Harry's first couple of weeks with Auror training were very awkward, but that surprisingly had little to do with the job and more to do with circumstances at home. He had tried to talk to Draco many times, but it seemed that he wanted little to do with Harry, and would stiffen at the vaguest mention of what he had said as they sat before the piano, then briskly change the subject to something trivial. Instead of eating in company, he'd been eating most of his meals alone and when Draco did join him things were very formal and the small talk was nearly painful to Harry. If Draco was in the sitting room when Harry would enter, he would offer a stiff greeting and then leave promptly thereafter. In an attempt to get Draco to leave his room Harry had even taken to learning to play the piano, and with all his efforts he'd learned to play the several of songs in the beginner's piano book. Not well, but he was making progress. He hoped Draco would join him, even just for long enough to insult his bad playing. Alas, this did not happen, and Harry began to wonder if Draco had been serious. He thought back to that day, that moment, when Draco had told him he might be falling love with him, and was afraid that he might've been telling the truth. After several days of this, Harry had grown rather weary of it, but had decided not to mention it and see how long Draco intended to keep this charade up.
It had been too long since he and Draco had had a conversation that consisted of more than the weather or the newspaper, and after he had come home from Auror training one day he decided it was past time he confront Draco. The matter that had been weighing on his mind for far too long. It was very late and when he exited the Floo in the kitchen he was surprised to see Draco there, already enjoying a steaming bowl of soup. Draco noticeably tensed when Harry walked in, but didn't move.
"How was work?" Draco asked flatly, straightening up on his stool and facing Harry.
"Dreadful. We were there overtime because someone had gotten himself stuck as half a dog after transfiguring himself and knocked over a shelf of untested potions in his flailing. We had to take him up to St. Mungo's for transfiguration mishap and chemical burns," Harry grumbled as he sat at the table across from Draco. "Oh, not to mention the hoard of who-knows-what-creatures that escaped the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures from the Beast, Being, and Spirit division. I don't know what the hell they're doing down there most of the time, honestly, but this is the second time this week something has been let loose." In fact, Harry was farther behind on paperwork than he normally was due to these mishaps. It was getting tiresome, almost as tiresome as the issue at hand between himself and the other man inhabiting the kitchen.
"Sounds like you've had a long day," Draco said, not-looking-at him. He was getting rather sick of Draco's constant averting his gaze. It was bad enough that they rarely had a decent conversation, but it was even worse that he couldn't seem to look at him half the time. Harry debated momentarily about saying what he was thinking, but he couldn't stew in this discomfort for much longer.
"Draco, listen. You've been acting kind of shifty ever since—"
"Did you see the papers this morning? The Ministry is apparently going to approve the new Adolescent Homeschooling Law. Not sure where that's going to take wizard society, but it sounds promising." Harry felt heat rising to his face.
"Yeah, I heard. I work at the Ministry, Draco," he exhaled roughly. "This is exactly what I'm talking about!"
"What?" If the look on his face was anything to go by, Draco knew precisely what he was talking about.
"Every time I try to talk about the other day, you change the subject. You haven't been around hardly at all, and you won't even bother to look at me!" He had said the last three words rather aggressively, as Draco had once again looked away. "I thought we had gotten over this! I thought we were friends! I wondered if, one day, we might be more than that, but━" Shite. He hadn't meant to say that. However, it had caught Draco's attention. Deciding it couldn't get worse, or more embarrassing than it already had been, he went on. "Yeah, that's right. But with you acting this way there's no chance of that ever happening. So you're maybe falling in love with me, what difference does that make? I already told you I like you, so what does it matter? Why does that mean we can't still be friends?" He hadn't meant to yell, but his temper had gotten the better of him. He was tired of Draco acting aloof every time he entered the room, tired of trying to force conversation, tired of Draco pretending that the last month never happened, that they were back to sitting at a pub, eating lunch and trying to get over a seven year long rivalry.
