to Harry.
"I would hope they would help out," Harry says. "But it would be up to them, of course. And the more help we get, the faster it turns into a nice place to be."
"Yes," Draco muses. "I imagine the pool will be much more desirable once it's clean and not filled with pond scum." He's very excited for the time when they can use the pool, if just so he can use it as an excuse to make Harry take his shirt off. He watches as Harry takes his turn, landing on one of Draco's railroads. Harry sighs and hands over the requested fifty.
"What about Ron?" he asks.
"What do you mean?"
"Can I invite Ron?"
"Why are you asking me?" Draco rolls doubles and ends up making it a decent way around the board before landing on one of his own properties. "It's your house." He thought they had established that earlier.
"You don't like him."
"I thought you didn't either," Draco says. Harry hasn't talked much about what he and Weasley talked about once Draco had left them alone on Wednesday.
"He's my best friend." Draco stays quiet. If Potter wants to invite Weasley to stay, that's his decision. That Draco will want to punch Weasley in the face is irrelevant. "We could take this time to fully bury the hatchet so to speak."
"You could," Draco says, diplomatically.
"I think I'll text him."
"Weasley has a phone?" Draco bets it's the same old Nokia that Harry has.
"Hermione made us all get phones a few years ago. She's very against Floo calls." Draco cocks his head to the side and looks at Harry inquisitively. Harry shrugs. "Something to do with it being undignified to talk to someone with your head in a fireplace and your arse in the air." Draco snorts in amusement.
"She has a point." Draco pulls out his Pebl and flips it open, while Harry taps away on his brick of a phone. "Might I invite Pansy? It would be nice to have her around to help out." Pansy's much better with structural spells than Draco is. Harry nods distractedly, so Draco pulls up his text conversation with her and shoots off a text, smiling at her last text to him of 'I H8 INTL PKEYS'.
Hey, come stay with us, he sends before realizing it sounds like he's inviting her to the Manor. I mean at Potter's house.
He blames the wine for his impulsive texts. While he waits for her response, he decides to take his turn at Monopoly. He advances to the railroad before Go and mortgages one of his cheaper properties in order to buy it.
TF r u doing Potter's? Pansy's response reads. Of course, he hasn't told her he's staying here. Before he can reply, he receives a second text. R U dating him?
He's a client, he texts back. Come help us with the reno. There's a long pause before Pansy texts back,
K fine. And he supposes that is that.
"Pansy's in," he tells Harry, who is frowning down at his own phone. "What's wrong?"
"Ron says that his mum is asking if we can take Percy as well, since he's driving her round the bend."
"Tell him we can't," Draco says immediately.
"Why not?"
"Have you met Percy Weasley?" Harry gives him a withering glare. "Mr Perfect Prefect Head Boy turned Ministry Stooge?" Harry screws up his face, then jumps as his phone vibrates again. He laughs at whatever text he's received and Draco gently kicks him under the table to make him share.
"Ron says we can just bung him in the study all day while he does his Ministry work from home." Draco sighs.
"Fine," he says. "But only if we can balance him out with someone fun." Harry looks quizzically at him. "Do you know any hot quidditch players for example?" Harry raises both his eyebrows and stares at Draco. "What?"
"Do you just want to ogle them?"
"Do you not?"
"I suppose they're not playing at the moment. Hermione says the season's been cancelled."
"Do you talk to her every day?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Just curious."
"She's been keeping me updated on everything." Draco nods. "And she's my best friend."
"What does she think about me staying here?" Draco asks. He doesn't mean anything by it, but a flush creeps up Harry's face all the same.
"She's, uh, glad I'm not alone. And also surprised we haven't killed each other yet." At this Draco laughs.
"It's your turn," he says, pointing to the board. "And I wouldn't kill you. Probably." Harry reaches over and picks up the dice.
"Mm, very reassuring."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't kill you now. We're friends."
"Sure we are." Harry advances his piece, landing on one of Draco's railroads. He picks up a fifty and starts to hand it over.
