When Harry entered the pub, heart hammering madly, the first thing he smelled was the fresh, piney scent of Draco's cologne, as though he'd just walked through the door only moments before. He was probably imagining it, of course; Draco only ever wore a tasteful amount of cologne, and yet Harry just knew that he would be there. After leaving Hogwarts, he'd first gone to Draco's flat, only to find it empty.
He'd stood on the stoop for a moment, feeling utterly disappointed, and nearly gave up the whole thing. What had he been thinking, dashing off to Malfoy's home just because McGonagall had made a rather offhanded comment? Then he'd flipped again, and for a brief, mad moment, he'd considered waiting on the stoop the way Draco had done at Grimmauld place on the Wednesday before Christmas-over two months ago, now-but then he'd had a moment of clarity and Apparated to the pub.
He knew, or rather, he hoped very strongly, that that was where Draco would be. And he was right.
He'd been to the pub a few times in the past couple months and had never seen Draco there, but this time, his eyes found him immediately, blonde hair glinting under the dim lights at the bar. He wore his usual grey trousers and a dark blue Muggle shirt that looked far too good for this pub, but it was just right on Malfoy. He was so perfectly groomed and pressed that, aside from the Muggle shirt, he looked as though he might have just come from work.
But then again, he always looked like that unless Harry was around to muss him up.
For a moment, Harry stood in the doorway and watched Draco talk to a young Muggle man wearing a leather jacket. A muscle in Harry's jaw clenched when the man smiled and squeezed Draco's arm, but Draco shook his head, presumably refusing the offer of a drink, and the man moved on. Relief washed over Harry—somehow, it hadn't even occurred to him that Draco might have moved on and might be with someone else—and with a surge of determination, he shook off his nerves and approached the bar.
"Draco," he said softly, placing a tentative hand on his arm. Startled, Draco swiveled toward him, a look of surprised pleasure crossing his face when he recognized Harry. Harry felt something inside himself crack open at the sight. It had been months, but Merlin, he still wanted Draco, everything to do with Draco. I've never heard Mr. Malfoy speak so fondly of anyone, McGonagall had said. Harry took a deep breath. "Can I sit down?"
Draco nodded. "Yes, please," he said, not taking his eyes off Harry. Harry's heart was beating rapidly in his chest, and his palms were sweaty, but he sat. He wondered if he would've had the nerve to come and find Draco like this if he'd gone home after his interview to think it through first. But it was too late to back out now, and Draco, incredibly, didn't seem to mind that he was there.
"How, er, how've you been?" Harry asked. He gestured to the bartender, a different one than usual, for a drink.
"Better," Draco said, and his face flushed. "Better since Christmas, I mean."
Harry wondered what that meant. Better with his mother? Or better without Harry? He swallowed the questions. "And how's work?" he asked instead.
Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "Work?"
"Sorry," Harry said, flustered. "Trying to keep things, er, neutral," he said, and Draco laughed, throwing his head back to show his perfect white teeth. Harry wondered what Draco would do if he lurched forward and kissed him on the mouth like he used to do back when they were just hooking up.
"Work's fine," Draco said, smiling at him. "Always has been—that's why I like it. Brewing's the one thing that's always consistent."
Harry nodded. That, he could understand. "And how have you been?" Malfoy asked.
"Not bad," Harry replied. He wanted to kick himself for the awkwardness and the conversational barrier that he couldn't seem to break down. Malfoy—no, Draco —looked just as maddeningly attractive and endearing as he had the last time Harry had seen him, and it was impossible to pretend that he wanted to catch up as though they were merely old friends. Maybe the problem was that they never had been old friends at all. They'd only had intensity, in one form or another, ever since they were kids. It was getting to be exhausting.
"I've missed you," Harry blurted out. Draco stared at him. "Fuck," Harry muttered, shaking his head in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to say that."
To Harry's relief, Draco actually laughed. "I've missed you too, you git," he said affectionately, squeezing Harry's arm.
"Yeah?" Harry asked, his heart beating faster.
Draco nodded, his cheeks rather pink. "Look let's just have it out, all right? I'm sorry about my letter. I wanted to have dinner with you, but I couldn't bear the thought of someone seeing us together, or it getting in the papers. No offense," he added. "But it's one thing to be here—" He gestured to the pub, to the Muggles surrounding them. "—but out there in the world it's another thing, isn't it?"
