Work Text:
Nerves flooded Harry as he sat down for dinner with his two uncles in their Number Twelve Grimmauld Place residence. Truthfully, he’d not felt this anxious since Uncle Sirius first explained that You-Know-Who would probably figure out their shared mental link after Harry had his first dreams about him two years ago in the summer before fourth year. Uncle Remus had immediately started occlumency lessons with him. After his first Potions lesson fourth year, Harry wished they’d taught him this before sending him off to Hogwarts to begin with, as Professor Snape (better known as Professor Snivellus in their household) clearly used legilimency on him all the bloody time. Professor Dumbledore honestly was no better, but at least Harry spent far less time in his proximity.
The real blessing in learning occlumency, however, had been his realization that Draco Malfoy knew legilimency and constantly used it on him. This was less problematic before the Yule Ball that year, which provided Harry with the visual of Draco in dress robes and the crystal-clear understanding that yes, in fact, he did like boys. At that point in time, he definitely did not want Draco to be aware of this. Now though, things were different. Very different. Which brought Harry back to the nerve-racking task at hand: getting his uncles to agree to a Malfoy coming over to watch The Bachelor finale with him.
The problem was two-fold. First, was the matter of Draco’s parents. Mr. Malfoy was a Death Eater and was mutually hated in equal parts by his uncles, not that Harry was remotely a fan of the man either. Mrs. Malfoy was hated more by Uncle Sirius than Uncle Remus because she was his cousin, and the Blacks had excommunicated him as a blood traitor back in his Hogwarts days. Second, Uncle Remus was obsessed with The Bachelor ever since Hermione introduced it to Harry two seasons ago. While Hermione came over occasionally to watch it with them, usually it was just the two of them in the TV room watching alone. Uncle Sirius had been permanently banned after his incessant and rude comments during last season’s premiere, and it became Harry and Uncle Remus’ “thing” to watch the show together over summer holidays.
What thankfully was not a problem was Draco’s desire to come over and watch the show. Hermione successfully goaded Draco into “proving himself” as not being a Muggle-hater by doing something Muggle, and Harry casually dropped to him in a note that his Uncle Remus bought them a Muggle television years ago as a guilty pleasure and that The Bachelor would start a new season in July.
But Draco’s parents would never allow him over to the Infamous Harry Potter’s house, especially given that his guardians were a werewolf and Draco’s mum’s excommunicated younger cousin, so Draco already had an effective alibi in place with Blaise Zabini, who was actually quite nice once you broke through the shell; something Harry had managed to do in the early spring when Blaise showed up to a DA meeting. At first, they were all wary of him, assuming he was a spy for Umbridge, but it was the other way around. He passed on info that Draco gave him about Umbridge and the Ministry’s plans.
After a March full of hearing Draco’s words from Blaise’s mouth, Harry finally told him that Draco should just communicate directly. Blaise had smirked, as if this had been the plan all along. Four days later, after Quidditch practice, Harry saw Draco lingering near the broom shed and followed him, returning his team’s brooms under guise of a nice gesture. Draco had shoved him inside and locked the door, whipping out his wand to cast “Lumos!” and Harry had nearly kissed him right then and there. He’d refrained then, but it still hadn’t happened.
“You wanted to hear from me directly, Potter?” Draco had said in his usual sneering tone.
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“To see if you’re genuine.”
That had been the moment he saw the real Draco for perhaps the first time. Though one could make the argument that he’d shown his true self during their detention first year in the Forbidden Forest. In the broom shed that April afternoon though, Draco’s eyes had softened with pain. Harry’s lack of trust had wounded him. Instead of drawing back into himself, steeling his eyes into cool grey slits and hardening his sharp features into an emotionless mask, Draco opened himself to Harry.
“I am genuine. This is too serious to be anything less.” he’d said.
Harry had nodded.
“My father is planning a coup. He convinced Fudge to put Umbridge in place so they could depose Dumbledore. He’s encouraged her to continue taking action against any non-human creatures and non-pureblood witches and wizards. He wants to incite an uprising.”
