Sorry for the long wait - but here it is, finally. I hope everyone enjoys!
Chapter Seven
Draco felt as if all eyes must be on him, his first morning back in the Great Hall. He hadn't even wanted to eat there - he'd told Harry he was perfectly happy eating breakfast back at the flat - but Harry had insisted that he join him and Weasley for breakfast.
Draco snorted to himself. Insisted? More like coerced. Harry had said that if Draco let himself be scared off, they had won. And Draco honestly couldn't care less about that - but he hated to disappoint Harry. Now, however, he was beginning to regret it.
Draco still insisted on eating at his own table, because he wasn't that desperate, thank you. As usual, there was plenty of space cleared around him - a few Slytherins actually stood up and moved further away, as if being pathetic was now contagious. Harry sat across from him with a tight smile, and Luna practically smothered him in an enthusiastic hug.
"I'm so happy to see that you're well!" Luna said, pulling back to regard him with solemn, protuberant eyes. "But you mustn't worry about anything happening again - Daddy sent me Wrackspurt repellent, and I've been spraying it all over the school. I can give you some, if you'd like."
"Is that what you were doing, rather than visiting me whilst I was sick?" Draco asked, attempting to not sound whiny and failing. He hadn't realized how much that had bothered him until now.
"Of course I visited you," Luna said calmly. "You were asleep, but one time you did sit up and say, 'hi, Luna', so I thought you'd remember. Oh, and while I'm thinking of it, here." Luna placed something around his neck. It jingled slightly, and looked as though it were made of spare bits of tin cans all strung together.
"To protect your brain from Wrackspurts," she explained. "It will help you think more clearly."
Draco exchanged a bemused, bewildered look with Harry. Harry shrugged and coughed into his hand, obviously suppressing a smile.
"Thank you, Luna," Draco said importantly, moving the necklace around so it jingled. Honestly, there was little he could do to make himself more contemptible to people, so why not just go with it?
"Don't worry, Harry, I'm making one for you as well," Luna said pointedly. "But I'd say Draco needs it more, don't you think?"
Harry grinned, and Draco rolled his eyes.
"I don't know, Luna. I think Harry's brain is pretty fuzzy, so you might want to hurry." It was only after he'd said it and noticed the widening of Harry's eyes, along with his tentative smile, that he realized what he'd done - he'd called Harry by his first name. Not that it was the first time, exactly, but it was the first time it had just slipped out. Now Harry knew that he was Harry to Draco, and had been for some time.
But for some reason, that was okay. Maybe just because Harry looked so pleased by it, and that mattered to Draco more than he'd care to admit.
"If it's alright with you both, I'm going to perform a song and dance at our Deathday party." Luna looked back and forth between Harry and Draco. "We are still planning to have one, aren't we?"
Harry shrugged, looking at Draco. "Sure," Draco replied. "Just as long as there's alcohol involved."
"There will be," Harry said quickly. Draco snorted.
"Good to know. No Deathday party is complete without at least four cases of alcohol poisoning."
Luna guffawed, as she usually did at things he'd said which really weren't that funny. Harry smiled grudgingly, his eyes met Draco's, and Draco felt slightly dizzy.
The rest of the week went by with little incident - thanks to Granger, he was caught up with coursework, and his professors had already been informed of his situation. The other students ignored him, which was a relief. He had a feeling that McGonagall had made a speech inferring of the trouble that his perpetrators faced, and he'd never been more grateful to have been absent from something. The whole thing was embarrassing enough as it was.
Harry didn't talk to him about what he was planning for Saturday night, and Draco didn't ask. As far as he understood, it wasn't to be a big deal - just a few friends, some alcohol, and memories of the dead. But as they were all Harry's friends, Draco was slightly apprehensive about the whole thing. What if Harry just ignored him? Luna would be there, of course, but…she wasn't Harry. And as he'd belatedly realized after helping Harry fall asleep, Harry was his friend. His friend. But he'd never had a friend like Harry before - one who made him feel like a better person just for existing, one he'd do anything for. One who was solely his.
