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Harry doesn’t think anything of it when a knock on the door echoes through the Burrow Christmas Day. There’s been a constant stream of people popping in and out throughout the day, exchanging gifts with conversation and good food.
He’s sitting by the fire with George, warily going over one of the new products for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes when the knock sounds. He’s distracted—the post food-coma haze from lunch only just beginning to wear off as he carefully turns over the device in his hands under George’s concerningly amused gaze—and so he barely pays attention as Mrs Weasley bustles out of the kitchen to answer the door.
‘Oh, hello Draco, dear,’ Mrs Weasley greets brightly, ‘We were beginning to worry that you weren’t going to make it. Come in, come in, please. Oh, how lovely, you didn’t have to bring anything.’
Harry jerks, almost dropping the suspicious device, as his head whips around to see that, yes, Draco Malfoy is standing stiffly in the entrance to the Burrow’s front door, looking extremely awkward and uncomfortable, a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks as he hands Mrs Weasley a bottle of what is no doubt the most expensive wine he could find.
Harry blanches, standing up sharply as Mrs Weasley ushers Draco into the room. ‘Oh goodness,’ she says, casting a critical eye over him. ‘You’re almost as skinny as Harry is. Not to worry, dinner is almost ready, we’ll get some food into you in no time. Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable.’
Mrs Weasley bustles away back into the kitchen, leaving Draco standing alone just inside the room, looking as awkward as Harry has ever seen him look. Draco’s gaze darts around the room, almost frantic in his search for something safe to latch onto, when his gaze falls on Harry.
Harry takes a single step forward, eyes wide, when Ginny and Luna come bounding down the stairs from upstairs.
‘Oh! Draco!’ Luna exclaims delightedly, ‘You’re finally here. Ginny was convinced you weren’t going to come, but I told her, Draco Malfoy is a man of his word. He said he was coming and so, come whrackspurts and golden feathered dingletops he will be here.’
Draco blinks, then scratches the back of his head, his silver-eyed gaze flicking off to the side in a barely restrained eye-roll. ‘Yes,’ he says, schooling his expression back into the perfect politeness of a perfect guess. ‘You were so insistent I come, I didn’t see how I could refuse.’
Luna beams, stepping forward to loop her arm through Draco’s. ‘Exactly. You couldn’t.’
‘I’ll admit I had my doubts,’ says Ginny with an impressed grin. ‘But, you won me five galleons from Pansy just for showing up so, cheers for that.’
She gives Draco a good natured nudge, before glancing over at Harry and offering him a non-too-subtle wink. ‘I better see if Mum needs any help.’
Harry takes the opportunity to step closer to Draco and Luna, mindful of the crowded room. ‘Er, hey,’ he says, scratching uselessly at the back of his head as he shuffles his weight from foot to foot. ‘I thought you were busy for Christmas?’
He widens his eyes slightly as he says this, trying to convey the “what the fuck are you doing here?” through his eyes alone. Draco glares back at him and gestures at Luna who is staring between them with those big blue eyes and that innocent expression that Harry isn’t buying for a single second.
‘I did,’ says Draco emphatically, voice low and just as pointed. ‘Lovegood wouldn’t take no for an answer. Honestly, you’re wasted as a researcher. They should hire you as an investigator for the aurors.’
Luna giggles, and Harry catches the mischievous tilt of her smile and crosses his arms.
‘What’re you up to?’ he asks.
‘Up to?’ she asks, blinking wide eyes up at him. ‘Whatever do you mean, Harry?’
Harry just narrows his eyes. ‘You’ve been spending too much time with Ginny.’
Luna just smiles dreamily. ‘And you have been spending far too much time supposedly alone. I’m not the only one whose noticed, you know.’
Harry glances around frantically, all too aware of George and Hermione watching curiously from opposite ends of the room (Ron, thankfully, is too concerned with his last minute gift wrapping to be paying any attention), and steps closer. ‘Yes,’ he hisses. ‘But you’re the only one who knows why. And we told you, we don’t want to make a thing of it.’
‘Relax, Potter,’ says Draco smoothly. ‘The only one making a thing of anything right now is you. Just keep your cool, and it will be fine.’
Harry huffs. ‘Yeah, sure, keep my cool in a house full of tricksters and prank experts,’ he runs a hand through his hair, but before he can truly get worked up about the situation, Mrs Weasley is back, declaring that dinner is ready.
Draco glances sideways at him, arching an eyebrow and twisting his mouth in that way that tells Harry that he’s getting worked up over nothing. Relax, he mouths, and Harry glares at him, feeling anything but relaxed as Luna leads Draco away to the table.
