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The ladle made a clanking sound when Draco returned it into a what was supposed to be a fancy crystal bowl but instead was so obviously fake that it made him puke. The punch in his glass was several degrees warmer than what it was supposed to be and although he had complained to Pansy about it already, she made no move to fix the problem which was purely rude. After twisting his wand in a simple cooling charm, he took a sip and the fruity taste of the juice made him feel like he was on some six-grade birthday party and not at a graduation anniversary. Now that he thought about it, most of the people there would fit right in a six-grade birthday...
He glanced around the big hall that looked exactly like you'd expect a hall that usually hosted such cheap event as graduation anniversaries, weddings, baby showers and those muggle things which were so nice to inspire his dear friend Pansy Parkinson and her newly found friend, Hermione Granger. He had to admit, the two of them together had enough force of will to rule the whole entire world. And that force of will was barely enough to convince about 98% of his old schoolmates to gather for a 10-year anniversary of their graduation from Hogwarts.
Most of the people were here, people he didn't really know because they always used to be one year behind him until the infamous Eight Year when the war-influence young people were basically forced to come back and mix right in with the Seventh years. Well, he was forced. It was a part of his "rehabilitation" programme after the trial that failed to shove him into Azkaban due to Harry Potter's kindness and testimony in his favour. As far as he knew, he was the only one undergoing such a thing as rehabilitation programme but he didn't really care all that much - it was just the Ministry's way of keeping an eye on him so he wouldn't start a new anti-muggle group. Like that would happen...
To be honest, even if Draco did have a wish of starting such an organisation, now or ten years ago or whenever, he wouldn't because such things are so exhausting. After the war had ended, he was just so tired of every human being on the planet and he was actually glad that Hogwarts allowed him to come back and take his NEWTs in a proper manner because if he didn't have studying to distract him from things that were creeping in his brain he would very soon go insane.
Well, studying and Pansy who'd made it her goal to shag every single person who planned to take NEWTs that year. She didn't manage to do that of course, the basic reason being that not everyone was attracted to girls and even those who were didn't find the idea of shagging Pansy Parkinson all that appealing. If Draco wasn't mistaken, it would take you two and a half hands to count all the people she's shagged and complained about to Draco that year. It was amusing to say the least - her despair.
But that was ten years ago and the childish, fake despair and pretend, petty games they all played during that final year was gone as soon as they stepped off of the Hogwarts Express for the last time. Draco remembered how that last day every single Eight years and half of the Seventh years squeezed in the back of the train, without stereotypes, without prejudice, without singling out anyone. It was them who fought the war and them who were now leaving what became their home over the years.
Somehow it was different than what any of them imagined leaving the last year would be like - all of them growing up on stories of parties held in the train and drunk karaoke and all kinds of inappropriate business. But they were different from the very start of their experiences. There was no music or alcohol or random make-out sessions. All of them were sitting outside in the hallway with the compartment doors open so people who sat inside could hear the conversations. They weren't really conversations - more like stories, perceptions, dreams... They talked about the future they had all planned out before the war happened and how it all changed the way they view the world. They talked about their dreams and what they wished they could do and then about all the disappointing stuff they would do.
It was mostly Gryffindors talking, a couple of Ravenclaws, maybe a Hufflepuff. Slytherins sat silent, almost angry at the world. Draco remembered he was angry with the world. All of those kids around him had a chance to do something, anything even if it was boring or too serious for their tastes. But he could feel, and it was fairly obvious that his route to success would be almost impossible. He remembered how his name was called then and he looked up at Lovegood who had a dreamy, curious look in her eyes. "What did you think you were gonna end up doing?"
"Can I be honest with you, Lovegood?", Draco grinned and lowered his eyes again before smirking. "One blonde to another."
Luna snorted and nodded her head so he could proceed.
"I wanted to play Quidditch. I wanted to be a star!" The glimmer in his eyes was childish but a lot of people smiled at him as if they knew exactly what he was going to say or at least like it fit him. "I wanted to be so famous that people buy those stupid little figurines of me and that kids wear merchandise with my name on the back. So famous that people remember my team by my name, so famous that I would have to transfigure my nose when I went to buy groceries to avoid paparazzi. So famous I would have people hired to buy groceries for me."
"Well, why don't you? Go and play Quidditch professionally, I mean..." It was Harry who leaned over Luna to face him. With the truce they've managed to make during the year in the back of his mind, Draco was very much wondering when he was gonna step in for a chance to talk to him. Draco found out that Harry rather likes talking to him for some reason. Not that it mattered... it was just nice to know it.