Draco had never given much thought before as to what his friends thought of him. It had been obvious - they'd admired him, respected him. Envied him, even. And that had been exactly what he'd wanted, and to be honest, he'd felt entitled to it. Hadn't it been his birthright, after all, to be powerful and envied by others?
But even back then, Harry had been different. He'd never respected Draco, and he certainly hadn't envied him. He wondered, now, what Harry thought of him, and it mattered to him more than he'd ever care to admit. He knew that Harry wanted to save him, whatever that meant, but…did he think of Draco beyond that, maybe just a little?
It was Saturday, the party was that night, and Draco was catching up on homework in his room. There was a knock on his door, and Draco's heart jumped. It was Harry. Only Harry knocked like that…
"Come in!" he called, feeling his face inexplicably flush when he was proven right. Harry smiled, which caused his heart to leap yet again.
What was wrong with him lately?
"Hey," Harry said, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his robes. His hair was mussed as though he'd been flying, but then Draco knew that was just Harry's hair. "I was wondering - want to skip the Halloween Feast with me, go out for drinks instead?" He shrugged. "I just figured, since we're not twelve anymore, why not do things differently this year? Then we'll come back, be good and ready for the party."
Draco nodded. One less chance to be stared at, the better. "Sure. Who…who else is coming?" He held his breath, hoping that Harry hadn't heard the needy tremble in his voice. Please let it just be us, please let it just be us…
"Just us," Harry said, looking suddenly nervous. "Is that…is that okay? I mean, if you want to ask Luna or something…"
"No!" Draco said quickly. Too quickly. "No," he quickly amended. "She's far too excited about the Feast - not really sure why."
"It's Luna," Harry said with a fond smile. For a split second, Draco was jealous of that smile, but then quickly remembered that he'd asked Draco, not Luna, to go out for drinks.
A couple of hours later, they made their way downstairs to the Three Broomsticks. Draco was suddenly nervous - the last time he'd seen Madam Rosmerta, he'd performed an Unforgivable Curse on her and forced her to deliver a cursed necklace, nearly murdering Katie Bell. What did one say to a person like that? Sorry seemed woefully inadequate, downright insulting, even.
Luckily, Madam Rosmerta was nowhere in sight, and Draco let out an audible sigh of relief. However, it was short lived. The moment he and Harry walked in the door, all conversations ceased; all eyes were on them.
Draco felt his body tense - his chest tightened painfully, and he was acutely aware of his pulse racing through his veins. His hands shook, and he shoved them into his pockets. Why had he agreed to this? He didn't even have the heart to glare back at everyone - he just kept his eyes fixed forward and wished to disappear.
But then…he slowly became aware of the fact that Harry's hand was on his shoulder, and he clung to that awareness like a lifeline.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked quietly.
Draco nodded, and he allowed Harry to gently guide him to a table in the furthest corner of the pub.
"They'll stare for awhile," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "But they'll get over it, I promise. I've dealt with this shit for a long time."
Draco nodded. He still felt slightly ill, but he managed to say, "fuck them."
Harry laughed. "Exactly." He pushed back from the table and stood up. Draco must have looked slightly panicked for a moment, because he quickly said, "I'll get our drinks. What do you want?"
"Whatever you have, I guess," Draco said, digging in his pocket and pulling out a few Galleons, which he held out to Harry.
Harry shook his head. "I've got this." Draco watched him walk to the bar, and couldn't help but notice how every other pair of eyes did the same. Draco bristled - they didn't even know his Harry, therefore they had no right to look at him. At least, that was Draco's opinion.
A few people turned to stare accusingly at him, and he sneered back halfheartedly. But, whatever. Harry returned a few moments later carrying a tray containing a colorful assortment of drinks. Harry shrugged helplessly at Draco's questioning look.
"They wouldn't let me pay," he complained, then quickly downed a shot of something bright green. He made a face, then chased it with a swig of Butterbeer. "I only asked for a couple of Firewhiskeys - this is what they gave me!"
"Poor thing," Draco said, taking a shot as well. It burned horribly, and for a second he thought he might throw up. But it passed, and Draco quickly followed Harry's example and swallowed some Butterbeer.
"I would have thought you'd understand," Harry muttered, looking slightly hurt. He took another shot, chased it. "I don't like being treated differently."