It’s a full house. Fuller, even, than usual. Harry tries to catch a seat next to Ron and Hermione (keeping careful distance between him and Draco), but as Charlie comes in from the Floo at the last minute, everyone reshuffles and somehow (as he’s directed down the table at an insistent nudge from a grinning Ginny) Harry ends up sandwiched in between Charlie and, of course, Draco.
‘Hey Harry,’ says Charlie, breathless as he drops in between Harry and Ron at the table.
Harry offers him a wan smile, determinedly stopping himself from glancing to his other side. ‘Hey Charlie.’
Hermione, on Ron’s other side, offers Harry an encouraging smile that is far too knowing for Harry’s liking. Across from her Ginny drops into her seat, shooting Harry a smug look as her gaze flicks to Draco and back to him. On Draco’s other side, Luna hums softly, smiling as she reaches out to start piling things onto Draco’s plate.
But it’s Teddy, darting in from outside and flinging himself into a seat across from Harry and Draco, that is Harry’s undoing.
‘Draco!’ Teddy exclaims as he spots the man beside Harry. ‘I didn’t know you were coming! Are you coming to Harry’s after? ‘Member you still owe me another go at that game you taught me. What was it? The muggle one. Anyway, you promised we’d play again. I haven’t forgot, y’know. I’m definitely gonna win this time!’
The entire table goes silent. Draco goes stiff as Harry fumbles the glass he was reaching for, tipping it over and sending it clattering across to Teddy (who is completely oblivious to the giant mess he’s just landed Harry and Darco in).
Heat swarms over Harry’s cheeks as several people at the table look at him with concerningly delighted expressions. Harry doesn’t dare look at Draco. He’s too busy trying to figure out what to say, how to explain why Draco might’ve been at his house playing muggle board games with him and Teddy.
Draco, smooth as ever, recovers first, reaching out to take Harry’s cup from Teddy’s outstretched hand. ‘I wasn’t planning on it,’ he says, voice calm and cool as he places the cup back in front of Harry and, before the droop in Teddy’s shoulders can turn into a tantrum, he adds, ‘But I’m sure I could rearrange my schedule for my favourite cousin.’
He hesitates, gaze flicking sideways to catch on Harry’s wide-eyed gaze as he says, voice low and questioning (and just shy of coy), ‘That is, if Potter doesn’t mind.’
‘Oh, please? Please Harry? You said last time I could come play again, but it’s been ages.’
‘It’s been a week, at best,’ says Andromeda dryly, casting a wry look in Harry and Draco’s direction before adding in a quiet voice (though, there was no whisper quiet enough to escape the avid attention of every person at the table in that moment). ‘And I thought we talked about this? I told you not to talk about going to Harry’s house.’
‘Why not?’ Teddy pouts. ‘What’s wrong with talking about going to Harry’s anyway?’ he looks at Harry with big eyes, his features shifting to look more cherublike (a trick he’s learnt will make Harry cave every time). ‘Do you not want me to come over anymore?’
Harry blanches. ‘No, no that’s not it,’ Harry says hastily. ‘Of course I want you to come over. You know I love our game nights.’
Mollified, Teddy’s features become pointy and sharp as he narrows his gaze on Harry in suspicion, looking far too much like the man sitting next to Harry. Harry winces, glancing sideways and hoping no one else notices the similarity (or guesses the reason Teddy might have picked up that particular expression).
‘Then why can’t I come over? And why aren’t I supposed to talk about game night? Did I do something bad?’
‘No!’
Teddy frowns. ‘Did you do something bad?’
Ginny snorts and looks away, George outright snickers and Luna starts humming again. Harry manages not to glare at any of them.
‘No,’ he says, face burning with the force of his blush. ‘It’s just…I wanted our game nights to be…just ours. You know, you and me. So we can spend time together.’
Teddy blinks. ‘Oh. But, then, what about Draco?’
‘Yeah, Harry,’ says George wickedly. ‘What about Draco? After all, I thought you two were still pretending not to like each other?’
Draco stiffens at the word “pretending”. ‘What, exactly, are you implying? You think I like, Potter? Everyone knows I barely tolerate him.’
‘And yet, apparently you’re playing “game night” at Harry’s regularly enough,’ says Ginny, sharp brown eyes darting between Harry and Draco.
Ron frowns. ‘Is that why you wouldn’t come out to the pub the other night? I thought you said you were babysitting?’
‘I was,’ Harry insists. ‘I was babysitting.’
‘Yeah, but when I offered to come help you said you had it covered.’
‘Because I did,’ Harry says, more forcefully than he’d meant to, hoping Ron would get the hint and shut up.
