Chapter Text
Draco has softened. It's clear in the cheeks that were once so angular and jaw sharp that's now rounded due to a healthy diet and lack of stress and anxiety. His hair glows under sunlight and moonlight, his hair long and reaching his shoulders. The clothing Draco wears is no longer the harsh blacks and fitted suits. It's pastel blues and earthy greens with a looser fitting and cozier aesthetic. Draco no longer looks like a walking skeleton, but a fully realized individual who is more vibrant and stunning than ever before.
And it absolutely consumes him. He watches Draco with a hunger he's certainly once had before, but it's different. It's not entrenched with distrust and suspicion. This time it's curiosity and protectiveness. He guards Draco’s softness from afar, sending sharp looks and pulses of magic to anyone who dares dim Draco’s light.
Most of the eighth years seem to know that Draco is under Harry’s watchful eye and protection and leave him be, and no one is going to anger the Savior of the Wizarding World.
Also, people are wary of his magic. His magical core had nearly tripled after he died and the horcrux was removed. Hermione thinks it's because the horcrux was leeching off of his magic and it drained his natural affinity toward it. He was now dealing with an all consuming amount of power that needed to be exercised, released, and regulated.
Wandless magic came easy to him. Protection barriers and silencing charms were typically cast whenever he was around Draco to not disturb the boys’ studying or to scold his fellow peers for being unkind to the Malfoy Heir.
His magic especially liked Draco. He could feel the way his core would settle and he would have better control over his newfound powers around the blonde.
Watching Draco sitting in the fluffiest loveseat near the window and next to the fireplace is a vision that needs to be permanently remembered through a painting. Draco’s hair is spun gold underneath the sun rays at dusk. His skin is tan now giving him that healthy glow he so loves to see. The blonde is bundled up in a cardigan and worn denim. His hair is messily tied up into a bun with strands of hair framing his face.
“Come to guard me, Harry?” Draco asks, voice soft and lilting as he turns to gaze at him with his stormy gray eyes, so clearly amused.
“Only because some won't listen to me,” he acknowledges, giving his school rival a smile.
“You used to not care about such things,” Draco says.
“No, I do. When it concerns the people I like,” he corrects softly.
“And when did you decide to start liking me, hm?” Draco raises his gaze playfully to him, such a striking difference from the typical challenging front he's so used to receiving from the Slytherin.
“Since you helped me in the battle,” he murmurs, “and came back to Hogwarts looking like an absolute vision.”
Draco's cheeks dust pink with the unintended compliment. “Most don't like how I look.”
“They're jealous,” he admonished Draco gently, stepping forward to lift Draco's chin with his forefinger, “do not lower your head in shame.”
Draco nods, eyes wide as he gazes at him. Gentleness has never been their normal, but he will never forgive himself for his lack of understanding and childish hatred toward the Malfoy Heir after seeing the way the blonde lived during Voldemort’s rise. Draco was a scared little boy trying to survive. Just a child being used as a pawn in a much bigger game.
Affection fills him gazing at Draco and the softness of his cheeks and the prettiest shade of pink lip gloss on Draco's lips. “You've been eating well and taking care of yourself,” he acknowledges warmly.
“Perhaps a side effect now that I'm not living with an insane, bloodthirsty killer in my childhood home,” Draco says.
“I would imagine so,” he muses, “so tell me why I shouldn't keep you safe and protected now that you're healing and looking as beautiful and happy as I've ever seen you?”
“You're giving me special treatment. Nobody else falls under your protection,” Draco shrugs. “And people gossip.”
“Let them,” he says, “unless you wish for me to stop?”
Draco shakes his head, “No, no, it's…I'm okay with it. It saved me from multiple hexes from embittered students.”
He wordlessly strengthens the protective charms surrounding Draco, irate by the mere knowledge Draco’s been hexed without his knowing.
“Your magic is comforting, like wearing a warm blanket on a Winter morning,” Draco says, “I don't know how I’d feel without it.”