“From who?”
“The centaurs, mostly. He is certain Fudge won’t be able to quash it, and they’ll intentionally expose us to the Muggles.” Draco had explained.
“Why would your father want that?”
“To oust Fudge. He’ll call for a vote of No Confidence, and then they’ll appoint an intermediary Minister for Magic before holding an emergency election.” Draco sounded slightly exasperated, as if this were something Harry should have worked out on his own.
“Your dad wants to be Minister?” Harry had surmised, eyebrows cocked.
“No, Potter, he doesn’t want to; he has to. It’s his orders. His role to play. He cannot refuse.” Draco’s voice had cracked as he said this, and Harry reached his hand out to comfort him. His fingers found Draco’s hand, and Malfoy hadn’t pulled away from his touch.
“Whose orders is your father under?” Harry asked even though he had been fairly certain of the answer. He’d hoped Draco might surprise him with an alternative.
Instead, Draco had laced his fingers through Harry’s and whispered, “You know who.”
“So, he is back?” Harry’s voice had been a whisper as well.
Draco had nodded and Harry squeezed his hand. They had been just two scared boys who knew they were facing something well beyond their comprehension, something to properly fear. Neither of them wanted what was coming. They still didn’t.
Luckily, everything Draco could gather from his father, and Crabbe and Goyle, whose fathers were likewise Death Eaters, combined with Uncle Sirius’ and Mr. Shacklebolt’s intel from inside the Ministry itself, was enough to stop the plan. Though Hermione would rightfully argue that Luna’s friendship with Firenze had something to do with it, as she was able to convey the truth to him, and he in turn convinced the other centaurs to stand down and pledge their allegiance to Harry Potter and his supporters.
Harry’s uncles had only once asked the identity of his source of information, to which he’d replied, “Someone I trust.” That had been sufficient for them. Now though, as the three of them sat at the dinner table, he wondered if it would be sufficient enough once they learned that person was Draco.
“You know what I realized today?” Uncle Remus said as Harry passed him the potatoes.
“What’s that?” Harry asked.
“It’s a new moon on the night of The Bachelor finale.”
Harry’s heart sank. He’d completely forgotten to check the lunar cycle. New moons were Uncle Remus’ most stable time. The point when he felt most himself. He snuck a glance at Uncle Sirius, who was beaming at his husband’s statement. Just great. Harry thought miserably.
“Yeah, so, about that…” Harry began. Better to get it over with.
“Don’t tell me you forgot.” Uncle Remus said, eyes wide.
“I haven’t forgotten, it’s just…” Harry swallowed his fingerling potato. “Well, I’ve invited someone over to watch with me.”
“Who? Hermione?” Uncle Sirius chirped playfully.
“That would be fun seeing as she introduced us to it!” Uncle Remus nodded with enthusiasm.
“No, not Hermione. She’s not too keen to come over with Kreacher being well, you know how he is.” Harry mumbled. The Black family’s house elf held the family motto Toujours Pur close to his cold, little heart, and Hermione’s Muggle-born status was incompatible with his understanding of life. “No, it’s someone else that I’m…er — a different friend. Not Ron.”
“Not Ron and not Hermione… Do we need to list out all your other friends, Harry?” Uncle Remus said.
“It’s a rather long list, you know. I’ve not got all night by any means.” Uncle Sirius prodded. His eyes flickered playfully to Remus and he added in loud whisper, “Do you think he’s being mysterious on purpose?”
“It’s Draco Malfoy.” Harry announced.
Uncle Sirius’ gold fork dropped onto his porcelain plate in a startling clatter and then a ringing silence fell over the entirety of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
Harry counted to five in his head and continued, “Yes, I invited him over because he’s never seen a Muggle television show before. Probably not even a television set, to be perfectly honest.”
“Narcissa’s boy? That Draco Malfoy?” Uncle Sirius said.
“Yes, he’s my friend.” Harry said defiantly.
