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"This is your fault," Harry murmured.
"How the fuck do you figure that?" Draco said, outraged.
"If you hadn't been so arrogant—"
"If you hadn't been so impulsive—"
Draco swallowed down the rest of his sentence. He needed to get out of here. Whatever was causing this anti-magic field was making him feel uneasy, unmoored. Nevermind how they managed to get here—trust Harry Potter to manage an apparition into a magic-proofed mansion without splinching them—all they needed now was a way out.
"I don't get how this place can have this many hallways," Harry griped. "There have to be rooms! Otherwise what's the point? Are you sure there's no magic here?"
Draco rounded on him, incredulous. "My wand's fucking useless, how about yours?"
Harry sighed. "Yeah, no. Alright."
Draco figured that was the closest Harry was going to get to admitting he was right. Wanker.
But then he considered what Harry was saying about rooms. They'd had nothing but hallways, branching off from each other. It didn't feel right.
He ran his hand along the wall for the next stretch of steps, then stopped when the temperature changed. "Potter," he called, because of course the idiot hadn't stopped with him. He pointed out the difference and made Harry feel for himself. "I think there might be a room on the other side of this."
Barely ten seconds passed before Harry kicked the wall. Draco rubbed a hand down his face. The worst part was that it worked. Not on the first kick, of course, but the wall was thinner there, and soon they found themselves in a room filled with elaborate trinkets.
Harry looked so fucking proud of himself. As if Draco weren't the one to figure it out.
Draco knew better than to touch any of the trinkets, but he kept a weather eye on Harry, who said he agreed but wasn't exactly known for keeping his impulses at bay.
His relief upon finding the door was short-lived—it had a fucking puzzle in it before it would open. "What kind of escape room bullshit—?" he muttered, looking around. He was too old for this shit.
While Harry was busy trying to brute force it, Draco figured out that they both needed to pull the levers on opposite sides of the room to open the door. As they did so, Draco felt a tingling sensation under his skin, and then light spilled in as the door opened. Draco knew without having to check that his magic was back.
The artifact they'd been sent to find was, indeed, in the room, and they were able to excavate it safely with their magic returned. Potter could handle bringing it back to Weasley for the curse-breaking bit. Draco was done here.
"Potter," Draco said, holding out his hand. "May it be another ten years before we have to work together again."
Harry smirked at him. "Malfoy." His hand was warm in Draco's. Soft. Draco mentally shook himself—what an odd thing to fixate on.
Draco apparated home with no small amount of relief. Working with Harry was never not frustrating, even if they were… friendly, these days. He was happy to be past it.
-
Draco woke in a cold sweat, automatically reaching for his wand. He felt like death warmed over. He barely had the energy for a quick diagnostic spell which told him basically nothing, except that whatever was happening to him wasn't normal.
"Fuck," he muttered, crawling out of bed and toward the fireplace. He floo-called Bill Weasley and shivered while he waited for him to answer.
"Oh, fuck," Bill said, wide-eyed, as soon as he saw him in the fire. "It's happening to you too."
"Weasley," Draco said with little patience.
"Can you open up for visitors? We'll come to you."
Draco performed the spell, feeling his energy drain even further with the simple action. Still, he pushed through and summoned a pair of sleep trousers to pull on. He had a feeling he knew who would be coming with Bill down the floo, and he wasn't prepared to accept him in nothing but his pants, no matter how shit he was feeling.
Sure enough, Harry burst into his room first, looking as awful as Draco felt. Weasley appeared mere seconds later, frazzled but unaffected by whatever had sunk its claws into the two of them.
"Draco," Harry croaked miserably. He looked utterly lost.
"What the fuck have you done to us?" Draco managed, reaching for him in some impulse he couldn't justify.
The relief was immediate. As soon as Draco's fingers brushed Harry's arm, they both gasped. Draco took what felt like his first full breath since he'd woken up, and Harry sat up, wide-eyed. Draco clamped onto his arm and Harry reached back, fingers circling Draco's wrist. Harry looked much more alert, and Draco could feel the unbearable heat under his skin receding.
"Interesting," Bill said, working his wand in some complicated pattern. Draco had enough energy now to fix him with a withering look.
