Work Text:
“How did you get that to stick to the ceiling?”
Harry spun around, clearly surprised at Draco’s presence in their shared bedroom. Though at the moment, it looked less like the eighth year dorms, and more like the castle during the final battle. What exactly had Harry been doing in here?
“Draco. You’re back,” Harry said dumbly. Draco hardly noticed the redundant statement, however. His heart was too busy fluttering at Harry saying his name.
It wasn’t necessarily new anymore. Harry had been calling him Draco since they had started their eighth year. He’d announced at the welcome feast that since they were now roommates, they’d need to build a positive relationship. Draco had initially been livid about the attention, but he knew now that Harry had done it to try and help the younger Slytherins, who had been facing an unfair amount of bullying this year. While Draco had long since been referring to Harry by his first name in his head, it wasn’t often that he called him anything other than Potter out loud. Old habits died hard.
“I thought I was coming back to my room, but apparently I’ve come back to a war zone. What happened here?”
Harry hesitated, looking guiltily at the cauldron in the middle of the room.
“Well, you know I haven’t been doing so great in Potions this year…” Harry started.
“So you decided to practice in our bedroom?” Draco cut him off, scandalized. “Potter, this is exactly why we’re not allowed to brew in the dorms. You’re lucky it’s just a mess – an exploding potion could have killed you!”
“As you can see, I clearly need the practice,” Harry said, waving an arm dramatically at the failed potion.
“And why can’t you go to open lab practice? You know, the time Slughorn specifically sets aside every week for people who need more practice in a safe and controlled potions lab?”
“I keep missing it,” Harry groused. “I couldn’t go on Friday because of that fucking Ministry Gala.”
It was on the edge of Draco’s tongue to make a sarcastic quip about how much of a hardship it must be to go to a beautiful gala where Harry got to make powerful connections. They hadn’t talked about it before, but Harry always seemed to come back from them in a bad mood.
“Why do you go to the Galas?” Draco asked carefully. “You don’t seem to enjoy them, though only Merlin knows why, and it seems they’re detracting from your school work.”
“Are you able to say no to the Minister?” Harry scoffed. Draco shook his head.
“No, but I’m not you. Isn’t he a friend of yours? Surely he’d understand if you declined some of the invitations.”
“Oh sure, Kingsley would understand.” Draco watched as Harry started pacing. “But what do you think the Prophet would say? Fuck, they’d make it out to be this huge fucking thing that I skipped a public appearance for school, because Merlin forbid the Chosen One still be a fucking student!”
Draco did his best not to smile at Harry’s use of the muggle expletive. Granger always scolded him for it, but Draco loved how excessively Harry used it when he felt free to say what he wanted.
“And then it’ll turn into a series where they’ll speculate on my fucking marks, insisting that I’m a bad student because I can’t handle school and being a public fucking figure, and then they’ll rehash all their fucking theories about my fucking career choices, insisting that the only possible fucking answer is that I’m going to be a fucking Auror. And when I don’t become an Auror, it’ll be right back to being a bad student and all my fucking missed potential, and I just–ugggh!” Harry flopped exaggeratedly onto his bed, and Draco could see the moment where he realized he had inadvertently laid down in a puddle of failed potion. He needed to do something to diffuse this situation before it got even worse.
“Actually, they’re calling you the Saviour now, not the Chosen One,” Draco pointed out. Harry stared at him in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. Draco raised a single eyebrow, waiting, and a moment later, Harry started laughing hysterically.
“That’s what you took from all this?” Harry cried. “I don’t fucking care about the title! I don’t want a fucking title! I want them to leave me the fuck alone so I can just live my fucking life!”
Draco shrugged, joining Harry on the bed, though he was careful to avoid the mess.
“Sure, though you’re asking for a miracle here, Potter. Let’s focus on something more realistic. What really surprised me about your rant just now was that you don’t want to be an Auror.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re surprised. That’s what everyone fucking thinks. He bested a fucking dark wizard once, so obviously he has to spend the rest of his fucking life doing just that. Do I have a fucking clue what I want to do with my career? No. Is there any chance I want to be an Auror? Fuck no.”
“Well good for you. Most Aurors are assholes,” Draco said smartly. He didn’t often echo his father’s views anymore, but that was one he was happy to stick with.
“I thought you’d say that makes me a perfect candidate,” Harry quipped. Draco laughed at that.
“So you missed one Potions session because of the Gala. You know Slughorn runs them twice a week, right? Did you really have to go and mess up our room?”
“I’m missing all of them lately,” Harry moaned. He heaved himself off the bed and started pacing again. “Last week was a cover photoshoot for fucking Witch Weekly, and the time before that Hermione had asked me to introduce her at the fucking Wizengamot when she was pitching her new bill on elf rights, and the week before that was Quidditch tryouts, and fucking Slughorn has cancelled next week’s session for the career fair, and even if he hadn’t I have so much school work to do, and I’m struggling to keep up with all the eighth year social events, and Gringotts wants me to do a review of my fucking assets, and– fuck!”
