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Usually Draco ignored the café’s door chime, but this time, Lavender’s voice rang out with a giggling, “Harry, darling, I heard you were making the rounds!”
Draco craned his head around the leafy plant at his elbow to see if Harry, by chance, brought a box full of baked goods with him. There was no rhyme or reason to when or what he might bring for Lavender to sell, but it was always remarkable.
“Damn,” Harry said with good cheer, “I was hoping to catch you by surprise and offer a bribe.” He held up a large container that had Draco setting aside his manuscript and sidling up to the counter. “I made dirigible plum tarts.”
“I see you’ve already been to Luna’s.” Lavender opened the box and took a deep inhale of the sweet pastry. Without even looking, she set one on a plate and handed it to Draco. Oh, how heavenly, all that buttery pastry and the lighter-than-air filling.
Harry helped arrange the pastries on a cake plate. “She’s got a portkey in the morning to meet Rolf and the twins in Brazil. The Longbottoms are next on my list but Hannah said if I dragged Nev to one more event, she’d make him cut off my aconite supply. Please, Lav, you’re my last hope and it’s just one teeny, tiny—”
Lavender’s laugh cut him off. “Oh Harry, you know how much I hate that fundraising bullshit.”
“I know,” he pleaded, “But I need you!”
“Unfortunately for you, I’ve got a new squeeze and he definitely won’t understand me taking a friendly outing with Harry Potter this Friday.”
“I’ll pay your rent this month,” Harry said, batting big doe eyes at her.
Lavender smacked Draco’s hand as he reached for a second tart. “Draco, those are for customers.”
Draco gave her a sour look. “They’re not even for sale yet! And anyway, I’m a customer. Put it on my tab.”
She rolled her eyes and said to Harry, “I don’t need you paying my rent when I’ve got Draco Malfoy eating his weight in baked goods and coffee.” She set a second tart on his plate and shoved him to his corner. “Go get to work so you can afford your tab.”
Harry’s eyes darted to Draco and scanned him quickly. “What about you? Do you want to go to a charity event?” He pointed at Draco’s plate. “I can pay your tab this month as a thank you.”
Lavender snorted. “You’re in for it now. Good luck, boys,” she said as she left them to help a customer at the till.
“What do you say?” Harry persisted. “It’s day after tomorrow and I’m down to the wire trying to find someone to go with me.”
Toying with his pastry to stall, Draco thought it over. He might have gone a little overboard for his birthday this month—which he deserved for having to work on his birthday—and there was still another whole week left of the month. This could be a delicious deal and all he had to do was go to a charity event, which didn’t seem like much.
He cleared his throat. “Two months. Pay next month’s tab too and I’ll go with you.”
“Deal.” Harry stuck out a hand to shake with a wide grin on his face. “You have dress robes, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Of course,” Harry echoed. “It’s dinner and a performance by the Charming School of Dance. It’s some sort of interpretive ballet thing?”
He almost laughed at Harry’s obliviousness. “Eloise Charming is an innovator in charmed costuming. Her school’s performances sell out within minutes.”
“Ah, that would explain why it’s two hundred galleons a plate.”
Draco thought his eyes might fall out of his head. Living off the pay from his editing job at Obscurus Books had pushed those sorts of things far out of his reach. He shook his head. “Please tell me it’s for a good cause.”
“It’s part of a scholarship fund for Hogwarts. For the families of muggleborns that need a leg up with things other than school supplies. Rent or food. I help them out and they do the same when my big fundraiser comes around.” He clapped Draco on the back. “I’ll owl you the address to my cottage and the other details. Thanks Draco, you’re a lifesaver.”
He offered the last with a complete lack of irony and a wink before waving goodbye to Lavender and disappearing.
— — — —
“Thanks again for doing this,” Harry whispered in a quiet moment as they mingled before dinner. “It is the absolute worst to come alone. My friends used to love it. Free posh dinner, a chance to dress up. But now they’re all sick of it. I’ve been escalating the bribes, but most of them have a ‘you can’t pay me enough’ attitude.” He smiled and waved to an elderly witch across the room. “As if I wouldn’t rather be at home in my jim-jams with ice cream right now too.”
Draco snagged a piece of bacon-wrapped-something-or-other off a passing waiter’s tray. “You know, you could just do a direct donation for four hundred galleons and save yourself this hassle.”
“I wish, but it’s tit for tat. I show up at these stupid things and as thanks, they show up at mine. It’s hard to get support for werewolves otherwise—even for Harry Potter. So, I’m stuck with it.” He smiled and took Draco’s hand. “Shit, here comes Mrs Langley. She’s constantly trying to set me up with her daughter.”
Almost immediately, she tried to send Draco off on a useless errand to get a drink. But he flagged a waiter down for her and wrapped his arm more firmly around Harry’s waist. It didn’t hurt that Harry leaned into it with a charming smile.
The whole night felt almost like a real date, although Draco knew it wasn’t. Harry had said ‘friend’ about forty-two times since offering the invitation. Friends gossiped about ugly robes and annoying guests. Friends traded tasty bites of applewood smoked pork and almond crusted salmon. Friends laughed so hard they almost snorted champagne out of their noses. Friends walked home at a flobberworm’s pace, holding hands for no reason at all.
When Harry asked Draco if he wanted to attend the Full Moon Foundation’s annual Harry Potter birthday bash, he agreed without hesitation. If Harry leaned a little hard on how much he loved having all his friends with him for an important day, Draco went along with it. Even if it confused Draco to sit right next to Harry at the head table, and let Harry rest a hand along his shoulders or on his thigh. He wouldn’t read too much into Harry asking him to dance or sipping at Draco’s drink instead of getting his own refill.
But he could admit quietly to himself it was almost a relief that he had to miss the next event a few weeks later. Thanks to Carl, the Falmouth Falcon’s keeper that he’d met at Harry’s birthday fundraiser. In addition to being tanned, fit, and funny, he didn’t send a single mixed signal.
