It's not that Draco was afraid of heights, per say. It was really more of an Oh-Merlin-there's-a-massive-lizard-underneath-me-that-used-to-be-Harry-and-if-I-fall-off-I'll-die kind of moment.
And really, could anyone blame him for screaming? Besides, he stopped the embarrassing squeal when Harry leveled out ten stories up or so. Of course, as soon as he caught his breath, Potter was off doing loops and barrel rolls that had Draco holding onto the straps with white-knuckled hands, heart alternately in his throat and somewhere below his toes.
In retrospect, he probably should have kept screaming.
Harry rolled over and over in a nausea-inducing series of maneuvers, letting out a delighted roar and painting the sky with fire again. Draco whimpered.
After he seemed to get that out of his system, his flying became much calmer. He seemed to being showing off for Draco, executing wide turns and sharp dives that never came close to the ground. It took Draco a bit to understand that he was doing a standard Seeker's warm-up, but he laughed out loud when he realized it.
No wonder Potter always outflew everyone on the pitch. He was meant to be in the air.
Flying with a dragon was so much better than a broom! Harry's steady wingbeat around him, his tail swishing out to complete the sharpest turns he'd ever done, no broom could match the feeling of a living being born to the air.
"Wronskei Feint!" he shouted into the rushing wind. Harry snorted, a short burst of flame from each nostril. He flapped higher, gaining altitude. When the three people on the ground were no larger than ants, he snapped his wings close to his body, rolled over, and dived nose-first toward the ground.
Draco screamed again, this time with a breathless joy, as the hard earth came rushing up to meet them. Suddenly Potter flared his wings out to their full extent, jerking them to a near stop, and landed lightly on four feet. Draco laughed, still shaking with nerves and adrenaline.
"Fantastic flying, Harry!" Charlie called, rushing over to let Draco out of the straps. Harry rumbled in agreement. Draco stood on wobbly legs to watch as Harry shifted back, his rumble turning into delighted laughter.
-0-
Harry felt light, freer than he had in weeks. Flying was what he was meant to do. There were no restrictions on him in the air. Shifting back always made him a little sad. His human body was stuck to the ground, a weak suit of skin easily torn and balance precariously on two legs.
He'd never flown with anyone in his dragon form before. It was surprisingly fun, hearing Draco's reactions to his movements. Perhaps he had shown off a bit, but having a passenger made it more enjoyable.
'Maybe it's just having Draco,' a snide voice whispered in his head. He told the voice to shut up.
Draco was a sight for sore eyes, standing on unsteady legs. His eyes were bright, fine blond hair a windswept mess, cheeks flushed attractively. Harry just wanted to kiss him.
What?
-0-
Draco stared at the fireplace warily. Tonight was the dinner at the Weasley house. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it.
But, Harry had wanted him there. So Draco was going.
"Ready?" came Harry's voice from behind him. He chuckled at the look on Draco's face. "It'll be fine. They're not allowed to treat you badly." Draco pulled a face that clearly said he doubted Weasleys would listen to him.
"I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' in the end," he informed him dryly. Harry grinned.
"I'm sure you'll shout it from the roof for the next week if you're right. Now c'mon, we don't want to be late."
"Don't we?" Draco muttered under his breath, hoisting Teddy up on his hip and stepping into the green flames. Harry followed, pulling Draco close with an arm around his waist as he called out for the Burrow.
Somehow, Draco couldn't bring himself care. Almost unconsciously, he leaned forward into Harry's muscular frame as the world spun around them.
Conversation stopped as an entire army of redheads watched the three of them step from the Floo. Draco's nerves came back full force.
"Hey, guys! I brought Draco as my guest tonight, is that alright?" It wasn't a question. Scattered murmurs broke out as people agreed, then conversation began to rise again. Draco let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh, well, Draco…dear, it's so nice to see you here," the red-haired matriarch stuttered out. "Harry's never brought a guest before."