“But he’s…Lucius Malfoy’s son. You said he was in the High Inquisitor’s Squad last school year. He supported Umbridge and actively attempted to disband and undermine your training group?” Uncle Remus noted in an uncomfortably calm tone.
“It wasn’t like that. He’s not who you think.” Harry started, but then Uncle Sirius interrupted loudly, banging his fist on the table.
“His father is a Death Eater, Harry!”
“And I’m sure that must only mean he’s one, too! A sixteen-year-old boy, servant of the Dark Lord.” Harry hissed scathingly.
“Harry, that’s not what Sirius meant—” Uncle Remus started.
“And you know what, Sirius?” Harry continued, ignoring Uncle Remus and pointing his fork accusingly at Uncle Sirius. “That’s a bit rich coming from you! Is this what my dad’s parents said to you when you showed up at their doorstep?”
“My parents weren’t Death Eaters!” Uncle Sirius roared.
“But your brother was!” Harry said hotly.
“Don’t you dare mention him in this house.” Uncle Sirius growled in a low voice, throwing a furtive glance around for Kreacher’s prying ears. The house elf’s loyalties remained with the deceased Regulus Black, though he seemed to have a fondness for Harry on Harry’s moodiest days.
“Harry, that situation was different. Sirius was kicked out of his house when he was sixteen. He had nowhere else to go.” Uncle Remus said.
“Oh, yes, very different.” Harry rolled his eyes and muttered, “Not like Draco’s sixteen or anything.”
“Wait, are you saying Draco is being kicked out?” Uncle Sirius asked, leaning in as if the entirety of Diagon Alley were listening.
“Well,” Harry started, then glanced between his uncles. Their eyes were locked on him, expressing a mixture of concern and thirst for gossip. Uncle Sirius bore a look of desperation, as if he badly wanted to take in Narcissa’s son just to spite her, and Harry had to stifle his laugh.
“Well? Is he?” Uncle Sirius pressed.
Harry swallowed.
“Oh sweet Merlin, Sirius, he is. That poor kid.” Uncle Remus said with a light shake of his head. “Listen Harry, I’m sorry we were less accepting before. Of course Draco is welcome here. It’s just…you know, it’s hard to know who we can trust these days.”
“I know.” Harry said. “He’s someone I trust though.”
He gave them a meaningful look.
“Oh, he is? It was him?” Uncle Remus said.
“Remus, slow down. I don’t know about this. You’re always so trusting of people. I’m worried Harry’s picked that up from you.” Uncle Sirius said, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair.
Harry looked between them and ate another potato.
“Sirius, think about what you’re saying. The Potters would never have second guessed you.” Uncle Remus said in a softer voice; the voice he used to convince Sirius to change his mind.
“They might’ve done. We’ll never know. James wouldn’t have told me if they had done.” Uncle Sirius retorted.
Harry had trouble swallowing his latest potato. They rarely used his father’s actual name. It was always ‘your dad’ or ‘Prongs.’
“They loved you.” Uncle Remus said, leaning in towards Uncle Sirius. “Like a son.”
Uncle Sirius scoffed and muttered, “You want me to love Lucius Malfoy’s kid like a son? That kid is a twerp, no offense, Harry.”
“If Harry is friends with him, then surely he is not a twerp!” Uncle Remus protested, pulling away from Uncle Sirius. He spun to face Harry again and said quite paternally, “Listen, Harry, if you want us to take on Draco, we absolutely will.”
“I mean, I don’t know if he’s actually being—” Harry tried.
“Not another word, Harry. I am going to make Draco feel more welcomed than he ever has felt before when he shows up on Monday. Is he coming for dinner as well? Do you know what he likes?”
“Er, no I don’t think he can make it for dinner.” Harry said.
Uncle Remus was beaming.
“Not to worry, Harry! I’ll get some ice cream for you two. Does he like chocolate?”
“Everyone likes chocolate, Remus.” Uncle Sirius sighed with defeat and glanced at Harry with a grave expression. “I don’t support this, you know.”
“Ignore him, Harry.” Uncle Remus said.
“I think… May I be excused?” Harry said.