His appreciative eyes scanned Draco throughout their first date. He kissed Draco soundly on their second date. And he invited Draco in for a ‘nightcap’ on their third date. There wasn’t a fourth date.
“He just wouldn’t stop talking,” Draco grumbled as he took a slice of Harry’s cranberry strudel before Lavender could put it all in the display case. “So I shut him up in the only surefire way I know how—by sticking my—” he stopped at the horrified look on Harry’s face. “Sorry, I forget that not everyone is Pansy and wants to hear every detail about everything.”
“Er, yeah, it’s—I don’t want to hear the details.” Harry stared a little too hard at his now empty container while putting on the lid. “Erm, enjoy the strudel.”
Embarrassed at his own rambling, Draco accepted the change of subject and said, “When are you going to bring cinnamon rolls again? Those are my favourite.”
“Oh. Erm… I brought some Tuesday.”
“I only work in-office Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Bring some on one of those days next time.”
“I love that you call it ‘in office’ when you are here all day.” Lavender made a deliberate note about Draco’s strudel in her ledger. He ignored her pointed look because he had extra cash this month, since Harry paid his last two tabs.
Harry smiled and nudged playfully at Draco. “How do you stay so skinny, eating all these baked goods?”
“I run every morning. I hate running more than anything in this life, but I like to eat so…” Draco shrugged. “You must eat at least some of these, right? How do you stay in shape?”
“I swim. I used to go to a gym for it, but when Teddy got old enough, I installed a pool in my back garden. You should come some time and swim.”
Draco took it for one of those generic invitations that didn’t mean anything, but the next day, an owl arrived with a neatly printed letter from Harry asking Draco to dinner and a night swim. That sounded date-like to Draco, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Instead of the sexy, snug swimsuit he liked to take on mini-holidays with a paramour, he wore the loose swim trunks he usually saved for lazy days at the shore with Pansy.
But then dinner was actually a picnic by the natural, pond-style pool and Draco thought he might have misunderstood. They sat in the grass with adorable finger foods laid out in dainty dishes on a slab of slate that served well enough for a table. Candles dotted the pool area, and Harry had chilled two bottles of wine. It sure felt like a date.
“This is nice,” Harry said, offering Draco a shallow bowl of creme fraiche dotted with glazed blackberries. “So many of my friends have small children now and can’t get away for night swimming but it’s more fun with someone else.”
“Probably safer, too, with someone to look after you. Aren’t you afraid of bashing your head on a rock in the dark?”
Harry laughed. “Are you kidding? Do you know how many kids I have in my life? This pool is charmed to the hilt. It’s impossible to injure yourself in and around this pool.”
“Sounds like a dare,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows in challenge.
“A dare? To injure yourself?” Draco loved when Harry laughed so hard. “Go ahead. Be as reckless as you like. But if you end up unscathed, you owe me a treat.”
“What sort of treat?”
“I guess you can decide.” Harry gave him a considering look, but not the sort laced with seduction that Carl might have given him.
“Challenge accepted. If you lose, you’re paying my tab at Lavender’s until Christmas.” Draco got to his feet, brushing grass from his hands and backside. He pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it in the grass. “Let’s see…” He paced down the long end of the pool, testing the rocks and plants here and there with his foot.
A loud splash caught his attention. Harry surfaced, spraying Draco with water and laughing. “Are you really going to do this? Knock yourself around and hope to cut yourself on a rock?”
“Well when you phrase it like that…” Draco cannon-balled right next to Harry. He yanked Harry under water but his hand buzzed painfully around Harry’s leg and a rush of water forced them both to the surface.
Harry giggled and choked around a mouthful of water. “You can’t drown in a charmed pool.”
“In that case, I’m fresh out of ideas.” Draco rocked back to float. “I guess I owe you a date.”
“Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
A swish of Harry’s magic blew out all the candles. Lit only by the brilliant stars in the sky, Harry and Draco floated side by side.
— — — —
Draco dressed with care in case his lost bet was a real date. He decided to put the question out there by inviting Harry to a fancy dinner in a date-like place. Did Fortuna’s even have tables that served more than two people at a time? The message was clear: Draco wanted to date Harry.
He did. He thought he did. Maybe. Harry was fit as fuck, and funny, and looked at Draco like… like Draco might be special.
But dating meant sleeping together at some point and did he really want to sleep with Harry? Yes because, again, Harry was fit as fuck. But… but he was also a really good friend and Draco didn’t want to sleep with any of his friends. If it sucked, they still had to see each other all the time and that would be weird.
And so the date at Fortuna’s. The snitch was loose and Harry could decide whether to catch it or not. Draco would deal with the consequences as they came.
With each shared laugh and glass of wine, Draco’s hopes dared to rise. The snitch looked to be caught when Harry took Draco’s elbow to Apparate him home and then lingered outside his flat.
Draco was just about to invite Harry in for a ‘nightcap’ that might just be a make-out session when Harry said, “This was loads of fun. Usually Ron and I settle bets with a stroll through the park with kebabs or fish and chips.”
Just settling a bet. Like he would with his friendly-friend Ron. Not a date at all.
“That sounds like fun in its own way,” said Draco, ignoring his disappointment at the metaphorical snitch exploding into a thousand golden pieces. “We should do that next time.”
And as it turned out, sharing chips in the park was fun. So was popcorn at the cinema. And a sampler tray of ice creams at Fortescue's.
Sometimes Harry invited Draco over for tea and scones so he could read his manuscripts by the pool on his at-home work days. Or he would join Draco at Lavender’s on office work days. And even better, he brought Draco his very own treats.
Harry gave Lavender a box of mini cheesecakes and ordered a drink, then sat with Draco and gave him a small box of his own mini cheesecakes.
