They carry on this way for the rest of the week, with Harry sneaking into Draco's bedroom each night, or vice versa if Harry leaves the invisibility cloak in Draco's room, and working on various rooms during the day. The first room they finish is the dining room. Pansy tries several different colors for the walls before settling on a deep greenish-blue. Draco doesn't think it's going to work, but shockingly it does.
It helps that they do away with the curtains, which fills the room with natural light during the day and allows in some light from the streetlights during the evening. In lieu of curtains, Pansy casts a tricky little spell at the windows, which causes them to frost over once the light from outside is lower than the light inside, thereby ensuring privacy should any wizards walk past the building.
They have another session of destruction for the chairs, to which they invite all the people staying in the house, before they fill in the gashes with epoxy and memories, and add thick cushions to the seats in the same greenish-blue as the walls. When Harry sits on the first chair that Pansy finishes, he lets out a groan of contentment and they know they've done the right thing.
The chandelier is replaced by one that's much more modern than the gaudy, crystal covered monstrosity that had been there before. Instead it's a large pinwheel made from black painted metal, and, since Harry's house is hooked up to the electrical grid, they light it with Edison bulbs instead of candles. Draco also adds recessed lighting for times when more light is needed, levitating just below the ceiling with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth while he directs the wires to their respective places with his wand.
The entire room is transformed, and when the nine of them sit down for dinner on Thursday night, there are many admiring comments from both Percy and Hannah.
While the four of them have been working on the dining room, Hannah, Neville and Oliver have made great progress on the greenhouse. For starters, they've gotten the room in enough order to announce to the group that it is indeed a greenhouse.
"And a large one at that," Neville adds. "There are some full grown pines in the back, which means the room's probably about thirty meters tall." Unfortunately for everyone, Harry had just taken a sip of wine when Neville had announced that at dinner and so they'd all been sprayed with it. Luckily, it had been white.
But now it's Friday, which means, ostensibly, Draco just needs to make it through the day before taking the weekend off. And he needs to, because he's tired. He needs to catch up on all the sleep he's missed while exploring Harry's body and letting Harry explore his.
Draco's pretty sure he'll be able to draw a topographical map of Harry soon. Here's the dip below his collarbone which tastes like the memory of lemonade on a summer day, there's the line of his jaw that recalls the charge of electricity in the air before a rare thunderstorm, and here's the place on the underside of of his thigh that doesn't make Draco think of anything other than how nice it's going to feel as he slots himself home.
But so far he's managed to keep the words in. The words that he thinks will doom them if they're said too soon. The I and the love and the you, in that order. It's almost happened twice, but each time Draco has managed to haul the words back in before he blurts them out.
"Morning," Harry says, rolling over and placing a kiss at the end of Draco's nose. And, fuck, make that three times Draco's almost said it.
"Hi," he blurts out instead.
"How'd you sleep?"
"No nightmares." He hasn't had one since he and Harry started sleeping together. He's not sure what that means, but it doesn't help to tamp down on his desire to tell the scruffy haired idiot beside him that he loves him.
"Same," Harry says. "You must be my good luck charm. That's the first week I've gone without nightmares since," he pauses and scrunches up his face while he thinks. Draco resists reaching out and tucking a stray curl behind Harry's ear. "Probably since the war ended."
"Same," Draco whispers. He can't look at Harry as he says it. If he looks at him, he's surely going to blurt out how he feels. And he can't. Or he'll scare him away, and then they'll both be miserable. Presumably. Unless Draco's just a passing thing. Though Harry had agreed to go out with him, so it would take a proper break up to tear them apart. He mentally shakes himself. "Though you need to stop stealing the covers." Yeah, he thinks, that's saved it.
"I do not."
"Are you sure?"
"No?" And Harry looks so unsure that Draco can't help but pull him close and kiss him despite his morning breath.
They end up being half an hour later to breakfast than anyone else, but if anyone notices, they don't mention it.
…
"I vote we go in the pool," Viktor says at dinner.
"After waiting half an hour after we've eaten," Percy says.
"Old wives' tale," Pansy says. "Also we can do magic."