"I was just kidding, Harry," Draco said softly. He took another shot - this one burned spectacularly all the way down to his gut, and he swore it would be his last. "But hey, you get free drinks. If I went up there, they'd probably charge me double. Although the poison would be free," he said wryly.
Harry grabbed his wrist. "Don't." His face was flushed from drinking, his eyes bright. "You don't have to - nobody would do that."
Draco laughed, laying his free hand on top of Harry's. "Harry, Harry. Your faith in humanity is astounding, all things considered. Take who you're drinking with, for instance," he gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "And speaking of which, I think we should drink more."
He didn't pull himself out of Harry's grasp, and Harry gave his wrist a squeeze before letting go. Draco shivered at the loss of warmth - the loss of Harry.
Harry placed a bottle of Firewhisky in front of them both, and raised his own bottle, to which Draco quickly followed suit.
"Cheers," Harry said as their bottles came together with a clink. Draco took two generous gulps, causing his eyes to water. He would never make a good alcoholic, that was for certain. So there goes that career choice, he thought wryly to himself.
"Draco," Harry said, after they'd quietly nursed their bottles for a few minutes. "Thank you."
Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He suddenly cared less about the people watching them, and knew it was due to the alcohol. He also knew that he couldn't afford to completely lose control of himself, tempting though it may be.
"For what?"
"For coming with me. It was…it was really nice of you."
Draco tsked. "Careful, Potter. I have a reputation to maintain, after all." Unfortunately, he couldn't say that with a straight face, and he burst out laughing.
Harry just looked sad, which was frustrating, because Draco was just starting to enjoy himself. "I wish you wouldn't…say things like that," Harry muttered, taking another shot. He didn't even bother to chase it.
Draco sighed. "Honestly, Potter. Lighten up." He resisted the urge to take another drink - just because Harry seemed determined to drink himself into oblivion before six o'clock, it didn't mean Draco should.
"You've been calling me Harry, lately," he said hopefully, staring into Draco's eyes. "I liked it."
Draco gave him a small smile, then started when Harry took his hand from across the table and squeezed it. "Just…just how drunk are you, Harry?" Draco asked softly.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not. I mean, a little bit. But I know what I'm saying. And…I think…I think you're a great person. And I'm proud to be your friend. That's why…that's why it bothers me, you know. To hear you put yourself down."
"I'm not looking for compliments, if that's what you think," Draco said, somewhat defensively. In a way, though, he was. Harry's words, though alcohol-induced, rang through his mind like the sweetest song. "I'm just telling it like it is."
"Then you don't really know how it is," Harry said, taking another drink.
"Harry," Draco said tentatively. "Do you think…maybe you've had enough? We've still got the party, you know."
Harry laughed. "That's right! Happy Deathday, Draco."
"Yeah," Draco muttered. He wondered if Harry would notice if he used his wand to Vanish much of the remaining alcohol.
"There are so many to celebrate, after all." Harry held up a hand. "My parents," he said, holding up two fingers. "Even though I never knew them. They count, don't they?"
"Of course," Draco said. Placing his wand under the table, he managed to Vanish the two remaining shots, leaving only Harry's Firewhisky. He Vanished the majority of that, then breathed a sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, Harry was ticking away on his fingers. "Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore. Snape. Mad Eye, Tonks, Remus, Fred. Dobby," he said solemnly. "Even Hedwig. Poor Hedwig. No matter how horrible the Dursleys were being, I had good old Hedwig for company."
"Was that your owl?" Draco asked, gently coaxing Harry out of his chair and to his feet. Harry complied, leaning on Draco for balance.
"Yeah. Not just any owl, mind you. The best owl. She was…she was my friend," he said, and Draco realized, much to his horror, that Harry was crying.
"Well, of course she was," Draco said, urging Harry along while doing his best to shield him from the curious stares of other pub-goers. Thankfully, Harry put up no resistance, and allowed himself to be led out of the pub and back to their flat.
"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry said upon their return to the flat. Draco gently pushed Harry onto his bed, urging him to lie down. Harry complied, of course. Draco removed his glasses, and Harry stared at him, his eyes large and sad.
