A/N: Look, I just put all these previous chapters together. It just fit better that way in my head. There may or may not be updates. It's fun to write at times. We'll see. Hope you enjoy if you like weird Drarry tension. Avoid if you don't.
Draco was livid. It was already half past the time that he'd agreed to meet that Mudblood bitch. He gingerly took a sip from the martini glass the bartender had hastily cleaned.
Merlin's beard I'm in a bloody Muggle bar.
Draco sighed, setting his drink down and uncharacteristically slumping so his head lay against the top of the chair. He stared up at the ceiling, and his thoughts drifted to the unfortunate incident that led him to the dingy muggle bar.
"Granger!" Damn it did my voice really just crack? With a loud cough, Draco tried again, hurrying after the bushy headed brunette stepping into the lift. "Granger!"
She turned, and she even smiled at him as he barely beat the lift grilles closing. He tried not to huff as he smoothed his hair slightly over his left ear.
"Sorry, Draco." She pressed a number on the panel before turning to him with a teasing grin. "I didn't see you at first." She gestured toward the panel, "what floor do you need?"
"Uh… well yes. Uhm." Draco cleared his throat again.
"Floor?" Granger said with clear concern.
"Yes, I'm going to the lobby." Taking a deep breath, he continued before he lost his nerve. "Youknowhowtheresthatrumoraboutme?"
Her laugh startled him. "Yes, I did hear that."
"Well it's not true!" Draco didn't mean to sound so indignant.
"Draco, you know it really doesn't matter if you are, right?"
"It might not matter to you." He sighed, "but the world doesn't change very quickly sometimes. My father…"
"Your father is a pretentious ass." She sniffed and crossed her arms. Her pose softened slightly though, and a slight furrow in her brow made him wary. "Why are you asking me about this anyway?"
The lift opened at that moment and a witch and wizard stepped on arguing loudly about the Holyhead Harpies chaser, Ginny Weasley.
Granger gave him an appraising look, "why don't we meet later?"
He nodded stiffly once and stepped off the lift when the doors opened once more at the lobby.
He sat up with a deep breath. He could still see her encouraging smile as he had stepped off. So, where was she? Didn't she know how difficult this was for him? .
"Hermione, tell me again why we're heading to this small muggle bar on a Tuesday?" Harry adjusted his glasses as he followed his friend down the sidewalk on a dreary and misty evening.
Hermione smiled at him over her shoulder and pulled her coat at the collar to cover the smile and ward off the chill.
"Hermione, don't fucking smile at me like that. What the ruddy shit are you up to?"
She stopped suddenly and glanced behind him suspiciously. Harry's defenses immediately went up. It was an old mechanism from being in near danger constantly throughout the age of 17-18 and now had translated to a more specific fear of photographers and paparazzis.
"I thought I saw…" she trailed off and shook her bushy curls. "Ah, never mind." She started walking forward briskly again, and Harry pushed his stride to catch up.
"Look, you haven't been happy lately." She spoke in a low voice that Harry could barely hear and her pace was relentless as she walked through the dimly lit streets. "I have an idea or a hunch rather, and I would like to see what you might make of it. It makes me a rather bad or good friend, but I think it's worth seeing if I am right?" Her lilting voice squeaked up at the end, as she stopped at the entrance to a small muggle pub. She turned and her hand reached up gently to rest on his cheek, "I think it has the opportunity to make you happy. Do you trust me?"
He nodded. Because more than anyone, Hermione knew what he needed.
Draco lifted his head again when he heard the door groan open. He sat up swiftly and straightened his spine into its normal steely posture. Granger was taking off her coat and glancing up at a tall form next to her. Fucking Potter. Fucking mudblood, he knew this was a bad idea. Draco watched intently as Potter removed his glasses, wiping them on the hem of a pale grey long sleeved shirt. The top was the only thing that looked different about Potter. Draco's appraisal noticed the long, too baggy jeans that Potter still did not seem to pick out for himself, the beat up trainers several seasons out of style, and the always present glasses that Potter was setting back on his nose. Draco smoothed his own hair as he took in Potter's rumpled look, as if he had just stepped off a broom. It made his hands itch. However, the shirt was a different look for Potter. It appeared soft and well made, fitting against Potter in a loosely elegant way. "Granger or Weasly must have picked that out." Draco muttered to himself, before draining his drink, "but again what the bloody hell is he doing here." Draco smoothed his hair again, then raised one hand slightly to encourage the two to see him. Sighing when that didn't help, he stood up and waved with slightly more animation.