"It's lovely to be here, Mrs. Weasley," he replied quietly, falling back on his Malfoy manners. "Harry absolutely insisted that I come."
"Did he now?" A knowing sparkle lit her eye, and her smile became more genuine. Draco wondered what that was about, but was soon swept away into the thick of things.
"Hey there, Wolfling!" cried a scared young man with long hair. The oldest son, he remembered. Attacked by Ferir Greyback on the night he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Draco set Teddy on the floor, averting his eyes in shame.
"Hey Bill, Fleur," Harry greeted. Draco felt a calming brush of fingertips across the back of his neck and shivered. Harry was standing beside him, showing his support in front of his family. He was incredibly grateful, but torn that Harry had to do such a thing at all.
Dinner was still strained, though the kind attentions of Mrs. Weasley and Teddy's excited chatter helped dispel some of the tension. Draco ate heartily, trying to ignore the bitter stares from Ronald, Granger, and, surprisingly, Ginerva. He couldn't recall ever having done anything directly to her, but every time Harry bumped shoulders with him she gave him a heated glare.
After dinner Draco ended nursing a glass of Firewhiskey and polite conversation with Charlie while Harry talked and laughed with the rest.
"I'm glad Harry brought you tonight," Charlie told him. "It's the only time each year his spends with his entire family."
"I'm not sure I really fit into this happy picture," he replied, swirling his drink. Charlie gave him a knowing smile. Honestly, what was it with these Weasleys and their sly looks?
"Oh, I think you're more a part of it than you realize. Or you will be, anyway. You're a good thing for him, you know? Something real in that crazy world of his." The dragonologist tossed back the rest of his drink and stood. "I better get to bed, tomorrow's an early morning. Har', happy twenty-first, mate!"
Harry tossed him a wave and grin from where he stood across the room. Draco took a sip of his drink, watching Harry openly.
His eyes crinkled at the edges with mirth at something Ronald said. He tossed his head back and laughed, the carefree sound rolling through the room.
Draco wasn't the only one watching Harry. Ginerva had hungry eyes fixed on his face. Hadn't they dated in school? Was she trying to take him back? She laid a hand on his chest possessively, and Draco's hand tightened on his glass. She tilted her head up at him, but thankfully he shook her off, stepping back.
"Just gonna get some air, mate, yeah? Let Teddy have some more time with Bill and Fleur before we take him home," he called over his shoulder as he headed toward Draco. "What to go for a walk?"
Draco tossed back the rest of the drink. Oh, what the hell.
"Sure."
-0-
Walks in the moonlight were surprisingly intimate, Harry decided. Just him and Draco and the apple trees, out under the stars. They walked in silence, neither one daring to break the silence.
They ended up in the clearing Harry had played games of two-on-two Quidditch during the summers. He lay on his back in the grass, staring up at the stars.
"The first time I saw the Burrow, I thought, 'that's what a magical house should look like,'" he said quietly. Draco stayed silent, seated beside him on the ground. "I grew up without magic, without a family. The Weasleys had both. A house full of kids, gnomes in the garden, a ghoul in the attic. I didn't care that they didn't have money or standing. They were everything I ever wanted."
He was quiet for a long moment, then he laughed softly.
"It feels like I'm justifying them now. They're my family now, but if I'd grown up like I should have, if I'd grown up like you did, would I even talk to them?" He sighed. "Don't listen to me. Too much Firewhiskey, I'm just rambling now."
"No," Draco said, "you're not." He took Harry's hand gently and Harry sat up to face him. "They're important to you. Your past, this family, made you who you are. Don't waste time on what-ifs."
They were face-to-face, so close now. Just a few inches apart. Harry looked into silver eyes, brighter than the moon, and forgot everything he might have wanted to say. There was only them, two left-overs from the great and terrible war, together beneath the stars.
With a monumental effort, he tore his eyes away and pulled back his hand.
"We should get back." He rose, trying to ignore the heartbroken expression in Draco's eye.
Trying, but failing.