"No," Weasley says. "I'm not suiting up to save my brother if he gets whatever it is you get from swimming too soon after eating."
"You sound like a lovely person to be related to," Draco drawls, leaning back in his chair and sipping nonchalantly at his wine.
"He's not as bad as Ginny," Percy says. Weasley sputters in outrage on behalf of his sister. "But at least she's got pluck."
"And I haven't?"
"You've got," Percy pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Other traits."
"At least I don't have a piece of wood stuck up my arse," Weasley grumbles. At this, Percy turns very quiet and very red. He seems to fold in on himself in a way that Draco hasn't seen since everyone had arrived at the house. He'd forgotten how uptight Percy had been at school, but seeing him now, his shoulders by his ears, he's reminded of it.
"Fine. Pool after the requisite half an hour?" Viktor asks. He's met with a chorus of yeses and he nods in satisfaction.
"We can make creative cocktails and get into our swimming costumes in that time," Pansy says. "It's perfect."
"Creative cocktails?" Harry asks.
"With the blender." Pansy smirks and wiggles her eyebrows at him.
"What's a blender?" asks Weasley.
"Do you know anything about the muggle world?" Draco asks. He doesn't mean to be malicious — he's honestly just curious as Weasley is supposedly best friends with Harry, who grew up with muggles, not to mention Granger.
"I know some things," Weasley shoots back. "Like how to use a phone."
"We all know how to do that," Neville says quietly.
"Look, I don't go there very often. My work is all with wizards." Weasley has gone distinctly red around the ears now. Percy sighs.
"The reason he doesn't know much is because he purposefully avoids it for fear of setting off dad."
"Is your dad really into muggle stuff then?" Pansy asks. She's being much nicer to Weasley than Draco thinks she has any right to be. But then, perhaps she and Viktor are still plotting the threesome that Draco has tried so hard not to think about. He doesn't think it's happened yet as they all seem able to look each other in the eye still.
"It's a bit embarrassing really," Weasley says. It's clear from his tone that he's grateful for the out that Percy's given him. "He once said his life's goal was to figure out the purpose of a rubber duck."
"What is the purpose of a rubber duck?" Neville asks, possibly just to be nice.
"Fun," Harry says. "Which is why I was never allowed to have one."
"And therefore why he now has several in his bathroom," Draco says right before realizing that was probably not a thing he should know. "I saw them when I was making my notes about all the rooms of the house," he adds quickly.
"Can the rubber ducks come in the pool?" Viktor asks. "They could float amongst the bubbles."
"Then we can all learn about the purpose of rubber ducks," Hannah says, laughing.
"Mr. Puddles and Squeaky would be delighted to join us," Harry says. "Pablo is going to have to be talked into it." He says it in such a matter of face voice that everyone just stares at him for a moment. "What?"
"Potter, you're adorable," Pansy says and really, she's not wrong.
…
"If you like piña coladas," Pansy sings as she lowers herself into the pool. They've chosen yellow, iridescent bubbles the size of galleons that smell like rosemary. When Draco dips his toe in the water it's hotter than it was last time and he shivers in delight.
"And getting caught in the rain," Viktor joins in with Pansy.
"If you're not into yoga," they croon in unison. "If you have half a brain."
"You know we can put on actual music, right?" Draco asks.
"If you like makin' love at midnight," Pansy continues, ignoring Draco.
Draco stalks back into the sitting room and drags the stereo over to the door. He plugs it in the nearest outlet before putting on the CD with the black and white man jumping on the cover with red text over him. He's pretty sure this is the CD that has the song about someone kissing you better and the one about wanting you to stay, both of which Draco likes. He smiles to himself as he makes his way back into the pool room. Pansy has stopped singing, which was part of the desired outcome.
"You're no fun," Pansy pouts. She holds both her head and her piña colada aloft, and swims one armed over to the shelf along the edge of the deep end where she settles herself down.
"On the contrary, I am loads of fun," Draco says. He puts his drink, a Hemingway daiquiri that had not been made in the blender, within arm's distance of the side of the pool and then does a graceful pencil jump into the deep end, making only the smallest of splashes.