"I'm sorry…" Draco looked as though he wanted to say more, but then didn't.
"I miss being around you, okay? I miss playing piano with you, I miss your snotty remarks on how the curtains I charm don't match anything else in the room, I miss watching you read… I don't have any problems with what you said. I just want to spend time with you again." He paused, taking a deep breath. "It was fun," he finished poorly.
` "I━wait, you like my snotty remarks?" Draco lifted a pale brow, and Harry thought, or maybe hoped, that he could see the slightest hint of a smirk playing at Draco's lips.
"Well, yeah. Sort of."
"Why? Have some sort of thing for being insulted?" Definitely a smirk.
"It isn't so much that I like being insulted, but that you're the one doing the insulting…" If that didn't sound pathetic, he didn't know what did. "I dunno! It's just that you've been doing it the whole time I've known you. It's weird when you don't insult me."
"Then I guess I'll have to do that more often." Draco paused. "I can't believe you wore that to work. I've been wanting to say that to you every day since you started Auror training." Harry laughed, not because he wasn't slightly offended, but because Draco seemed to be getting back to normal… or what had become normal to Harry.
"Funny, because six weeks ago I probably would have been bothered about it, but now… It's one of the things I like about you, I guess. You've always been sarcastic, snarky Draco. That probably sounds dumb, though."
"Sentimental, Potter?" Draco's tone was harsh, but the glint in his eye gave him away.
"Always have been, always will be, I guess." Harry was surprised to see a genuine, warm smile form on Draco's face. It was an expression he wanted to see more often, and a pleasant change from the expressionless mask he's been wearing for weeks.
"You're a sap, but I suppose you wear it well. Better than your work attire, at least."
"What's wrong with my work clothes?" He let it go the first time, but now he was wondering if he really was dressed badly.
"It's not just your work clothes, it's all of them. One of these days I'll have to take you shopping for a new wardrobe." Draco did not seem like he was joking and Harry looked down at his over-large jumper and his worn, baggy, and out-of-date jeans. Perhaps he did need a fashion update.
"Would you actually do that?"
"I mean, if you want me to. I don't know if I'd trust you to know what's in style these days, so you'll need someone with a good eye for these things. Plus, your outfits are so blatantly muggle."
"Hey, my clothes can't be that bad. I mean, they're kind of old, I guess. I just don't think about it much." This was true. Since Harry had not bothered to go clothes shopping after leaving Hogwarts, a large portion of Harry's wardrobe was still comprised of Dudley's old things and Weasley jumpers. Dudley's clothes were much too large for him, and Aunt Petunia had never been up-to-date fashion wise. Now that Harry thought about it, he was sick of wearing Dudley's things. They weren't his, they never had been, and they were lingering evidence of how little his family had really cared about him.
"Tell yourself whatever it takes to comfort━"
"Let's go, then," Harry said, cutting Draco off.
"Go… where, exactly?"
"Take me clothes shopping." If that was what it would take to get Draco to spend some real time with him, he would be willing to go through the pains of having his sense of style insulted.
"Are you serious? Right now?" Harry nodded. "How are you planning to pay for the things you buy? Don't you still have two months, or something, before your vault is unfrozen?"
"I've saved up my first two paychecks. I'm sure I can afford to buy a new wardrobe easily. Working for the Ministry does have its benefits."
"It— It's eight in the evening, Harry."
"I'm sure some place is open. We could go muggle shopping; they have stores open twenty four hours, and that way nobody will know we've gone out together. We could make it a date." Draco sneered at the idea of muggle shopping, but seemed to at least consider the idea.
"A muggle store. That's part of the issue, here, Harry, but if you're champing at the bit, then… A date." Draco smiled again, that smile that Harry was beginning to like more every time he saw it. Harry stood, then, and circled the table. "You're really serious, aren't you?"
"Deadly serious, and this'll show you that not all muggle clothing is unstylish."