“Of course. Take your plate though, you barely ate.” Uncle Remus said.
Harry grabbed his plate and hurried to his room on the second floor. He shut the door and set the plate on his desk, quickly bolting the rest of his dinner. He relaxed on his four-poster bed with a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Twenty minutes later, there was a rap on the door.
“Who is it?” Harry called.
“Sirius.”
“Come in.”
Uncle Sirius entered, wand out, and cast a silencing spell after he shut the door.
“Well? Did he buy it?” Harry asked.
Uncle Sirius’ face lit up in his grinning smirk. “Hook, line, and sinker. And may I just say your evasion in answering if Draco was being kicked out or not was an absolute masterpiece.”
“Well, Uncle Remus always assumes the worst.” Harry grinned.
“Still, you were brilliant.”
“You were brilliant. Merlin, your face when I played it up, though. I thought you believed me! You looked like you were dead set on claiming your cousin’s only kid.” Harry laughed.
“Well, that wouldn’t exactly play into your plans, now would it?” Uncle Sirius laughed, strutting over to Harry’s wardrobe. “What are you planning to wear?”
“Clothes. Why?” Harry asked.
“Well, I didn’t exactly lure Remus into my loving arms without some effort to my appearance, you know.” Uncle Sirius said, sifting through Harry’s hangars. He pulled a shirt from the mix. “What about this?”
“Sure, looks great.”
“You’re not even looking!”
Harry pointedly scrutinized the shirt. It was one of his favorites. Green with thin white stripes. He always wore it over Yule break.
“It’s so ratty though.” Harry said.
“Homey, not ratty.” Uncle Sirius corrected, walking over to his bed. “Touch it.”
Harry did.
“That fabric is so soft, huh?” Uncle Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. “I’d want to cuddle into fabric that soft.”
“Uncle Sirius!” Harry protested.
His godfather grinned widely.
“What about the other problem? Now Uncle Remus is going to be trying to please Draco like a house elf who loves his master.” Harry groaned.
“You leave that to me, kid.” Uncle Sirius smiled, sitting next to Harry.
“What’s your plan though?”
“I’m going to have dirty, dirty sex with him.” Uncle Sirius said pragmatically.
Harry shoved him.
Catching his balance, Uncle Sirius continued with a straight face, “Right next to the TV room, too. Very loudly. I’ll bring my whip.”
“You don’t have a whip! Please tell me you don’t. Oh Merlin, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know either way.” Harry cried.
Uncle Sirius started to smack him with two fingers while making whipping noises repeatedly.
“Stop! Stop!” Harry protested through giggles as he ducked away.
Uncle Sirius stopped, laughing too hard to continue. He gave a sniffle and let out a long breath.
“Oh, Harry.” he murmured.
“Yeah.” Harry smiled at him.
They fell into a tight embrace, both feeling perfectly happy. It was how they said they loved each other. With Uncle Remus is was much more upfront and clearly spoken, but with Uncle Sirius, it was just felt. It was known. In these stolen moments of contentedness, Harry knew why his parents chose Sirius as his godfather above everyone else.
It felt like he was his real father.
/\/\/\/\/
The new moon arrived quicker than Harry ever thought possible, especially given his sensitivity to lunar cycles with Remus as a guardian. Usually it was the full moon that arrived with an unrelenting rapidness.
Uncle Remus was dressed to impress, which wasn’t saying much in Harry’s opinion, but Uncle Sirius kept kissing him all evening so clearly he was into tweed jackets.
The doorbell rang and Harry hurried to beat Kreacher to the door, failing by mere seconds. Kreacher eyed him with disdain and Harry grinned.
“It’s my pureblood friend. You’ll like him.” he teased.
“Kreacher likes all of his young master’s friends.” Kreacher replied with a scowl.
The house elf opened the door and took in Draco with a light sniff. His entire physique brightened.
“You must be my young master’s friend. Please come in.” Kreacher said.
Harry laughed. Kreacher never said ‘please.’
“What’s funny?” Draco frowned.