Harry had just got his glasses back on and was looking around when he saw Draco Malfoy waving at them in annoyance…. In a muggle bar… in this muggle bar… on Tuesday.
"Hermoione, what in the flying -"
"Ah, yes. We are meeting Draco." She smiled too brightly up at him. "Why don't you head over there, and I'll just pop to the bar and get us drinks." She was gone before he could protest. Harry made his way over to the table where an icy energy seemed to have kept anyone from sitting near. As Malfoy folded himself back into the chair, Harry realized with a start that Malfoy had grown and filled out since Hogwarts. Malfoy had crossed his long legs, encased in trim black trousers, at the ankle and sat scowling at everyone nearby without ever really looking at Harry. Harry drug his feet over and forced his face into a smile or what he imagined was a smile.
However, Malfoy did not seem to reciprocate, and when Harry approached, gestured quickly at the seat next to him. "Potter." Was his only cold remark, before his long fingers picked up a toothpick with olives, and his thin lips closed around the olive at the end of the toothpick.
"Malfoy." He matched the cold intensity and pulled the chair out roughly and then proceeded to awkwardly scoot it in. Malfoy's smirk made it apparent it was just as awkward as Harry had thought. He sighed and looked around the bar, studiously ignoring his tablemate.
"Did Granger say why you're here?" The remark came quickly as if Malfoy had forced himself to say it.
"No." Harry sighed, "Just said to trust her."
Draco stopped himself from once again running his hands through his hair. He knew his question had been too forceful, and he knew just as Potter was avoiding his gaze, he was avoiding Potter's. This was not what he had expected at all. He just wanted to talk through this problem, err, this nothingness with an intelligent individual that wouldn't report to his father. He flexed his fingers to stop them from moving through his hair.
"This does not get back to my father." He looked over at Potter, the command softening to a question at the last minute, "understood?"
Potter's green eyes were filled with bright questions that Draco was saved from answering by the arrival of Granger.
She placed a new martini in front of Draco, a beer in front of Potter, and then hoisted herself into the seat next to him after placing a steaming mug of something on the table.
He scoffed, "Did you really get tea at a bar?"
She smiled, "Hot Toddy actually, it's freezing outside!" She wrapped her hands around the mug and glanced between the two of them. "Also I am literally the only one of us that has muggle money, so I paid, but I expect this back in galleons when we leave."
"I have muggle money." Draco found himself saying, "the exchange isn't so difficult as you might think."
"Wow, you actually exchanged the money yourself?" Granger had angled her body toward him and was smiling brightly with an interest that was so vastly different than he was accustomed to with his friends.
"Of course, I can't have it getting out that I'm out here slumming it or what have you. Things aren't quite as bright as you make them out to be in the Ministry."
"I agree," Granger said while taking a sip of her drink. "It's definitely a work in progress and there are still so many views that are not aligned with integrating with muggles. I am surprised you think so as well, Draco."
Potter sat stiffly across from her but snorted at her words. "He just doesn't want to be banned from the club."
"I'll have you know that I am trying to persuade change, I just can't go about it as baldly as you." Draco sneered, "Chosen One." He didn't know why Potter's words seemed to sting, nor why he felt the need to defend himself.
"Ok, well before we get too off track here," Hermione paused and took another sip, smiling happily at her drink and then each of them in turn. Her face moved smoothly into a more solemn appearance. "I have been studying some interesting information that I think applies to you both. Now, if you don't agree or feel my instinct is wrong, please tell me. However, I know you, Harry." Here her angle shifted, and she rested a hand across the table on top of Potter's. "And I really want you to find what you feel is missing. This might be it."
Potter's smile quirked in one corner of his mouth, and his hand wrapped Granger's while she continued. "I think, and please stop me if I am wrong," Granger's hand reached out toward Draco's on the table, and he thought about allowing her to touch it, but she paused, and so he covered for her and reached for his drink. She allowed her hand to rest near him on the table, as she pressed forward with her stumbling explanation, "I think you both might be attracted to both girls and boys or what's called bisexual." Her words fell like heavy stones onto the table, and the shockwave exploded into Draco with an unexpected force.