“Probably due to my affection for you,” he says simply.
“Affection?”
“Mhmm,” he hums, bending down to easily lift Draco up much to the blonde's surprise and grasping onto him. He sits in the loveseat Draco previously was and allows the blonde to rest comfortably on his lap, hands holding his waist and knees.
Draco's weight is comfortable and the younger is warm pressing against his side.
“What was that for? You could have asked me to move!” Draco scolds.
“No reason to, my method worked just as fine.”
“Gryffindors,” Draco mutters, but the blonde doesn't seem unhappy with the arrangement, leaning against him comfortably for a more intimate cuddle.
“I have to be courageous,” he defends softly, “because you see, I'm quite tired of pretending we're merely friends and nothing more. I would rather like to be something more.”
Draco looks up at him with wide eyes in disbelief. “What?”
“I, Harry Potter, like you, Draco Malfoy, and hope you return my feelings of attraction.”
“You're joking,” Draco whispers.
“I'm quite serious about my feelings, I don't let anyone sit in my lap, nor do I shield just anyone with protection charms, or set up privacy wards and silencing charms to keep people comfortable,” he muses fondly. “I'm quite interested in your comfort and happiness, you know. It bugs me when people try to disturb you.”
“Oh…you're kind of possessive,” Draco says.
“Only with you,” he sighs, “I didn't understand it at first.”
“I'm a jealous lover, Harry, are you sure you can handle that?”
“Indeed, I give you permission to hex me straight to Sunday if I ever dare look at another with even a fraction of the affection I do you,” he permits softly, “barring known friends and family, of course.”
“Of course,” Draco’s eyes twinkle with mischief.
“And before you ask, no, I never started anything up with Ginny. She's engaged to a rather nice man by the name of Christopher, an upcoming Quidditch player. Hermione is the sister I've never had. I would protect Luna with my absolute life, but she's a friend. A very odd, very dear friend of mine whom you will have to learn to get along with. There's been no man to ever come close to my affections for you,” he shares softly, cupping Draco’s cheek and leaning in to press the gentlest kiss to his forehead.
Draco let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “I won't allow my emotions to be affected by them, knowing you wouldn't lie to me.”
“I've always been the most honest with you. No need to start changing that, hm?”
“I…I had a small thing with someone from Durmstrang during the Triwizard Tournament. It ended when they left although we still send letters occasionally. We've become friends,” Draco murmurs shyly. “They suspected I had feelings for you and gently broke it off.”
He smiles, “Then it looks like I also have a new friend to meet.”
Draco yawns suddenly. He looks up to see the sun has set and the moon out and shining on the lake.
“It's bed time,” he murmurs, “you're tired.”
Draco pouts, an adorable expression he already knows means trouble for him in the future. “I rather like where I'm at.”
“You can sleep with me,” he offers softly, “if you don't want to part ways.”
Draco's eyes shimmer with excitement. “Really?”
Oh, this doesn't bode well for him at all. “As if I could ever tell you no.”
Carrying Draco up to his room is easy, and the Slytherin is all too happy nestling into him. They're quiet when making it to his bed and changing quickly to not disturb his roommates. Once they're settled under the covers and the curtains drawn for added privacy, he blankets them in a silencing charm.
“Your wandless magic…it's quite powerful,” Draco muses.
“Mm, my magical core was being leeched off by Voldemort's horcrux which seriously limited my power and control. Once I died and resurrected, all my core needed was time to heal. Now I have to learn to control it. From what I understand, the Potters were well known for their large magical cores.”
“So…you're even more powerful than before?”
“Yes, it is unusual. Magic comes a lot easier for me now. It's more innate. Before I had to really apply myself, but that's hard to do when a madman is in your head giving you nightmares,” he softly laughs, “but it's okay. It's just a new challenge for me to unlock my abilities.”
“Voldemort would never have stood a chance had you been at full capacity,” Draco says, “I can feel your magic. It's powerful and had it not been so friendly to me it would scare me. You would scare me.”
