Chapter Text
A window slammed shut somewhere above them, the sharp clack echoing off the high dormitory ceiling like the crack of a whip. Draco startled awake, blinking into the dim early morning light. His neck ached. His arm was completely numb. And Potter, of course, was already awake.
He wasn’t just awake, though.
Potter was watching him.
Draco squinted blearily, trying to pretend he wasn’t flustered by the sight of Harry sitting entirely too close, his cheeks a little pink and his eyes wide like he’d just been caught doing something illicit. The glow from that bloody rectangle of his bathed half his face in blue light, making him look oddly ethereal. Or guilty. Maybe both.
Draco cleared his throat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “How long have you been awake?”
Harry startled like he hadn’t expected him to speak. “Not long,” he said quickly, then glanced down at the glowing screen in his hand. “It’s about four. We must’ve crashed earlier than usual.”
Draco hummed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “It was a long day.” He sat up straighter, wincing as his spine audibly popped. “The floor is murder, though. My arse feels hexed.”
Harry let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I think I’ve lost all feeling in my hip.”
They climbed to their feet slowly, leaning on one another like drunk old men after a pub crawl. They were still linked at the hand, and neither of them mentioned how easily they’d fallen asleep like that, curled together under the window, warm and far too comfortable for what was meant to be a temporary accident.
Draco turned toward the bed, already eyeing the pillow like a man with priorities, when he felt Harry tug their joined hands in the other direction.
He glanced back, frowning. “What?”
Harry jerked his head toward the door. “Want to explore?”
Draco blinked. “Explore what? The school we’ve spent seven years in?”
Harry shrugged, that maddening little half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Could be fun. And I’m not really in the mood to try sleeping again.”
Draco hesitated. He wasn’t sleepy anymore, truth be told. Just sore. And baffled that Harry was voluntarily asking to spend more time with him- unsupervised, no less.
He narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
Harry’s grin widened, which was exactly the wrong thing for it to do. “No clue. But we’ll be needing this.”
He crouched beside his bed and yanked something from underneath.
Draco stared. “Is that..?”
“My invisibility cloak,” Harry said, with a flourish.
Of course it was.
“You’ve had a bloody invisibility cloak this entire time, and we’re only using it now?”
Harry straightened, the cloak slung over his shoulder. “What would we have done with it before? Snuck off to Potions together? Stumbled blindly through double Herbology?” He tossed Draco a wink. “This is the adventure portion of our curse.”
Draco sighed, exasperated, but followed anyway. As they reached the corridor, Harry flung the cloak over both of them.
Or, tried to.
It became immediately apparent that they weren’t twelve anymore. What once covered three children now barely draped over two half-grown adults. Bits of their robes and shoes peeked out in the flickering torchlight. And because of the binding spell, their hands pulled taut if they tried to walk side-by-side.
“Shite,” Harry muttered, adjusting.
Draco stumbled as Harry manoeuvred himself behind him, forcing Draco’s arm to twist backwards.
“It’s better if we walk in a line,” Harry explained.
“A line,” Draco said flatly, “is a very generous way of putting this.”
Because what they were doing was not walking in a line. What they were doing was sharing one body like some two-headed creature, with Harry practically glued to his back. His breath brushed Draco’s neck, his chin hovering near his shoulder. Every step knocked their knees together, Harry’s shoes brushing against his boots, his free hand occasionally bumping Draco’s hip or waist in an entirely unnecessary manner.
Draco’s brain, regrettably, short-circuited. Again.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know where we’re going, Potter.”
“You’re in the front,” Harry said helpfully.
Draco rolled his eyes, an act he was pleased to remember Harry couldn’t see. “So I have to lead our midnight escapade now, do I?”
“Exactly. You’re the captain of this ship.”
“Merlin help us all,” Draco muttered.
They wandered the halls without any real direction, the castle looming quiet and still around them, stones cool underfoot and lit only by the occasional flickering torch. Their joined hands swung slightly between them as they walked- awkward and inescapable.
Draco hated how used to it he was becoming.
Harry jutted his chin toward a window as they turned. “This is where I tried to fly out and sneak Ron and Hermione in on my broom in first year. Didn’t work, of course. We all fell right into the lake.”