"There's research that explains that sexuality is a continuum, and I just thought with what you've been telling me, Harry," Granger looked beseechingly at Potter's shellshocked face before turning toward Draco, "and the rumours that you wanted to discuss, I thought this might be a safe place for you both to speak. But I might have overstepped. I shouldn't have thought… I mean I meant…. Oh my"
Draco slid his hand across the table into hers, "What do you mean bisexual?"
The door groaned open with a bang the wind pulling it outward as a new patron entered the bar. Draco gave them a cursory look, but both Potter and Granger turned to fully appraise the person, before settling back into their seats.
"I just think, there has always been a tension between the two of you, that might be more than just rivalry." Granger tried to reach out Potter, who had pulled his hand away when the door banged open. "Harry, please say something," she pleaded.
"So, I pour my heart out to you, about feeling empty since…" Abruptly, Potter stopped, then gestured forcefully in short controlled bursts at Draco and then the bar, "and you bring me to meet him and here?" He snorted, "fuck this, Hermione." He pushed up. Reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered leather billfold. He proceeded to pull some bills out before throwing them on the table, "for the drinks." He sneered, before turning and stomping out.
Uncharacteristically, Draco found himself in a position where he was comforting someone. He gently squeezed Granger's hand after Potter's abrupt exit. Her eyes were filled with tears that had started to leak slowly down her face, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to make either of you feel a certain way, or put anything on you in any way. I just wanted to help." She sniffled, and Draco offered her a napkin.
She took the napkin, dropping his hand and blowing her nose quite noisily.
Draco's lip curled in disgust before he could control it. He reached for his drink, taking a measured sip. "So, help then. Tell me more about why you asked me here. And," Draco paused, "And… why you brought Potter, too." His gaze had been focused on Granger's face, but fell when he said Potter's name. To his horror a slight blush made his cheeks flush as well. Probably just the alcohol. He coughed to cover his confusion before bringing his gaze back up to search Granger's face.
"I can tell you what I've learned in my research, and you can use that information how you'd like. I can't tell you anything more about Harry. I shouldn't have brought him." Granger was business-like as she began her explanation. Her voice only faltering a few times, and her gaze softening as she explained things Draco had felt but had ignored or dismissed.
Draco let her continue until she trailed off, seemingly uncertain about his reaction. He placed his right hand palm up on the table, inviting her to hold it if she'd like. With his left, he grasped the stem of his drink, swirling it a little and staring through the glass.
"So, to be clear, you're saying it's… normal?"
Granger's smile lit her entire face from within, as she gently placed her hand in his. "Very much so. All of my research points to the fact that people exist on this spectrum, but due to religious beliefs in the muggle world and the desire for pure bloodlines in the wizarding world, most societies make it feel like it's not normal. But it's very normal."
"So, Potter?" Draco left the question unfinished and hanging in the air, connecting the dots in his mind.
At the mention of Potter, her face froze and she shrugged stiffly.
"I'm not an idiot. Just tell me if he's still with the Weasley girl."
"Yes. He is." The words seemed to escape without her knowledge.
"Interesting." Draco's smirk filled his face before he once again controlled it into a more neutral expression. "I believe this is where we should close the evening." He finished his dirty martini, enjoying the burn of the gin down his throat. "I will of course escort you to the nearest transit spot. Be it by Floo or muggle transport." He continued as the embers of alcohol settled in his stomach, and he popped another olive in his mouth, "take your time with your toddy."
"What were you even doing at the Ministry, Draco? Did you get a job?"
Draco snorted, "No. Of course not. I was interested in some alchemical research a friend is conducting, that's all." He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair. Surprisingly this was the most relaxed he'd felt in years. He leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the feeling of an easy unstilted conversation. Granger had always been intelligent, but finding someone to discuss his own interests allowed him to feel heard in a way he had never truly felt in school.
Granger continued to show interest in surprising ways. She asked questions about his research, listened to what he said, and commented back in a way that showed she had considered what his response was.
Draco was honestly, in a word, bewildered. He had thought to close the evening, but Granger's excitement in his own interests had forced him to order another drink. Then another. On drink five or six Granger was telling him exorbitant tales of Gryffindor hijinks, before Voldemort had ruined their last few years at school. He in turn allowed her a rare insight into his own experience. He wasn't sure if it was the gin or her intense state, but he shared more than he had ever shared with Crabbe and Goyle. And certainly more than he had with his fiancé, Astoria Greengrass.
