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Harry has nothing against green apples. They are food, and sometimes food had been rare for him. They are also fruit, which means its supposed to be good for you. Green is a pretty color too, despite bringing thoughts of Slytherin to mind.
It’s probably been years since he had a green apple. Last time he had one it had made him nauseas so he usually goes for a red one, the sweetness of it being more appealing than the sour green one anyway. That’s why he doesn’t understand the pull to go grab the apple out of Malfoy’s hand and take a bite of it. There are red ones in front of him, but they’ve lost their appeal.
Harry can hear the crunch when Malfoy takes a bite and he zeroes in on the apple. He needs that apple.
He stands so suddenly that he knocks the pumpkin juice over.
“Harry!” Hermione whines, and he feels a little bad when he sees that it got on the book she was reading.
“No books at the table?” He tries but that earns him a glare, “Sorry,” He says, then his focus is back when he hears another crunch.
He looks for another green apple, but there are none on the table. None at the Slytherin one either. The only one in sight is in Malfoy’s hand and Harry needs it.
Malfoy doesn’t look up until Harry is standing behind him, and only then he only glances over his shoulder.
“What do you want?” He asks, and Harry thinks that’s a good question because he really wants -
“This.” He answers and reaches over Malfoy’s boney shoulder to grab the half eaten apple. Malfoy flares up and almost elbows Harry’s chin.
“What the hell!” He says, and Harry doesn’t care because the apple is in his hand. He takes a bite right where Malfoy had left off and closes his eyes to savor the sour juiciness on his tongue. Exactly what he needed. Despite the freshness of the apple, warmth coaxes down his throat and melts into his heart.
What the hell.
Harry opens his eyes, and realization comes crashing down on him rapidly.
“Oh, sorry. I don’t know what. Here, take it. I don’t-“ Harry stammers, and shoves the apple back in Malfoy’s hands. Malfoy takes it but gives Harry a disgusted look.
Harry retreats, and doesn’t dare look back. What had come over him? Why hadn’t he just asked an elf for a green apple? Or gone to the kitchens like a normal person?
He’s sitting silently on the sofa by the fire in the Eighth year common room when Hermione and Ron walk in. They sit silently, and Harry can sense the awkwardness in the air.
“So.” Hermione starts, not looking at Harry.
“So.” Harry finishes.
“We don’t have to talk about it.” Ron says carefully.
“I just really wanted a green apple.” Harry explains. Hermione glances over at Ron quickly, and Harry almost misses the knowing look they share.
“Do you even like green apples?” Hermione asks.
“Not particularly, no.” Hermione nods slowly.
“Okay,” She says, trying to tame her hair down. Harry recognizes it as a habit she picked up when she’s trying to understand something.
“Okay.” Harry says.
“We have an essay -“
“Let’s go to the library-“ Harry says while Hermione starts too.
“We’re bloody war heroes you think we would be able to skip an essay.” Ron groans and swipes a hand over his face.
“Come on you two.” Hermione says, already halfway to the door.
They don’t mention the apple again.
-
A few weeks go by, and September gives way to October. Harry doesn’t have another apple craving. He does start to have a craving though, sitting in the library watching Malfoy drink what looks like a hot chocolate with marshmallows on it.
Marshmallows.
Are they even allowed drinks in the library?
Harry’s glad it’s just him and Malfoy in the library. No one will see Harry go up to him again. The apple story is just starting to die down.
Harry walks over to Malfoy’s table slowly, questioning his every step before pulling out the chair across from him. The boy doesn’t even look up.
“You can’t have my hot chocolate.” He says, probably remembering what happened last time he asked Harry what he wanted.
“I wasn’t going to take it!” Harry defends, “I just wanted to know where you got it,” he finishes, “because I want one too.”
“I just asked the elves and they sent it to me. You’re really bad about using that small brain of yours aren’t you?” Malfoy snorts and takes another sip. Harry wants to smack the drink out of his hand but decides against it. It would be a waste.
“Are we even allowed drinks in the library?” Harry asks, getting excited but feeling regretful that he hadn’t known about this earlier in his schooling years. It would have made the first ones more bearable with how often Hermione dragged him here.
“No.” Malfoy replies and Harry deflates.
“But you have one.” Harry argues.
“Yes.” Malfoy states.
“I want one.”
“Then go to the kitchens or something.” Malfoy waves him off.
“Can I have a sip of yours?” Harry asks, flushing with embarrassment but the craving taking priority. The sweet chocolate melting now his throat with a marshmallow behind. Harry wants it more than he care for his pride. Malfoy looks outraged.
“No!” He says, and to further prove his point he grabs the mug with both ands and moves it farther away.
“That’s not nice!” Harry pleads, standing to go to Malfoy’s side of the table.
“No Potter. Stay on your side, you can’t-“ But Harry can and he does. He takes the mug and regrets when a little splashes over the side but savors the sweetness as he takes a sip. Perfect. The warmth that washes over him makes his toes curl.
“Mr Potter, care to explain to me why you have a drink in my library?” Harry opens his eyes and wishes he hadn’t. Madam Pince is standing at the other end of the table with a scowl on her face.