“Tell you later. Come in.” Harry said, his laugh morphing into a grin.
“Thanks,” Draco said, handing Kreacher his satchel. It was big enough to hold a standard wizarding robe, and Harry surmised it currently contained as much given Draco’s very Muggle outfit of tight black jeans and a fitted button-down shirt. The shirt was a light blue that Harry knew would bring out his eyes once they were in better lighting.
“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry said in a commanding tone, and Kreacher bowed and then disapparated to whatever hidey hole he’d found this month.
“I like your outfit.” Harry said.
“Oh, thanks. I wore it for you. You can tell Granger I went all in on the Muggle vibe.” Draco smirked.
“I’ll let her know.” Harry said. “Before we go in though, I need to warn you my uncle, er, Remus, is a bit keen.”
“How do you mean?”
“He might think your parents kicked you out, but that you don’t really want to talk about it.” Harry gave a hopeful grimace.
“Potter, you’re a nightmare. Is this the werewolf uncle?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “but please don’t mention that.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Draco said, smoothing his shirt despite its lack of wrinkles.
“Oh, and he loves The Bachelor. So, he might be…well, he’s planning to watch with us.” Harry said.
Draco eyed him.
“I have a plan, don’t worry.” Harry assured him.
“I trust you.” Draco said.
“Good.” Harry’s lips pursed into a playful smile. “Now come on. We’ll miss the first segment if we don’t hurry.”
“I wasn’t late!” Draco protested.
“I know. There’s an amount of fussing we need to get through first.” Harry said, guiding Draco through the long foyer to the sitting room where his uncles sat. Uncle Sirius’ body was a little too entwined with his husband’s to be appropriate for guests.
“Draco’s here.” Harry announced.
“Hello, Draco!” Uncle Remus shot up, jostling Sirius away from him as he did. He stuck out a hand to Draco, who shook it politely, and said, “We’re so happy you’re here.”
“How’s your mum? Does she still hate me?” Uncle Sirius asked, not moving from the sofa.
“Er, my mother is well. She never mentions you.” Draco replied, glancing cautiously at Harry.
“We’re going to the TV room.” Harry said.
“I’ll get the ice cream. Do you like chocolate, Draco?” Uncle Remus asked.
“Oh, er…yes?” Draco said.
“Chocolate’s great, thanks.” Harry said. He looked at Draco, nodding his head towards the tiny added-on side room next to the garage. “This way.”
The moment they entered the room, Draco exclaimed, “Whoa, do you feel that?”
“What?”
“There’s no magical aura in here.”
“Yeah, we had to block it for the TV to work.” Harry explained.
“That’s weird.” Draco said.
“It’s not that weird. Sit.” Harry smiled and gestured to the cozy sofa in the room.
Draco sat on the edge of the middle cushion and Harry shook his head. “No, pick a side. I’ll sit in the middle. Trust me.”
Draco nodded knowingly and moved to the far end. Harry slid beside him, not very close to him, and grabbed the remote. He turned on the TV, and Draco made a surprised noise as the sound and picture sprung to life.
“Have you seen a TV before?” Harry asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” Draco said.
“Well, now you have.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
They were looking at each other, all smiles and longing eyes, when Uncle Remus entered, saying, “Three bowls of ice cream!” in a sing-song voice.
“Thanks!” Harry said, his attention snapping back to the TV and remote. He tuned to the correct channel and adjusted the volume, confirming that everyone could hear it.
The intro started as Uncle Remus handed the boys their ice creams. Harry glanced at Draco to find him staring at the TV, completely mesmerized.
“Here, let me take that.” Harry said, grabbing the ice cream bowl as it slipped out of Draco’s grasp.
“Oh, sorry.” Draco said. “Thanks. It’s like several paintings at once.”
“Yeah, similar to that, but if we watched this episode again, it’d be the same every time.” Harry explained. “Not like how a painting is sort of alive and independent.”
Draco nodded absently, fully engrossed with the moving pictures, but obviously not following any of the dialogue yet. It wasn’t a big deal — the host was merely rehashing the fact that the bachelor had to choose one of the two remaining girls tonight.