“I know, my aura is hard to reign in. But never worry, my magic will always be here to support and protect you, ok?”
Draco agrees, and it seems that's what finally puts the little snake to sleep, comfortably laying on his chest and breathing out softly. He stays up a bit longer, insomnia an old friend of his, before drifting off as well.
When he wakes it's to fingers tracing over his abdomen and soft humming coming from the blonde haired man still cuddling into his side.
He reaches up and entangles his fingers with Draco’s lean, elegant ones. Everything about Draco is pretty, he thinks to himself.
“Morning,” he murmurs softly.
“Good morning,” Draco says, equally soft and gentle.
“Sleep well?”
“The best in a while,” Draco whispers.
And now that he considers it, he did as well. “Me too.”
“Everyone has already left,” Draco shares, “it's just us left.”
“That's okay,” he murmurs, “are you ready to go down and eat?”
“Okay,” Draco agrees easily.
They part to dress and clean up for their day. The red thread tied to their pinkies bring them back together, hands intertwining easily as they make their way down to the Great Hall.
They make their way to the Eighth Year table, ignoring the looks from their younger peers and taking their seat together.
It's then he feels it, the sharp electricity of a hex rebounding from the protective charms encasing Draco. He stands up and turns to face the other house tables and looks around with a hardened expression. He casts a charm to detect the owner of the hex and narrows when he sees it's a group of younger Gryffindors.
“I know it was you,” he said, his voice silencing the Great Hall and commanding the room with an unnatural ease. “That's my protective charm cast on him, so I'm able to detect anyone who aims to harm him. Let this be a warning. Next time I will report you.”
Silence reigns in the Great Hall and he takes it for the warning it is. He sits back down, hand already pressing onto Draco’s lower back to strengthen the charm. He knows his charms are solid and strong, but he would never be so careful to jeopardize Draco’s safety.
“You don't have to,” Draco whispers.
“Nonsense,” he scolds, lips gently brushing against the shell of Draco’s ear, “you're mine to protect.”
“Am I?” Draco smirks, looking up at him with a mischievous glance.
“Mm,” he answers, leaning back to start piling Draco’s favorites onto his plate, giving him the best cuts of meat, prettiest pastries, and juiciest fruit.
Draco chuckles, thanking him graciously. He watches the blonde eat before serving himself and joining him.
Movement steals his attention away when he looks up to see Hermione, Ron, Blaise, Luna, and Pansh sitting around them. He smiles at them.
“You two look cozy,” Pansy snickers.
“Pans,” Draco whines.
“We are,” he answers.
“Heard you'd scolded some little lion cubs earlier,” Blaise remarks, “sad I missed it.”
He snorts. “It wasn't that impressive. Just a bunch of fourth years who are holding unnecessary grudges against Draco. I handled it.”
“Indeed you did,” Luna murmurs wistfully, “those are awfully strong protective charms on you, Draco.”
“Harry's magic is strong,” Hermione adds, “even more so now that the horcrux has been removed. He has complete access to his core.”
Ron passes Draco a pudding. “Here you go, mate.” He says, Draco takes it with startled eyes. “Harry's magic is something else. Man, had he been able to go against Voldemort like this he'd never stand a chance.”
“It happened the way it was supposed to,” he murmurs.
Draco nibbles at the pudding Ron so generously gave him. See, Ron didn't share food. The fact he passed Draco his favorite food didn't go unrecognized between himself and Hermione.
“Oh, Draco dear, I have that nail polish you asked me for,” Pansy says, digging into her bag to pull out the loveliest shade of lavender. Draco takes it and thanks Pansy.
“It's beautiful,” Draco hums happily, “I can't wait to try it out.”
Luna looks over and smiles. “That shade will look wonderful on you.”
“You know,” Hermione starts, “Luna is actually really good at doing nails. She makes it look professional every time.”
Luna’s laugh twinkles out of her at the unexpected compliment. “Practice makes perfect, at least that's what the nargles tell me.”