Smirking at the confused expression on Draco's face, Harry took his arm and brought him to a stand. Together they went to the ground floor and through the front door. As they reached the bottom of the outer steps, Harry realised he hadn't thought of where they would go, but he knew that there had to be a London shop still open. On a last second whim, he Apparated them outside of a women's clothing store that Petunia had dragged him to on numerous occasions.
"Really, Potter, I didn't know you were into women's apparel," Draco teased lightly. He seemed nervous and as they walked through downtown London he kept sneaking glances around them, eyeing every muggle passerby as though they were about to attack.
"They don't know who you are," Harry said softly.
Draco glanced at him and Harry could see with just that single look how out of place he must have felt. So he took his hand, which seemed to help a bit. He could scarcely believe he was walking through downtown muggle London hand-in-hand with Draco Malfoy, but he couldn't think of a better way to spend their evening. He suspected that this outing would help Draco feel better about his confession, that it would make him see just how little it affected the way Harry thought of him. Maybe having a good experience in a muggle location would give Draco a new perspective, too. A better perspective, Harry hoped.
For a while they walked in silence, enjoying the underpopulated evening stroll, when they happened on an upper scale men's clothing store. Harry realised with embarrassment that he hadn't changed his money over, and discretely transfigured what he had in his pocket to look like muggle money. At least then he wouldn't be stealing. They entered the store and Draco immediately pulled Harry to the trousers section.
"Thank Merlin, I've been dying to get you out of those ugly jeans you always wear," Draco said as he sifted through the rack of fine looking trousers. Harry began sniggering and Draco froze. "Not-not like that! I meant━I only meant that━" Harry's sniggering became loud laughter at Draco's backtracking. "Oh, bugger off."
Harry found a pair of trousers that reminded him of the ones Draco usually wore and held them up. "What about these?" Draco looked up from the pair he was looking at with disgust and shook his head.
"We're supposed to be finding clothes that are your style, not mine. Though it is flattering that you'd want to mimic me." Draco smirked in the way he did when Harry's feelings were showing.
"I just figured you wouldn't complain if it was something you would wear," he fired back, his face heating as he spoke. He was glad that Draco was finally acting normal again, but it didn't stop him from feeling self-conscious when he made faces like that.
"Well we can't both be me, though I'm sure you'd love to try. Besides, it would probably look a little odd on you. You're somewhat burlier than I am."
"Hey, anyone can wear a black suit. I think I could pull off your style."
"I put a lot of work into my look, thanks!" Draco appeared affronted at the idea that his sense of style was so simple, which only made Harry laugh again.
Draco had successfully helped Harry find seven casual, three formal, and five business outfits. He'd struggled to get Harry to agree to the suit, braces, and tie, but in the end he'd won him over.
"You'd better be buying that," Harry stated with his arms crossed. "I'm telling you, I'm never going to wear it." Draco only smirked. He'd get him to wear it somehow.
"It matches your eyes," Draco insisted as he lifted the green silk tie. "And you'll need something formal to wear in case you're ever invited to a party. Those things happen when you work at the Ministry, you know." Harry had argued that he wouldn't be attending any, but then Draco had given his famous pout that had gotten him his way since before he could talk. Harry gave up in the end.
Much to Draco's dismay, and against his sound advice, Harry had insisted on visiting another store to purchase T-shirts, as the shop they had been at before only got as casual as plain shirts and luxuriously soft jumpers. Draco had bought several of each for himself when Harry hadn't been looking, then shrunk them and pocketed them. Draco didn't understand it: what was the big deal about T-shirts, anyway? It was ultimately Harry's choice, however, so Draco eventually agreed to be dragged through aisles filled with shirts of every colour, all of them emblazoned with logos or designs of some sort. As they passed by yet another rack, Harry stopped and pulled out a black shirt with a large snake on the front. Harry started laughing, but Draco couldn't find anything funny about the design.