“It’s not mine-“ Harry starts, but doesn’t finish because Malfoy kicks him swiftly from his seat.
“Detention Potter.” She says and Harry sighs, “You as well Mr Malfoy for not informing me of this.” She says and Malfoy groans, “Both of you are to be back here Saturday at 7 o’clock. Am I understood?”
“Yes ma’am.” They both reply. As soon as she leaves Malfoy turns to glare at Harry.
“Really Potter? What the ever-loving hell is wrong with you?” He asks and Harry can’t stand to meet his stare or question, instead asking himself the same thing. What is wrong with him?
“I don’t even like hot chocolate.” Harry replies, staring at the shelves.
“Whatever. Will you go away now? I was in the middle of something.” Malfoy huffs and Harry complies. He doesn’t like how lonely it feels to be sitting back by himself though and despite Malfoy no longer having hot chocolate Harry still finds himself wanting to go sit with him.
-
Madam Pince has them dusting shelves, which isn’t a surprise. It’s not very creative so Harry mentally takes away a few points. McGonagall reigns superior for most creative detentions, while Snape follows close behind.
“Oh.” Malfoy says, and Harry turns to see what caused the reaction. They’d been silent up until now.
He’s holding a book in his hand, with a green spine and a young boy on the front. Harry can’t see exactly what it is but it certainly doesn’t look like something Malfoy would read.
“What?” Harry asks, intrigued. Maybe it was just charmed to look different and actually houses information about a magical mafia or something.
“I - I read these books growing up. I didn’t realize we had them is all.” Malfoy says hastily and puts it back. Harry is surprised that he answered him. Curiosity has him drawing the book off the shelf to inspect it. Percy Jackson. He thinks Hermione may have mentioned it once.
They spend the rest of the time in silence, but when Madam Pince tells them they can go Harry finds himself wandering back to the book Malfoy had picked up.
If he stays up all night reading a children’s novel, well no one has to know.
-
Come Christmas and everyone knows better than to comment on the way Harry consumes pumpkin soup when he used to loathe it, or raise suspicion when he opts for a hot chocolate over his treacle tart.
Most of the Eighth years have stayed instead of going home. Ron did return to the Burrow though and Harry doesn’t blame him. Him and Hermione stayed behind despite being invited. He thinks they both knew it would be better to give the family time to grieve.
Christmas is usually hard for him, and it’s no different his year. He tossed and turn for most of the night before giving up and making his way to the common room.
Ir’s mostly empty except for Malfoy who stayed behind also. He’s currently nursing a cup of what smells like coffee on the sofa across from him. Harry’s mouth waters but he refuses to give in, instead asking for a strong tea. The tea doesn’t help though, and by the way Malfoy keeps glancing over at Harry he knows the blonde doesn’t like his coffee either.
“Switch?” Harry proposes. Malfoy looks around the room, and noting that they are alone he nods. He scoots closer to him and Harry takes the dark green mug from the boy and passes him the red one he prefers.
“Thanks.” Malfoy says while sighing after taking a sip. Harry’s heart flutters slightly seeing the red cup so close to Malfoy’s lips. He can’t help but admire the bow of his top lip, and the way his eyelashes curl, and his blonde hair still siting imperfectly on his head from sleep. Harry can’t resist the urge to tuck a piece of it behind his delicate ear, and so he reaches out and does it. Malfoy opens his eyes and Harry flushes going warm all over.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” He stammers out. Malfoy’s gaze is calculating before turning into a soft quirk of his lips.
“It’s okay.” He answers. Harry wants to ask him to stay there, next to him, but the opportunity doesn’t come because Malfoy makes himself comfortable next to Harry, curling his legs up under him again and leaning his head back.
“Happy Christmas Harry.” He says, and Harry watches his throat form the words.
“Happy Christmas Malfoy.” Harry replies not questioning the content feelings that light him up from the inside out.
When he sips the tea it’s the perfect temperature.
-
Harry’s had a long day.
He woke to Ron crying out in a nightmare around four in the morning, and wasn’t able to go back to sleep. He had gone down to the common room to read more of the second book in the series with a cup of coffee, but Ron startled him coming down and Harry doused the book in the drink he had been looking forward to.
One of his essays returned to him covered in red, a potion burned his favorite tie and he couldn’t go fly with Ron like he had wanted to because it was hailing outside.
The thought of a treacle tart kept him going throughout the day. A delicious one, waiting for him in the Great Hall after dinner. Something to look forward to. He almost cries when he bites into it, glad his long day will be coming to a close soon.
He can only shout when Malfoy takes the tart from his hand and shoves the rest of it into his mouth. Harry is outraged for all of two seconds, but he’s so tired that the look on Malfoy’s face drawing him to laughter. He cackles at the closed eyes and stuffed cheeks of the boy. Instead of seeming embarrassed though, when Malfoy swallows down the last of the tart, he realizes something. Harry can tell by the way his mouth parts slightly and his eyes go wide.
Instead of looking at Harry though, he looks at Hermione. He can hear her gulp. Ron runs a hand down over his face and groans.