“Wait, the premise is arranged marriage?” Draco said, appalled. “You didn’t tell me this.”
“Oh, it’s not exactly arranged.” Uncle Remus chimed in. “See, there are twenty women to choose from to start, and then he narrows it down each episode until it’s just the final two. So, really, he’s choosing. It’s not arranged. And the women all want to be on the show. They volunteered to go on it.”
“Oh,” was all Draco said.
The bachelor was busy deliberating his impossible choice through a cheesy montage of memories with each girl when the noise of Sirius’ motorcycle sounded through the thin wall between the TV room and the garage.
They all ignored it successfully for a little bit, but then Sirius began to rev the engine seemingly at random. Harry looked at Draco, his face turned away from Uncle Remus, and winked. Draco gave the subtlest of nods before complaining loudly, “I can’t hear anything with that racket!”
“I know! Uncle Remus, go tell him to stop! You know why he’s doing this.” Harry said, giving Uncle Remus a look to imply that Uncle Sirius wanted to make Draco feel unwelcomed.
“It’s totally unacceptable!” Uncle Remus huffed. “I apologize for my husband’s incredibly rude behavior, Draco.”
With that he stormed from the room. Harry noted his footsteps were an angry march. Then they heard the squeaking hinges of the door into the garage through the thin wall.
Uncle Sirius voice followed, muffled through the drywall and insulation: “Finally! I thought you’d never turn up.”
“I’ve had it up to here with you and this damn motorcycle! Why are you being such an asshole to Draco?” Uncle Remus shouted. It was so loud, even through the walls, that it almost felt like he was in the room with them.
“He’s really defensive of me. Is this how he always is?” Draco whispered to Harry, since it was obvious the walls were paper-thin.
“Yeah, he’s quick to defend the helpless and cast-out. That’s why Uncle Sirius told me to use the rationale that you were being kicked out.” Harry grinned.
“You’re terrible.” Draco said, a smile dancing in his eyes.
“Come here, babe.” Uncle Sirius’ voice said with ease through the wall.
“What?” Uncle Remus was clearly still in the doorway.
“I said, come here.”
The vibration of the door into the garage closing slightly shook the TV room.
Their voices abruptly became too muffled for any words to be made out, until Uncle Remus’ voice rang out in an exclamation of disbelief. “You two planned this whole thing, didn’t you?”
No words, just shuffling noises, and then Uncle Remus again, a more amused tone to his shout: “You’re such an asshole!”
“You love me.” came a loud and proud cooing from Uncle Sirius.
There was a muffled bit of talking to follow until Uncle Sirius, presumably, revved the engine loudly. The house creaked with the change of pressure as the garage door opened, and the roar of the motorcycle blew by the TV room and vanished into the dark, moonless night.
“I’ll just make sure.” Harry said, standing. “Stay here.”
He verified that both his uncles were indeed gone for an evening ride and rolled his eyes at the open garage door. He pulled it shut and went back inside their townhome, locking the door behind him. When he returned to the TV room, he sat much closer to Draco.
“They’re gone.” he said.
“They left?” Draco asked, shocked despite all the noise indicating such a possibility.
“Yes, we’re alone.”
“A finely executed plan then, Potter.” Draco nodded with approval.
“We don’t have to finish watching this if you don’t want.”
“And lose my wager to Granger? No way. We’re watching it.”
“S’ppose I should get more comfortable then.” Harry said as he scooted even closer to Draco, so their thighs were touching, and reached for his hand.
He teased Draco’s delicate hand with his fingertips, then stroked them along his forearm, up to his elbow and back to his hand. At least that was the plan, but Draco winced when he first reached his forearm.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.
Draco took Harry’s right hand into his own and guided it around his shoulders. He burrowed a little bit into Harry’s body, and Harry tightened his hold on him. They had never touched each other this much before.
“I suppose I should get more comfortable too.” Draco murmured.
“Draco?” Harry said, but it came out in a nervous whisper.
