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2000
Draco walked into the muggle bar that had been his haunt for a few months now. It’s not that he couldn’t go into wizarding districts, but he still felt that cold air of unwelcome, even two years after the war had ended and he’d atoned with several months’ house arrest and restrictions placed on him all through his 8th year at Hogwarts.
Draco stopped at the bar to greet Alfie, the regular bartender, and order his usual—the Juniper Sling. It was a slow Wednesday, and Draco wasn’t expecting much of a crowd tonight. But if he found someone to pick up, well, he wouldn’t say no.
What Draco didn’t expect was to see Harry Potter sitting in his quaint little muggle dive, nursing what looked like a Pimm’s Cup. Draco really couldn’t resist going over after he’d acquired his drink.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.
Potter looked up from his glass and raised an eyebrow at him. “Malfoy.”
If there was one thing Draco could say, it was that Potter didn’t seem to bear him any ill will. While the rest of the wizarding world took no issue with charging Draco for crimes committed in his childhood under duress, Potter not only stood up for him during his trial, but seemed to understand right off that the situation had not been ideal for any of their Hogwarts lot. They were just kids fighting in an adult war that began before any of them were even born.
“Can I sit?” Draco asked.
Potter shrugged and Draco dropped into the seat opposite his. This certainly wasn’t the pickup Draco had been envisioning, but he still found no reason to say no.
*
That slow Wednesday turned into quiet Sunday café luncheons and lazy Saturday movie nights and not-so-slow dance club Friday nights. Draco learned that he and Harry had much more in common than anyone would have ever guessed and it was…nice, to talk to someone who understood. He could discuss the wizarding world and their past and not have to hide that part of himself, like he did with the muggles he sometimes associated with. He still had some of his Slytherin friends, but many had moved away after the war to get a fresh start and the ones that were closer didn’t like to discuss their history, too focussed on moving past it and making a new name for themselves.
Draco and Harry spent a fair bit of time together, but always in the muggle world. Beyond Draco feeling unwelcome in the wizarding world, Harry tried to avoid the press as much as possible. And they had fun—Draco introduced Harry to more culture in the form of museums, theatre, and wine tastings; and Harry helped Draco loosen up, taking him paintballing and go-kart racing, and, on one memorable occasion, skinny dipping.
At the clubs, they were excellent wingmen for each other:
“Harry, I think that chap in the red is about to walk over. He’s been giving you the eye all evening. Shall I walk away so he can make his move?” “Oh yeah. He’s fit. Let’s give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll give you the signal to come rescue me.”
“Draco, that bloke with the football jersey looks like he’s gearing up to come chat you up. Want me to take a walk?” “Oh, Merlin, no. Bad enough he’s in a jersey, but supporting Liverpool?! Absolutely not. Put your hand on my thigh and lean in closer so he’ll find himself a new target.”
Months followed in this vein, with them basically connected at the hip. Their friends and family knew they were friends, to the bafflement of all parties.
“Really, Draco?” had been Pansy’s succinct response through a fire-call after word had reached her in Paris. “Potter? Really?!”
Draco had shrugged and smiled. “He’s really not that bad, Pans.”
Harry told Draco that Weasley had had some rather loud opinions on the matter and Granger had some logical arguments against the friendship, but both were acknowledged and then ignored.
All told, it would be a stretch to suggest either group of friends was overly fond of the other, but they kept the peace when together for Harry and Draco’s sakes.
And the boys didn’t let it bother them a whit. They were nearly always together, but they were only friends. Until they were more. One hot night at a club where there was enough alcohol to be tipsy but not drunk, enough loud music to feel free, and enough close dancing to rev Draco up had him dropping his inhibitions and kissing Harry like he’d been thinking of for weeks by then.
Harry pulled away first, staring at Draco with something like shock and wonder. There was all surprise in his voice when he said, “Draco,” and Draco was set to apologize for his lapse in judgment when Harry smiled at him and pulled him in for another kiss, stealing the words from his lips.
*
They kept the fact that they were dating a secret. Despite how most of their time was spent in the muggle world, the wizarding press was quite relentless when digging into Harry’s life and his escape to the land of muggles did not deter them over much. His sudden friendship with Draco Malfoy had filled pages of gossip rags for weeks before the public realized that Harry and Draco weren’t going to stop being friends just because they disapproved.
They probably could have told their friends, but most of them still had trouble understanding the friend aspect of their relationship, let alone anything more. And truly, their relationship didn’t change over much. They were already prone to casual touches as friends, and that didn’t change now that they were dating. They still went to museums, and go-karting, and movies, and dance clubs, so the press had nothing new to report.
But at the clubs, there was no more wing-manning. They still laughed, and drank, and danced, but it was only with each other now. Draco could admit that he enjoyed the admiring or lustful looks that he got, or Harry got, or they got as a couple, but denying them to go home with someone he was quickly growing to love was so much more satisfying than the one-night stands he had been engaging in before.
And when they left, disappearing to one of their homes, the affectionate gestures they’d been withholding burst free. The impulsive kisses. The held hands. The soft looks. And the sex they had was so much more than the casual flings they were used to. Draco didn’t dare call it making love. Not now, not yet, but he couldn’t deny it was more.
*
2001
Draco sat on the couch, Harry’s head in his lap and his fingers running through messy black locks. Draco was watching Graham Norton while Harry played with a practice Snitch, letting it fly away and catching it again, testing Seeker skills that had yet to abandon him.