"Not everyone's as good as you are, Potter," Draco remembered shrugging.
"You are. You are as good as I am and I would bet my money you're even better considering how much luck I have." Harry said it in a casual, honest tone and it left Draco speechless. He didn't think Potter could ever admit that such a human scum as Draco could ever be better than him at something even if he thought it was true.
"Still," Draco shook his head as soon as he recovered from the shock. "You can't honestly believe that people would be thrilled to have someone like me playing for their team. I'll just drift off to France, Belgium, Switzerland perhaps... Become a healer or whatnot, make a decent amount of money, marry my career, get a cat and a flat on the fifth floor... Stuff like that."
"But that's so boring," Harry frowned at him, disapprovingly.
"Life should get boring eventually and with you for the past eight years, all of us had enough adventures for a lifetime even if we weren't active participants," Draco shrugged and shot him a nostalgic, sad little smile. "And besides... Being a Quidditch star is such a childish dream. It's something the old Draco would do." He paused, trying to collect his words although he could feel that everyone felt the same about all their dreams. "I don't think I could ever be anything close to who I used to be. Not after..." Not after the war, stayed hanging in the air, echoing in their ears. It was Draco who eventually broke the tense silence.
"And what are you going to do, Golden Boy? Aurors? Unspeakables perhaps?"
"None of that, I'm afraid," Harry chuckled and dragged his fingers through his curls to move them away from his face. His hair was long back then, reaching his shoulder blades because of some superpower of hair growth. "I was thinking of returning to Hogwarts next September, teach kids some magic and stuff."
"Yeah, I can see that... You're a guy who would do such a boring thing," Draco snorted, hypocritically.
"You're the one who said that life should get boring!",Harry laughed and Draco shrugged again.
"Your life could never get boring, though..." Draco sighed, leaning back against the closed doors of some empty compartment.
"And why is that?"
"Because you're you," Draco said simply and Harry grinned back at him. The silence fell upon the crowd again and it was some twins who started talking about running away and joining a circus. Draco didn't listen because they were boring, their voices were boring...
...this party was boring. He was standing near an open bar but didn't order anything because he had no idea what quality drinks would be here. The food on the buffet was average although a bit lukewarm, the punch was barely spiced since the rum that was supposed to be the centre flavour was barely anything than a tinge in the aftertaste and the punch was also warm. The last thing he wanted to do was drink some barely average pina colada.
No, scratch that. The last thing he wanted the do was to have a half-polite conversation with slightly tipsy but nevertheless smug Harry Potter who was currently walking towards the bar, towards Draco with a clear intention of conversing with him. Hermione rushed up to Harry and pushed his hair away so she could murmur something to his ear. He grinned and then chuckled, pushing her away and flipping her off when she mouthed him another sentence. Draco didn't bother deciphering what she was saying.
Potter was in front of him sooner than Draco expected with a bottle of beer in his hand and a confident smile on his smooth-looking lips. His hear was falling down past his broad shoulders in neat, soft curls and his eyes, as green as ever, framed with new, brown glasses that reflected the sickly yellow light of the hall.
"Hi;" Harry chimed and leaned against the bar. He was taller than he used to be, now only an inch or two shorter than Draco. He wasn't as skinny either, he filled in all the empty placed in his sleeves and his jeans and now looked comfortably healthy. Unlike Malfoy who wore black suit pants along with a black shirt and a red necktie, Potter was enjoying himself in his black jeans and a fashionably large blue shirt tucked into the waist. He had left three top buttons unbuttoned so the shirt was handing over his shoulders in a loose manner, revealing the smooth skin of his neck and collar bones. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Not particularly," Draco snorted and gazed towards the wall stacked with all kinds of spirits as if he was deciding what to order.
"Yeah, me neither. Beer helps," Harry shrugged in a way that looked awkward but only Harry could look confident while looking awkward at the same time. "Want one?"
"I don't like beer."
"Oh, yeah... I should've guessed. Wine then? Whiskey?" Harry looked at him hopefully, fiddling with the bottle in his hand, undoubtedly making it as warm as the punch was.
"I'm fine thanks. I had the punch," Draco nodded and smiled at him, bitterly.
"Oh, the punch was such bullshit... I think Smith brought it. Anyway... you're bored right?"
Draco nodded and turned to face him, watching him curiously.
"So you're bored, I'm bored. Wanna go somewhere else?" Harry lowered his eyes and then, putting the beer bottle onto the bar, checked his watch. "It's still early so the clubs have just opened but we could go grab something to eat if you want? I'm sure you've noticed the food here is just awful."
