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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Surprise!

A/N: AND THE FLUFF TO FOLLOW THE ANGST! I have something close to 20 requests sitting in my inbox and yet my brain tells me to stay up until almost four in the morning writing Draco fluff (that hasn't been requested) because I am a simp for this man. I am getting to your requests, I promise you, I just didn't expect this many! So please be patient with me. And I know I always write Draco as a Healer but I will take this trope with me to the grave. Also, all of my medical knowledge stems from shows like ER so forgive me for inaccuracies. AND on top of this, I’m less than 10 followers away from 700 so thank you all who follow me and deal with my ramblings on a daily basis! As always, I hope you enjoy and I hope you know that I love you all!

Summary: A surprise at work.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none - fluff

Word count: 2.2k

It hadn’t been a particularly long shift; long in the sense where time dragged on. It was long in the sense that all he wanted to do was to go home to you.

He had his evening planned in his head; good food, favourite TV show ready, and you – laid between his legs, leaning back against his chest onto his chest for cuddles.

Truthfully, he just wanted cuddles.

But he couldn’t admit that to the Head Nurse Martha as she berates him for sighing for the third time in a minute.

“Malfoy, I love you like my own son but if you don’t stop sighing and go to see this patient, I’m afraid I’ll have to accidently forget your coffee all next week.”

Draco gasps, “Martha, you wouldn’t.”

“Sigh again and watch me, Draco.”

Draco holds his hands up, relenting; not willing to risk his coffee or Martha’s wrath, “Alright, alright. You win – now who’s the patient?”

“Six-year-old girl, severe burns to her forearms from a spilt potion. She wanted to help her mother, bless her.”

Draco takes the chart from Martha; walking towards curtain area five.

Little Jenny had only wanted to help her mum and she had landed herself in the emergency room at St. Mungo’s. She was the perfect patient – did not cry and did not fuss. He cleaned the burns; debrided them and then used ‘Ferula’ to ensure minimal scarring. Jenny’s mother thanked him profusely as they left the curtain area to return home.

For Draco, patients like Jenny are what make the job worth it. They’re what keep him clocking in day after day. It’s the joy and gratitude from parents and family members when he arrives with good news; that yes, he can heal this, no it isn’t life-threatening.

For as long as he can remember, Draco was pushed into thinking a job in the Ministry of Magic would be perfect for him. Decent hours, decent pay, good holidays – what more could you want?

But Draco had never followed the rules; he wasn’t bothered about how long he would have to work as long as it was rewarding; he didn’t care about pay as long as he loved his job. He applied for the Healer training programme straight out of Hogwarts and was thrilled to be accepted.

It had taken years of hard work. Years of all-nighters, exams, stress and his tears but it was all entirely worth it the minute he was handed his full licence and a job in the emergency room.

He couldn’t take all the credit though; you had been by his side through it all. Quizzing him on the flashcards; making the coffee; drying his eyes if it all become too much.

Draco shakes himself out his reminiscing as he’s overwhelmed by a strong sense of missing you. He’s a lovesick fool, and he knows it.

Draco places the chart in the ‘discharged’ section; taking the offered cup of coffee from Martha’s hands. The caffeine addiction had started early in his career, and it was one that Martha and you were happy to indulge.

“Martha, you are my saviour.”

“Draco,” Martha starts, raising an eyebrow, “You are so full of it.”

He laughs, leaning against the triage desk, looking up at the admit board, “Anyone else for me?”

“Eager for more already? You did come back from your annual leave ready.”

Draco ducks his head, “Actually, I was hoping for some more patients to keep me busy, so I don’t turn around and go home.”

Martha chuckles, “You’ve got it bad.”

Draco smiles, “I don’t deny it. Are there any more waiting to be seen?”

Martha shakes her head, “Sorry, love. Everyone’s covered right now.”

He nods, understanding.

“Why don’t you go into the lounge? I’m sure you’ll have left some unfinished paperwork before your holiday.”

“You’re probably right,” He says, draining the last dregs of his coffee. “I’ll head there now.”

“Dear, there’s no ‘probably’ about it. I’m always right.” Martha states as a goodbye.

“Come get me if I’m needed.” Draco replies in parting.

Martha doesn’t reply; she rolls her eyes at the young doctor before returning to her paperwork.

The lounge isn’t a very large room; big enough to fit a few lockers, a battered old couch, a table and a fridge. Used by Healers and Nurses alike, Draco doesn’t think twice before pushing open the door.

Only to freeze in the entryway.

You’re here.

At St. Mungo’s; sitting on the battered old couch.

You grin at Draco; pressing a finger to your lips, telling him to keep quiet as your eyes flash down to the bundle of blankets in your arms.

Draco can’t help the smile that breaks across his face as he tiptoes over to you and the baby.

“What are you doing here?” He whispers; holding his hands out for his daughter.

