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Harry looked down at the blue and grey text boxes, smiling to himself. The conversation had taken place the night before, and even hours later it still made him chuckle. Draco’s aversion of muggle transportation was endearing, if not a little confusing, to Harry. How the sensation of being sucked through a small tube was preferable to sitting in a large, comfy seat in first class was beyond him, but he chalked it up to experience.
He stood in the atrium of Heathrow airport, phone clutched in one hand and paper in the other, as the bustle of excited-departing and exhausted-arriving passengers weaved around him. He watched the flight boards update their times in a whir of numbers, and was happy to see that Draco’s plane had landed on time. Merlin only knew what would happen if the flight team had the audacity to delay.
He felt his phone buzz again in quick succession, and couldn’t help the broad smile that broke out over his face.
By the end of the slew of texts, Harry was fighting tears and his stomach ached from laughter. He hadn’t received another text from Draco since he’d landed, and he could only imagine the chaos that was ensuing on the other side of the security point.
Harry saw the flight board switch to baggage, and made his way towards the terminal. Just as he went to tuck his phone into his pocket and lift his paper right side out, it rang. Looking down and rolling his eyes, he answered the call.
“Draco, I’m—”
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
Harry winced as Draco yelled on his end.
“Yes Draco,” Harry said with a sigh, tucking the paper beneath his arm. “I can hear you, you don’t have to yell, remember?”
“Oh, right,” came Draco’s sheepish voice, now at a much more reasonable volume. “Potter, listen. They’ve taken my bag and now I’m waiting for it to come down a sort of moving platform—”
“Yeah, the luggage belt,” Harry interrupted, his feet carrying him across the gleaming floors and towards the baggage claim. “Just wait, you’ll see it.”
A growl sounded from the other line. “This whole experience has been ridiculous. Why muggles even bother to travel is beyond me. Not worth it, in the end—Oh! My bag!”
The line filled with a muffled scratching sound, and Harry listened as Draco apparently retrieved his bag. He heard faint speaking, and tried to make heads or tails of what was happening before he realized Draco was continuing to talk to him, except the phone was no longer at his ear.
“I can’t hear you!” Harry called, trying to speak a little louder so Draco may hear him from wherever he’d shoved his phone. A passing couple shot him a strange look, and Harry returned it with a dismissive wave. “Put the phone back to your ear so I can hear you!”
“Hello?” Draco’s voice boomed. “Were you listening to a single word I said?”
Harry sighed, frustration and fondness mingling together in his chest. “You don’t have to yell, remember?”
“Well, you said you couldn’t hear me!”
It was then that Harry caught sight of a blonde head bobbing through the crowd, making its way towards the exit.
“Potter, I’ve had enough of this muggle stuff for today," Draco huffed, readjusting the grip on his suitcase as he swept forward. "I’ve been emotionally traumatized by what was supposed to be a children’s film—which, by the way, you should never watch. It has a strange parallel to your life and I don’t think it would be in your best interest to—” Draco paused, and Harry watched as an elderly lady jostled past him. With a dirty look, she knocked Draco's knees with her carpet bag and shuffled away. Draco cursed.
“Where are you?”
Harry tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, unrolling the sign he’d made. He smiled as he held it out in front of himself, facing Draco as he spoke.
“I’m right here.”
He saw the back of Draco’s head and watched as the blonde began to look around frantically. He was wearing muggle attire, but even still he looked as if he didn’t belong there. Dressed in a sky blue v-neck under a dark brown cardigan, Draco looked like a god among men. His almost-white hair shone in the sunlight that rained down from the large windows above, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat.
Harry didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky. How he’d found himself head-over-heels for his one time nemesis. But, as he watched the man search desperately for him, trying to pick him out of a crowd of hundreds, Harry felt that place in his heart warm. The place that felt like home.
“Where, Potter? I can’t see you,” Draco almost whined, then coughed as he tried to cover it up.
Harry smiled. “Right behind you, to your right.”
Draco spun on the heels of his dragonhide dress shoes, phone still clutched to his ear as his grey eyes skated over the faces until he finally stopped on one.
“Harry,” Draco breathed.
Harry beamed, his expression full of joy and a slight touch of mischief.
“Welcome home, Draco.”