"It's okay," Draco said, as soothingly as he knew how. "You just take a nap, I'll whip up a potion for you, and in a few hours it'll be time for our party. How does that sound?"
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry," he said again, rolling onto his stomach. His voice muffled, he said, "I feel so stupid."
Draco ruffled a hand through his hair, once again struck by its softness. "It happens. Don't worry about it, okay?"
Harry nodded again, then turned his head to look at him. "Never leave me, okay?"
"Never," Draco agreed shakily, unsure of what he was even agreeing to. It wasn't even a valid promise - everyone left everyone, eventually. But it seemed to reassure Harry, who sighed and closed his eyes. And Draco most definitely did not stare at him, but his eyes just happened to fix on Harry for a moment. Well, for a few moments.
"Right," Draco said, looking away. "I'll see about that potion. And maybe then you should shower or something, Potter. You reek of booze and cheap pub food. And don't even get me started on your hair."
"Oh, fuck off," Harry said, smiling. At him. It was still so hard to wrap his mind around.
Draco left the room, softly closing the door behind him. He checked the time - only two hours until their guests would begin to arrive. Their guests - the thought was enough to make his gut clench yet again. It wasn't that he was afraid of them, and he certainly was no stranger to being hated. Once upon a time, he'd been secure in the knowledge that he was better than most people, and their opinions hadn't even touched him. But somewhere between cowering in front of a madman and constantly looking over his shoulder, he'd learned terrible truths about himself. He'd learned that he was a coward, that he'd do anything to survive or avoid physical pain, even hurting other people. He supposed that maybe that was the reason he'd always hated Harry, because deep down, he'd always known that Harry was better than him.
Draco shook his head. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by thinking these thoughts, particularly not when their guests would soon be arriving. He'd been off his game for awhile, but he'd once been a fairly decent Occlumens - he'd kept Snape out, hadn't he?
After a few minutes of rummaging through the potions cabinet, Draco realized a problem - apparently whoever had stocked their potions supplies hadn't even considered that the flat's occupants might one day find themselves in need of a good sobriety potion…probably McGonagall, he thought bitterly. Of course she'd be sadistic enough to want them to suffer through it. The old coot.
"Fuck," Draco muttered. He slammed the door shut, then winced when the sound was louder than he'd anticipated. Well, he'd just have to take his chances with a sobriety charm he'd learned back in fourth year. As he recalled, it hadn't worked terribly well, but at least it might take the edge off.
Quietly, Draco reentered Harry's room, closing the door behind him. Harry started, sitting up and blinking. Once again, Draco was struck by how vulnerable Harry appeared without his glasses. He wondered how many others had seen him like this…probably not very many.
"It's just me."
"Oh," Harry said, visibly relaxing. "Sorry, old habits."
Old habits of light sleeping and being startled into waking, or old habits of being wary of Draco? Draco suppressed the urge to shake his head at his own obsessive need for Harry's approval. Seriously, what was wrong with him lately?
Draco sat on the edge of Harry's bed, which he'd done before, but felt strange as Harry was actually on it this time.
"Well, Potter, we have two choices. Either I can cast a half-arsed sobriety charm on you, which may or may not work, or you can stumble around at your party. Your choice."
Harry blinked. "The charm, I suppose? I trust you."
"Okay," Draco said, feeling unexpectedly giddy. He raised his wand at Harry, who didn't appear worried in the slightest to have his former enemy pointing a wand at his head. He whispered the charm, feeling his magic, always poised just beneath his fingertips, releasing and conducting through his wand. After having had such trouble with his wand lately, it felt unbelievable.
Harry closed and then opened his eyes as Draco lowered his wand. For some reason, his heart was beating fast.
"Well?"
Harry nodded. "Better. Half-arsed though it was. I…I can't help but notice that your magic has improved lately. What I mean is, you're really good at subtle spells like this. And subtlety has never been my strong point, believe me. So…I find it impressive. That's all."
Harry bit his lip, and for some reason a shout of Sectumsempra! rang, unbidden, into Draco's mind. Not subtle was a bit of an understatement…but wasn't that what had always impressed Draco about Harry?