"If I have to wear the braces, you have to wear this." Draco frowned at the shirt. Of course it would be a snake that Harry wanted him to wear, as if he was supposed to flaunt his Slytherin status around.
"A snake? Really?"
"Why not?"
"Seems a bit obvious. 'Hey everyone! Just in case you didn't know, I'm a Slytherin. My shirt proves it, see?' Besides, why would I want to wear that muggle rubbish?" His hand unconsciously moved to his back pocket where his muggle jumpers and shirts were.
"There's nothing wrong with muggle clothing, Draco. But fine, if snakes aren't your thing…" It was Draco's turn to laugh.
"I thought I already explained to you that snakes are my thing," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows. It took Harry a moment to figure out what Draco was suggesting, but Draco knew he had caught on when his eyes widened and he gave Draco a small shove.
"That was a weak joke, mate." Draco merely shrugged as Harry pulled out another T-shirt.
"What about this one, then?" It was a similar concept, but in grey instead of black and with a large dragon rearing on the front, breathing fire across the bodice of the garment.
"No. I thought I'd already told you I'm not wearing these foul muggle clothes. It's bad enough that you've dragged me to one of their stores, now you're trying to get me to adopt their dowdy fashion? I think not." Draco was surprised by the lack of conviction in his own tone, however, and the look on Harry's face suggested he wasn't falling for the protests.
"Come on, it'll look great." Harry paused, and he must have gathered that Draco wasn't going to agree to it when he pulled a third shirt off the rack. "What about this one?" It was a bright pink shirt and said 'I'm the queen, you're all peasants,' and had a gold crown above the words.
"No, no, no," Draco shouted immediately. "Put that abomination back, I'll take the dragon if you're so insistent that I wear these rags." Harry pumped his fist in excitement. "And they say Slytherins are cunning…" Draco took the dragon T-shirt from Harry and flipped it over. "You've got to be fucking joking!" The back of it said 'Flaming Hot.'
"Hey, it's better than the pink one, and besides, you already agreed. Also, it's true." He wasn't ever planning on actually wearing the thing, but was done listening to Harry's pestering about the matter.
"Fine, put it in the cart. And I am not 'flaming hot,' I'm more on the 'stunningly gorgeous' end of the spectrum." Harry shrugged.
"Can't argue, there."
When Harry agreed with his half-joke, Draco felt the urge to kiss him, but he wasn't sure the gesture was welcome. Risking the rejection, something he rarely did in life, he decided to get Harry's consent. If Harry could display Slytherin cunning and determination enough to convince Draco to get that awful T-shirt, Draco could summon up some Gryffindor courage.
"I'd like to kiss you," he said, feeling incredibly shy, but attempting to sound casual.
"Are you asking?" Harry said with a chuckle.
"It would be rude not to." He'd thought that was pretty obvious. "I mean, if we were dating it might be different, but since we aren't, I thought it would be the polite thing to do. If you don't want to kiss me, I understand, but I felt just now that maybe I'd like to, and━"
"Draco, since when have you ever cared what's considered rude? You're the rudest person I've ever met," Harry interrupted as he stepped closer to him and took his hands. If Draco had wanted to respond to that he wouldn't have been able to; Harry was kissing him again and it felt just as good as the last time, if not better. The words that had forced him into seclusion and formalities popped back into his head, and they were reinforced. Wrapped in the heat of the moment, he thought that he really was falling for Harry, and he thought that even if it took a thousand more kisses, he wanted Harry to fall for him, too.
Harry's tongue swayed and parted Draco's lips, brushing against his teeth in their haste to find his tongue. Impulse made Draco into a marionette and his arms moved around Harry's waist without his will attached. Harry mirrored Draco and he felt each vertebrae vibrate as if they were chimes and Harry's fingers were the wind breezing down it, one by one.
"What in god's name!"