Their laughter filled the small space around the table creating a warm buzz around Draco that he had never truly felt. When they did close the evening, and Granger left, Draco went to the bar and ordered one more drink before the bar closed.
As Draco sat at the bar, he felt something brush against his left side. Revelio. He muttered under his breath, assuming something would show. However, to his surprise nothing did.
"Pay the tab, and come to the alley." A voice whispered in his ear.
Draco took a short breath, looked down, and smiled. "I take orders from no one now." He took a measured sip of his drink before continuing, "You'll have to be a little more persuasive, Potter."
Suddenly, Draco felt a hard grip on his thigh. He couldn't quite see anything, but there seemed to be a shimmering haze obscuring his view.
"Ah, I see the Chosen One is using his invisibility cloak. Can't be seen slumming it."
A whispered voice caressed his ear with the sound of his name, "Draco…" The hand slid further up his thigh, and Draco took another sip of his drink before setting it down resolutely and flagging for the check. In these motions, the voice of Potter has moved from a slight presence near his ear to a ghostly slide of lips traversing the arch of his throat before disappearing entirely.
"Potter?"
"Alley on the left, I'll wait one minute." And with that final omission, the voice and pressure entirely disappeared.
Draco shifted when Potter left. He paid the cheque and debated the positives and negatives of the alley in the short time while his feet carried him out and to the left. Or wait, was it left looking at the place or left when you came out the door?
Draco hovered in the doorway as he debated these thoughts and the entire possibility of what he thought could or might occur in the alley. He finally decided to give up on the entire experience, when he felt a tug on the corner of his coat.
Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco turned and moved further into the alley. The misty rain had strengthened into if not a steady downpour, then a constant pattering. The wind being the larger problem, it caught the tails of Draco's coat blowing them steadily forward and deeper into the alley. "Potter? Look, I'm not going to get soaked for a joke." He found himself whispering into the dark, the sickly burnt umber of the streetlight above highlighting sections of rain as the wind blew it in strange diagonals.
"Harry?" The name fell from his lips unwillingly, almost quieter than the rain against the walls around him. Stupid, what was I thinking… Too many…
Before his brain could complete the vitriolic diatribe, Draco felt himself pushed back against the dirty alley wall. His feet skidded over bags of take out trash, which had blown over from the nearby refuse pile.
"I don't know what I'm doing." He heard Potter briefly whisper before his lips crashed against Draco's. Hands pinned his shoulders firmly against the wall, before fingers climbed up behind his ears and through the back of his hair. Draco was surprised with how delicately the fingers skimmed over his scalp, when the lips pressed against his were insistent enough to warrant a crushing pressure. He felt the pressure continue to build as Potter angled his face and his teeth began to nip at Draco's bottom lip. Draco let himself fall into the kiss without thinking as he slipped his arms around where he assumed Potter's shoulders were and found himself slipping beneath a silken coolness, as the invisibility cloak enveloped him.
Draco knew that the liquid gold rosé type of feeling burning through his limbs was a fleeting one. He leaned into it, allowing the rain to soak through his open jacket as Potter's hands moved from the back of his head and down his neck before sliding under his jacket and over his shoulders.
Draco tightened his own grip and pulled Potter against his chest, before running his tongue along his bottom lip. Potter gasped and Draco used the momentary break to reverse their positions, pressing the length of his body against Potter's and pushing him firmly back to the wall. The reversal disrupted the cloak around them, and with a momentary pang of panic, Draco stepped away.
Harry gasped as Malfoy took command of the kiss and pressed him back against the wall. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to do this. He simply had followed his gut instinct when he'd taken his invisibility cloak out and returned to the bar. He'd seen Hermione leave and with her exit he had snuck up to the bar.
He hadn't meant to do anything, but Malfoy's sardonic grin, and his softened eyes as he played with the stem of his glass had Harry rounding the bar stool between them.
Then suddenly he was here, and the press of Malfoy's soft lips against his own was making his head buzz and his lips tingle. So, when Malfoy stepped back, Harry tripped forward, stumbling over a flyaway piece of cardboard he had somehow missed in the initial rush toward the wall.