Harry nodded; to some extent, it was true for him as well. There was a reason that he and Malfoy had both decided to come to this Muggle pub in the first place.
"Mother and I have done everything we can to keep our names out of the papers," Draco went on. "And you're in the paper all the time. Famous Harry Potter and his famous Auror training," he added with a wry smile.
"Not by choice," Harry said. And not for long, either he thought, at least not the bit about Auror training. And maybe the press would lose interest in the Boy Who Lived once he was no longer fighting the Dark opened his mouth to tell Draco about the interview with McGonagall, but decided against it for the time being. He wanted Draco to keep talking as long as possible. "How are things with your mother?" he asked carefully.
Draco shrugged. "It's better; perhaps you saw the article in the Daily Prophet ?" Harry nodded, and Malfoy sighed. "She wasn't altogether displeased about that. It mentioned Father, and Azkaban, but didn't say anything too awful. She apologized for kicking me out at Christmas, admitted that maybe she's got a bit of a blind spot where Father's concerned." He smiled grimly. "So, it's better than it was. But when you kissed me on Christmas—when the Weasleys saw—" His voice faltered, and Harry put a hand on his arm.
"I should've understood," he said quietly. "Before you sent your letter, I mean. I was just, well, caught up, I guess." Malfoy nodded. "That morning, when I saw you were about to leave, I realized that I don't just want to hook up with you, and I don't hate you either—I like you—and then, you were just gone. And it's not about your...your hair or your body or your robe— "
"You have some sort of fetish for that robe, don't you?" Draco interrupted, and while his cheeks were red, his grey eyes were actually twinkling . Harry gave Draco's foot a kick.
"Shut up," he said, looking away from Draco's curious, laughing face. "The point is, I like you, Draco. As a—a person . And I think you like me, too." He took a deep breath. "McGonagall told me that it was you who put my name in for Hooch's job."
Draco's eyes widened. "Yeah? You saw her? Did you get it?"
"Yes! Just came from there, actually," Harry said excitedly, nearly forgetting his nerves as the words tumbled from his mouth. I'm quitting the Aurors. I'm going back to Hogwarts! "Once I heard you were the one who told her, well, I came straight here to find you."
"Brilliant, Harry." A real, genuine smile spread across Draco's face, and Harry all but melted. "You'll be brilliant at it."
Harry grinned at him. "Thank you," he said. "And see? You do care."
Draco's face flushed yet again. "Maybe I do. But it's more complicated than that, isn't it?"
"It doesn't have to be."
On impulse, Harry reached out to take Draco's hand. When he didn't pull away, Harry squeezed it and kept talking. "Once McGonagall told me you'd mentioned me, I just knew you'd be here again. And if you and me being, well, together, is too much for you, I understand. But I want…" He trailed off, uncertain how much he should say.
"What do you want?" Draco said softly. He threaded his fingers carefully through Harry's, and Harry looked down at their joined hands, heat rising in his face.
"You, you idiot," Harry replied, squeezing Draco's hand again. "We can take it easy. Just you and me, like it was before...except more talking, this time. The rest of them can come around, or not." He hoped his voice was steadier than it felt. "I'll have a few months off, once I quit the Aurors, and then I'll be living at Hogwarts. We have all the time in the world, and we can have a fresh start."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but picture Draco visiting him at Hogwarts, the two of them spending cozy nights at the castle and taking daytime flights through the grounds. Teddy could visit, too, and maybe eventually they could have quiet dinners together in Hogsmeade...He blinked and looked back at Draco, who was running his finger along the top of his glass, his brow furrowed.
"And the press?" Draco asked Harry. "And the, er, non-Weasleys?"
"Not till we're ready," Harry promised. "If ever. Same goes for your mother, and anyone else. It can be whatever you want it to be," he added. "I'm hoping for a quieter life, too. It's one of the reasons why I took the job."
"Okay," Draco whispered at last. "Yes."
And then, incredibly, he leaned forward and kissed Harry on the mouth, the scent of his cologne flooding Harry's nostrils, the softness of his cheek against Harry's bringing him right back to how he'd felt at Christmastime. Harry put his hand on Draco's knee and leaned forward, kissing him back enthusiastically, right there at the bar where it had all began. He wasn't sure how long they sat like that, oblivious to anything going on around them, until at last, a voice broke through the haze.