Harry and Draco broke apart and spun around when they heard someone shout behind them. Draco didn't think the portly man was familiar, or the other man, about his and Harry's age if Draco's guess was accurate, standing near him. They looked as though they were father and son, and both of them had eyes too close together. The older, fatter man's face was turning puce and the younger man looked as though he'd seen a ghost. Draco felt Harry stiffen beside him and when he glanced over Harry appeared to be stunned on the spot.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked quietly, his voice quavering.
"Why are you here? Kissing a boy!" the older man shouted, his mustache twitching at the corners of his mouth. There weren't many people in the store, but the few who were there were focused on the scene. "I knew there was something wrong with you from day one! You and your—your funny business! I hoped I'd never have to see you again, yet here you are in one of my stores, harassing me and my son! Hanged! The lot of you should be hanged! Every one of your type!" Draco had no clue who this man was, or why he seemed to know Harry, or what type of person he was referring to, but he had a feeling that this was their cue to leave.
"Harry we should go," he said quickly, taking Harry's hand. Draco tugged him away, but he wouldn't budge. Draco knew from years of seeing this look on Harry's face that he was furious.
"No, Draco," Harry said, his voice now steady. "There's something I need to say. Take the clothes and check out, I'll meet you outside."
"I'm not leaving you here with this fat git, come on," he urged, pulling on Harry's hand once more.
"And who's this delinquent? Your little boyfriend?" the man rumbled. "You gays are all disgusting! In public no less! In front of my son! Who do you think you are? Clerk! Clerk, I need a clerk! Someone remove this depraved lunatic from my store!"
"Leave him out of this!" Harry shouted back. "So what if he is my boyfriend? He's got nothing to do with this!" He turned to Draco and said, "Go check out, please. I'll be there in a minute." The last thing Draco wanted to do was leave Harry alone with the angry man, but Harry pressed a wad of bills into his hand and shoved him toward the checkout counter.
People were staring, and as empty as Draco had thought the store was, people had congregated. He lowered his face, afraid that someone would recognize him and try to attack him, like those men in Diagon Alley had. Thankfully no one did, and he made it to the checkout counter untouched, but feeling nude under everyone's watchful scrutiny.
Draco walked away with the cart of clothes and Harry waited long enough that he would hopefully be out of earshot before he turned back to his Uncle Vernon and let loose.
"You've treated me like shite all my life and I've had it," he began. Vernon's mouth dropped open, but Harry went on before he could get a word in. "I'm sick of it. You're nothing to me anymore, nothing but a painful memory, and if you think you have any right to approach me in public you're mistaken. I've fought in a war, fought against a man stronger than you'll ever be, stronger than all of Britain put together, beat him, and you think you still scare me?" He laughed, and it was a hollow sound. "I'm not that skinny, underfed child under your staircase anymore, and I'm not going to let you push me around. I've done enough of that to last several lifetimes over, so if you've got a death wish keep talking like you have any relevance in my life. If you'd like to continue living your sad existence, feel free to shut the fuck up and leave me and my boyfriend alone."
Harry stared at Vernon's purpling face and waited for him to respond. When he didn't, he started walking away, but stopped after a few steps and turned to look at Dudley. He was still standing there, his mouth gaping open at Harry. After debating for a few seconds about saying something to him, he decided against it, left the store, and met Draco outside.
"Who the hell was that?" Draco asked as he rushed over to Harry, six or so paper shopping bags draped on each arm. "Why did he start shouting at us for no reason?"
"He's nobody, Draco. Let's go home." Harry was not in the mood to explain what had happened in the store and was still shaking with adrenaline.
"You can't just say he's nobody, he clearly knew you."
"Please can we talk about this when we get home?" he pleaded. Draco stared at him with a mixture of irritation and concern, then nodded once. "Thank you."
Harry took Draco's stiff arm and they side-along Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place. Once inside, Draco dropped the shopping bags and blocked the way through the hall before Harry could storm off as he'd intended.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Who was that? We're home now, so tell me." Harry gritted his teeth. He really didn't want to talk about it, but couldn't see any way out of the the discussion other than blasting Draco out of the way, something he really didn't want to do. After a moment's deliberation he supposed that Draco deserved to know.