Draco stared at, bewildered. Why the fuck was Harry Potter asking him out for dinner? Wh the fuck does Draco feel like it is a trap? Should he feel like it's a date? What if it's a trap, though? Should he answer?
"Why the fuck are you asking me to leave with you?"
"Well, you're bored...," Harry said slowly, fixing his glasses and clearing his throat. "And I'm bored. And the food here is crap, so... dinner?"
"I'm fairly certain food here is supposed to be crap. Also, you can't just ask random guys to have dinner with you, Potter. Can you? Is that acceptable? Isn't that like rude or something?" Draco's eyebrows furrowed as he bit his lip and murmured something in French. "What would your wife say?"
"Malfoy, you're not some random guy," Harry smiled softly and put his palm on Draco's upper arm. Draco's heart skipped a beat. Maybe it is socially acceptable to ask random guys for dinner although you've been pining for them since forever. What was not socially acceptable was rubbing circles into their biceps after ten years of separation when the last thing that person has heard about you was that you got married.
"Draco," Harry murmured and stepped half a step closer, keeping his hand on Draco's ar and lowering his eyes.
"Don't call me that," Draco trying to subtly shake off Harry's palm but his fingers didn't budge. "It's weird."
"Why is it weird?"
"Because, Potter-" Draco rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers against the supposedly polished bar which still had occasional particles of dust and a fingerprint or two. "-we're not friends."
"We're not?", Harry frowned for a second before tilting his head slightly to the left. "We used to be... back in Eight years anyways."
"You if you usually pine for your friends then sure," Draco shrugged and caught his eyes. There was a shadow of a smirk before he said, "We used to be friends."
"So you were pining for me," Harry chuckled with too much enthusiasm, too much satisfaction. He removed his palm from Draco's arm only to cross his arms over his chest. "I knew it! I thought I was just imagining this but..."
"I appreciate your enthusiasm but please, for the love of Salzar, don't leave your family over me," Draco laughed into his chin.
"Oh, don't worry," Harry laughed with him and waved his hand dismissively. "I left them ages ago?"
Draco's fingers stopped in mid-tap. "Huh?"
"I don't have a wife, Malfoy. Nor do I have a family by the expected standards," Harry started, thinking of the Weasley, of Ginny, how they've really become his family of sorts over the years. How he was really part of the Weasleys at a time. For a year or so... "I have an ex-wife who considers herself a widow because her husband died before they managed to get married. Apparently, I died back when the war was at its peak and sometimes she can still hear my voice.
"But as you've said yourself, ten years ago, on the train from Hogwarts, on your very last ride, after the war, none of us could go back to what we were before. Especially not me since the majority of my life I've been running for my life. I died that night in the forest, I died so Voldemort could die and I couldn't just simply go back."
Harry let his arms fall to his sides and stopped his foot from tapping the floor - he would start unconsciously do stuff like them when the war was brought up, even now, ten years since its end. Foot-tapping, scratching his skin, and biting his nails were just those things he did the most often. He used to smoke every time his anxiety knocked on his door, but he stopped since lung cancer would probably kill him before he reached the bright, old age of thirty-five.
"Ginny and I were married for a year and three months and now that I look back at it... It was like those marriages at fifty where people swore to each other that they'll marry each other if they don't find anyone else. We were friends and we were recovering from things children like us shouldn't be recovering from. Divorce was a mutual decision."
Draco was looking at him and intertwined his pointer with Harry's. He was never really good at all those feelings, but he hoped a touch could show Harry he understood. He cursed himself internally though... This was the exact reason why he didn't want to talk to Potter - this way or the other, they were going to end up talking of the war because they haven't seen each other for ten years and before that, both of their lives were ruled by it.
"Ginny like to joke about, about me dying and leaving her widow," Harry cracked a smile and took a hold of Malfoy's hand, dragging his thumb against his palm. "She says that ever since I was queer, she could see Death drag her old, innocent Harry into some new life past dying. 'You're just not the same guy,' she would say. I guess shagging guys does that to you, you know..."
"That's bullshit," Draco finally said, narrowing his eyes. "I've been shagging guys my whole life and I haven't changed."
"Wanna try shagging me and see if something's different?", Harry raised his eyebrows in suggestion and licked his lower lip slowly. "We could grab dinner beforehand if you fancy it that way... You know, a bit more formal and stuff... We could pretend we don't know each other and start our relationship from a fresh, new start."