The water feels amazing. It's like jumping into a bath, and Draco feels all of the stress and hard work of the week start to melt away even before he breaks the surface of the water. This pool alone would be a reason to buy the house, he decides. That is, if Harry actually decides to sell it. And speaking of Harry, the aforementioned current owner of the house chooses that moment to walk into the room doing a very convincing air guitar solo, using his glass as the neck of the imaginary guitar.
"Where are the ducks?" Draco asks.
"Bugger. I forgot them." Harry leans down towards Draco. "Hold this will you?" he asks, thrusting his piña colada into Draco's hand. Draco splutters at the inconvenience but Harry's already gone. He rolls his eyes and contents himself with taking a sip of Harry's drink. It's quite good if he says so himself, but then, he made it, so he would rather expect that it would be.
It doesn't take Harry long to return, and he brings Weasley in tow.
"I thought they would be bigger," Weasley is saying as they walk into the room.
"They go in a bathtub, so if they were much larger, there wouldn't be space for the children," Harry says.
"I still don't understand why they would need toys in a bath."
"Again, Ron, the reason is for them to have fun."
"But it's a bath."
"Baths can be fun," Pansy says. Draco whips his head around in time to see Pansy smirk at Weasley. Oh Merlin, so that's still happening then.
"Very fun," Viktor agrees and it's all Draco can do not to splash water on them.
"Particularly if there are rubber ducks involved," Harry says. He throws three of said ducks unceremoniously into the pool. They disappear amongst the yellow bubbles.
"Ronald," Viktor says, ignoring Harry and the ducks. "Come sit with us."
"Er, what?"
"I want a better look at that tattoo." Draco is mercifully distracted at this point by the arrival of Oliver and Percy.
They're bickering like an old married couple and it makes Draco curious about their relationship. From best he can understand, they hadn't seen each since the Battle of Hogwarts before arriving here. And yet they're clearly close enough that they can fall quickly back into this kind of rhythm with each other.
"—someone had to care about cauldron bottom thickness," Percy is saying.
"Yes," Oliver agrees. "And someone had to be backup keeper for Puddlemere United. And a bloody good thing I was after what happened to Owain Fitzpatrick."
"Did they ever manage to put him back together?" Draco asks.
"Mostly. He's still missing a few toes, but he doesn't need those to play."
"From what I have seen, you are a better Keeper than Fitzpatrick ever was," Viktor says loudly. Draco turns his head to look at that corner of the pool again and immediately wishes he hadn't as Viktor is lightly tracing his index finger along the Weasley part of Weasley is our King.
"That's kind of you to say."
"It is not kind," Viktor grumbles. "It is true."
"How's the greenhouse coming?" Weasley asks Neville as he and Hannah enter the room, hand in hand. They're so cute together that it's almost too sweet. If Draco didn't like them so much, he would probably hate them.
"Slowly," Neville says. "It's a delicate process. Hannah's almost been nibbled at least five times now."
"And he's already been bitten twice," Hannah says, rolling her eyes fondly at him.
"Oh god, Neville," Harry says. "Are you okay?"
"They bit my glove. I was perfectly safe." He leans down and brushes Hannah's cheek briefly with his nose.
"What game do we want to play?" Pansy asks, clearly deciding that the time for casual conversation is over.
"What can we play in the pool, Pans?" Draco asks.
"Anything if you're creative enough."
"I am not suiting up just so we can play drinking games," Draco says. "Before you ask."
"Harry, do you have any waterproof playing cards?"
"Er," Harry says. "I can check."
"No need," Viktor says and snaps his fingers. Winky appears a moment later.
"What can Winky help with?" she squeaks. Her hands are soapy, like she's just come from washing dishes, which is probably what has happened. Pansy relays her requests and Winky nods and vanishes again.
Draco takes the time that Winky is gone to surreptitiously sidle up closer to Harry. They're not close by any stretch of the imagination, but Draco can at least almost reach out and touch his shoulder now. It's as close as he dares get for now. He's not Viktor Krum, tracing his fingers down people's skin a mere week after he's ostensibly met them.