“Hey Harry,” Draco said.
“Hmm?” was the distracted response.
“What do you think about moving in with me?” he asked, keeping his eyes mostly on the telly in case Harry’s reaction was less than favourable.
Harry’s eyes jumped from the Snitch up to Draco and he caught the ball without looking, but didn’t release it again.
“I didn’t even know you were considering a move,” Harry said.
Draco glanced down into startling green, but they only looked curious, rather than…any of the negative emotions Draco feared he’d see there. Draco looked back at the screen anyway. “It’s just that we spend so much time together at your place or mine, and half our wardrobes are in each other’s closets that it made sense to me. But it’s fine if you don’t want to, or you’re not ready, or you don’t think you’ll ever be ready, or…” Draco babbled before Harry cut him off with a firm, “Draco!”
Draco lapsed into silence and Harry prolonged it a few seconds more before saying casually, “Yeah. We can do that. Do you think it’s about time to let everyone know we’re dating?” he ventured in turn.
It was Draco’s turn to stare at Harry wide-eyed, and he did, almost dislodging Harry from his lap in his surprise. Harry settled down again and shrugged as best he could from his lying position. “We have been dating for seven months now and I think even the press are finally used to seeing us together. Our friends are… more than cordial to each other now and I think Hermione is even starting to like Daphne’s sharp wit and Blaise’s wildly flirtatious manner.”
Draco considered this. “Okay fine,” he decided. “But we’re telling your friends and family first. If they decide to kill us, at least we probably won’t be tortured with a Crucio first. I tell you now that I make no promises for Pansy’s reaction.”
*
Harry stood beside Draco in the Malfoy Manor library, presenting a united front. They had been here a time or two over the last months, but only for brief, stilted teas and dinners. Draco suspected his parents remained unimpressed with his choice in friend, though they refrained from outright rudeness.
The confessions to the collective Weasleys had gone over better than Draco had anticipated. Harry’s family was shocked, but Granger had said she wasn’t surprised given the way they’d behaved since first becoming friends. With how close they were, it was all but inevitable. Weasley even started talking about how obsessed Harry was with Draco during school, a story which Draco vowed to get more details of at a later time. That visit had gotten wretchedly embarrassing, but it could have gone a lot worse.
Even Draco’s friends had been calm. Blaise clapped him on the back with a “Good on you, mate.” And Daphne had laughed in his face until tears ran from her eyes before hugging him. Draco once again talked to Pansy over the safety of a couple hundred kilometres, but she’d only given the dismissive response of, “If you must.”
This last meeting was the one Draco feared. His parents and all their expectations for him, which had set heavily upon his shoulders for years now. He’d even kept from telling them his orientation—bi with a heavy preference for men—until now, which wasn’t an uncommon practice among pureblood children.
Harry and Draco had just walked in and Draco confessed that he was bi, dating Harry and had been for the last seven months, and they were moving in together. Then he ducked his head, as if preparing for an onslaught—perhaps verbal, perhaps physical—to rain upon him.
Narcissa raised her eyebrows at Draco’s bent head.
“Darling, I know we have never been the warmest parents, but I can promise you we were most attentive to you growing up. We took notice when you began talking about Mr. Potter in first year, and we detected that the way you talked about him changed, oh, about fourth year? It was still with derision, to be sure, but you admired his looks the same way you admired those of Blaise.”
Draco’s head popped up when she noted that he’d appreciated Blaise’s looks when he was young, let alone Harry’s. Draco thought he’d been so careful to hide his attraction for boys from them. His eyes were wide, waiting for the censure he knew was coming, the lectures in purebloods marrying respectfully and continuing their lines.
But his mother’s face lacked the expected disapproval. Instead, she looked amused. She looked at him and laughed that light laugh of hers. “Oh darling, did you think your enjoyment of the male form escaped our notice? I’m afraid we’re much more observant than that and you, my dear, are much less discreet than you seem to think. We’re aware of your…,” Narcissa waved her hand in the air, searching for a delicate word, “trysts, throughout your Hogwarts years. People do talk in our circles, dear, which you’re well aware of.”
Draco’s cheeks flooded with heat and his mouth opened and closed, unable to think of a thing to say and Narcissa tisked at him. “Darling, you look like a fish. Do close your mouth. At any rate, we knew you fancied boys and we certainly recognized that you fancied Mr. Potter, however much you said you hated him. You haven’t ceased talking about him from the time you were 11 years old. Did you think we would not observe how the way you speak about him now changed again and see the way you interact? That we would not comprehend what it could mean, given but a little time? We were young once, too, dear, with things to hide from our own parents.”
Lucius rose from his place by the fire. “That’s quite enough, dear. Draco doesn’t need to hear about our own exploits throughout Hogwarts.”
Draco’s face flushed further and he spluttered, scandalized, causing both Harry and Narcissa to laugh at him.
Harry nudged Draco’s shoulder from his place beside him. “See, Draco? I told you this wouldn’t be so bad. Telling them was much less embarrassing than telling my family.”
“That’s because your family started giving us sex advice and the twin and girl-Weasley ran to get us intimate products from their bloody store,” Draco grumbled.
Harry laughed again and Lucius’s eyebrows rose. He said, “While I am unsurprised to learn that we have much more decorum than the Weasleys upon receiving such news, please do elaborate on these intimate products.”
Draco buried his flaming face in his hands and muttered, “I am going to die of shame now.”