His glasses bounced on the end of his nose before clattering to the ground into the now open space. At the same time a huge rumble of thunder cracked across the sky, before a thin scattered net of lightning pierced the sky before forking downward and hitting a nearby lamppost. The shitty light above them winked and went out as the wind beat the rain against him as if he had caused it a personal affront.
"Shit. Shit. Shit." Malfoy's harried mutterings had to be accompanied by what Harry imagined were his long fingers raking his hair back from his widow's peak.
"It's dark enough now, nobody would be able to see anything anyway." Harry spoke up from where he knelt, his fingers carefully skimming along the ground where he believed his glasses had fallen. Instead of the wireframe of his glasses' arm, his fingers grazed against a damp trouser cuff.
Harry allowed his hand to rest against Malfoy's ankle, testing his wariness. When he didn't step away, Harry trailed his hand further up, as his other hand found Malfoy's left ankle, Harry looked up into the dreary burst of sky above him, and the blurry outline of the pale face above him.
"It's dark enough now…" he repeated as his hands came to rest against Malfoy's hips.
Draco took the shallowest breaths he could, trying not to gasp, but also trying to keep from hyperventilating. Harry's hands came to rest on his hips, and the invisibility cloak had blown askew just enough so that he could partially see the right side of Harry's body in the misty darkness, in a wavering sort of connection to the head floating directly in front of his trousers. Draco's breath hitched, and he deliberately emptied his mind and forced his breathing to even out through deep inhales and exhales through his nose. Which to his immediate regret brought the stench of the refuse they had skidded into in their whatever that was.
All of these minute calculations lasted only seconds, but Draco knew his hesitation had been too long when he felt Harry's hands fall away. The immediate sense of loss he felt was unexpected though.
"Sorry, just need my glasses. Lumos." He heard Harry whisper, and a small light appeared, seeming to match the intensity of its speaker. "Ah, yes. There. I thought they'd fallen near you." Harry reached past him, and Draco almost reached over to catch his hand, but years of self-restraint weren't for nothing it seemed.
"Just a bit of the weather and drink. Yeah?" Harry stood up before continuing, "Nox." The small light on his wand disappeared, closing off any means Draco had of reading his expression, "I mean, it's only…." Here he trailed off. "Um, give your mother my regards…" He turned and moved down the alley before calling slightly over his shoulder, "Or I guess, better not to mention me at all." Then his form was completely hidden by the invisibility cloak, and Draco heard the sharp crack of disapparation.
"Fuuuuucccckkk." Draco didn't care that he was further dirtying his trousers as he leaned back against the wall and slid down it staring up at the dark sky, which had once more opened its maw and was profusely vomiting water from the heavens. He let his head sink between his knees and didn't even bother to cast a spell of impermeability.
Draco knew he was going to get sick from this. He was being stupid, but he also couldn't seem to find any motivation to move. That is until he heard the bar door open and the barman step into the alley. Draco didn't mind being miserable, but he wanted to do it alone. Without scrutiny. The barkeep would almost certainly wonder why someone was sitting in the rain in the dirty alley outside their bar. And at very worst, they might even involve the muggle police. He sighed. Quickly pulling his wand into his hand from his sleeve, he waved a variety of 'distraction no-see me' spells and a silencing spell on himself before rolling his eyes and forcing himself upward.
He watched the bartender glance at the spot he'd been in curiously, as if he couldn't understand why there wasn't a damp spot on the cardboard, but the muggle mind excuses magic in extraordinary ways. Shrugging the bartender, opened his umbrella, turned toward the street and walked right past Draco without so much as a glance.
Draco took another soothing breath, trying to recenter himself. Using both hands he smoothed his hair back, then straightened his coat and dusted his trousers. When his fingers reached the spot Harry's had just recently vacated, he ignored the tremble and what it might mean or how his heart raced and his brain immediately imagined the bright green eyes below him.
He shook his head and hands fiercely before stepping out of the alley. "Nothing to worry about. Just as he said, just a bit of weather and drink." Inadvertently, his fingers gently pressed to his lips before dropping and revealing a small secret smile.
Harry knew apparating and disapparating without a clear destination in mind was one of the first things they warned you about at school. He also knew that his jumbled state of mind was not going to clear anytime soon, unless he removed himself immediately from this area, and since apparition somewhat needed a clear mind…. He was kind of already bending the rules as one entity?