Draco snorted. “I’m surprised Granger went along with it.”
Harry tilted his head, looking sheepish. “I think we bribed her with some limited edition book. Was worth it, though. Flying always is.”
Draco stopped short, causing Harry to walk right into him.
“Oi!” Harry grunted, stumbling. “Why’d you stop?”
“Flying,” Draco said suddenly. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he wasn’t entirely sure why it felt like such a revelation. “Let’s go flying.”
Harry’s face lit up under the cloak, his features flushed in the torchlight. There was something warm in his eyes- something that made Draco feel abruptly too warm himself. “You’re a genius, Malfoy.”
“Don’t deny it again,” Draco said, lifting his chin.
Harry laughed. And for a fleeting, traitorous moment, it felt easy- like they weren’t stuck together, weren’t constantly circling each other with words sharp as hexes. Like they were friends.
Of course, that illusion died immediately as they reached the broom cupboard.
“Why do I have to go in the back?” Harry whinged. “I went in the back under the cloak!”
“You chose that for the both of us,” Draco said hotly. “I had no intention of leading us anywhere. You dragged me out here, remember?”
“Great!” Harry said, all false cheer. “And you still don’t want to lead, so let me sit first on the broom.”
“Absolutely not.” Draco clutched the broom possessively. “I care now. And this whole mess was your fault, Potter. You owe me this.”
Harry grumbled something rude under his breath but handed it over anyway.
Malfoys don’t lose, Draco thought smugly.
They slipped out to the edge of the courtyard, careful to avoid the creakiest steps. The moon was high overhead, silver-bright and beautiful. A few stars were still scattered across the sky, and the air had that peculiar freshness that only came when the castle was asleep.
“Right,” Draco muttered, stepping forward with the confidence of someone hoping he looked far more composed than he felt. “I’ll get on first.”
He mounted the broom, swinging his leg over in a single practiced motion. But it was only once he was straddling it that the ridiculous logistics of their magical handcuff situation became apparent. Their clasped hands hovered stupidly in the space between where Draco sat and where Harry stood beside him.
“Your turn,” Draco said, glancing over his shoulder.
Harry climbed on with far less grace, wiggling and shifting behind him until their knees bumped and their joined hands rested over the handle, squarely between their hips.
Draco swallowed. He refused to acknowledge the way his spine stiffened at the contact. Or the fact that Harry was... warm. Very warm. And pressed far too close. “Ready?” he muttered, already kicking off before Harry could answer.
They rose unsteadily into the night sky, the broom groaning faintly under the uneven weight of two grown boys who had never attempted a tandem flight in their lives- let alone while joined at the hand.
Draco tried to steer like he usually did- sharp and efficient- but it quickly became clear Harry had his own ideas about pace and angle. Their movements jarred and contradicted each other. The broom lurched and dipped, trying to obey two sets of instincts at once.
“Stop countering my turns!” Draco snapped over his shoulder.
“I’m not!” Harry yelled. “You’re oversteering!”
“I am not-!”
The broom bucked violently mid-turn, veering left when Draco had meant to go right and sending them both clinging to the handle with white-knuckled panic.
Harry let out a breathless, exasperated noise. “Alright, alright-stop.” He tugged gently at Draco’s shoulder. “Hold us steady.”
They hovered above the pitch, the castle spires glowing in the distance. The wind tugged at their robes, but everything else was still. Draco turned his head, just enough to see Harry’s face.
“It’s not going to work like this,” Harry said, breathless, pink-cheeked, dark hair windswept.
Draco huffed. “I suppose you want to switch places now. Oh, if the great Harry Potter demands it-”
Harry snorted, grinning despite himself. “No, no. We can stay like this. Just-” He paused, his smile faltering into something more thoughtful. “Have you ever flown with someone before? On the same broom, I mean.”
Why did he sound so… intimate? As if it wasn’t a flying tip but something far more delicate. Draco cleared his throat. “No.”
“Right. I figured.” Harry nodded, adjusting his grip on the handle just above where their joined hands still rested. “You have to be connected.”
Draco scowled, lifting their bound hands. “We could not be more physically connected.”