"Hey, you two going to order another drink, or what?" Harry looked up to see their regular bartender looking down at them. "Oh, it's you two." He raised an eyebrow at Harry. "So it's snoggjng tonight? Not fighting?"
"The night is young," Draco said airily, and Harry laughed. Merlin, he'd missed Draco.
"Give us a minute," he told the bartender, and turned back to Draco. "It's been all I can do not to kiss you this entire time," Harry admitted, his face warm. "Can we go back to your place?"
Draco grinned at him. "Why start restraining ourselves now?" He signaled to the bartender. "We'll take the check."
At Draco's, everything was the same, and yet at the same time, everything was different. Usually, they Apparated directly to the bedroom, pulling at one another's clothes and falling tipsily into the bed without saying a word. This time, Draco brought them to the kitchen. He poured them each a glass of wine, presumably something expensive, not that Harry could tell, allowing his hands to brush casually against the small of Harry's back as he moved carefully around the room.
Usually, they groaned, gasped, and begged, but never spoke; this time they stood in the kitchen as Draco chatted amiably and easily about his job, his friends, his home. Harry told Draco about his interview with McGonagall, and how supportive Ron and Hermione had been after Christmas.
"Hermione's the one who told me to write to you that second time," he admitted.
"She did?" Malfoy asked in surprise, refilling Harry's wine. "Hard to believe."
Harry shrugged. "They liked you at Christmas. And they want me to be happy." He felt overwhelmed with gratitude as he said it—for his friends, for his new job, for Draco. "Why didn't we ever do this before?" he asked, gesturing between them.
"I don't know," Draco admitted. "I was a bit angry with you still, I suppose. Hogwarts wasn't that long ago. Potter Stinks, and all that," he said sheepishly, and Harry smiled. "And then I was angry about how much I wanted you. And then I saw you at the Weasley's and it turned out that you were, well, nice." Draco smiled at Harry, and Harry's heart fluttered. "It's all been all very confusing."
Harry nodded, and took Draco into his arms, taking a deep breath as he felt the slim, straight lines of Draco's body against him. He closed his eyes and thought about Draco's soft white sheets. It had been a very, very long day. "We, er, don't have to pretend this is our first date, do we?"
"Merlin, no," said Draco, brushing a kiss across Harry's lips. "Come on." He pulled Harry back to the bedroom, and again, Harry was struck by how things could be so similar, yet so different all at the same time. In the bedroom, tired though he was, he wasted no time in peeling Draco's shirt off, marveling in the smoothness of his skin, running a finger down his jawline, pulling him in for a rough kiss. He wanted to touch Draco absolutely everywhere.
"You're killing me, Harry," Draco groaned as Harry straddled his waist, kissing his face and his neck. "As good as you look in those dress robes, please take them off. I haven't seen you naked in months , and it's all I've been thinking about."
"Yeah?" Harry asked, grinning.
"Yes," Draco hissed impatiently, sliding his hands up under Harry's shirt, lifting it carefully over his head. "Merlin, Harry," Draco breathed. "You're bloody gorgeous, you know that?"
Harry blushed and bent down to bury his face in the crook of Draco's neck, their bare chests and the hard lengths of their bodies pressed shamelessly against each other. Harry wanted to touch Draco everywhere, to run his fingers through his hair, to kiss his pink mouth, to stroke his pale white thighs until he moaned. Part of him had been worried that the only thing that made the physical aspect of their relationship work had been the old rivalry, the hatred, and whatever made everything feel so forbidden. But things were even better without all the old baggage. Harry revelled in how well he knew Draco's body, what he liked, what he wanted, and how he would respond to every touch.
"Please, Draco, I want you," he gasped at last, looking down at Draco's flushed and needy body below him. Draco nodded desperately, reaching for Harry in return. For the first time in all the times they'd been together, Harry met Draco's eyes as their bodies came together, grasping at one another until they collapsed, sated and exhausted, onto the bed.
In the morning, Harry woke to Draco slipping an arm around his waist, entwining their legs together as he pulled Harry close. It was early yet, and the morning's first sunlight was only beginning to stream through the windows. Draco pressed his lips against Harry's neck, and Harry sighed contentedly.
"Not kicking me out, then?" he murmured sleepily.
He could feel Draco's smile on the back of his neck. "Not a chance," Draco replied. "You can stay as long as you'd like."