As always, by stroke of luck or by some innate ability Harry was able to unknowingly tap into, he was able apparate directly to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He, Ron, and Hermione were staying here together to save a little money. Or in Harry's case, he'd offered it to Ron and Hermione as an option when Hermione had graduated, and they'd begun looking at places for rent near the Ministry. Ron had vented to him one evening after work at the Leaky Cauldron, while Hermione met with some school friends for tea at Madame Puddifoot's, "1600 bloody pounds for a one room flat, with a shared bath! That's more than a house is worth a month in Ottery! These bloody city-shits with their…."
"Why don't we all just stay at Grimmauld, again?" Harry had been renting a flat in Chelsea, but it was soulless, and honestly he'd be glad to see the last of it. He drained the last of his butterbeer, before motioning for another round. "I mean, we'd cleaned up a lot before… everything…. And Kreacher's better… if not… well…" He'd been so nervous that Ron would say no.
Ron had instead enthusiastically slapped him on the back, asked him if he was serious, drained his new butterbeer, before racing out to talk to Hermione about it.
Harry smiled at the memory, before a frown creased his brow and creeped into the corners of his mouth. Before Hermione had once again investigated unwarranted and unwanted problems. He shook his head. No, not problems. Just a little dip. Bound to happen. Nothing like a life full of trouble to make life feel a little… less.
From the wards, he could tell both Ron and Hermione were within. He sighed. Best to just rip the plaster off straight away. He marched up to the door, before carefully easing it open, shucking his shoes in the corner, and tiptoeing past the portrait of his grandmother. They still hadn't managed to remove nor quiet her. Once he was past the danger zone, he headed toward the kitchen where he suspected his friends might be waiting up for him. The kitchen door at the end stood slightly ajar and a warm glow came from within, as well as the murmur of voices. Harry snuck forward, gliding on the wooden floors in his socked feet.
"You think he went back to that git!?" He heard Ron ask incredulously.
"Shhhh, Ron! I don't know!" He heard Hermione's worried tone, and almost felt a pang of guilt, until he realized that this meant she had also told Ron.
"So, wait… wait… let me get this right." Harry knew it would be better to interrupt and explain to Ron himself, but if he was honest with himself, he really wanted to know if this would be something he couldn't recover from first. "You think Harry likes girls, like Ginny."
He heard Hermione's exasperated sigh, and muttered, "yes, Ginny is and has always been a girl."
"But you think he also likes boys?" Ron's skepticism had reached new depths, "Hermione, I lived with him in dorms for years. Don't you think I would've noticed if he was like… I don't know… checking boys out or something?"
"Ron, remember this comes from a place of love."
He heard Ron sigh.
"You are probably one of the least observant people in regards to human nature that I have ever met."
"Oh, come off it, Hermione." Harry could imagine Ron's snort and crossed arms at this point.
"Look, I'm not saying we can know anything." Harry could hear the slight tinge of frustration in her voice, "I don't think it's something we can know for sure. Only Harry can know what he feels. It seems to be a spectrum. Like I told you." Now he could imagine Hermione's cross pinched brow, as she shrugged and tossed her curls back, while referring to her research, "I just think Harry deserves to be happy…." then some sniffles.
"Oh, love. You know I think that more than anything else too." He heard a shuffling sound mixed with some wet snuffles, "Don't cry, love. I just want to make sure Harry's fair to Ginny while he sorts whatever it is out. That's why I asked. He's my best mate. I love him, too. You know that."
Harry felt a lump forming in his throat, and he backed down the hallway a bit so he could make it appear like he'd just noisily and drunkenly arrived.
"Hermione!" He called in a loud whisper, still aware of his grandmother's portrait behind him. "Hermione! Where are you? We've gotta have some words!" He made his voice as gruff as he could, which wasn't hard with the lump he couldn't seem to dislodge from his throat.
"We're in here." He heard Ron call from the kitchen, and he repeated his earlier steps, but this time lifting his feet knowing if nothing else that his friends loved him.
Draco wasn't 100% sure, but he thought someone might be following him. He needed to clear this alcohol from his system. It was seriously impairing his ability to think. He'd never been very good at disapparating, and in this state he didn't want to risk it. So, this meant a cold, wet, walk. Of shame. Isn't that what it's called?