Lavender brought Harry’s caramel latte and shook her head fondly at the two of them. “Harry, you wretch, all your treats for Draco are cutting into my profits. For a while there I was considering asking Obscurus to just sign Draco’s wages directly over to me, but now I guess I don’t need to bother.”
“You should secretly rent his office out since he’s not using it.” They shared a laugh that should have annoyed Draco, but instead he found himself biting back a laugh of his own. “Why do you even have ‘office days’ if you’re never in the office?”
“We’re right next door. If anyone needs me, they know where to find me.”
“That’s not an answer. Why aren’t you in your office?”
“It’s a tiny piece of shit that they used for storage before they hired me. They never really managed to clear it out completely and I’m constantly pushing their stuff elsewhere. It’s exhausting and makes me claustrophobic. This is nicer and smells delicious.”
“Then why not let you work from home all the time?”
Draco shrugged. “My reference books are here. Sometimes there are meetings or group reviews and things. I’m in talks with my boss to switch to two days a week in the office and three at home.” He waved his hand vaguely, almost hitting Harry with his cheesecake. “But it’s slow going because this is working fine. I like it here. Lavender’s good to me.”
“Yeah she’s great.” Harry sipped at his drink and sighed. “I have an ulterior motive for showing up today. This came in the mail yesterday.” He handed Draco a glossy invitation.
“Ooh, Halloween at the Ministry.” Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry. “No one wants to go to that one either? It’s legendary.”
“I actually… I haven’t asked anyone else yet.” A light flush coloured Harry’s cheeks.
For some reason, Draco mirrored the blush. He was asking Draco first? The big dating question snapped back to the forefront of Draco’s thoughts and he struggled to remain casual. “Oh, well… I would love to go.”
“Really? Are you sure? This one is… loads harder on me. It would be really great to have a friend there with me.”
Friends. Draco was starting to hate that word. If he could strike it from Harry’s vocabulary, he would. Companion. Partner. Ally. Confidant. Literally anything else would be better.
Draco cleared the lump from his throat. “Of course. For a batch of cinnamon rolls all my own.” He smiled. “Should we coordinate costumes?”
“I like to take advantage of the open dress code to get away with wearing my pyjamas in public.”
“Sweet. I concur.”
And that was how Draco ended up in the Ministry of Magic with Harry Potter on his arm, wearing matching fuzzy pyjama bottoms covered in dancing mooncalves. Their t-shirts had a full moon image with ‘Full Moon Foundation’ printed in glittery stars across it to promote Harry’s charity.
Harry grabbed a flute of champagne off a passing tray and downed it in a single gulp. He gripped Draco’s hand almost painfully and whisper-hissed, “Don’t you dare leave me. The whole night. All right?”
Trying to calm the growing hysteria brewing behind Harry’s eyes, Draco gave him a wide, easy smile. He rubbed a soothing hand down Harry’s arm. “Of course. I’m all yours, you know.”
“I fucking hate Halloween.”
Over the next two hours, Draco could see why as one person after another kindly offered their condolences at the demise of Harry’s parents during the first fall of you-know-who. Of all the topics of conversation that could happen at a fancy dress party in the Ministry of Magic, that had to be the most wildly inappropriate, in Draco’s opinion. They were in their pyjamas, for fuck’s sake. Was there any other article of clothing that screamed ‘keeping it casual’ so loudly?
Draco did his best to divert conversation to Harry’s foundation, other interesting costumes he’d seen, the hors d'oeuvres, and (the perennial classic) the weather. He didn’t object when Harry downed glasses of wine, shots of firewhisky, and flutes of champagne. It gave him a good excuse to get them out of there when Harry went into a horrible, hysterical giggle fit after someone had the gall to do the real maths on how many years Harry had outlived his parents.
That was the last straw. No fundraising efforts were worth this. Draco Apparated them to Harry’s cottage, landing solidly in the back garden.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said gently, steering Harry in through the kitchen door.
Thankfully, Harry was already in pyjamas so it only took a little magic and manhandling to get him tucked in for bed. As Draco backed away, Harry’s hand shot out and latched vice-like onto Draco.
“Please don’t leave me,” he said quietly. “Stay here with me. Please.”
Draco didn’t even hesitate before making sounds of assent and crawling into bed. As he settled the covers around them both, he said, “You’re going to owe me pancakes for this one. Cooked into whimsical shapes like birds and oak leaves, just like the house elves used to make when I was little.”
Gripping Draco like a large stuffed animal, Harry huffed a tired laugh. “Anything for you.”
Which, even with their bodies entwined, Draco interpreted to mean ‘anything for a friend.’
— — —
Did Draco fall asleep in a sauna? No, because why would he be in a sauna? It came back in stages—the Ministry, drunk Harry, the bed.
He was in such a tight tangle of legs and arms, he couldn’t immediately discern which were his. He’d lost his shirt somewhere in the night. Cracking an eye open, he saw the covers in a pile on the floor. Probably because he had Harry Potter draped over him like a human blanket. A human blanket putting off a hundred degrees of heat. Draco itched his scalp, grimacing at the fine layer of sweat there.
A little subtle wriggling had Harry snuffling and sighing, but waking enough to let Draco free. “It’s too early,” Harry groaned, burrowing into the empty space Draco left behind.
Only a moment’s searching in the bathroom cabinet yielded a hangover potion. Draco set it on the bedside table. “Drink this. You’ll feel better. I’m going to grab a shower, if that’s all right with you.” He didn’t wait for a response, knowing Harry wouldn’t mind.
It wasn’t until he got out of the shower that he realised he would need clean clothes. He wrapped a towel around his hips and returned to Harry’s room, unsurprised to find Harry still in bed.
“Harry,” he said quietly, giving him a gentle shake. “Drink your potion. It’s almost ten. I’ve got stuff to do today and you still owe me pancakes. Also, I need to borrow some clothes.”