“I'm still new to the whole thing,” Draco admits, “but I'd love to have your assistance.”
Luna beams, “Wonderful! Common room later tonight?”
Draco agrees easily.
Once breakfast is over, they make their way to their Potions class together. His hand found Draco’s hip and rested there the entire walk to class. Draco didn't seem the least but bothered by it.
The class went as it usually went, but this time Draco sat next to him when they paired up. Ron sat next to Blaise with a suspicious flush to his cheeks and the Slytherin looking all too amused by it. Pansy and Hermione paired up, while Luna sat beside Neville.
With Draco’s help and inherent skill for Potions, he found himself doing a much better job in the assignment. He watches as the blonde ignores the instructions to make the ingredients work better with the potion. Sometimes he'd skip a stir, or add one depending on the step. It reminds him so vividly of Snape’s instructions from the Potions book he used.
He of course helped, taking Draco's instruction seriously and listening to the blonde's explanation of why he would do things differently. He paid rapt attention, soaking it up like a sponge.
They bested everyone in the class, with Blaise and Ron coming in just behind them. With extra credit points in their pocket for their overall grade, they left Potions to attend Charms.
Charms was a lot easier for Harry now. The advanced class came as naturally as DADA did before the horcrux was removed. He had an affinity for it and succeeded nearly every time. Professor Flitwick would always allow him the chance to try more difficult spellwork and casting, challenging him to try and do it without a wand as well.
So he did. Wandless magic didn't often rely on the verbal annunciation of the spell, but the intent behind it as you cast. The want was a conduit, but remove the conduit and it left him needing to practice his accuracy and precision when casting spells.
He was working on a charm to extinguish flames with water, a powerful spell Dumbledore was well known for creating. He was intent on mastering it.
Flitwick observed him and made small suggestions before turning away to watch his peers and allow him the space to practice.
The entire lesson took quite a bit of mental strain before he finally managed to get the correct amount of water for the flames before him. He felt exhausted by the end of it, but also proud.
With lessons out of the way, it was lunch time. The group walked together, with a few stragglers joining them. Dean and Thomas were right behind them holding hands and bickering about something ridiculous.
He noticed that Blaise had his arm wrapped around Ron’s shoulders. He smirked. Ron was definitely being flirted with…and claimed. No one in their right mind would go after the intended of a Zabini.
“Ron is about to be so spoiled with Blaise’s attention,” Draco whispers to him, “and also absolutely swamped with luxurious and expensive gifts.”
“Ron will like it. He's not materialistic, but growing up the way he did was hard. Not having new clothes, robes, and even a wand was really difficult for him. Blaise spoiling him like that will be well received.” He muses softly.
Draco frowns just a bit. “I was quite cruel to him, wasn't I?”
“You were, but it was out of ignorance,” he reminds Draco, “and you'd never treat him like that again, right?”
“Never,” Draco promises, “he gave me his pudding today.”
“I saw,” he smiles at him, “that was a big gesture for him.”
“Really?”
“Ronald Wesley doesn't share food,” he shares with Draco. “Ever.”
Draco's eyes widen before turning to look at the blushing redhead.
They sit at the same spot from earlier. They nibble on the sandwiches in front of them and discuss the rest of the lessons they have for the week. Once they're finished, they separate. A few to study, a few to go walk the grounds, but Draco and himself return to the Common Room to unwind for the day.
They sit in the same position as last night, Draco on Harry's lap and nestled into his side. His hands protectively hold his hips and rest on his knees.
It was as easy as breathing for him to nuzzle his nose against Draco’s temple.
“Should I spoil you as well, my little snake?” He asks Draco, “With pretty things to adorn yourself with? What would you like, hm?”
“I don't need anything. I like being with you,” Draco answers softly.
“Mm, but you are mine to spoil, right?” He questions softly.
“If you desire so,” Draco relents easily.
“How could I not?” He murmurs.
Draco merely rolls his eyes, playful and pleased with the way he cuddles closer to him.