He shook his head. He hadn't even done anything. Harry had… He shook his head again. Potter had been the one to push everything. You pushed him up against a wall and pressed your body against his and considered more…. "Shut up!" He growled.
A group of girls stumbling out of a bar nearby gave him a reproachful look. Though he did notice in the windows as he walked on that one or two were looking back at him as he continued on. He preened. Even dirty and disheveled, he was wanted. As he was preening, he caught a glimpse once more of the figure he believed had followed him from near the dive bar. He quickened his pace, he was almost to Diagon Alley, and from there Tom would begrudgingly allow him the use of some Floo Powder to get back to Malfoy Manor. Just a few more blocks.
Unfortunately, Draco's worst fears were confirmed inside the Leaky Cauldron, when he ducked through the door and peered out through a grimy window to see a very wet reporter had been following him. He'd have to have a comment for tomorrow for why he'd been in this area. Damnit, Granger.
Sighing, he walked up to the barkeep. "Hey, Tom. Bit too much out and about with some friends. Can't think straight to apparate." He grinned indulgently at the rhyme, knowing even if he was still regarded with some dislike, good looks still curried favor even if it was somewhat resentful.
Tom laughed. "Been there, son. 5 knuts for the use of the fireplace."
Draco swallowed his retort at the outrageous price, knowing that many of previous Gryffindors and DA members often used the fireplace for free. "Of course, my good man." He pulled out a Galleon, dropping it into the barkeep's hand with a wink. "For your trouble, and to keep any prying questioners from spreading that a Malfoy was out and about being any sort of drunk or disorderly."
Tom bowed deeply, before leading him to the fireplace in the backroom. "Best of luck Mr. Malfoy, sir. Have a good rest of your night."
Draco nodded in return, but couldn't contain the slight disdain that drew his left eyebrow upward and the slight hitch in his smile when Tom bit the side of the Galleon as if testing if Malfoy were genuine. "You as well, Tom."
He drew a small pinch of the Floo Powder from the pouch Tom had gestured to on the mantle, throwing it on the fire, it roared higher the flames turning a bright emerald green. He stepped into the center, then clearly enunciated, "12 Grimmauld Place," before choking on a hot piece of ash and his own stupidity.
As expected, the swirling flames stopped soon enough, depositing him in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place rather unceremoniously. He stood up, expecting to see the house elf, Kreacher in the warmly lit room, instead when he turned around it was to Potter, Weasley, and Granger. All of whom were up with wands pointed at him cautiously.
"Oh fuck." He ran a hand through his hair. "Bit too much to drink?" He tried with a shrug and a grin that quickly turned into a grimace.
"How the bloody hell would Malfoy Manor come out like Grimmauld Place?!" Weasley bellowed.
"Ron, no!" Potter and Granger had dived simultaneously. Potter pushing Weasley's wand hand up, and Granger trying to unsuccessfully muffle his shout.
"Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonour, taint of shame on the house of my fathers - "
"Not it on the stunning," Weasley and Potter said at the same time. Granger hanging from redhead's arm, simply looked back and forth between the both of them exasperated.
"Are you both… You're serious. Merlin's beard…" She got down from the chair she'd scrambled on to reach for his mouth, and muttering a stream of very creative expletives she left the kitchen, Draco heard the screaming intensify for a moment, "Stains of dishonour, blood traitors, children of-" before it was suddenly cut off. He heard muffled footsteps coming back, before a whispered "Ronald Bilius Weasley, come to bed," and her head popped in through the crack in the door. "I'm exhausted." She gave a huge pointed yawn.
"We'll need to check the wards." Weasley muttered darkly as he patted Potter on the back, "How's that work anyhow," he jerked his head back toward Draco.
Draco tried to smile winningly, but it was still a Weasley, and he knew his face was more of a sneer than a smile because Weasley shut the door behind him with one more dark look and a quick snap, and Draco was alone once more with Harry… err Potter.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy." The flatness in Potter's tone had turned the question into a dead statement in the air between them. His surname separating them, as it had kept him from so many other things he wanted.
"I think I came with an excuse to warn you about a reporter… but now…" he stepped closer to Potter trying to close the distance. Both the physical and the one they'd lived with since 12. He saw Potter… Harry step forward too, "Now, I don't know what I'm doing." He reached a hand out hesitantly, and saw Harry mirror it before letting his hand fall back, and then running a hand through his hair before trying to flatten it.