“We thought we’d surprise you on your first day back.” You reply; handing your sleeping daughter over to her father. She fusses slightly at the change but quickly settles back into her dreams.

Draco cradles her in his arms; gazing at her face for only a moment before meeting your eyes, “Consider me surprised.”

“We knew you’d miss us too much,” You tease.

Draco holds his daughter in one arm; confidently cradling her head as he wraps his other arm around your shoulders, pressing one kiss to your forehead and another to your lips.

“Hi,” He whispers, greeting you at last.

You grin at him, “Hey there.”

His daughter shifts in his arms; finding a comfier position. Both you and Draco freeze, watching her so intently. She settles back to sleep in less than second; seeming more settled now that she’s in her father’s arms.

“You’re right,” Draco murmurs, “I do miss you. I’ve been driving Martha mad all shift. She’s threatened to take my coffee away.”

You gasp, “Well we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t” He says, agreeing wholeheartedly.

You fold your daughter’s blanket on your lap; knowing that she would be warm enough in her father’s arms. “I hoped she would stay awake long enough for you to see her but alas, the minute we got onto the tube, she was fast asleep.”

“I don’t mind; having you both here is enough. I’ve been counting down the minutes until the end of my shift.” He confesses. He has; he’s been watching the clock since he put on his white coat; wishing for time to go that little bit faster just this once so he could go home and cuddle you and kiss his daughter goodnight.

“You sap,” You tease, but there’s no malice. You adore seeing Draco with his daughter. He had been so scared from the moment you told him you were pregnant with her; terrified of the type of father he would be, but the moment she arrived, he stepped into the role with such grace it was hard to believe that he hadn’t done it before.

“Only for you two,” Draco coos.

Draco doesn’t know how long he remains holed up in the lounge with his family. He just enjoys the time he can spend with them before he’s inevitably called away.

Quiet conversation is spoken between the two of you; mindless conversation about anything and everything. You told him how Narcissa and Lucius visited today bringing more gifts for your daughter.

“They’re completely wrapped around her finger.” You murmur, humour lacing your voice.

He chuckles, thinking of his parents who adored their granddaughter – find any and all excuses to come visit. “Who wouldn’t be? She’s adorable.” Draco replies, motioning to the sleeping baby in his arms.

“That is true. She looks so much like you, Draco. I can’t get over it.” And it’s true; she has his grey/blue eyes and is showing the first signs of having his blonde hair. She’s going to be heartbreakingly pretty.

“She’ll have your brains, love. I know it. How many degrees do you have now?”

You roll your eyes at your husband, “Just three. I’ll wait until she’s a bit older before I think about enrolling for my doctorate.”

Draco shakes his head, “My wife – the wonder woman. First for marrying me, then for having my daughter, and now for going back to school. You amaze me.”

“Oh hush. You’ll make me blush.”

Silence falls between the two of you; both turning your attention back to the baby dozing safely in her father’s arms. Draco lost feeling in that arm a while back but he won’t mention it; he won’t ruin this moment with his family. He never thought his heart would be big enough to love; then he met you and he found out that there was just enough room in his heart for one. Then upon the birth of his daughter, his heart stretched again and made room for her. He had loved her from the moment you announced your pregnancy but fell in love all over again the moment he held her in his arms.

He shifts slightly; taking care not to jostle your daughter. “Thank you for coming; I needed this.”

You stroke his cheek with your thumb, “It’s no problem. I missed you too. But you’ll have to thank Martha as well.”

“Why?”

“She sent us a message about two hours into your shift asking if I’d come and see you. She could see that you were missing us.”

“Martha is a wonderful woman.”

“She is. Thank her for us as well. We really were missing you.”

Your daughter coos; all conversation coming to a halt as your attentions fall to her. She shifts again, cooing one more time before falling back silent.

“She’s dreaming,” He says, voice slightly breathless as if he can’t believe what he’s witnessing.

“She is,” Your voice matching his.

Martha pokes her head around the door; heart softening at the sight before her. Draco’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both watch your daughter sleep; utterly captivated by her.

It hurts Martha to break up the scene, but she must. A case has come in sure to keep Draco distracted long enough for time to pass faster for him.

“Draco,” Martha calls softly from the door.

Draco looks up, sighing as he realises what her presence means. “I’ll be right there, Martha, thank you.”

Martha nods, greeting (Y/N) with a large smile before closing the door quietly behind her.

Draco hands over your daughter somewhat reluctantly; already wishing to have her back in his arms. You drop a kiss to her forehead before placing her ever so gently into her pram and draping the small blanket over her. Draco leans down into the pram to kiss her forehead too; inhaling the scent of talcum powder.

Draco places a long kiss to your lips before whispering goodbye.

“You’ll be home soon,” You promise.

“It seems so far away,” He whines.