“I have even more bad news for you Potter,” Draco interrupted, fighting to keep his face somber. Harry stilled and looked up at him, eyes wide and concerned, and Draco almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to pretend to be married.” He didn’t think it was possible, but Harry’s eyes grew even wider. At least he wasn’t spiraling about all his responsibilities anymore.
“I… why?” he finally choked out. “I mean, I’m sure I can help with whatever the situation is, but how…” he trailed off, clearly searching for the right words, and Draco was touched that Harry’s first reaction hadn’t been disgust, or outright refusal.
“I’m teasing, Harry,” Draco said, taking hold of Harry’s arm now that he had stopped pacing. He felt his roommate – Friend? – relax, and pulled him closer, putting their foreheads together.
“I thought saying something ridiculous might get you to stop spiraling about everything else,” Draco explained softly. Harry bit his lip, and Draco suddenly realized how intimate this position was. He’d learned since the start of the school year that Harry was a little touch starved, and it had quickly become normal for them to hug, cuddle, or even roughhouse when they were arguing. But this… this was something new.
“Was… was that really such a ridiculous thing to say?” Harry asked, matching Draco’s tone. Surprised, Draco pulled back slightly.
“You mean you would find it normal if I asked you to pretend to marry me?” Harry shrugged.
“Weird shit like that happens to me all the time. But I meant more… I don’t think it’s a ridiculous idea. You and me.”
Now it was Draco’s turn to be shocked. He could admit, at least to himself, that he was attracted to Harry. But never had he seriously considered that Harry could like him too.
“I… I don’t want it to be,” Draco finally replied. “But…”
“No buts,” Harry said firmly. “Well, maybe we can get to butts a little later, but first, can I kiss you?”
Draco nodded, chuckling at Harry’s cheesy line. He was still laughing when Harry’s chapped lips touched his. Harry laughed into the kiss too, and despite it not being very serious, it was perfect. It didn’t take long for their laughter to die down, and for Harry to push him back onto the bed, kissing him with all the passion Draco saw in him every day. It felt blissful to finally be on the receiving end of it.
“Harry,” Draco moaned, as curious hands slipped under his shirt. Harry stilled, and Draco opened his eyes, unsure what was happening.
“You said my name,” Harry said, sounding delighted. “You never say my name.”
Draco knew he was blushing, but he didn’t really care at the moment.
“Is that okay?” he asked, sitting up. He almost missed Harry’s nod as he realized he’d sat in the gloop on the bed.
“Oh, gross!” he groused. “What potion were you trying to make? Do we need to go see Pomfrey?”
Harry shook his head. “It wasn’t technically a potion,” he admitted. “Or at least, not a potion in the potions curriculum.”
Draco could only stare. “That’s why you didn’t want to go to open lab time! You were making up all these excuses about your schedule, but you’re actually playing around with unauthorized potions?”
“Well, it’s a Ministry approved potion with commercial applications, they just don’t teach it to us in school because no one really needs it outside of the industry. I’m sure Slughorn wouldn’t really care if I made it during open lab times, if I ever got there.”
“What is it?” Draco asked, bringing his hand up to his face to sniff the bright purple substance. Harry didn’t seem concerned about getting them to hospital wing, so it clearly wasn’t dangerous. It smelled like apples.
“It’s a flavour potion, for candies,” Harry explained. “Honeydukes is having a contest where people can submit new flavours for a chance to win free candy for a year.”
“Potter, you’re rich. And famous. You don’t need to blow up our bedroom for free candy for a year, I’m sure they’d just give it to you.”
“Well, no, I don’t need free candy. And the contest isn’t to make the candy, just submit the flavour idea. But it got me thinking about candy making as a profession. George shared the recipe with me, he uses it for his skiving snackboxes. I was playing around with it, to see if I could make a green apple flavoured candy. Muggles do it, but it tastes nothing like real green apples.”
“Green apple candies sound delicious,” Draco mused. Harry nodded.
“I noticed you really seem to like green apples. That’s why I picked that flavour,” he added shyly.
Draco was both touched and impressed. He’d never considered candy making as a profession before (despite being a regular at Honeydukes), but now that he was thinking about it, it suited Harry perfectly. He stuck out his tongue, pausing an inch away from his hand and waiting for confirmation. Harry nodded, and Draco licked the potion. It wasn’t quite the same as an apple, but it was pretty damn close.
“Harry, this tastes amazing! You might be on to something here!”
Harry nodded. “I hope so. The trick is just figuring out how to do it without the potion exploding in my face,” he added, sheepishly.
“Well, it’s nothing dangerous, so I guess no harm done,” Draco conceded. “Shall I vanish it?”
Harry considered him for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of their ensuite bathroom.
“I was thinking of having a shower. It’s mostly sugar, so it should wash off pretty easily,” he said, grinning. “Wanna join me?”
Draco had never wanted anything more in his life. As Harry pulled him into the bathroom, he stole one more kiss.
“Yeah, this tastes great.”