Harry laughed under his breath, “I mean when we fly. Our-you know. Our bodies.” His voice trailed off the moment Draco’s face went bright red.
“Oh, well isn’t that convenient,” Draco muttered, attempting to twist away without toppling them. “Now it’s about body connection.”
Harry laughed, but it came out quieter than before- nervous, almost. Draco felt him shuffle forward a little on the broom, their knees bumping again. His free arm hovered at Draco’s side, hesitating.
“Um,” Harry said. “Can I-?”
“Can you what?” Draco snapped, bristling immediately because his body was already far too aware of every inch of Potter seated behind him.
There was a beat of silence. Draco cursed the moonlight for not being bright enough to show Harry’s expression. Then- slowly, cautiously- Harry slid his forearm around Draco’s middle.
He froze.
Harry’s hand curved against his waist and tugged gently, pulling Draco back until they were fully flush. Their joined hands pressed into the narrow space between them, warm and awkward and very, very noticeable.
“What are you doing?” Draco choked out.
“Just try to follow my lead,” Harry murmured. “Move when I move. Trust the rhythm.”
Draco tried very hard not to combust. “What rhythm?” he snapped. “You have the flying finesse of a Flobberworm.”
Harry huffed a laugh against the back of Draco’s neck. “Trust me. It’ll be better like this.”
And- well. When Potter’s voice went all deep and velvety and his arms were there, Draco supposed he could allow it. “Fine,” he muttered.
He would never- ever- admit that this flight was infinitely better than the last. Being close like this meant they moved more in sync. Harry’s shifts were easier to anticipate, and the broom stopped fighting them. They glided together now, smooth and seamless.
But it also meant Draco could feel everything.
Every breath Harry took against his back. Every flex of his fingers at Draco’s waist. The rhythm of his heartbeat- steady, calm- while Draco’s own thudded like a bloody drumline. Harry seemed completely at ease, somehow. As if this was completely normal. As if Draco wasn’t having some sort of quiet, closeted breakdown in mid-air.
“It’s much better like this, isn’t it?” Harry said quietly.
“What, connected?” Draco parroted, trying not to sound strangled.
Harry snorted behind him. “Yeah. But that’s not what I meant.”
Draco didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. But Harry’s breath ghosted over his neck again as he tilted his head, and Draco forgot how to blink.
“It’s just so nice at night,” Harry murmured. “When it’s not so busy.”
Draco hummed, distracted, looking out at the dark, glittering grounds. The castle loomed peacefully in the distance, lights twinkling. “I forget how brilliant this place is sometimes,” he admitted. “Can’t believe we’re leaving so soon.”
He regretted it as soon as he said it. He felt Harry stiffen behind him. Not much, but enough. His whole body seemed to deflate, like something had been knocked loose.
"I don’t even want to think about that,” Harry muttered.
Draco frowned. “I thought you’d be excited to get out of here. You’ve always hated the tests and homework.” He frowned, considering. “What’s your plan?” he asked, before he could stop himself.
Harry didn’t answer at first. Then, slowly, he slumped forward against Draco’s back, his forehead brushing his shoulder.
Draco went rigid.
Harry’s head was on him. His hair was in Draco’s face. His entire being was a heated mess against Draco’s back and Draco’s brain was on the verge of blue-screening.
“Um.” he squawked.
“I’ve got no plan,” Harry said quietly.
Draco went still.
“That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.” Harry gave a weak, mirthless laugh. “Fuck.”
The broom dipped a little. Draco, alarmed, slowed them down, drawing them into a careful hover. “No use panicking mid-air,” he muttered. “The broom will throw us off.”
Harry mumbled something unintelligible and let his head loll further. Draco winced as he shifted forward to balance them, Harry’s weight following him lazily.
Right. That wouldn’t work.
With great internal protest and a healthy dose of second-hand embarrassment, Draco swung his leg over the handle and twisted around so he was straddling the broom facing Harry. Their joined hands fell between them again. Harry blinked, startled.
Draco cleared his throat. “Felt this was more of a face-to-face conversation,” he offered stiffly.
There was a beat-then Harry burst out laughing. It was bright, spontaneous, and entirely genuine. The worry vanished from his features in an instant, replaced by something lighter..