Winky returns with two decks of cards, an empty glass, a tray and a pool floaty. Where she'd found the floaty, no one knows, nor do they ask. Pansy takes the cup and places it in the middle of the tray, before shuffling the decks of cards together and arranging them in a circle around the empty cup. Then she takes the tray and carefully places it on top of the pool floaty so that they have a floating surface of sorts.
"King's Cup?" she asks, grinning around at them all.
…
Of course Pansy pulls out the first Jack of the game, and of course the rule she makes involves a round of spin the bottle anytime someone draws a spade. And, because the fates clearly hate Draco, he draws the first subsequent spade.
"How do we do this?" he asks, glaring at Pansy. She smirks at him before calling Winky again in order to procure another tray and pool floaty. Five minutes later, there's an empty wine bottle floating in the middle of the pool. Draco, who had somewhat hoped Pansy hadn't thought too hard about how this would work and therefore would change her rule, sighs. But he makes his way gamely to the middle of the pool and spins it.
He's not sure if he wants it to land on Harry or if that would end up somehow revealing their relationship in the way that they're more than comfortable with kissing each other. He needn't have worried. Or, rather, he should have worried about the other people in the pool more, because the bottle lands on Weasley. He's not sure which of them is more horrified. Draco twists his mouth to the side in irritation and glares daggers at Pansy. But he squares his shoulders and swims over to where Weasley is sandwiched in between Viktor and Pansy, mouthing I hate you at her the entire way.
"Must I?" he asks in a last ditch attempt to prevent this travesty from occurring.
"Yes," Pansy says, smug. "Or do a forfeit."
"What's the forfeit?"
"It would be worse," Viktor says and Draco doesn't like that they've grown so close in the past few days that they can both gang up on him. He's going to have to form an alliance with Percy and Oliver to even out the odds.
"Pucker up, Weaselbee," he snaps.
"That's not my—" Weasley starts to say but Draco cuts him off by pressing their lips together. Upon reflection, it's not nearly as bad as Draco would have expected. But then, Granger must have seen something in him in order to date him, and it clearly wasn't brains.
"I think you enjoyed that," Draco says once he's pulled away.
"I did not."
"And yet you tried to slip me some tongue."
"That's just kissing."
"Is it?" Draco tosses a smirk over his shoulder and then does a lazy breaststroke back over to where he left his drink.
The next time Draco has to draw a card, he gets an eight and immediately chooses Weasley as his "date", who has to drink whenever Draco does, just to see the brilliant shade of red he turns.
The game progresses. Pansy has to kiss a furiously blushing Neville. Harry kisses Oliver while Percy looks pointedly in the other direction. At some point International Drinking Rules (IDRs) are brought into effect, which means none of them can use each other's first names, and Draco uses this as an excuse to give everyone outrageous nicknames.
When no one makes an effort to touch the floor when the first four is drawn ("No thanks," Draco drawls. "I'm not getting my hair wet"), it's changed to Lore, in which they go around telling a story one line each, and whoever can't come up with the next line has to drink. Or in IDR terms, imbibe.
Only, after two rounds of Lore, they decide it takes too long and spend the next five minutes trying to come up with another word that rhymes with four. After much spirited debate, they settle on Commodore, for which they all have to fire imaginary guns in the air and yell boom, with the last person who yells having to consume some of their beverage.
"This would be much more fun with wands," Pansy pouts the second time a four is drawn. "We could send up sparks and make real cannon noises."
"Sorry Pogona," Draco intones as seriously as he can. "But I'm not getting dressed up in ghost gnome attire just to play drinking games."
"Spoil sport."
"What does her nickname mean?" Percy asks.
"Bearded dragon," Draco says. "Because she was my beard at school, and I am a dragon." Hannah and Neville both blink at him, while both the Weasleys' mouths fall open. Oliver, oddly, seems unsurprised.