“What?” Harry questions, “What do you all know that I don’t?” He doesn’t like feeling left out of the loop.
“Harry can we talk?” Malfoy asks, and the use of his first name sends his mind spiraling. He hasn’t called him that since Christmas. He nods not processing, and stands to follow Malfoy out. Malfoy doesn’t stop until they’re in the old potions classroom. He takes a deep breath, looks up, and takes another breath.
“Yes?” Harry asks, knowing Malfoy is trying to figure out how to word something.
“My apple, the green one that you ate, do you remember?” Harry groans.
“Look Malfoy I’ve had a long day and for the hundredth time I’m sorry I took a bite of your stupid apple I don’t know what came over me.” Malfoy shushes him, then takes a deep breath and clenches his fist.
“Harry what do you know about soulmates?” Harry laughs then, which doesn’t seem to be the right answer because Malfoy looks hurt.
“They’re not real? I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought, too busy trying to save the Wizarding world and everything.” Malfoy pinches the skin between his brows and takes another breath.
“Soulmates are real. Please tell me you know this. Tell me someone has explained this to you.” Harry can only shake his head slowly. He needs to talk to Hermione. Hermione would know.
“Nobody’s mentioned it. What does this have to do with anything? I’ve had a really long day and would really like to-“
“We’re soulmates you idiot.” Harry can’t breathe.
“What?” His voice croaks out. Malfoy’s eyes are watering.
“The apple, the hot chocolate, the coffee, pumpkin soup. You didn’t like any of them, I know. But then they become a regular part of your diet? I’ve always hated tea, and I was even allergic to treacle tart so imagine my surprise when I’m craving it and then don’t have a reaction like I always did growing up.” He explains but Harry doesn’t understand what exactly he’s explaining.
“So you we expanded out tastes, good for us,” Harry pauses, “How are we soulmates?” Malfoy huffs and pulls at his hair.
“No one has explained this to you?” He asks.
“Again, no.” Malfoy groans at his answer and Harry needs him to stop making little noises like that because it’s starting to cause something in Harry to stir.
“When soulmates are in proximity of each other, but have yet to recognize the bond, magic changes their eating habits to reflect the other in hopes that it’ll draw them closer. It’s written in almost every book on soulmates. You must know this.” Harry shakes his head, mind blank.
“You like pumpkin soup?” He asks and Malfoy screams slightly.
“That’s not the point! Don’t you understand what I’m saying here?”
“Yes yeah I heard you, I just don’t understand how someone could actually like pumpkin soup.” Harry says.
“Would you just-“ Malfoy starts but doesn’t finish because he stepped too close to Harry ,and is Harry just supposed to stand there when Malfoy’s pink lips are so close? He leans forward on the same pull that he felt when he saw the green apple in Malfoy’s hand.
He’s consumed by Malfoy’s lips. The taste of the tart is still on them, and Harry groans while swiping his tongue trying to get more. Malfoy’s hands are gripping the front of his shirt, and Harry lets his hands float up into the boy’s hair to get a better hold.
“Harry.” Malfoy whimpers when he starts kissing down his jaw.
“Fuck.” Harry groans again, and pulls the boys head up to lick a stripe up his throat.
Throat.
Someone is clearing their throat.
Harry reluctantly opens his eyes and turns to glare at the doorway, only to feel confusion at seeing a flushed Ron and Hermione standing there.
“We thought you knew. I’m sorry Harry.” Hermione starts.
“You might want to maul Malfoy somewhere else, mate. Anyone could walk by.” Ron supplies. Malfoy doesn’t comment.
“Soulmates are real?” Harry asks, and it hits him again how tired he is. The scent of green apples coming off of Malfoy makes him want to curl up and sleep.
“Yes, soulmates are real.” Hermione answers, laughing lightly.
“We’ll be back in a second.” Harry says, hoping they get the hint. They do.
He turns back to the pale boy in his arms and feels a warmth he’s never known before.
“It’s you.” Harry says. Malfoy’s cheeks are flushed, hair messed up by Harry’s roaming hands. His eyes are glistening with tears, and Harry wipes one away when it slides down his face, loving the feel of Malfoy’s soft face under his rough thumb.
“It’s me.” Malfoy replies.
“Draco.” He breathes.
“Harry.” Draco rests his head on his chest, and Harry presses a kiss to the top of his head while laughing lightly.
“Can we go to bed? I’ve had an awfully long day.”
“Yes, of course.” Malfoy mumbles, and Harry pulls him along.
When they’re situated in Harry’s bed Draco summons an elf, who already has two hot chocolates in it’s hands.
“Thank you Trixie.” Draco says, and rubs the elf’s head.
“Anytime Mister Draco.” The elf, Trixie, replies. Harry gapes at the exchange.
“Why did you just pet the elf?” Harry asks while accepting the cup after Trixie disapperates.
“You really know nothing do you?” Draco asks. Harry takes a sip of the hot chocolate and then pulls the boy closer to him.
“I think I know one thing.”
“And what would that be?” Draco asks, peering up at him with grey eyes. Harry smiles.
“I’ll tell you someday.”