"Sorry, we don't have any Floo Powder. I can run down to Diagon in the morning. You can't disapparate very well, right?" Harry looked at him with what Draco would guess was amusement if they'd been friends, "There's a spare bed in my room. You can sleep here and we'll sneak you out in the morning." He moved his neck to the left and right, cracking both sides before yawning broadly.
Draco couldn't help it; he yawned back, "Umm, thank you."
"Come on, follow me. Be quiet or we'll wake my grandmother." Harry jerked his head to the left toward where the screaming had originated. Had Hermione stunned a person? What the fuck was going on here?
Draco followed Harry almost too willingly up the stairs and to a bedroom on the second floor. "Toilet's down the hall. First door on the left. You want some pyjama bottoms?" Harry had turned his back and was rooting through a dresser, "You're a bit taller than me, so they might be a bit short. I've got some shorts if you'd prefer?"
"Uh…" Here he finally looked up. Draco wished he hadn't. He didn't know why, but his pulse was racing, and his face was flushed.
He was gratified at least to see Harry also gulp slightly before asking again, "Preference?"
"Pyjamas are fine, thanks."
"Shirt?"
Draco coughed why did he feel so awkward answering questions about how he slept all of a sudden? He'd slept in front of goons like Crabbe and Goyle for years. "Not usually, no. Too hot. Used to the chill in Slytherin's dormitories."
"Ah," Here he was pleased to see, Harry's ears had begun to flush, and he pulled at his collar nervously. "Makes sense. Not me. Get cold, too easily." He shivered for effect.
Draco held back a grin.
"You first?" Harry gestured out the door toward what Draco assumed was toward the bathroom.
"Thanks again. I know this could've been an owl. Or even just waited til morning." Draco shrugged helplessly. "Just spoke before thinking, I guess."
"Yeah, I know how that goes." Harry grinned easily at him for the first time ever, but it quickly faded. Draco turned away with his own smile tucked away and went toward the bathroom Harry had indicated.
Harry banged his head repeatedly against the top of the dresser. What the fuck are you doing. What the fuck are you doing. What the fuck are you doing.
He needed to change before Malfoy… could he call him Draco? No, not yet. Harry shook his head dislodging errant thoughts like buzzing flies around him. He quickly stripped out of his clothes, and pulled on his normal sleepwear of blue pyjama bottoms and a white tee. He gave his teeth a quick cleaning spell, and he was trying to decide if he needed to go to a different room to sleep, when Malfoy returned.
Harry knew vaguely what Malfoy would look like shirtless. He had a similar build after all. They were both seekers. However, Malfoy had filled out and put on muscle since Hogwarts, becoming more concrete. Taking up more space. He seemed to fill the room even with the slight seeker's build he still had. Harry found his eyes following the planes of Malfoy's chest to his stomach and the slight line of hair into…
Harry quickly pulled his eyes to the left and pretended a spot on the wall behind Malfoy had been very interesting the entire time. When he looked back at Malfoy, his infernal smirk was in place, but that could mean anything.
"So, um luckily, there's two beds from when Ron and I stayed in here. Pick whichever." Malfoy moved toward the one Harry'd been sleeping in, and for some reason Harry was pleased to think he'd pick that one.
"Nox." Harry whispered when they were both settled into the beds. The drawn curtains ensured it was quite dark, with only the occasional peek of moonlight shining through behind the clouds that were still ever present in the sky.
With Malfoy so close, Harry couldn't settle. All he could think of was earlier in the evening and the feel of Malfoy's lips on his, the pressure and want behind the kissing. And now he had the image of Draco shirtless to add to it as well. He listened for the even breaths of sleep next to him debating whether or not to cast a small silencing spell and relieve the pressure building within himself. He'd always had curtains at Gryffindor, and they'd had a sort of semi code for when someone needed time alone. Fuck. You're nineteen, almost twenty years old. You've endured torture. You've died! You can sleep near, not even next to, a guy that you kissed once.
Irritably, Harry turned on his side, and when he glanced over toward Malfoy's bed, a lance of moonlight shone in for just a moment. He saw Malfoy had none of the compunctions that Harry had been wrestling with. None at all.