"My uncle. Vernon."
"Are you kidding me? That was your uncle? Why didn't you tell me!? I've got so much I want to say to him, I could've punched him in the face, hexed him, made it so that he couldn't speak without angry wasps spilling from his stupid mouth━I could've done something!"
"That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you. It would have only made things worse and you'd probably end up back in Azkaban for attacking muggles." Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
"I don't care, I've half a mind to go back there and tell him what for! That's the bastard who abused you your whole childhood, for Merlin's sake!"
"It's fine, Draco. I dealt with it," Harry told him exasperatedly.
"It's not fine! He can't keep treating you that way! You're a grown man!" Draco was livid, and Harry felt a sudden, strong wave of affection for him. The fact that Draco wanted to defend him so badly made Harry want to smile, despite the incident that had just occurred. He reached out and embraced Draco, and as he reciprocated, Harry could feel Draco's breathing steadying.
"Don't worry about it," he said softly into Draco's shoulder. "You're right. I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself." He paused, stepping away from Draco and leaning against the wall. "It does make me glad that you get so worked up for my sake, though."
"I only meant that he was insulting me as well," Draco replied in a brave attempt at indifference. He paused, seeming to be having some sort of internal debate. "Did you really mean it? When you called me your boyfriend?" Harry's stomach dropped. He hadn't really meant it. He'd only been trying to make his Uncle Vernon angry when he'd said that, but now he was regretting it, and only because there was hope in Draco's eyes and he was about to dash it.
"I didn't… In all honesty it was more of a ploy to get Vernon upset," Harry replied, sheepishly. "I'm sorry I used you like that, but I did meant it when I said the shopping trip was a date."
"Oh, yeah. Of course." Draco's expression went from hopeful to disappointed, then changed to irritation again. "Yeah, that son of a bitch ruined our date!" It was obvious to Harry that Draco was trying to quell his dismay, and if Harry hadn't gotten to know him over the last month he wouldn't have been able to tell. In any case, he wasn't ready for a relationship at this point, no matter how much it hurt Draco.
"Well, how about we start over?" Harry realised that this was the second time he had proposed something of the sort. "We can still go on dates, if you like, and have a new first date. One where my uncle doesn't come in and ruin all the fun. I'm just not sure… I'm not really ready for something serious at this point. This is all so new to me." Draco's face lit up and that smile was back, replacing the hidden sadness that had been present only moments before.
"If you're insisting, Harry, I suppose I could oblige. And now it's time for you to play dress-up for me." His snark was back, which Harry supposed meant he was at least in somewhat good spirits.
"What? No, I'm not dressing up. I have work in the morning, and━"
"And you've been staying up until two every night playing the piano horribly for two weeks. I think you'll manage."
Harry's jaw dropped. So Draco had heard him playing. To say he was embarrassed was an understatement, even if he had done it with Draco hearing him in mind. Draco ushered him up the stairs to his room, levitating the many shopping bags behind him.
"First things first," Draco said as he flung the dresser drawers open. "We're throwing out all your old clothes." And then he began whipping clothes from their neatly folded piles. Harry saw one of Molly's knitted jumpers being tossed over Draco's shoulder and he grabbed it from the growing pile.
"I'm not throwing these away, Draco, they're special." Draco stopped tossing clothes for a moment and groaned as though he were in pain.
"Really, Harry? It's not like you won't get another one this Christmas, or every christmas after that. They're hideous and they don't even fit you anymore."
"The one from two Christmases ago does," he argued.
"Fine, you can keep that one, but that's it." Harry couldn't believe he was letting Draco dispose of all his clothing and dictate what he could and couldn't keep. It did need to be done, though, or his new clothes wouldn't fit in the space. Not to mention that there was truth to Draco's statement; Molly most likely had another jumper in the process of being knitted for the upcoming holiday.