Blindly, Harry reached for the bottle, nearly knocking it off the table entirely. He took a few sips with a grimace and then squinted at Draco. His eyes widened and he spluttered incoherently with a wild blush on his cheeks.
Draco glanced down at his mostly naked body. “I really needed a shower but I didn’t plan ahead. Get me something clean to wear.”
“Yeah, sure. Let me…” Harry hurried to his dresser and pulled open two wrong drawers before finding the one holding his t-shirts. He tossed one over his shoulder in Draco’s general direction. “Do you want more pyjama bottoms? Jeans? I have robes in the wardrobe.”
“Joggers are fine,” Draco said, pulling the t-shirt over his head. He saw Harry hesitate before pulling out a pair of boxers too and throwing them over his shoulder as well. Draco read the discomfort loud and clear and gathered the clothes to finish dressing in the bathroom.
Not dating. Definitely not dating if he was so unnerved by Draco in a towel.
It made it all the stranger when Harry laughed and teased him while they made pancakes together and shared a pot of tea. Draco didn’t know if he’d ever met a man that liked Draco more with all his clothes on.
“I’m heading to the Weasleys’ for lunch today. It’s a Sunday tradition. Want to come with me? If you have time.”
If they were boyfriends, this would be a momentous occasion. Meeting the family always made Draco nervous, but this casual friendship meant he had no stake in the game. If the Weasleys didn’t like him, so what? And anyway he knew Ron and Hermione well enough, and Ginny somewhat after her brief fling with Blaise a few years ago. It shouldn’t be too bad.
“Sure. I’ve got nothing to do today.”
“I thought you said you had stuff to do today.”
“That was just to get you out of bed.” Draco lifted a forkful of pancakes. “I was hungry.”
Harry shook his head with a smile. “Want to make biscuits with me?”
“I’d like nothing better.”
The kitchen had been remodelled at some point to encompass the dining room as well. The wide, granite work tops and island had ample space for mixing, rolling, and rising. Deep cupboards held every pot, baking tin, and gadget known to man. Ingredients lined the shelves of the well stocked walk-in pantry. Harry made good use of the AGA double oven and the six-burner stove. But Draco’s favourite feature was the bank of windows on the far wall that let in natural light for most of the day. He could learn to love cooking and baking with a kitchen like this.
Harry set the trays of biscuits in the ovens and then surprised Draco with a kiss on his cheek. “This was fun. I like baking with you.”
Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends.
“Me too.”
“Okay, I’m going to shower before we have to go. Feel free to poke around in all my stuff.” He winked at Draco and jogged up the stairs.
Draco let out a long breath and rested his head on the cool granite. What the fuck was he doing? It was innocent, wasn’t it? Spending the night didn’t have to be a big deal. He’d been in Pansy’s bed several times after rough nights. Even Blaise had opened his bed when Draco had a bad break-up and needed comfort.
He didn’t know what to make of his reception at the Weasleys either. Molly Weasley greeted him with a hug that went on for ten seconds longer than it needed to. Ron did a half handshake hug thing and Hermione gave him a warm smile when she clasped his hand in both of hers. Ginny seemed to notice his confusion and whispered to him during the chaos that was setting the table, “They’re all thankful you were there for him last night.”
Right, of course. Draco was Harry’s new best friend, helping with tiresome charity events and keeping him company when he got lonely. They weren’t dating and Harry definitely didn’t want to see Draco naked. But he did want to kiss Draco’s cheek goodbye.
Either the impromptu sleepover or the visit to the Weasleys shifted things between them from Harry’s point of view. The following Friday he invited Draco over for a late night film and another sleepover.
“Since you’re going to be over so late, you know?” Harry said casually, fiddling with a plant Lavender better water if she wanted it to survive.
Draco’s quill dripped red ink on his manuscript while his brain scrambled to catch up. “Yeah, sure,” he said in a voice that he hoped wasn’t as high as it felt. “Want me to bring anything?”
“I’ll make us some snacks. Want to bring some beer? Or wine?”
It was the best not-a-date that Draco had ever been on. He brought an array of sampler bottles of alcohol along with ginger ale and tonic water, to make goofy mixed drinks. Harry made a film night charcuterie board with grapes, tiny ginger biscuits, pepperoni pinwheels, carrot sticks, homemade caramel popcorn, and chocolate dipped strawberries.
“Harry, I can’t run enough to shake this all off. We’re almost thirty, you know, and it doesn’t burn up like it used to.” That didn’t stop Draco from eating a chocolate strawberry whole.
“We’ll go swimming in the morning. Sh, this is my favourite part.” He laughed at the telly, but Draco was too distracted by the open joy on his face to register what was going on.
Bedtime loomed large in Draco’s mind. No overindulgence in alcohol this time, no sad feelings. Just happiness from a fun, sugary dinner, a few light drinks, and a silly film. Was Harry doing all this to ease his way into Draco’s pants? It might be a good time. Draco hadn’t been with anyone since Carl, who wasn’t anything to write home about. But if it was bad, there would be no more fun late nights or saving Harry from charity events or sharing pots of tea while he worked.
Fine, it was fine. He could follow Harry’s lead as he had before. Kiss him back if he kissed Draco first. Or simple goodnight if Harry offered a simple goodnight.
The plan went all topsy turvy when Harry kissed Draco’s cheek and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here.” Then he wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist and tangled their legs together.
Draco laughed somewhat nervously and squeezed Harry’s hand. “I’m glad I’m here too.”
What was this? And oh Merlin, fuck, his body was responding to Harry’s proximity—the cool mint of his toothpaste, the tickle of his hair against Draco’s cheek, the heat radiating off him. It would be such a tiny thing to twist his body into Harry’s, to slot them together just so for that pressure and friction that would bring him off. But even as his heart began to clamour for it, he felt Harry’s body relaxing into sleep.