“Yes?” Draco looked at him.
Their faces were quite close. Too close for Harry to really focus on the beautiful whole of Draco’s features, so he settled on his eyes. Their crystal blue colour. The small specks of grey dotting the irises near the pupils in perfectly symmetrical patterns. Their long, black lashes, so distinctive from the shocking blond hair on his head. The purplish lids that gave away that he hadn’t been sleeping well. Harry wanted to let Draco sleep in his arms every night — not that he didn’t have his own nightmares that caused him to wake trembling in pools of sweat. But, maybe with Draco there, these would lessen.
Harry leaned in and met Draco’s lips with his own. He started soft, but not tentative. Though they had never kissed before, it felt so natural that Harry’s heartbeat didn’t even deviate. Draco’s mouth moved against his, also soft. Harry pulled him closer and deepened their kiss; Draco followed, pressing himself flush to Harry’s chest and wrapping his outside arm around him.
“Your shirt’s so soft.” he murmured.
“What?” Harry couldn’t make out what he’d said.
“Your shirt. It’s soft.” Draco said.
Harry laughed, and Draco blushed. Harry kissed him quickly, so he wouldn’t think he’d been laughing at him. He placed his other hand on Draco’s jaw, running a couple fingers across the length of its edge. He loved this jaw. Draco pushed his tongue into his mouth, and Harry let out a moan. The fingers tracing Draco’s jaw found their way into his smooth hair, and Draco leaned further against him. Harry lost his balance but managed to pull Draco down with him as he fell backwards onto the sofa. They continued to kiss a moment more before Draco pulled away slightly and hovered over him. His face was still close but far enough away now that Harry would need to move to reach it.
Draco pinned Harry’s arms to the cushions and smirked. “Finally have you where I want you, Potter.”
Harry smiled up at him. No clever retort came to mind. He just wanted to enjoy this moment; to bathe in the waves of warmth emanating off of Draco and onto him.
Draco met his lips again, the kiss more heated as his weight pressed down on Harry. One of them started to roll their hips, though neither could remember who, and Harry gripped tightly to Draco’s wrists for leverage as he continued to hold him in place. Draco winced again, and Harry further tightened his grip, thinking Draco liked it. Draco, however, whimpered in pain and suddenly sat up, moving away from Harry, who realized he had entirely misunderstood.
“Draco?”
Draco looked away from him, at the TV. The bachelor was now on his first of the two final one-on-one dates.
“Draco?”
Harry tried to wriggle out from under him so he could sit up, but Draco was straddling him with his full weight. Harry ran through the events in his head, finally piecing together that Draco’s left forearm seemed to be in pain. He moved to unfasten the cufflink, but Draco snatched his arm away.
“Don’t.” he said.
“Draco, please talk to me. What’s going on? What happened?” Harry pleaded, running a hand as high up Draco’s torso as he could reach from his angle.
“I can’t tell you anything,” Draco said then looked at Harry with a start, “and you shouldn’t tell me anything either. You can’t trust me anymore.”
“What do you mean? Of course I trust you.”
“You can’t. Not anymore.” Draco shook his head then wailed softly, “Harry, you’re going to hate me.”
“That’s not possible. Draco, do you hear me?” Harry said earnestly, not even noticing that Draco used his first name. Draco peered down at him and Harry locked eyes with him and repeated, “That’s not possible.”
Draco began to unbutton his shirt. Despite this being the precise visual Harry had imagined many, many times, there was nothing sexual about this moment. Though his body begged to differ once Draco’s toned chest and the smooth bumps of his ab muscles were fully visible. Draco laid his shirt over the back of the sofa so it wouldn’t wrinkle, then turned his left forearm so the inside faced Harry.
Harry gasped. He didn’t mean to, but it was impossible not to. His heart raced as he took in the still image of a black skull with a snake extending from its mouth branded onto his Draco’s pale skin. The Dark Mark. He’d only ever seen it in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup two summers ago. The snake had been moving then, but Harry reasoned the blocked magic in the TV room was preventing it from doing so here.
