Title: sweet treatment
Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: T or PG-13
Warning(s): None
Content Notes: hogwarts 8th year, halloween, slight grief/mourning, humor, fluff, gift giving
Summary: Halloween brings with it unpleasant reminders, and Harry is comforted by a few sweet treats and a roommate who likes caramel.
Author's Note: This was written for the HP Halloween Fest 2024 on AO3. I thought I'd share it here for more people to enjoy!
Harry had been lost in his head all morning.
From the moment he woke up in a sweat, the familiar bright burst of green behind his eyes, his mother's pleas ringing in his ears, Harry knew his day would be rough. Halloween usually was.
Draco had immediately noticed his withdrawn disposition. He had met Harry's eyes, raised an eyebrow, and said nothing.
One of the many advantages of rooming with Draco was his habit of refusing to feed into Harry's mood swings. He had treated him no differently than he would on any other day; demanding that Harry hurry up when he was showering and then taking twice as long, threatening Harry's life when Harry accidentally elbowed him while they brushed their teeth side-by-side, using his leftover hair gel to try to wrangle Harry's wild curls despite Harry's protests, redoing Harry's tie while insulting his 'appalling lack of decorum.'
Harry hadn't been able to hide his small smile before they had left to meet up with the other eighth-years for breakfast, and Draco had rolled his eyes at him, telling him to hurry up.
Now, Harry shuffled behind a few of his fellow classmates as they made their way to Transfiguration. Younger students they passed in the halls shared candy between them, some having small costume accessories like fluffy cat-ear headbands and poorly done, skeleton-esque face paint. His friends chatted amongst themselves and Harry smiled when he thought he should, not really paying attention. His shoulders felt heavy, his mind foggy, his feet dragging. Every time Harry blinked, he saw a flash of green. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his bed and sleep until tomorrow.
A small third-year Hufflepuff with a fake mustache on their face nearly knocked Harry over as they ran past him. Harry scowled, pulling his bag up higher on his shoulder and fixing his robes. Something poked at his thigh as he walked, and Harry huffed as he patted along his leg in search of whatever it was. His brows furrowed when he shoved his hand into his robes' pocket and pulled out a chocolate frog.
He frowned down at the box. He couldn't remember the last time he had one.
Harry began opening the box carefully, briefly wondering how it had gotten into his pocket. Hermione would probably want him to cast a few detection spells on it just in case, but Harry brushed the thought aside. He was already feeling a bit better, anticipating the delicious taste of chocolate on his tongue.
He caught the frog easily as it jumped from the box, and the animation magic faded as he bit into its leg. Ron, of course, smelt the chocolate right away, and turned to him with puppy dog eyes. Harry wordlessly broke off another leg for himself and gave the rest to his shameless glutton of a best friend.
Harry nibbled on the chocolate as they entered the Transfiguration classroom, and he took his usual seat towards the back. He shoved the rest of the chocolate into his mouth as he set his school bag down and pulled the collector's card from the box.
What little the chocolate frog did for his mood instantly evaporated at the sight of his own face looking back at him. His swallow of chocolate hurt as it went down.
Ron had gotten Harry's card before, had shown him with excitement and disbelief, had wondered if they had made one for him, too. Harry had only wondered how they were allowed to use his face like that without his permission.
Harry stared at the picture of himself. He still had the same scar, the same messy hair, the same glasses. He was just about ready to vanish it when Picture Harry smiled at him. It was a knowing look, and Harry grimaced back.
And then Picture Harry looked down, beyond the frame of the photo. His eyes widened in surprise and then he silently laughed. Harry raised a curious eyebrow as he watched the other version of himself bend down out of frame, and then he stifled a snort when Picture Harry straightened, a white ferret in his hands. The animal squirmed in Picture Harry's hold, scrambling over his shoulder and into the hood of his robes. Picture Harry laughed again, and Harry chuckled with him.
Harry flipped the card over to read the back. He had a feeling...
HAIRY JACKASS POTTY
Born 1980
THE-GIT-WHO-LIVED
Though primarily known for defeating the dark
wizard Voldypants twice (debatable; you were
literally a baby the first time), Potty is also
famous for his astounding disregard for every
school rule that has and will ever exist, his
inability to Floo travel without falling over, his
godawful handwriting, and his dreadful table
manners. Potty enjoys doing anything but study
and telling his roommate completely false stories
from previous years (there's no way you were
nearly sorted into Slytherin, you're a filthy liar).
Harry was smiling widely by the time he finished reading. He chuckled as he flipped the card back over to see the white ferret had climbed on top of Picture Harry's head, who was wincing from the animal's claws and trying to pull him off.
"What are you laughing at?" Ron asked as he sat down beside Harry.
Everybody around them was also taking their seats, the Professor preparing to start their lesson. Harry tucked the card away.
"Nothing," Harry replied, still smiling.
༺༻
As Professor Flitwick droned on about some charm Harry was sure he already knew, Harry idly twirled his quill in his hands, leaning back in his chair. He watched the wind blow past the trees outside. A particularly hard gust rattled a few branches against the glass and, hidden within the sound, Harry heard the whispers of The Veil. He felt his mind sinking again and was luckily startled from his inevitable spiral when someone snapped their quill nearby.
"Shit," Neville muttered. Harry watched him dig through his bag and come out empty handed. Neville glanced up at him. "Do you have an extra quill, Harry?"
Harry blinked. It took him a second before he realized thathewas Harry. "Oh, yeah..."