Bloody fuck, he whined at himself. Just ignore it and it’ll go away. He wasn’t eighteen anymore and would definitely survive, especially since this wasn’t a date and Harry didn’t want him. At least not for sex.
After an age, his own body relaxed enough he could sleep a little. At some point, he dimly registered his shirt coming off again. And then later he kicked the covers somewhere away. With Harry at his back, they were superfluous.
He’d planned better this time and had clean clothes with him for the morning. In the shower, he let his mind drift to that moment when he’d been ready to vanish all their clothes, but his brain refused to cooperate. As fit as he found Harry, he didn’t want to think about him on his knees sucking Draco off. He didn’t want to imagine Harry naked and writhing beneath Draco either. It somehow didn’t fit with the Harry he’d come to know.
The familiar, spiky tingling of arousal crept up his spine as he idly stroked his cock. He tried thinking of Carl instead, but that had been lacklustre. Draco shuffled through a few memories but soon grew bored. He had too many sexual encounters that annoyed the hell out of him. After a few more strokes, he gave up and turned the water cold enough to freeze out his arousal. He doubted an orgasm would make him feel better anyway.
Several more not-dates and sleepovers throughout November left Draco even more confused. Part of him wanted to ask Harry if they were boyfriends but it seemed too late. Either they were and he would be a fool for asking at this late date, or they weren’t and he would be a fool for believing there was anything more to it.
Draco kept waiting for Harry’s chaste kisses to turn to tongue kisses. He waited for Harry’s hand resting on his hip to slide down to suggestively squeeze the curve of his arse. He waited for pyjama clad sleepovers to turn into naked sleepovers. He waited for Harry’s guileless gaze to turn salacious.
Because that was what happened every time. Men looked at Draco, found him sexy, fucked him, and then Draco grew bored of them. End of relationship. That was the pattern. That was Draco’s dating life. He’d grown accustomed to being an object of men’s desire.
These last few months with Harry had shown him things could be different. Their friendship, in all its innocence, left Draco feeling cherished in a way he wasn’t used to. With every not-a-date, he found himself hoping it would stay that way. He didn’t miss the sex as much as he thought he should, perhaps because Harry was so affectionate in other, more chaste ways. It was innocent, and sweet, and made Draco a little giddy if he thought about it too long.
But other times, the not knowing wore away at his calm. He tried burning off the excess energy one morning by running a longer route, but he was chased back home by the rain. He considered scrubbing his flat clean, but ugh, what a slog when spells worked so quickly and easily. He aimlessly flipped through the manuscript he was meant to be editing but he couldn’t focus on any of the words. It all made him a nervous wreck by the time he got to Harry’s for dinner.
His curt replies to Harry’s gentle questions had him sighing into his hands. “I’m sorry, Harry. I had a shit day today.”
“Really? But it was a home work day. Those are usually good. What happened?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should go.” He definitely didn’t want to start a ‘what are we?’ discussion right now.
Harry pulled him to his feet. “No, stay. You just need help relaxing. We can watch a film? Or I can draw you a bath. I think I have bubbles somewhere. Or a massage? Work the tension out of your shoulders? You spend so much time hunched over your manuscripts. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Well that was subtle as a tonne of bricks. The universe sign for ‘let’s fuck around.’ Of course, he thought bitterly. It had to happen now that Harry would make his move, when Draco was already annoyed and his guard had dropped. That ugly, spiky tingle shot up Draco’s spine as he thought about sex with Harry. And for the first time he wondered if maybe his arousal came along with an unhealthy dose of anger.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly.
“Come on, it’ll be good for you,” Harry insisted, tugging Draco up the stairs. “I have scented oil and some candles for soft lighting. It’ll be quiet and relaxing. A bath would just get you cold and wet after. A massage will be better.”
Harry pushed Draco towards the bed. “Strip down to your pants while I find the candles.”
Every part of Draco screamed that this was a bad idea. But at least his wondering had ended. He slowly removed his outer robe and unbuttoned his shirt while Harry lit a few candles and pulled the covers back. Draco set his trousers on top of the clothes pile and, leaving his socks and pants on, laid himself on the cool sheets.
Harry straddled Draco’s thighs and sighed, “Shit, I should have warmed the sheets. I still can.”
“It’s fine. Go on.”
He heard Harry tap the jar of oil with his wand and mumble a spell, then the scent of citrus and ginger hit the air as warm oil poured in a line down Draco’s back. Small circles of pressure eased the knots in his shoulders. Long sweeps of Harry’s hands had him sighing contentedly into his pillow. Despite intrusive thoughts of where those hands might wind up, Draco found himself relaxing. Harry was right, he did need this.
When Draco began to hover on the edge of sleep, Harry’s touch grew lighter until his fingers only barely skimmed his skin. Harry stood and carefully drew up the sheet to cover Draco. One by one, Harry blew out the candles, then threw his jeans somewhere near Draco’s clothes. Doing his best not to disturb Draco, Harry slipped into bed. He kissed Draco’s temple and, just as if it were any other sleepover, he rested his arm over Draco’s waist and drifted off to sleep. Once again, Draco had a much harder time falling asleep, with his head now buzzing with what it all meant. Didn’t Harry want Draco?
It didn’t surprise Draco anymore to find Harry plastered to his back and the covers on the floor when he woke. But it did surprise him when Harry smiled and asked, “Did you sleep well?” while rising from the bed and pulling on his jeans. As if this were any other morning. As if nothing had changed between them.
Draco grabbed the duvet from the floor and wrapped himself up in it, more to cover his body than to gather its warmth. He hated feeling so exposed and vulnerable in a place where he usually felt comforted. He was tired of mixed signals and anxiety. “Are you ever going to fuck me?”
Harry froze while reaching for the door knob. He swallowed heavily and his shoulders dropped. “No.” He glanced at Draco and then away. “We’re just friends, Draco.”