"Well, it would be impressive to you, Potter," Draco said. "To see true talent at work."
Harry rolled his eyes, then fumbled for his glasses. Finding them, he perched them on his nose. "You're such a prat. And quit calling me "Potter". It makes me feel like we're fourteen again."
"Well," Draco said, and for some reason he pushed Harry's hair out of his face for him, "I might still have some of those badges."
Harry stared at him, Draco's hand still poised just alongside Harry's face. He let his hand drop.
"Draco…" Harry began, somewhat hoarsely. He leaned forward slightly, a questioning look in his eyes.
Draco stood violently to his feet, feeling suddenly fidgety and out of sorts. He cleared his throat. "Harry, I need to know if you're still taking those potions."
Harry started, looking slightly confused. "What?"
Draco took a deep breath. His heart was pumping erratically - he felt panicked, as if he'd just woken up from a bad dream. But of course, nothing of the sort had happened.
"The potions, Harry. The ones I told you to stop taking. I was just thinking, and I bet that's why you got drunk so fast - you're still on a fuckload of potions…just like I told you to not be!"
The look on Harry's face told him everything he needed to know. Draco gave a mirthless laugh. "Well?"
Harry shrugged. "Yeah. So what? Just…it's really none of your business what I take, Draco. I'm the one…I'm the one who has to deal with all this shit." He sighed, then looked at Draco beseechingly. "You of all people should understand. I've heard you, Draco. At night…when you wake up screaming. I've heard you. And I understand. Please…"
"You don't think it's my business," Draco said flatly, staring at a far point on the wall. "Really."
"I don't mean it like that," Harry said quietly. "What I mean is…you have enough problems of your own. You shouldn't have to worry about mine."
"If only it worked that way, Potter," Draco said, sighing. "I wouldn't be worried, not if you hadn't wormed your way into my life…"
A hurt expression flashed on Harry's face, prompting Draco to shout, "I fucking care about you, okay? So…so, fuck you! Because you obviously don't give a shit about yourself…how do you think it will make me feel? If you…if you die, Potter? I fucking hate you, sometimes!"
Draco turned his back on Harry, still breathing hard and shaking. He gave a small start when he realized that Harry had wrapped his arms around him from behind - squeezing him, his head buried alongside Draco's neck.
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled against his skin. "I'm sorry. I'm such a fucking idiot…I thought I could help you, not the other way around."
Draco twisted in Harry's arms so that they were facing each other, then hugged Harry for all he was worth. "Shut up," Draco whispered. "You're so stupid, sometimes."
Harry laughed quietly, the vibration reverberating through Draco's fingertips. "Yeah, I know. But you…" Harry pulled back slightly, running a finger down Draco's cheek. Heart pounding, Draco shivered.
"You're amazing," Harry whispered, and then he kissed him.
It was a brief kiss, more a pressing of lips together than anything. But the way Harry did it - his lips lightly, gently touching Draco's - bespoke of a strange reverence. Draco gasped against Harry's mouth, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Harry's back…needing, wanting more. More of this, more of whatever Harry had to offer.
"Hey," Harry said quietly, after gently disentangling himself from Draco's arms. Draco swallowed back his disappointment. "Is this…is this okay?" Harry's eyes were wide, uncertain. Insecure. Draco realized, at that moment, that he could so easily break him with one word.
So all Draco could do was nod. Dumbly.
Harry smiled, and gripping one of Draco's hands, pressed a light kiss on the pulse point above his wrist. "Good. I've…I've got to take a shower before our guests get here. Umm, Ron, Hermione, and Luna will be here any minute to help get things ready. So…"
"Okay," Draco said, still feeling more than a little dumbfounded.
Harry's face was flushed, and he nearly tripped as he left the room. It struck Draco then that Harry was just as disconcerted, just as nervous over the whole thing as Draco. And that…that caused a strange sensation to bloom in Draco's chest, and it had been so long since he'd experienced it that he could hardly place a name to it - and then it came to him in a flash. The feeling Draco was experiencing, that he hadn't felt in so long, was excitement.