“How did this happen?” Harry asked, when he found his voice again.
“Saturday.” Draco said tightly, as if this answered Harry’s question.
Harry nodded anyway and looked at Draco’s face again. He was paler now, terrified.
“This doesn’t mean anything, Draco. I know you didn’t want this.” Harry said.
“It means you can’t trust me anymore. I’m just another weapon in His artillery. A punishment for my father’s failures.” Draco spat.
“He did this to you because of your father?” Harry finally managed to sit up when Draco lifted his weight in order to lean back onto the far arm of the sofa. Harry followed him, folding his legs and reaching out a hand to touch Draco’s knee so they were connected. He didn’t want Draco to feel any more alone than he clearly already did.
“My father was supposed to get some prophecy for him in the winter, and he failed.” Draco shrugged.
Harry’s stomached knotted. His and Voldemort’s shared prophecy was sitting on a shelf in his bedroom right at that moment. He and Uncle Sirius had gone to collect it together his first day back last Yule Break. It was right between his omnioculars from the World Cup and a framed picture of himself, Hermione, and Ron.
“But that’s not the issue.” Draco continued when Harry said nothing.
“Tell me.” Harry said softly, coaxing his thumb over Draco’s kneecap.
Draco looked everywhere but at Harry, and finally said, “I have a mission. I’m to prove my worthiness. I can’t tell you what it is. I mean, I was bound not to tell anyone, so I can’t. But it’s horrible.”
“Draco,” Harry said quietly, moving closer. “Normally the mark moves. Yours isn’t in here. Are you sure the binding is in place right now?”
Draco looked at him darkly and said, “If I tell anyone or I abandon my mission or I fail, He’s going to kill my mother.”
“Draco, that’s horrible.” Harry breathed, regretting his prior statements about the blocked magic undoing the bind. It would never be worth the risk given the potential consequence.
“You believe me? Goyle did not. Said I was overreacting.”
“He killed my mother. Why wouldn’t I believe you?”
Their eyes met and Harry saw Draco was blinking away tears.
“Promise me that you’ll destroy him.” Draco whispered.
“Why do you even think I can?” Harry shook his head. Draco was not the first to insinuate this and his prophecy, which only he and Uncle Sirius had heard, was somewhat precise on the matter.
“Because you have to. It has to be you. Everyone says so.” Draco said, his voice shaky and desperate.
“I can’t do it alone. I’ll need your help, everyone’s help.” Harry said.
“I know. That’s why I’ve been helping.”
“You’ll continue? Isn’t that too dangerous now? If anything happened to you…” Harry could not bear the thought.
“Something has already happened to me. So, don’t deny me this opportunity to help.” Draco said harshly.
Harry nodded, “Okay, okay. But you’re saying you can’t even tell me information anymore.”
“But you can guess. You know me well enough by now, and you have enough darkness in you to think like Him. Your uncles have been preparing you for war your entire life; it’s all they know.”
Harry swallowed. He knew Draco’s words were true, even if he didn’t want them to be. His uncles had never moved on from his parents’ deaths. How could they, with him around as a daily reminder?
“A code. We’ll have a code word, and then you’ll know I need you to guess.” Draco continued.
“Okay, so what’s the code word then?”
Draco looked round the TV room, a smile spreading slowly across his face as the TV’s glow lit his skin in a blue hue.
“The Bachelor finale. I’ll mention it, and then you’ll know.” he said.
Harry felt his lips curve up into a grin. A laugh fell out of him as he nodded, and Draco, too, began to laugh. Harry stuck out his hand, and Draco took it.
“Deal.” Harry said as they shook hands.
Draco’s body relaxed some, and Harry yanked him forward as he leaned back onto the sofa again.
“Come here.” he soothed, pulling Draco against his chest and wrapping his arms around his bare torso.
Draco snuggled on top of him, unfolding his own legs and tucking one under Harry’s. Harry ran a hand through his hair repeatedly, and Draco kissed the fabric of his shirt. Right over his heart.