"I own three now." Harry raises his eyebrows, but hands over a hundred instead before leaning back, resting his weight on his arms behind him. He watches as Draco makes his turn, passing Go, and paying off the mortgage he'd just taken out.
"Ooh," Harry says once he's landed himself in jail and it's Draco's turn again."You know who we should invite?"
"Who?"
"Viktor Krum."
"You have his number?" Draco asks.
"Of course. All famous people know each other. Didn't you know that?" Draco stares at him, refusing to start his turn until Harry continues speaking. "Ok, fine," Harry relents. "That was a joke. I have his number because we ran into each other a few years ago at a charity event. And we, um, reconnected." Draco arches an eyebrow.
"Are you telling me you've slept with Viktor Krum?"
"I'm saying nothing more on the subject." But he picks up his phone and starts tapping out a text.
"Oh Merlin," Draco says. "No wonder Weasley was pissed." Harry narrows his eyes in confusion and looks up at Draco.
"Huh?"
"Weasley fancies Krum."
"No, he doesn't," Harry says, shaking his head.
"He asked him to the Yule Ball in fourth year." Harry's mouth drops open. "It was incredibly embarrassing for all involved, particularly when Krum turned him down."
"No," Harry says. "Ron asked Fleur."
"He told you he asked Fleur."
"Ginny confirmed it."
"Of course that's the story they told you," Draco says. "We were fourteen. Puberty was hard enough without worrying about our sexual identities."
"You say that like it wasn't the year I had my first bi crisis," Harry mutters. He frowns down at the Monopoly board for a long moment before his eyes go wide. "No wonder he was so upset that Hermione went to the ball with Krum. He liked both of them and they'd both rejected him." This is not something Draco understands, but he nods as though he does. "Well, that settles it. I'll invite Krum in order to make it up to Ron." He turns back to his phone.
"Even though you slept with him?" Draco asks.
"That was one time."
"So you did sleep with him then?"
"Oh fuck," Harry says, realizing that he'd fallen into Draco's verbal trap. Draco snickers and then takes the opportunity to roll. He moves his little top hat around the board and then curses as he lands on one of Harry's two house properties.
"It's not going to cause tension?" he asks, counting out the right amount of money.
"What?"
"Inviting Krum."
"Well, I don't want to sleep with him now, if that's what you're asking." It hadn't been, but Draco's glad to hear it all the same.
"You realize we're going to have to finish cleaning and restoring the swimming pool before anyone gets here, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"We can't have an international quidditch star stay with us and not have an excuse for him to get topless." Harry laughs and then gets a far away look in his eyes, a small smile playing about his lips. Draco kicks him again. "Stop that."
"What? I'm agreeing with you." Harry rolls the dice.
"By reminding me that you've already seen him shirtless? Stop trying to make me jealous."
"But it's my life's goal to make you miserable, Draco. I thought you knew that." Draco glares at him and Harry winks and starts moving his dog piece around the board, having rolled doubles to get out of jail.
"You're going to have to try harder then," Draco says. He eyes the orange property of his that Harry's just landed on. "Give me seven hundred and fifty please." He smiles winningly as Harry scowls and starts counting out money.
"I think you're going to beat me again."
"I don't know why you keep insisting on rematches."
"Pride."
"That's a Slytherin trait," Draco points out, smirking.
"I was almost sorted into Slytherin," Harry says, poking his little dog playing piece idly. "But you'd just been sorted there, so I begged the hat to put me somewhere else."
"You did not."
"I did too," Harry protests. "Though, it had more to do with it being Voldemort's house than yours."
"We could have been friends and snake face ruined it?" Harry looks surprised at Draco's use of the phrase snake face.
"In more ways than one."
"What a fucking arsehole. We could have had so much fun in Slytherin together."
"Oh?"
"We would have taught you all the good drinking games."
"Drinking games?" Draco nods sagely before picking up the dice and taking his turn. He manages to avoid landing on Harry's two dark blue hotels and instead stops on the first brown property and pays Harry six pounds as opposed to three thousand while Harry stares daggers at him.