"I thought he was straight," Pansy says with a small shrug, moving the conversation along before it turns into a big thing. Draco's grateful. "Weasley, your turn." Both Weasley and Percy move towards the cards before Pansy sighs and is forced to admit that Draco's use of nicknames was rather inspired. "Conan O'Brien, I meant you."
"Let it be known that I hate this nickname," Weasley says, thereby cementing it in Draco's mind as his new nickname. Despite his protests, however, he swims to the tray and pulls out a card. "Oh crap." He holds up the ace of spades.
"Spin it! Spin it!" Hannah cries, clapping her hands together in excitement. Looking put upon, Weasley does and then starts in alarm as the bottle points to Viktor.
Draco had thought he'd seen Weasley flustered before, but that had been nothing on what he is now. His entire face turns red, ears and all, and for half a second it looks like he's forgotten how to breathe.
"Come on, your highness," Viktor says. He holds a hand out and Weasley takes it, possibly without thinking. Viktor pulls him close, leaving a path clear of bubbles in his wake. Then the thing that Draco has been dreading since the two of them showed up at the door comes to pass. Draco doesn't think he can watch, but at the same time, like a car crash, he can't look away.
It goes on longer than it has any right to, but somehow none of them say anything about it. Finally after a good thirty seconds, Viktor pulls away. Weasley looks like he's died and gone to heaven, judging by the dazed smile on his face, and after that display, any worries that Draco has about kissing Harry in front of the group fade. Because he can at least control his face better than that.
The game progresses. They all finish their first drinks and Winky makes them more. Her drinks rival Draco's in quality and he compliments her on it. They get progressively more tipsy, which means that Viktor starts flirting even more outrageously with all of them. Every time he, Weasley or Pansy have to draw a card, there's a mass untangling of limbs as they're all practically sitting in each other's laps. And yet somehow the game doesn't devolve into the three of them trying to get it on with each other.
Instead, Hannah and Neville are the first two to start kissing in the corner and ignoring everyone. When Pansy calls them out on it, Neville waves a hand at her before scopping Hannah up and carrying her out of the pool.
"Good night?" Weasley calls after them, a tad unsure.
"G'night," comes Hannah's voice from the sitting room, followed by a giggle. The remaining seven of them look around at each other.
"Well if they're going to bed," Percy starts to say.
"Oh no you don't, Weatherby," Pansy snaps. "Unless you're leaving here with someone because you can't keep your hands off them, you will be finishing this game." Percy turns pink and stays put. "Quicksilver, it's your turn."
And of course, this is the card that leads to Draco kissing Harry, to the horror of Weasley and the indifference of everyone else. But Weasley doesn't say anything and doesn't seem to suspect that they are together, so Draco counts it as a win. Particularly as it gives him an excuse to feel Harry up under the bubbles.
…
The evening ends when Pansy decides she can't stay away from Weasley and Viktor any longer and summarily dismisses the remaining four of them from the room.
"I'm not sure how I feel about this," Percy mutters as they traipse out into the sitting room.
"I'm choosing not to think about it," Harry says. He waves cheerily as they part ways on Harry and Draco's floor, and Wood and Percy make their way up the stairs. As soon as they're out of sight, Harry surges towards Draco and presses him up against the wall. He kisses him with such fervor that Draco's almost surprised that sparks aren't dancing off of him. Draco moans softly as Harry's tongue swipes into his mouth and then they both freeze at the noise.
"Bedroom," Draco whispers. Harry nods and they scurry into Harry's room where there is at least another door and some walls between them and the rest of the house.
"Fuck," Harry says, crowding into Draco's space again. "I've wanted to do this to you all night."
"Do what?" Draco challenges.
"This." Harry wraps both of his arms around Draco's waist and tugs Draco flush against him. He leans in and brings their lips together. Then Harry's tongue is in Draco's mouth, and Draco's hands are down Harry's still damp swimming trunks. And then they're stumbling backwards towards the bed, pulling off each other's swimwear, leaving them in puddles on the floor. They tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and Draco all but melts as Harry kisses his way down Draco's torso.
"God, Draco," Harry whispers. "You're fucking gorgeous." Draco's about to respond when Harry takes him in his mouth and Draco forgets how to form words.