"You're...," Draco just stared at him, his mouth hanging, at a loss of words. He loved that Harry switched the theme of their conversation so easily but maybe the change was too drastic so suddenly? It wasn't like he couldn't deal with a bit of straightforwardness but even though he knew that Harry had to change just like all of them had to, he didn't expect him to be this confident with what he wanted. "You're mad," he finally managed to say. "You're mad, I can't believe you!"
Throughout their Hogwarts years, Draco was always the one with smart remarks, one to feel all the confidence because his father had his back so he could be as confident as he wanted. If someone told him only the day before that Harry Potter would leave him simultaneously speechless and very, very aroused he would probably jump from a bridge so it wouldn't happen. He wasn't planning on jumping from any bridges tonight, though. He rather liked when Potter left him speechless and very, very aroused. And If he continued this streak of self-confidence, Draco could only imagine what kinds of fun the two of them could have not only tonight but for as many days and night as Harry could put up with him.
"You can't believe me? Well, you better make yourself believe because we're getting out of here," Harry told him, firmly, took his hand and made a move to pull them through the crowd. Draco pulled his hand out of Harry's, reality struck him - his reality, the reality of England and the reason he's run away from it until a couple of nights ago.
He managed to find a private clinic for neuromagical dieseses and considering his reputation there were no doubts about his employment. But it's taken him years to build up the confidence and reputation that would allow him to come back to a country that used to be his home. He came back with the glory of his father or his father before he never could've dreamed of. He did it all by himself but of course, he couldn't expect any of Harry's Gryffindor friends to know of the work he had to do in order to be a part of the respected clientele.
"Draco, what's wrong?", Harry turned back, stepping closer to him. He took his Malfoy's hand and squeezed it as if Draco was eighteen all over again and they were in the Eight year's common room and Draco was on the edge of another panic attack.
"I can't just leave with you, Potter," Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly getting a headache from all the stupid noise that was pilling up in the left corner of the hall near the ice cream freezer that had only homemade ice cream which was sold by scoops. "Everyone's going to think I'm sneaking out to kill you or something."
"No one's gonna think you're trying to kill me," Harry shook his head and let go of his hand. The absence of Harry's warm fingers against his gave Draco's unexpected shots of displeasure. "I bet that they're betting when we'll sneak out. Hermione and Ron always thought I didn't notice their evil schemes and plans and bet regarding the relationship between you and me. To be honest, the whole lot thinks I'm rather oblivious when it comes to feelings and such."
"I'm telling you that Weasley's gonna freak out if we just disapear."
"He has Hermione to calm him down," Harry just shrugged simply. "Are we going already? Please, Draco? I'll call you 'Draco' for the rest of the evening if we don't leave know."
"No you won't 'cause I'll hex your tongue off," Draco replied with a smirk.
"How will I suck your cock then?" It was Harry's turn to smirk and Draco blushed before shoving Harry's shoulder lightly.
"Since when have you been so crass?"
"Since you waltzed in here in that bloody shirt," Harry dragged his finger over Draco's chest before looking him in the eye, seriously. "I can't wait to rip it off."
There wasn't a second wasted before Draco agreed that they had to leave as soon as possible and Harry was dragging him towards the back exit. Before he knew it, Draco was standing in the stifling, late-June air behind a restaurant he never wanted to step into again, with Harry Potter holding his hand like it was the most precious thing he ever held. Draco turned to him and leaned so his chuckling voice would be comprehensible.
"Please tell me that you have your own apartment because even though I'm a filthy rick neurosurgeon, I'm currently sleeping in Pansy's guestroom due to a lack of proper penthouses in the near area. You can understand," Draco continued, his words slowly becoming a whisper as his lips neared Potter's ear. "Shagging you in a room next door to Pansy fucking Parkinson might not be very pleasurable."
Harry nodded, not taking his eyes off of Draco as he started walking towards the main street and a small, Chinese restaurant Cho's cousins opened a couple of months back. "So we're shagging?"
"Of course, we're shagging!," Draco looked at him like he was the craziest person he's ever met. "I didn't spend the last ten years dating all those black-haired, broad-shouldered, tanned guys with pretty eyes then gave up and came back here because nothing could compare to the real deal, not to shag you. You're too good not to shag, you're too special for me, Potter. You're so special I'd marry you."
"You'd marry me?" Harry stopped walking and tugged Draco to look back at him. Why were they holding hands again?
"Yeah," Draco nodded, certain but when Harry's brows further furrowed he added, "I mean, eventually..."
"Oh."
"What?" Draco wanted to jump off a bridge because of course, he had to mess this up. Why can't he shut up when he has to? Why does he always takes things a step too far?