Something stilled deep inside Draco. Things would stay as they were and he wouldn’t have to deal with the spiky arousal he was fast growing to hate. He adjusted his pillow and curled up tighter in his duvet. “I want cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”
“That’ll take hours.”
Draco blew raspberries at him. “Fine. French toast. And coffee. I have work to do today.”
He needed a shower but decided the lie-in would serve him better. Thoughts of Harry tumbled around his head and they needed to settle before he could face him fully. Draco wondered briefly if Harry found him unattractive, but that didn’t seem right with the way he smiled at Draco and touched him so freely. Maybe it was just that Harry, like Draco, didn’t want to risk ruining their friendship if the sex was bad.
They could be friends. Draco could handle that, even if something decidedly stronger was brewing inside him. He could mentally hide those growing emotions away and be a companion to the kindest man he’d ever met.
The sounds of cooking drifted up the stairs, followed by the sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon. It urged him to rifle through Harry’s wardrobe to find joggers and a warm jumper, and make his way to the kitchen.
“Somehow I’m out of coffee,” Harry said, offering a mug of tea. “But I’ll pick up more today.” He had a nervous air about him that Draco knew came from his stupid, awkward question.
“It’s all right.” Draco took the mug and set it on the island next to the first few pieces of French toast. He slid his arms around Harry’s neck, drawing him in for a hug. When Harry’s arms came around his waist, he sighed. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” he whispered into Harry’s neck.
“I think a better friend wouldn’t have run out of the coffee you love so much.”
Draco laughed as he pulled away, dabbing at the unexpected and useless tears gathering at the corners of his eyes for no reason at all. He kissed Harry’s cheek. “Tea is good too.”
It was the best French toast Draco had ever eaten.
— — — —
The next few weeks passed in a flurry of holiday parties. Harry’s sole job with the Full Moon Foundation seemed to be in raising funds and awareness. He had six paid employees and a slew of volunteers (mostly werewolf or werewolf-adjacent) that oversaw brewing and distribution of Wolfsbane Potion, sought proper housing and jobs for werewolves, and offered support and counselling to the spouses and children of werewolves.
Harry dealt with the stress of relentless small talk with donors and party guests by baking. He brought pastries to Lavender’s and bread to his closest friends. He didn’t mind spending hours chopping and assembling an array of tiny hors d'oeuvres for quiet dinners with Draco. He loved that Draco got in the habit of spending his at-home work days in Harry’s kitchen, eagerly sampling new recipes for iced cakes and tarts.
It didn’t take long for it to become easier to sleep over on those nights, and go into the office from Harry’s house. He liked it when Harry asked, “Are these sweet enough?” and popped a piece of creamy biscuit dough in Draco’s mouth. He liked racing Harry through laps across the heated pool more than he liked running in the yucky cold weather. He liked the crackle of the fire, with a manuscript in hand and his feet in Harry’s lap. He even liked waking half naked and a little damp with sweat, tucked protectively under Harry.
Somehow he found himself returning Harry’s easy affection. He might take Harry’s hand, or put an arm around his waist. Neither of them thought anything of head or feet in each other’s laps for massaging. Not-dates didn’t fill Draco with anxiety anymore, now that they’d settled into this routine. His steps were lighter without unwanted sexual tension lurking around every damn corner.
The only thing he had trouble managing were those nights when the light caught Harry's eyes just so and it looked like Harry might be on the verge of pouring his heart and soul right into Draco. In those moments it sat on the tip of Draco’s tongue to say, “I love you,” knowing full well that passed frequently between friends. He’d heard Harry say it at social gatherings, and Draco said it often enough to Pansy. But somehow the air felt charged around Harry, and Draco knew it would never pass as a casual remark.
Every year, Rolf and Luna Scamander hosted a massive New Year’s Eve party for grown ups and kids. They typically hired Theo and Blaise to set the wards that protected everyone from the elements so they could set out sleeping bags and tents for anyone that wanted to sleep over. George and Angelina Weasley ran the fireworks display. Harry, of course, provided food.
The chaste kiss he shared with Harry under an array of coloured fireworks was the most wonderful kiss of Draco’s life. He might never stop smiling.
Pansy noticed his vibrant joy and commented on it at their lunch date the following week. “Draco, you sly boy! I had no idea you and Harry were together together. When did that happen?”
Draco made a dismissive sound and waved that away. “Oh, we don’t want to put labels on anything. Keeps things a little more…” He shimmied his shoulders with a coy smile. “It keeps things fresh and exciting.” And it kept the pressure off to give more than they wanted.
“How progressive! How is he in bed? Sometimes the pretty ones try to skate by on looks rather than skill.”
The image of covers thrown to the floor, of shirts cast off in the night to prevent overheating, flitted through Draco’s mind. “He’s so hot, Pansy. You can’t even imagine.”
She squealed, but quietly so as not to disturb the other tables. “I’m so happy for you! You deserve someone that appreciates you.”
“Honestly, I’ve never been with anyone like him.” It would be enough to hold her off for a while, but he expected a full interrogation when they were in a more private setting. Draco’s beaming smile returned and lasted all through lunch.
And through an afternoon stroll with Harry, and late night star gazing under a lump of blankets. He cuddled into bed with Harry, wondering how he got so lucky.
The bubble of happiness popped the next morning when he came down to the kitchen after his shower to find Harry scowling at the morning paper.
“You gave an interview about me to the paper?” Harry growled, shoving the newspaper at Draco.
“What? No I didn’t.” Draco picked up the paper and scanned the headlines until he found, Harry Potter Dating Again. He frowned and shook his head. “What is this?”
“You tell me. It’s got your lies quoted all over it!”
That made Draco laugh. “Then it looks like I’ve got a libel suit in development because that wasn’t me.” He threw the paper on the island without bothering to read it. His eyes met Harry’s, expecting him to laugh it off too. But Harry’s arms were crossed over his chest and he glared in a way Draco hadn’t seen in years. “Wait. You really think I gave an interview about you? About us?”