Reaching into his own bag, Harry pushed aside the textbooks he rarely opened and snagged one of the quills at the bottom. Before he leaned away, his eyes zeroed in on a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans tucked in alongside his extra ink well. Harry bit down a smile, passing the quill over to Neville, who quietly thanked him.
The box of candy was a little beat up from being thrown around in his bag. Harry pulled the box into his lap, hiding it beneath his desk, and opened it. He had always been a fan of Every Flavor Beans since first discovering them on his first train ride to Hogwarts. He loved how you could never guess what flavor you would get. As a kid, it felt magical to him, in a way.
Harry popped a bean into his mouth and froze. He chewed some more and then barely swallowed down his disbelieving laugh. He looked into the box with wide eyes, digging through it with a finger. Every bean looked the same. He plucked out another bean and as he chewed, he smiled, shaking his head. All the beans were the same flavor, too.
Treacle Tart.
Harry didn't bother questioning how someone went about acquiring a box of Bertie Bott's beans with only one flavor. He just sat back in his chair, enjoyed the candy that tasted like his favorite dessert, and watched the wind blow through the trees outside, his reflection smiling back at him.
༺༻
When Harry stepped into his dorm room, he was disappointed to find it devoid of a certain poncy prat. The first time he had entered a room and felt miffed at the very noticeable lack of Draco, Harry had freaked and vowed to bury that feeling deep, deep down. Now, he knew how much he enjoyed the Slytherin's company, and had long since accepted how insane that was.
Harry sighed, closing the door behind him as he walked into the room. He haphazardly tossed his bag on the floor and prepared to collapse on his bed, only catching himself moments before doing so when he spotted a small bag on his pillow. He did nothing to hide the soft smile that pulled at his lips.
Sitting down on his bed, Harry grabbed the bag and untied the pretty, red ribbon that cinched it shut. He eagerly looked inside once he got it open and gasped.
"No way..." Harry whispered to himself. He closed the bag and opened it again, letting out a laugh when the contents didn't change. "How did he..."
Harry quickly stood, walking over to his desk and scanning the Marauder's Map that lay spread atop it. Draco liked to look at it when he was taking a break from studying, so Harry kept it out for him.
Finding Draco's name on the map was easier than breathing.
Harry spun on his heels and left the room, small bag in hand.
༺༻
In a quiet corner of the library, lit warmly by the afternoon sun, Draco sat alone, his textbooks and parchments spread out on the table around him. Harry watched fondly as the blonde scribbled down more notes before turning a page of the book he was studying. Harry strode over, pulled out the chair next to his, and plopped himself down.
"How did you get these?" Harry asked, setting the bag down on the table.
"Get what?" Draco asked, not looking up from his notes.
Harry reached into the bag and pulled out one of the Muggle candy bars, examining it in awe. He held it up. "These. Where did you get them?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco said, still not looking up from his notes.
Harry rolled his eyes with a smile and set about opening the candy bar up. He was particularly pleased by the roaring lion on its wrapper. "You're going to try them with me."
Despite growing up with the Dursleys, Harry had never tried Muggle candy. He had never been allowed to have any from the convenience store when Dudley demanded some, had never been allowed to go trick-or-treating like the other kids or even pass out candy on Halloween in case he tried to smuggle some away.
And Harry had told Draco that. A few days ago, when Draco had brought up Halloween traditions that he had learned about in his mandatory Muggle Studies class, Harry had told him about his relatives' tyrannical rule over his candy consumption and how much he wanted to try some.
Now here he was, with a bag full of Muggle candy and the person who had fulfilled his wish.
Draco glanced at him, and then the candy, his face grimacing in distaste. "No, thank you."
Harry peeled the wrapper of the Lion bar halfway down and bit into it. He hummed as he chewed, pleased with the chocolate and the caramel and the crunch of the wafer cookie. He held it out for Draco to take, matching the blonde's disapproving gaze with an amused one.
"You'd like it. It has caramel," Harry said once he finished chewing.
Draco stared down at the Lion bar, obviously restraining himself from trying it. The prat loved caramel.
"Madam Pince is going to gut you if she sees you eating," Draco said, pointedly looking back down at his notes.
"I'll die happy, then," Harry replied, leaning closer to the Slytherin. He waved the candy bar at Draco. "Come on, Draco. Just a bite. Here, I'll even open the other side for you…"
Draco sighed, though it didn't sound very exasperated; more amused than anything. He grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled the candy closer, biting into it where Harry had. Draco squinted down at the candy as he chewed, and Harry stared at him, telling himself he was doing so because he wanted to see Draco's reaction and not because of the indirect kiss that just happened.
Draco gave an approving nod as he swallowed. "It's good."
"Told you you'd like it," Harry said, smiling smugly.
Then he noticed how close they were. He could see the flecks of blue in Draco's eyes, the light freckles across his nose. He watched Draco's tongue glide across his bottom lip.
Draco seemed to notice their proximity at the same time, staring back at him, beautiful eyes sweeping over Harry's warming face.
Harry started to lean away, worried about making the blonde uncomfortable, but Draco pulled him back in by the grip he still had on Harry's wrist.
Draco paused, seeming to wait for Harry to pull away again, and when Harry didn't, he quietly asked, "Did you like my gifts?"
Harry's eyes couldn't decide what to look at, Draco's eyes or his lips. He responded just as quietly, "I loved your gifts."
Draco watched Harry's lips as he spoke. He breathed, "Good."
Harry kissed him.