"Are you going to enlighten us?"
"This didn't come from the artifact. My current theory is that the levers for the door had their own magical effects that you're dealing with now. Energy draining, loss of focus. It seems that mutual touch lessens the effects, though."
Draco rolled his eyes at the obviousness of that fact. Harry was practically in his lap now, clearly desperate to increase the points of contact between them. Draco's cheeks were hot with embarrassment, but at least he wasn't the one making a fool of himself. He was happy to let Harry take on that mantle.
Eventually, Bill left them, promising to go investigate at the mansion and report back. He left them with a watch that could be used to signal him the moment they started feeling bad again.
Which left Draco with Harry Potter in his bed, clinging to him. He was exhausted, and Harry was already snuffling in his embrace, but he couldn't sleep. Of course he'd find himself cursed to constantly touch the one man he'd spent most of his life trying not to be attracted to, and failing. He sighed heavily.
Harry groaned and shifted against him. "What are you huffing about?"
"I thought you were asleep."
"I go in and out a lot." He pulled his glasses from the nightstand and propped his chin on Draco's chest, like he wasn't bothered at all. Like this was normal. "Spare me the whinging about being stuck with me. What's actually bothering you?"
Draco swallowed. He didn't like this. Hanging out in the same circles was one thing. He'd dealt with that over the course of the years, getting on a first-name basis, showing up for birthday celebrations. But being blatantly read by Harry—in his own bed, no less—was a step too far.
He couldn't tell the full truth, so he went with some version of it. "I'm not accustomed to letting people touch me."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that. I know you pull on the regular."
Draco's face heated again, and he avoided Harry's gaze. He might have led Harry to believe he was bringing more men home than was truthful, but it wasn't like he was celibate. "That's different."
Harry grinned. "Not much of a cuddler, then?"
Draco wished desperately he could push him away. He didn't dare say what he was thinking. Touching like this, it was too… intimate. It was dangerous, letting anyone this close.
Harry's hand skimmed down his side, making him shiver. "I promise not to violate you in your sleep, if that's what you're worried about."
"It's not," Draco said flatly. Silence fell between them. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, but he could still feel Harry watching him. "You wouldn't be touching me like this, if you could help it."
When he finally chanced a look down at Harry, he found him studying him intently. He felt trapped by that gaze.
Harry sat up suddenly, breaking half of their points of contact, and Draco felt it like a sucker punch.
"Fuck, hang on," Harry rasped, pulling Draco onto his side and molding their bodies together once more.
"What the fuck was that?" Draco muttered miserably into Harry's shoulder.
"I was trying to make a point," Harry said, then huffed a laugh that Draco could feel ghosting against his ear. He hooked a leg around Draco's, then turned his face to press against Draco's neck, letting his hand slide lower on his back. "How I'd be touching you more like this, if it were up to me."
"Harry," Draco breathed shakily.
Harry righted his leg and his hand. Draco swore he felt the brush of lips against his neck before he shifted away. "Maybe a bit more than that," Harry admitted quietly, "but you get the idea."
"I can't," Draco said brokenly, feeling Harry tense against him. He soothed his hand over Harry's back. "Not while we're like this."
Harry leaned back to see his face, and they both winced at the sharp pain of it.
"Would you stop that?" Draco demanded as Harry scooped him back up.
"Sorry."
"I swear, it's like you have no object permanence."
Harry laughed, his fingers spreading over Draco's back. Draco realized he wasn't tense anymore. "So, after we figure out how to break this curse. D'you wanna, maybe, get dinner?"
"As long as I get to pick the venue. I'm not letting Pansy take us back to that tapas place. It was dreadful."
"No Pansy," Harry clarified. "None of the others. Just us."
Oh.
"You could still pick where we go. I'm not as fussy as you."
Draco pushed Harry onto his back, careful to keep the two of them touching as much as possible, because he wasn't a moron. He peered into Harry's eyes. "You're serious?"
Harry grinned, tangling their legs a bit more. "Is that a yes?"
Draco groaned, pressing his forehead to Harry's shoulder. "Merlin help me. Yes."
Harry hummed in happy victory, bringing a hand up to rest gently at Draco's nape.
Draco didn't find it so hard to sleep, after that.