*
Draco lay on his bed while Harry showered, the sound of the running water nearly lulling him to sleep. He felt oddly at peace for the first time in ages - high on something he couldn't explain. That he didn't want to explain, because to explain would be to question and actively examine what he was feeling. Draco didn't know much about Muggle religions, but he supposed that they must feel the same way, would rather attribute their own feelings of peace and ease to something mysterious and inexplicable. Draco could certainly relate.
Of course, it wasn't perfect. The conversation with Harry regarding his potion use was far from over, but Draco had a feeling that everything would be alright. For him, Harry would stop. Harry had said he was amazing…Draco sighed contentedly, letting the feelings of being kissed, being adored, wash over him once again.
It was unfortunate that Hermione Granger chose to enter his room at that moment - well, he had left the door open - and was witness to what was certainly an odd sight. That sight being Draco, flopped on his back with his eyes closed and a stupid, silly smile adorning his face.
"Draco?" Hermione asked worriedly, immediately cutting off Draco's reveries.
Draco sat up with a jolt, feeling as guilty as if Granger had caught him wanking. And that thought certainly caused him to blush, because it brought to mind thoughts of Harry, and thoughts of what it would feel like to touch him, to be touched back…
Granger cocked her head quizzically. "Are you alright? Ron just let us in - Luna and me, that is…have you been drinking?"
Draco snorted, combing his fingers through his hair. "I was just taking a nap, Granger. You know, that thing where you close your eyes and sleep…"
Granger rolled her eyes. "Well, if you're done napping," she drawled in a completely un-funny imitation of Draco's accent, "then maybe you'd like to come out and socialize? Luna's excited to see you - don't ask me why, as you're apparently set on being a grouch…"
"I'm not," Draco snapped, reluctantly rising to his feet. Striding to his mirror, he did a quick hair check before hurriedly looking away. He hated looking at himself these days, hated how pronounced his already angular features had become, hated the ever-present dark circles, the sickly pallor of his skin…his hair was the one decent feature he had left, and he'd be damned if that wasn't at least presentable.
"Hey," Granger said softly, and Draco turned, raising his eyebrows in annoyance.
"Yes?"
"It will be okay, you know. The people coming…nobody holds a grudge or anything. And, you know…you'll have Luna. And Harry," she added meaningfully, her own eyebrows raising slightly.
"Wh-what?" Draco asked shakily, but Granger merely smiled enigmatically and nodded. He hadn't noticed before, but she'd prettied herself up for this event - her hair was curled into soft ringlets, and she wore a dress that was actually very becoming on her. Maybe Draco was simply feeling charitable, but he found himself mumbling, "you look nice," before he could stop himself.
Granger laughed. "Thanks, Draco. Aside from that horrible scowl, you look nice as well. Don't look at me like that - it's true. Now, relax." She grabbed his arm, dragging him out of the room, and most amazingly, Draco let her.
Granger and co. had made short work of the living room - there were names magicked on the walls of the dead they were supposed to be honoring: Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks…the names easily circled around the entire room. It took Draco but a moment to spot the name "Vincent Crabbe", glowing and blinking with the Christmas tree brilliance of the others, and he unexpectedly felt his throat constrict.
Turning away brusquely, he noticed that a bar had been set up at the far end of the room, adorned with an endless variety of drinks.
"Hello, Draco," said Luna's dreamy voice, and Draco spun around - and immediately fought back the instinctive urge to laugh. Luna's dress was bright orange and loudly announced Happy Halloween! in blinking, neon letters. It was so unequivocally Luna, and Draco felt a disconcerting wave of fondness for the strange girl.
"I love your dress," Draco told her, meaning it, and she smiled that dreamy, other-worldly smile of hers.
"I knew you would."
Weasley cleared his throat, giving Draco a small wave. "Malfoy. Umm, what do you think?"
Draco nodded, the blinking Crabbe sign fresh in his mind. "It's…nice, Weasley. I'm surprised you were able to do it." He'd meant the remark to be cutting, but Weasley just laughed.
"Are you kidding? This was all Hermione." Weasley sighed, a sickly, stupid grin on his face. Draco wondered, with an inward cringe, if he'd looked like that while thinking of Harry.
"Well, it's nice," he finished lamely. "So I guess I should have figured it wasn't you."
