Work Text:
Draco was maybe the tiniest bit tipsy. He thought that was probably why he'd sat down on a tree stump halfway back to the castle and rocked himself back to look at the stars, just starting to come out against the pale sky. Although on the other hand, the stars were really kind of awesomely pretty, and they were definitely worth looking at. They were like ... bits of broken mirror, all scattered everywhere, glinting. Only smaller.
He rocked back further, and had to catch himself before he toppled off the stump. He pushed the back of his hand against his mouth, muffling snickers.
"Who's there?" The voice was cautious, and came from Draco's right. He squinted into the scattered trees, dim in the fading light.
"It depends," he replied eventually, just as cautious. He got up, carefully steady on his feet as he walked away from the path.
Whoever it was was kneeling on the ground, their hands paused in the act of feeling around in the leaf mulch. They scrambled to their feet as Draco approached.
Draco stopped, peering.
Harry Potter peered back. He looked utterly disoriented and utterly wary, and his hair was all messy with bits of leaves in it. After a moment Draco realised why Potter seemed to be winning the peering match. He'd lost his glasses. He blinked and scowled, one hand curled around his wand.
Draco had to put a hand against a tree. "Usually," he said, "usually you wear glasses, Potter." He frowned. "Ugly ones, with thick frames. Where are they?"
"Malfoy," Potter said, almost a groan. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and let his wand drop. Draco found that rather offensive, actually.
"I sort of hoped you might be Luna," Potter said, getting back onto his knees and putting his hands into the leaf mulch. "Damn."
"You hoped ..." This was a bit too bizarre. "Why would I be Lovegood?"
"It ..." Potter waved a vague hand in Draco's direction. "The hair. I could only see the hair." He gave Draco a hopeful look. "I don't, uh ... I don't suppose you can see a pair of glasses lying about anywhere?"
Draco gave a perfunctory look around. Actually he thought those might be Potter's glasses over there, caught in a tangle of briar. He considered pointing them out, but ... Draco looked back at Potter. He sort of liked Potter without the glasses. He was all ... blind and lost looking, and he wasn't glaring at Draco as though Draco was a bit of slime on his shoe. Probably because he couldn't focus well enough to glare.
"No," he said. He sat down on the ground to watch Potter. "What are you doing?"
Potter hesitated, shooting him a fuzzy look. "I'm ... looking for them," he said. "Uh, Malfoy, are you drunk?"
Draco shrugged. "A bit. It's Saturday night."
Potter just looked at him. Sort of at him. Mostly at Draco's hair, which ... well, maybe that was the only part of Draco he could make out clearly, and that was kind of hysterical.
"We're at school," Potter pointed out.
Draco rolled his eyes. "We just went through a war, Potter, most of us are only here over summer because Death Eaters spent a whole year teaching us to Crucio rather than any Defence Against the Dark Arts. None of the teachers are actually trying to supervise. Everybody drinks on Saturday nights, please tell me you've noticed this."
Potter blinked at him.
"... I need to find my glasses," he muttered.
Draco was getting kind of chilled. He rubbed his arms. "It's cold out here, Potter. Why are you throwing your glasses around?"
Potter leaned back on his heels. "I'm not ... Oh, for god's sake. I tripped. I'm not ... Are you going to help me or not?"
Draco got to his feet and ambled over to where he'd spotted what he thought were Potter's glasses. He'd been right -- the spindly metal arms were tangled up in the briar. He scratched his hand extracting them. He slipped them into his pocket, sucking on the scrape on his wrist.
Potter was watching him uncertainly. "What did you just do?"
"Nothing," Draco said, coming back over. He put his hand under Potter's arm and tugged. Potter let him do it, surprise making him quiescent. It was just as well. Draco probably would have fallen over if Potter had resisted.
"Uh ... what are you doing?" Potter asked. Draco had tucked his hand into Potter's and was tugging him back towards the path.
Draco gave him a blank look, which Potter completely failed to see. "I'm helping you," Draco said. "You asked me to."
"Wha... Malfoy, my glasses."
Draco tugged him closer, enjoying the way Potter's eyes struggled to focus on him, even from less than a foot away. "I'll lead you back to the castle," Draco said. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you don't trip much. Or fall in the lake. Or walk into the Whomping Willow." He smirked, slow and happy. "I'll be really careful," he promised.
"Damn," Potter breathed. "You're going to kill me, aren't you? You're going to kill me, and it won't even be on purpose."
Draco ignored him, tugging him forward. Potter cursed and tripped over a branch. Draco turned, his face very close to Potter's again. "Be careful of that branch," he said seriously.
Potter groaned and dropped his forehead onto Draco's shoulder. And that ... well, actually, that was sort of nice. Potter's hair was kind of ... well, no, Potter's hair was horrible, it had always been horrible, but it felt soft on Draco's cheek, and it smelled like ... nice things.
Draco tugged him forward again, taking a step backwards, and nearly fell over. Potter grabbed him at the last minute, and Draco had to lean against Potter's side while he laughed, breathless snickering.
"You're so far gone," Potter said quietly. It sounded almost ... fond.
"Obviously," Draco said, his voice still muffled by the snickering and Potter's collar. "I'm snuggling up to Harry Potter."
Potter started coughing.
Draco pulled him into motion again. "This way," he said brightly. "There are trees and things. You should try not to walk into them."
"Er," Potter said. "Thank you."
Draco gave him a blinding smile over his shoulder. "No problem," he said. Potter blinked at him, and Draco wondered whether he could see the smile, or only hear it in Draco's voice.
Draco stumbled again as they reached the path, and Potter grabbed his shoulder again. "Um, look," he said, and he sounded as though he was trying not to laugh. "If I can't see and you can't, um, walk, then maybe ... Maybe we should walk a bit closer together."
Draco leaned closer. "Oh, smooth," he said, the smirk curling over his lips again. Potter's eyes were wide and dark. "Seriously."
"Shut up," Potter said, his voice suddenly husky. "You're the one with all the ... the hair and the touching and things."
Potter kept mentioning ... Draco's smile grew wide. "Oh my god," he said. "You like my hair."
Potter blushed. "I do not. That's not even ..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I refuse to get into an argument with a drunk person I can't even see."
"You do, you like it," Draco insisted. He ducked his head, smiling against Potter's neck. Potter swallowed.
Draco pulled Potter into motion again. Potter came with him, shaking his head. His expression was a bit dazed.
Draco put his hand in his pocket and pulled Potter's glasses out, slipping them onto his own nose. Everything went fuzzy and disorienting, and he leaned against Potter's shoulder.
Potter shot him a look.
"That's ... those are my glasses," he said carefully. "You're wearing my glasses."
Draco muffled a yawn against Potter's shoulder. "They look better on me," he mumbled.
"It ... that ..." Potter shook his head. He didn't try to take the glasses back, though, even though they were now twice as blind as they'd been before, and Draco kept having to close his eyes to keep from getting dizzy. The path was winding all over the place; Draco could swear it was usually straight.
"If we fall into the lake," Potter said quietly, "I'm going to let you drown."
"Mm," Draco said sleepily, into his neck. "No you won't. You don't want to lose your glasses."
Potter snickered, helplessly, and adjusted his arm around Draco.