“There’s no us!”
“I’m well aware of that.” Draco picked up the paper but his hands shook and his brain scrambled, trying to understand Harry’s sudden ire. “The Prophet is rubbish anyway.”
“You didn’t use to think so.”
A riotous wave of unexpected hurt shot through Draco and dissolved, leaving him shaken, empty, and painfully still. “Do you mean half a lifetime ago?” He forced the words through his thickening throat. “Is that what you think of me?”
For a long moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then Harry said, “I need some time to think.”
“Okay,” Draco said slowly, not understanding yet. Shouldn’t they talk about this?
“Alone. Some time alone.”
“Okay. Right.” Of course, time alone. Without Draco. Even though he’d been doing everything with Draco for weeks now. Even if he might still hate Draco on some level. “I’ll just… I’m going home.” He didn’t mention their lunch at the Burrow. They probably read the paper and never wanted to see Draco again either.
Without gathering any of his things that now littered Harry’s home, Draco stalked out the kitchen door and Apparated to his flat from Harry’s back garden.
In a foggy haze, he stared at the flat he hadn’t been to in probably eight or ten days. The air had a stuffy, thick quality he banished with a few open windows and a freshening charm. He collapsed on his sofa and tried not to think about how it didn’t cradle his body in the same way that Harry’s sofa did.
What the fuck just happened? His battered emotions told him he’d just suffered a bad break-up. But that couldn’t be right because he wasn’t dating Harry. They were friends. Friends that shared food and a bed and every piece of their lives.
Maybe he should fire call Pansy. She could come over and comfort him. Bring a paper with her so he could read the article and find out where his life went wrong.
But it was easier to pull the throw blanket around himself and drift in a half-sleep until his brain was ready to work again.
— — — —
Draco had forgot what it was like to wake up cold. Why did he leave the windows open in January? Although he could be forgiven his absent-mindedness given the horrible morning. He cast a warming charm and lit the fire, then summoned a cardigan from his bedroom. Of course the only one he had left in his flat was an ugly brown one he only kept because it was a hand knit gift from Greg and who knew when Gregory Goyle might return from Australia and want to see him in it?
Numbly he pulled ice cream from his freezer and returned to the sofa to mope through as many spoonfuls as his roiling stomach could hold. No one was around to tell him he shouldn’t have sugar for lunch or dinner or whatever meal time it was. No one, because no one wanted Draco.
Not the men that slept with Draco, not the men that didn’t sleep with Draco. Well, the one man. Maybe he could find another man that didn’t want to sleep with him. How did one go about finding a man they didn’t want to sleep with?
What the fuck was his brain doing right now? Disgusted with himself, Draco filled his mouth with ice cream to incite a brain freeze.
He choked on the mouthful when the fire flared green and Harry Potter appeared in his sitting room.
“Hi,” Harry said awkwardly, with a little wave. His other hand held a familiar container that probably held a sweet bribe that Draco sure as shit didn’t want.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologise. For being an arsehole. I brought you some chocolate rice krispy bars. They were the fastest thing I could make as soon as I realised how stupid I was.” He set the container on the coffee table next to Draco’s carton of ice cream. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”
“Overreacting,” Draco echoed dumbly. He watched as Harry had the audacity to sit, uninvited, on the other end of Draco’s sofa.
“Draco, I shouldn’t have said any of those things. I don’t really think any of that about you. If it makes it any better, it took me almost two hours to work up to it.”
“It doesn’t really.” Draco’s voice was too quiet, too hoarse, but at least it made Harry flinch.
Harry hugged his knees to his chest. “I used to date around and it always, always ended up in the paper. All those gala events, you know? And it was…” He dug his palms into his eyes with a shuddering sigh. “Sex is just so hard! I never know what to do with my hands and there are so many gross, wet sounds and…” He sniffed and buried his head in his arms so Draco could barely hear him. “I would see how shit I was at it in the papers and it killed me every time.”
From the dregs of Draco’s memories rose vague recollections of articles he’d dismissed as salacious rubbish. But maybe they contained at least a small element of truth. They’d tapered to a stop as Harry started taking his married friends with him to events instead.
Feeling a modicum of sympathy, Draco reached for the ice cream and set it next to Harry’s hip. He lifted his head to look at it, laughed sadly, and then took a spoonful. “I thought you hated raisins. Why do you have rum raisin ice cream?”
“I like the rum. I summoned all the raisins out and binned them.”
“Ginny was sorry to miss you today.”
Draco pulled his sleeves over his hands and crossed his arms to shield himself further. “Did she read the paper?”
“She laughed so hard, she had real tears in her eyes. She particularly liked you referring to me as hot in bed. She caught your meaning right away.”
The lunch with Pansy slammed into Draco. “Fuck, it was Pansy.” He shook his head. “No, not Pansy, but lunch. I had lunch with Pansy. I bet someone was listening in.”
“That’s what Hermione thought, given the wording of the article.”
Draco knew he should probably apologise but Harry’s words from the morning had hurt and he didn’t feel very contrite at the moment.
“I think I love you.” Harry’s words slid right off Draco. With the way he stared at the ice cream in his hands, he might be talking about the comfort ice cream offered. But they both knew he wasn’t. He set the carton aside and hugged his knees again. Resting his forehead on his knees, he said quietly, “In the way I know how, I love you.”
“You—you made me feel loved. Until this morning.”
“Damn it,” Harry mumbled, then sniffed and wiped at his eyes and nose with his sleeve. “Draco I’d been up for two hours because I forgot to start the bread rising last night. Two hours I stared at that paper and wallowed in shit memories I thought I’d forgot. But I swear, it only took a few minutes away from it all for my head to clear and know you would never sell me out like that. You’re… you’re my best friend.”