Weasley just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Malfoy."
Luna grabbed his hand. "Want to dance?" she asked, using Draco's hand to twirl herself around. "I'm a very good dancer."
Amidst Weasley's blatant snickering, Draco managed to disentangle himself from Luna. "I'll have to respectfully decline…I'm a horrible dancer, actually. But I hear Weasley is quite brilliant on the dance floor."
Weasley's snickering immediately died, and Draco smirked evilly as Luna made her way over to him. His smirk faded, however, when he saw Harry walking into the room, his easy mirth replaced by a feeling of fierce longing. Harry looked the same as he always did - his hair was as untidy as ever, his glasses just as ridiculous, and his clothes…well, maybe Draco could help him with that a little - but Draco's heart leapt at the sight of him, nonetheless.
Harry blinked, obviously just as surprised at the new décor as Draco had been. He appeared to recover quickly, and his eyes immediately sought out Draco, who gave him a small nod. Harry smiled tentatively, obviously still uncertain, before walking to stand next to Draco.
"Hey," Draco said softly, poking him on the arm.
Harry's eyes lit up. "Hey, back." They stared at each other for a moment - everything still so new and uncertain. So exciting.
Weasley murmured something like, "oh, bugger me," after which Granger promptly swatted his arm. The movement served to tear Draco's eyes away from Harry - for the time being, anyway.
Harry gave an embarrassed laugh, nervously running his hands through his unruly hair. "Right. Er, everything looks great. Really, really great."
Their guests began arriving shortly after - Draco recognized a few of them: Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, the Weasley twin who wasn't dead, etc. Amazingly, no one attempted to hex him on sight, and Longbottom even shook his hand. But it was clearly a Gryffindor affair, and as the lone Slytherin (and ex-Death Eater) of the lot, it wasn't long before he felt he'd worn out his welcome. Everyone in the room was busily chatting with one another, laughing easily. Grabbing a Butterbeer from the make-shift bar, Draco took a seat in the corner, watching through surreptitious lids as Harry laughed and nodded his way through a conversation with Longbottom and Thomas. Harry apparently didn't notice - or didn't care - that Draco was sitting by himself, and the thought caused yet another unexpected lump to rise in his throat.
Maybe Harry had only kissed him because he'd felt sorry for him? That was a definite possibility. It wasn't as though Draco was fun to be around, or was particularly good-looking or anything…not to mention the fact that he was male, and a Malfoy. None of it made any sense. He was Harry fucking Potter…he could have anyone he wanted, man or woman. Why the fuck would he want Draco?
Draco closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very nervous - and very unwelcome. He could always lie, make up something about his mother needing him. It wasn't as if anybody would question him - or would care.
A hand gently grabbed his arm, and Draco opened his eyes. It was Harry, of course, brow wrinkled with concern. A tidal wave of hurt swelled up in Draco - why hadn't Harry been concerned a few minutes ago? Why, in a group of people who - for the most part - hated him, had Harry left Draco to fend for himself?
"Hey. What's wrong?" Harry asked. Draco jerked his arm away, sniffing indignantly.
"Nothing. Why would anything be wrong, Potter? Maybe I wanted some time to myself, ever thought of that?" He glared at Harry, willing him to see the hurt behind his words.
Harry sighed. "Draco. Don't do this. These are my old friends - I'm kind of obligated to make the rounds and talk to them. But I'd…I'd much rather be with you." Harry took a deep breath, obviously calculating the risk of his next action, then gently brushed the hair away from Draco's face in a familiar gesture that was theirs and solely theirs, and Draco felt as if he'd melt.
"And you know," Harry continued, apparently undeterred by Draco's words, "you don't have to sit over here by yourself."
"These people hate me, Harry," Draco protested sulkily. "The twin-less Weasley keeps giving me evil glances."
Harry sighed again. "Okay, whatever. But you can't say I didn't try." He made to leave, and it took Draco but a split second to follow him.
"Okay, okay," he muttered, catching up to Harry. "I'll try. For you."
Harry smiled, obviously aware of how much the words had cost him. "Thanks," he
mouthed, giving Draco's arm a squeeze.
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