"I could teach you now," he says.
"What?"
"Some of the drinking games."
"I know plenty of drinking games," Harry protests. Draco lifts an eyebrow. Harry clearly takes this as a challenge, because he says, "Fuck you. Never have I ever."
"Never have you ever what?"
"Been sorted into Slytherin."
"Fuck me?" Draco asks. "More like fuck you." But he takes an exaggerated sip of his wine before saying, "Never have I ever had sex with Viktor Krum." Harry's lips press together in an irritated line, but he dutifully picks up his wineglass. "Don't worry, Potter. I won't tell Weasley."
"You'd better not."
"We're friends," Draco says. "And Slytherins keep their friends' secrets." Harry looks at him strangely for a moment, but then the look passes and he says,
"Never have I ever been a prefect."
"Boring." Draco lifts his glass to his lips and drinks. "Never have I ever slept with a Weasley."
"Boring yourself," Harry says, taking a sip. "Never have I ever taken a stranger home from a bar."
"Really? Never?" Draco asks. He's starting to run low on wine now, so he reaches over to the bottle and pours more into his glass.
"People know my face." Harry reaches up and scrubs at the back of his head.
"Go to a muggle bar."
"I can hardly bring a muggle back here," Harry says, gesturing around the sitting room.
"So you're saying you haven't had much action in a while?"
"I— that's not what we're talking about right now." Harry's phone buzzes and he looks down at it. "Krum says yes."
"Brilliant. Know any more?"
"What? Quidditch players? I guess there's always Oliver Wood."
"Yes," Draco says. "Have him come too." Harry dutifully picks up his phone and taps out a message. "Hang on, do all wizards have phones now?" Harry shrugs.
"A lot of them do." Draco nods. After all, they're convenient and faster than owls — that's why he'd gotten one. That, and the muggle clients. Phones don't work everywhere, particularly not in places of concentrated magic, but they are still better than nothing.
"Wood says yes," Harry says a moment later. "So that's all the rooms filled." Draco punches a fist excitedly into the air.
"It's going to make Saturday night Monopoly so much more fun," he says, grinning. Harry groans. "Oh, come off it, Potter. Obviously you'll be on my team, so that you can win for once."
…
Draco wakes to Harry gently shaking his shoulder. He blinks up at the other man in confusion. He hadn't thought he'd even been dreaming, let alone having a nightmare.
"Is everything okay?" he asks. Harry shakes his head. Draco blinks a few more times. There's a furrow between Harry's eyebrows. "Did you have a nightmare?" Harry nods. "Do you want to climb in?" Harry nods again and Draco shuffles to the other side of the bed, wincing slightly at the cold of the sheets.
Harry slips under the covers and then lays on his back, staring at the canopy of the bed. Draco reaches over and puts an awkward hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry turns his head to face Draco and Draco can see that the frown is still there. He slides closer until he's almost pressed up against Harry, lying on his side, and then tentatively extends his arm around Harry's torso. He feels Harry stiffen in surprise for a moment before he starts to relax.
"Did you want to talk about it?" Draco asks, his voice just above a whisper.
"Not really." Harry's face is very close to Draco's. In fact, when he breathes, Draco can feel the warmth of Harry's breath on his mouth. Oh hell. Now is not the time for those kinds of thoughts. He pushes them aside.
"Is this alright? My arm, I mean."
"It's more than alright," Harry says. "Draco, I—"
"—Shh," Draco intones. "Go back to sleep. You're safe." Harry pulls his lower lip into his mouth and chews on it. "You're safe," Draco repeats. "I'm here."
"What would I do without you?" Harry mumbles after a few minutes have passed.
"Be happier," Draco says. "Probably." But Harry shakes his head.
"No," he says. "I wouldn't be." He closes his eyes, and Draco watches as the frown slowly leaves his face. He feels as Harry's breathing starts to even out. He stays as still as possible, just relishing their closeness. When he's sure Harry's asleep, Draco leans in and gently kisses his cheek.
"Enough," he tells himself. "That's enough."