Draco barked an ugly laugh and shot to his feet. “I’m not your friend, Harry! Do any of your friends sleep in your bed? Wear your clothes? Feed you from their plates? When your friends have a bad day do you tell them to strip and get into bed for a massage? Can’t you see I’ve been more than your friend for ages now? I love you too, you dick! And I love Pansy to death, but she’s a nosy bitch and I was doing my best to keep her out of your private shit!”
“I know! I know! I see it now and I know I should have seen it this morning. I just didn’t expect it and it blind-sided me. It felt like… like ‘boyfriend’ was on the horizon and that would mean sex and failure and… and then I would lose you and I can’t lose you. I can’t.”
Hearing his own thoughts echoed so plainly, released some of the tension in Draco. Perhaps they weren’t as far apart as it initially seemed. Harry was just as scared as Draco at what they could be. Or what others expected them to be.
“Harry…” Draco hesitated. “I don’t know what they printed but… I told Pansy we weren’t labelling things. I don’t need it. Don’t want it. Labels always seem to come with expectations. Date this long before kissing. Kiss this long before the next thing and the next.” He finally let his defensive stance relax. “I don’t have a great track record with sex either and I like what we had. What we have. I didn’t know we could go about sharing our lives like that and… I like it. I like you. I love you. Just like this. Or, like yesterday. Today has been a load of hippogriff dung.”
He blushed at his own stupid blubbering, but something must have made sense because Harry gave him a tentative smile. Draco waited expectantly as Harry stepped close enough to brush the fringe from Draco’s eyes. He took Draco’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Does that mean you’ll forgive me? And you’ll come back home with me?”
Draco drew Harry in for a hug and buried his face in Harry’s neck. “Promise me cinnamon rolls for breakfast every Saturday morning.”
Harry’s hands slid inside Draco’s cardigan to splay across his back, warming him more than the fire had. “Every Saturday and tonight for dinner too.”
“Get rid of that stupid, useless table in the upstairs hallway that I’m always knocking into. Tell Lavender I get to eat anything you bring to her café for free.”
“She can bill me every month for whatever you want.”
“Tell me you love me again.”
“I love you.” Harry pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s lips, then rested their foreheads together. “Every day,” he whispered, “as best I can.”
“Just as you are.”
— — — —
— — — —
“I know, I know, I know we’re late,” Draco said hurriedly as he came in the kitchen door, dumping their kneazle on the floor and kicking off his muddy flip flops. “The tracking charm kept dissolving and it took forever to find her. I think it’s time to admit Vasya is an ephemeral creature not meant to be contained by mortal men.” He glared off in the direction of the disappearing kneazle and began stripping off his clothes.
“I told you we should have got a dog instead. Did you crawl through mud?” Harry grimaced at the t-shirt and pyjamas on the floor. Thankfully he didn’t mind Draco’s nakedness anymore because Draco was not about to muck up their carpet with his disgusting, mud-splattered pyjamas. Cleaning spells could only do so much.
“Yes. They might need binning.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that another piping bag?”
With a sheepish shrug, Harry said, “You were taking so long and they really needed just a tiny pop of—”
“Stop fucking around and pack the cupcakes up for Apparating while I rinse in the shower. If we’re any later, those kids are going to turn feral and attack as soon as we land.”
“You made us late!” Harry yelled after Draco as he ran up the stairs.
Stupid Vasya. She’ll probably disappear again by the time they get back from the party. And this time, Draco wasn’t going to look for her. He showered and dressed in record time, then joined Harry in the kitchen. Harry handed him the box of cupcakes and picked up his own box with tarts and mini pies of all sorts—easy-to-eat finger foods for Teddy’s birthday party.
Harry winged his elbow out for Draco to grab. “Let’s roll.”
Thankfully George Weasley had the kids distracted with a game of tag that had most of them splattered with paint. Draco and Harry slipped into the kitchen to set up the food. Well, Harry would set up the food. He chased Draco out saying, “You can get a plate when everyone else does.”
That was fine, because Draco had already snuck a sampling of everything. He stopped for a moment to say hello to Hermione, Ginny, and Daphne laughing near a water sprinkler soaking three toddlers. He evaded two kids chasing each other with spongy balls dripping paint, and found Ron and Theo monitoring the game of tag. Or rather, drinking beer in the vicinity of the game of tag.
“Where’s your better half?” Ron asked with a smile and a handshake hello.
“I’m wholly brilliant and don’t have a better half. But Harry’s in the kitchen helping Andromeda.”
“False,” he heard Harry say, “Harry’s behind you with beer.” Harry offered the bottle with a wink. “Andromeda said she could handle it and I should mingle.”
“Excellent. You’re my favourite.” Draco clinked their bottles together and took a long draw.
“So is this your year?” Ron nudged Harry. “You finally going to make an honest man out of Draco?”
“I’ll have you know, I’m honest as the day is long,” Draco said blithely. He leaned into Harry’s arm around his waist.
Ron rolled his eyes. “It’s been almost three years. Don’t you two think it’s about time to tie the knot?”
“Why? Is the string broken?” Harry asked.
Draco’s eyes met Harry’s and his heart cartwheeled in his chest as it frequently did. Harry smiled and kissed Draco’s cheek. “No need to bother,” Harry said breezily. “I’m paying Lavender a hefty sum each month to keep Draco enslaved far better than any slip of paper and ring could manage. He’d never afford a flat and his café tab without me.”
“I managed without you before we were together, you know.”
“Did you, though?” Harry asked, his eyes twinkling with glee.
Draco thought about morning laps and night swims. Cinnamon rolls and fruit for Saturday breakfasts. Films and board games when they didn’t have dinners and dances to attend. His home office in their renovated attic with a beautiful view of the forest outside. Afternoon strolls with Harry’s hand in his. And Harry’s warmth protecting him each night.
“You know, I don’t think I did,” Draco laughed, bumping his hip against Harry. “But life couldn’t be more perfect now.”
Just as they were.