"Well," Harry began, hesitantly. "You can say eventually for anyone. You could say you'd marry Neville eventually when you get to know him and-"
"You know that's not what I meant by 'eventually'," Draco stepped closer and put his hand on Harry's shoulders, applying a little pressure and watched as Harry relaxed into his touch. "And also, for the record, I would not marry Longbottom because of the sole fact that we're both blonde and we'd look like brothers and the thought of someone thinking I'm dating my brother is really not acceptable. I know I'm blonde and I know I'm rich and I know a lot of people think i'm evil, but I'm still a Malfoy and not a bloody Lannister. So, yeah... I'm not marrying Longbottom."
"Draco," Harry looked up at him and he was completely smiling by then. "Your hair is a completely different shade of blonde than Neville's."
"Even if he had ginger hair I still wouldn't marry Longbottom."
"But you'd marry me?", Harry asked, softly, biting his lower lip, his eyes gleaming in a charming manner. And Draco could really tell since they were standing on a particularly dark part of the sidewalk but he was pretty sure Potter was blushing. And it was absolutely adorable.
"Don't make say it again," Draco murmured and then leaned down and kissed Harry slowly, their lips barely touching in the beginning. He cupped Harry's cheek and buried his other hand into his curls which were as soft as Draco predicted they would be. He felt Harry pull him closer, his arms wrapping around his waist and they continued kissing in a series of slow, blushing pecks and dragged out kisses that left butterflies in Draco's stomach and tint on his cheeks.
When they pulled apart and their foreheads leaned against each other, Harry grinned as wide as possible and then murmured, pecking Draco's lips again. "You're blushing."
"I'm not blushing," Draco shook his head, smiling and blushing. "I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys don't-"
"Yeah, yeah... Malfoys don't blush," Harry rolled his eyes and kissed the tip of Draco's nose. "But you can become a Potter if you want - Potters blush. A lot. And It's adorable."
"You can call yourself adorable," Draco frowned at him and took his hand, starting to walk again. "That's narcissistic.
"Well, I don't know anyone else who would call me adorable so..." Harry shrugged.
"I'll call you adorable if you want."
"I want you to mean it."
Draco leaned closer to him, whispering into his ear, "You're adorable." He kissed Harry's temple and Harry's skin was now visibly darker on his cheeks and nose and ears. They passed a couple of houses, buildings before Harry squeezed his hand tighter.
"Draco?", his voice quivered as he spoke nervously. "You don't have some dark haired, broad-shouldered, tanned boyfriend with pretty eyes waiting for you in France that you forgot to mention so he'll come banging on our door one night and take you away from me, do you?"
"No, Harry, you're the only dark-haired, broad-shouldered, tanned boyfriend with pretty eyes in my life."
"Okay, but we haven't been on a date yet, Draco."
Draco rolled his eyes and hurried his step. "We've practically been dating since fifth-year, Potter."
Harry frowned at that, considering it. Perhaps Draco fancied him since Fifth year and perhaps a certain blond started appearing in Harry's in while he wanked in Fifth year but - "That's not how it works."
"And how does it work?", Draco chuckled and glanced at him.
"We need to go on a date and then we can say we're dating and then you can call me your dark-haired, broad-shouldered, tanned boyfriend with pretty eyes," Harry explained in one breath like he had been practising it in front of the mirror every morning like it's become his mantra.
"Well apparate us to your flat and I'll give you a date of a lifetime," DRaco smirked and waited for a second for Harry to pull him close and apparate them straight into his bedroom. When that didn't happen he looked at Harry quizzically but the only thing on Harry's face was disapproval.
"We can't shag as a date."
"Why not?" Draco had shagged as a date before. It went... better than expected.
"'Cause that's not how it works," Harry said then, his words dragging boringly.
"And who says that's not how it works?", Draco then questioned because if Harry said 'Society' he was going to jump off a bridge.
"Society," Harry said and Draco wanted to jump off a bridge. Instead, he just sneered like there was something foul under his nose.
"Society sucks."
"Yes, yes it does but I still want to go to dinner," Harry let his shoulder slump down but Draco put his arm around them and they waddled for a moment before figuring out how to walk so close to each other. Draco felt a bit drunk, waddling with Harry Potter whom he pretended to hate mere hours ago.
"To be honest," Draco admitted finally. "Me too. I'm hungry."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, seriously. "Food was shit back there."
"Agreed." Draco caught Harry's green eyes that looked shiny in the yellow light of the street lamps they were walking under. "So... Dinner?"
Harry chuckled before nodding. "Dinner."