‘Because Malfoy was there?’
Harry flounders, ‘Uh, well, Teddy wanted to see his cousin…’
‘At your house?’
‘Um, yes?’
‘Cousin Draco is the best at Charades,’ Teddy says, and Harry almost slumps in relief at the unintentional out. ‘And he tells really funny bedtime stories, though Harry says he’s not ‘lowed to cook breakfast ‘cause of the time he almost set the kitchen on fire. Though, I wasn’t there when that happened. They didn’t invite me to that sleepover.’
He crosses his arms and pouts again, glaring at Harry and Draco.
Andromeda puts her head into her hand, shaking her head and hiding a smile. ‘Oh, Teddy,’ she says, shooting Harry an apologetic look.
‘What? What did I say? It’s true!’
Harry winces and thinks maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Voldemort suddenly came back from the dead and attacked him right that very moment.
‘So,’ says George, a wicked grin splitting across his face. ‘Sleepovers? When, exactly, did this happen?’
Teddy frowns, tilting his head. ‘What do you mean? They’ve been having sleepovers for ages.’
Harry drops his head into his hands. ‘Oh my god.’
Draco, the traitor, turns his head away. His shoulders are stiff, and though Harry can see the tense expression on his face, he can tell by the set of his jaw that Draco is trying very hard not to laugh. Jerk.
Harry lifts his head to glare at him. ‘This is entirely your fault.’
Draco starts to snicker. ‘If I recall,’ he said, all smug satisfaction, ‘it was you who asked me to stay the night.’
Harry sputters as Ginny interjects with far too much enthusiasm. ‘So there are sleepovers?’ she turns to George in triumph. ‘You owe me ten galleons.’
‘No way,’ says George. ‘Sleepovers don’t mean anything if they aren’t having—’
‘George!’ Mrs Weasley barks. ‘There are children present! And this is an entirely inappropriate conversation for the dinner table. I’ll have no more discussion about Harry and Draco’s love life.’
Harry wonders if it would be possible to come back from the dead a third time. His face burns. ‘I…that’s not…that is…’
He makes the mistake of glancing sideways at Draco and is trapped, momentarily, by those bright silver eyes staring back at him in half amused exasperation.
‘I’m confused,’ says Ron.
Harry freezes, glancing back down the table at his best friend, but he was frowning at Ginny and George.
‘When did you guys make a bet about Harry and Malfoy being together? And why the hell didn’t you loop me in on it? I’d have happily taken your money.’
‘Um,’ Ginny raises her eyebrows, sharing a confused look with George.
‘Honestly,’ says George. ‘We kinda thought you’d freak out.’
‘What do you mean, “take our money”? You knew?’
‘Of course I knew,’ says Ron, outraged. ‘He’s my best friend. You think I don’t know when my best friend is dating someone.’ He leans forward to look at Harry. ‘No offence, mate. But you’re not really that subtle. Especially about Malfoy.’
Draco snorts. Then snickers. Then outright laughs.
Harry glares at him. ‘This is definitely your fault,’ he says glowering.
Draco shakes his head, still guffawing like the great big giant prat he is.
‘Is…he okay?’ Ron asks.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh like that before,’ says Geroge. ‘You know, all human-like.’
‘George,’ Mrs Weasley admonishes. ‘Be nice.’
‘Well…’ says Draco, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. ‘Since we’re no longer going under the radar, I suppose you can tell your family about us.’
Harry groans, glowering at him. ‘I can’t believe you put me through this. I told you they’d figure it out,’ Harry scowls.
‘I know, I know,’ Draco says, still sniggering but trying to calm down. ‘You were right.’
‘Can I get that in writing?’
‘Not a chance, love,’ says Draco, leaning across to kiss Harry on the cheek. ‘I’m not apologising though. I can’t help wanting to keep you to myself a little longer.’
Harry flushes and tries to shrug it off by rolling his eyes. ‘Sap.’
‘Prat,’ Draco quips with no malice, smirk still spread across his face.
‘Just so we’re all on the same page,’ says George, ‘you guys have been together for how long? Cause I had—’ he glances at Teddy and Victoire. ‘Uh, bed buddies for like, at least a month.’
‘I had dating for a month plus,’ says Ginny.
The table immediately erupts into a heated debate as Ron and Luna begin arguing over who knows what and when, speculation over when Harry and Draco first got together raging around them and drowning out any potential protests.
Harry slumps, not even trying to derail his so-called friends. ‘Oh my god,’ he says, and buries his face in his hands. ‘I hate all of you.’
‘No you don’t,’ says Draco smugly.
‘No,’ says Harry, looking up with weary affection. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t.’