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They were sharing a smoke in the bathroom – the only place you could hear each other enough to have even half a conversation. One would be surprised how many people could fit into a two-bedroom apartment Ginny and Neville shared. People were like sardines out there. The bathroom was a nice reprieve.
The tiny window above Draco’s head was just big enough so the small space didn’t fill with smoke in a matter of minutes and Potter was surprisingly good company. But then again, he usually was. This was nothing out of the ordinary.
They shared smokes before. At other parties. At unrelated common grounds. And like always, they were currently talking about leaving for a shag before coming back to get properly drunk, so it wasn’t like there was any chance of heavy topics here. It was safe territory. Familiar.
“You know,” Harry said, passing back the cigarette to him, “We’ve known each other’s for years and I don’t think we’ve ever had a proper conversation.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Draco raised an eyebrow and took a drag.
“You don’t think it is? I mean, we’ve been sleeping together for what? Two, three months now?” It was three months and a week. 98 days. Draco didn’t interrupt him though… “And I don’t even know what your favourite colour is or something like that…”
“Merlin, Potter, are you literally twelve years old?” Draco finished off the cigarette even though it had technically been Potter’s turn. Harry vanished it with a flick of his fingers like it was the easiest thing in the world and Draco tried not to show how these casual displays of Harry’s power affected him. He fished out the cigarette package out of his coat pocket and opened it towards Harry.
“Another one or are we leaving?”, he asked, and Harry reluctantly took out another cigarette. He lit it with a single touch, still no wand in sight, and Draco really felt like he was going to be the death of him. Leaving was looking more and more appealing by the minute.
“Another one,” Harry murmured even though Draco had already figured out his answer. “Maybe we could talk?”
“And what would we talk about, exactly?” Draco tilted his head mockingly. “Which position I’d like you to fuck me in half an hour from now?”
“We could do like… twenty questions?” Harry suggested and Draco groaned in despair, snatching the cigarette out of his fingers, and taking a long drag.
“You are literally twelve years old.”
“Does that make me jailbait?” Harry said quietly and Draco had to take out his wand to tow a stinging hex at him. “Sorry!”
They sat in silence for a few moments, until the cigarette was halfway done.
“So, what’s your favourite colour?” Harry asked.
“What’s your favourite position?” Draco shot back.
“I asked first.”
“Blue,” Draco said, rolling his eyes and then looked at Harry expectantly.
“Missionary.”
Draco laughed loudly and then gripped the sink to prevent himself from falling when he slipped on the wet floor. Harry caught his upper arm and pulled him to sit on the edge of the tub next to him.
“It isn’t that funny,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“No, it’s just… well, I knew it was your favourite. If you asked me to guess, it’d have guessed correctly.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Harry protested. “How could you possibly know it’s my favourite – we literally barely use it!”
“Yeah,” Draco shrugged and then handed the cigarette to Harry to finish it off. “But when we do use it, you get this weird look on your face. I don’t know how to describe it; it’s like all lovey-dovey and stuff.”
Harry stared at him for a moment and then finished the cigarette, playing with the butt for a moment before vanishing it like he had the other one. “I think that’s just ‘cause it’s you.”
“What?” Draco asked, distracted by charming small burst of wind to air out the bathroom. It wasn’t that they weren’t supposed to smoke in the apartment, but Draco knows how annoying cleaning the air after someone was.
Harry hesitated. Draco looked back at him, and their eyes met.
“I said that that look,” Harry cringed as he repeated it, “probably has more to do with you than the position. You just, er, cant’s see it the same in other ones.”
Now it was Draco’s turn to stare at Harry. “Are we still playing Twenty Questions?”
“We haven’t really been playing it…”
“Can I ask you a question or not, Potter?”
“You just did, though…”
“Potter!” Draco grabbed his shoulders and Harry had the decency to look apologetic.
“What?”
“Are you in love with me?” Draco asked slowly. “Is that what this whole ‘proper conversation’ thing was about?”
“I – yeah.” Harry looked away and then stood up to leave the room. To run away.
“No, wait,” Draco said and stood up with him, catching Harry’s hand.
“Yeah?” The huge amount of hope in Harry’s eyes should have been gross but Draco could feel something unravelling inside him.
“Do you wanna get out of here?”
Harry’s shoulders slumped. “Look, Draco, I – I don’t think I can do this whole fuck buddy thing anymore.”
Draco shook his head frustrated. “Do you wanna get out of here and like, fu – sleep toge – make love in missionary or something?”
Harry blinked at him. “You make it sound like I’m a blushing virgin you’re going deflower.”
“That’s gross.”
“Yeah, I know.” Harry sighed. “I’m in love with you. I get that you don’t feel the same way but –“
“I kinda do though,” Draco interrupted even though it took an insane amount of effort. He took Harry’s hand and carefully intertwined their fingers. He tried to make himself look vulnerable but the very idea of it was painful. He’d have to learn though. He’d put it on the bucket list – learn to show your emotions to Harry because he deserves it.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Harry shrugged and leaned forward to kiss him quickly, his free hand coming up to cup Draco’s cheek. “Let’s leave then.”
“Let’s,” Draco nodded in agreement, trying very hard to ignore the blush that arose as soon as Harry touched his face so tenderly.
Two minutes later they were gone. That party sucked anyway.