The pile of clothes for discard grew ever larger, until it took up the majority of the floor space in his bedroom. Finally Draco was finished, though, and after vanishing the clothes began rummaging through the dozen or so bags of clothing on the floor and placing them in the dresser drawers categorically. Harry hadn't realised how much clothing he already owned, but half of it had looked like school uniforms, so it wasn't really that surprising.
"Put this on first," Draco ordered and tossed a folded outfit at him. It was the trousers with braces, button down shirt and green tie.
"Seriously?" Draco gave a small 'mhm,' but didn't turn around.
Harry shook his head, but didn't make a fuss. He left his bedroom and shut himself in the master bathroom, then undressed clumsily. He wasn't sure how whether or not he was supposed to tuck his shirt in; he'd never worn braces before. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember seeing anyone else wear them, either. Why Draco had even chosen braces was beyond him. He shrugged to himself and put on the tie, then returned to his room.
"Alright, I've got it on," he said, doing his best to sound like a petulant child. Draco turned from the wardrobe and started laughing. "You're the one who bought it, so if you think it looks ridiculous that's completely your fault."
"No, you berk, you're supposed to tuck the shirt in. Merlin, you're like an infant."
"Oh." Draco crossed the room and began tucking Harry's shirt in for him. "Er…" He wasn't sure if he should say something, but Draco's hand was getting awfully close to certain private areas, and it sent a sudden, uncomfortable jolt up his spine. He wasn't sure how to react, as Draco's hands in his pants was so distracting that he could hardly process his emotions enough to form a proper thought. After Draco had finished, he stepped back and looked Harry up and down.
"That's better," Draco said, placing his hands on his hips and looking quite pleased with himself.
"For future reference, I do know how to tuck in a shirt, thanks."
"Oh, shite… I-I'm sorry, I just… I wasn't even thinking."
"It's okay, Draco, you were just trying to help," he said with a chuckle. Draco was stupidly adorable when flustered. "Do I look as dumb as I feel?"
"You look rather spiffy, actually, now that the shirt's tucked in. Really handsome. I think I did you a favor, picking that one out." Harry rolled his eyes. Oh course he'd be proud of himself. "Next outfit, here." Draco tossed another outfit at him, one of the suits they'd picked out.
"This is the last one, okay?" Harry was getting rather tired, and he didn't feel like trying on his entire wardrobe before bed.
"Just one more after this?" When Harry wouldn't budge, Draco added, "If you do, I'll try on the T-shirt." He really did want to see Draco in his 'Flaming Hot' dragon shirt, and felt it was closer to a fair compromise.
"Fine." This time he changed his clothes hastily, not bothering to fold the outfit he'd been wearing. When he came back into the bedroom Draco was wearing his T-shirt, which was several sizes too large and made him look much smaller than he was. "You look absolutely comical," he said as he started to chortle. Draco blushed, only adding to the humour of the situation.
"It's really soft," Draco said, looking away. "I kind of like this fabric. Read the tag, what's it made of?" He turned around and Harry walked to stand behind him, brushing Draco's neck as he took the tag from inside.
"Rayon. I think it's supposed to be some sort of silk-alternative. Do you like it?"
"Yeah, I really do," he said as he turned around and faced Harry. "Thanks for forcing me to buy it."
"Any time." Draco took a step back and gave Harry a once-over, raising a single brow in appreciation.
"Merlin's hat, Harry, you look really good in that." Harry stifled a smile, only sort of thinking that maybe dress-up wasn't so awful when Draco was complimenting him. "Really, really good."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Harry watched as Draco continued to stare at him.
"Final outfit." Draco cleared his throat, looking away finally, then picked up the third outfit, handing it off to Harry.
Draco placed his hand over his heart, begging for it to slow down. Harry had no right to be that attractive, really. Draco had always thought of Harry as a bit scrawny, but with form-fitting clothes Draco could really tell how much Quidditch, and fighting in a war, had helped keep him fit. It really wasn't fair, and if Draco didn't like seeing how good he looked he would regret making him buy new clothes. Even the more loosely fitting clothes were bound to look nice on him, something Draco looked forward to, but also feared. The suit, however, should be illegal for Harry to wear. At least in his presence. Before Potter entered again, Draco slipped his T-shirt off and changed back into his previous shirt.
"Last one," Harry said as he marched back into the room. He was wearing one of his work outfits, a nice burgundy cardigan over a grey T-shirt and black slacks that made his legs look much longer. "What do you think?"
"I think we need to return everything, we've clearly made a mistake," he joked.
"We've made a mistake? You're the one who insulted my wardrobe to the point where I felt it was necessary to have a new one," Harry retorted, with just as much fire as Draco had, which was none. "If this is anyone's fault, it's yours." Draco snorted.
"If you say so." He stepped closer to Harry and tugged on the collar of his cardigan lightly. "In all seriousness, you look very handsome. Let me know if you get any compliments tomorrow, they're all owed to me. You're welcome."
"Oh, is that the way it is? I'll let you know just how horrible everyone thinks I look in the clothes you blackmailed me into buying because you're such a pompous prat that you couldn't stand seeing me walk around in my own house looking like a homeless person."
"Blackmail━excuse me! Blackmail is not in the Malfoy nature! We're more the type to make others feel as though they want to do our bidding. You know, Imperius and all that. Blackmail," he scoffed. "That's below us." He'd raised his chin to peer down his nose at Harry, making sure to incorporate the sneer that Harry apparently thought was his most attractive feature. Then the two of them broke out laughing, unable to keep up their silly pretense any longer. He wasn't sure the Imperius joke would go over well, but it had and he was very glad that Harry hadn't thought it too dark, though it probably was.
"Alright," Harry said, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Are we finished playing dress-Harry-up-even-though-it's-half-eleven-and he's-eighteen-years-old?"
"I suppose, but it'll come with a price."
"Oh god, what could it be?"
"Is a good-night kiss so torturous?" Harry sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.
"No, I suppose not." At the same time they leaned forward, and since Draco was several inches taller than Harry he bumped his nose on Harry's forehead because of the lack of timing.
"Sorry," Draco breathed before trying again. The kiss had better success the second time, and Harry even brought his hands up to cup Draco's cheek, his fingers resting just under his ear. It wasn't a heated kiss, it wasn't clumsy and tricky as it had been before. It was warm and soft, delicate and strong at once. It did not deepen, it remained on the surface, and in a way it was even more intimate this way. When they separated they simply stared at each other for a moment, and Draco was beginning to see a pattern. It was almost as though, after their lips stopped kissing, their eyes finished the job.
"I guess… goodnight, then," Harry said, taking his hands from Draco's face.
"Yeah, goodnight." Draco took a couple steps backward. "Sleep well." And bumped into the door frame. "Ouch… Sweet dreams." And finally left the room, feeling like a complete git.
Once in the solitude of his room, Draco fell back onto his bed, breathing out a soft, content sort of sigh. Other than being berated in front of an entire store by the man that had made Harry's childhood hell, Draco had felt that the day had gone rather well. He peeked at the T-shirt that he clutched in his fist, the one he swore that he would never wear. It was incredibly soft… But it was oversized, and the only place Draco would dare to wear it was here, in his own privacy. Glancing around as if he expected someone to see him, he slipped the garment back on and peeked in the full length mirror. It really was ridiculous, but he supposed it would make a nice pyjama shirt. He slipped off his trousers, revealing pants that somehow happened to be almost the exact shade of red that was draped over his chest. Draco snorted. He slipped under the covers, which were also similar shade to his outfit, and revisited the events of the day before drifting into a sleep filled with images of Harry in suits and angry, purple-faced men shouting at him.
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