You can’t help the feeling of delight that runs through you; at how Draco wants his shift to end sooner so he can be at home with you and your daughter. In the months since she was born, he’s dedicated himself entirely to role of husband and father. So much so that his profession as a Healer dropped down the list of importance.

You peck his lips, “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Draco sighs, nodding at you. You’re right, of course you are.

You let Draco walk you both to the main entrance; Draco walking the pram until he has to let you go. He wraps you in an embrace; hiding his face in your hair, keeping one hand on the pram.

“I’ll see you at home,” You murmur into his shoulder.

“I’ll see you at home,” He affirms.

Draco watches you walk away; wishing he was walking alongside you. He has to resist the urge to run after you and skive off his entire shift. He forces himself to turn from your retreating figure and drags his feet back to the emergency room.

Draco squeezes Martha’s shoulder when he next passes her at the triage desk. “Thank you,” He murmurs, loud enough for her to hear.

Martha chuckles, patting his hand, “You’re welcome. I remember how it was when I had to leave my eldest for the first time. I think I snuck off to the bathroom enough times to cry.”

“I know that feeling.”

“You’ve got a gorgeous little family, Draco. You’d be stupid not to miss them.”

Draco smiles at the elderly Head Nurse, “Any new patients then? Let’s get me through this shift so I can kiss my wife and daughter when I get home.”

“Aye, aye, Healer.” Martha jokes before handing him a chart, “Eighteen-year-old male; celebrating his graduation from Hogwarts. Too much firewhisky – he fell through a plate glass window, blood everywhere.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” He muses.

Martha nods solemnly, “It could even take hours.”

Draco takes the chart from Martha, repeating his words from earlier, “Martha, you are my saviour.”

“Go on. The quicker you’re there; the quicker you’re home to your wife and baby.”

Draco grins; skim reading the chart as he walks to curtain area two.

Four hours to go until he was home.

This case wouldn’t take five hours to heal but it would cut a large chunk of time out.

Four hours to go until he’s home with you and your daughter.

****

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @deafgirltingz @kylosleftbuttcheek @heloisedaphnebrightmore @harrypotter289 @sprvpti @accio-rogers

Draco Malfoy taglist: @cheapglitter @the--queen-of-hell @in-slytherin-we-trust

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thelibranarchives · 4 years

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For @giucorreias Flufftober 2020 Day 3 prompt- Sunshine

'You've mellowed, Draco,' Pansy opined, taking a drag from the joint before passing it to Millie on her left. 'The Gryffindors have done their number on you.'

Draco Malfoy snorted. 'Nope,' he denied.

Blaise laughed, slapping his thigh. 'This,' he said in between bouts of laughter, 'is exactly what she meant. Normally, a stinging hex would have been your answer.'

'On the contrary,' Daphne said, picking the cigarette out of Millie's mouth. 'If the Gryffindors have had any influence on him, he would have physically tackled you both.'

'That's more like it,' Draco nodded.

Nobody said anything for a while. They were enjoying a very rare, much awaited and incredibly precious Slytherin-only gathering in a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest. It had been almost impossible to not have some Gryffindor hanging off their shoulders for two months now what with the lions accompanying them everywhere from showers to classes, but that day, Granger had Arithmancy for her afternoon class. Longbottom had volunteered to help Prof. Sprout weed out the greenhouses and Weasley and Potter had gone to Diagon to the joke shop. Ginevra and Lovegood were at the quidditch trials, which left the Slytherins with a golden opportunity.

Unlike rumours and speculations, the Forbidden Forest, had a cheerful air about it, though slightly dark with the thick canopy. The five of them sat in a circle under a bubble of protective charms, sharing a joint and blowing out smoky rings, or as in Pansy's case, trying to. An idle, and clearly out of place bird, was humming a sweet tune. There was the occasional rustling of leaves and the half growl and half bark of some as yet unencountered forest animal but Draco was relaxed.

Draco and Potter's dynamic had undoubtedly changed ever since Potter got that dragon lily tattoo on Halloween, even though Potter's behaviour towards him didn't. He still went to classes with Draco and sat next to him, partnering him in Charms, Potions and DADA. No one had mentioned anything about the tattoo in the two weeks since and Draco wasn't a fool to harbour hope that they didn't understand its significance too. He wasn't going to talk about it for as long as he could.

'Muggles celebrate Thanksgiving in November,' Blaise said, inhaling deeply. 'On the fourth Thursday, to be exact.'

'What is it for?' Millie's tone was curious.

'To be grateful to the good things or people that happened to them that year? Mother says Muggles cherish it a lot.'

'How's Maine? Is it suiting her?' Pansy asked.

'She says that's where she's going to settle down but that is what she said of Milan too so I wouldn't bet on it.'

Daphne's brows were furrowed. 'Why are you telling us about this Thanksgiving?' That girl was quick and sharp, no matter how clueless she sometimes acted to be.

'Well,' Blaise said, licking his lips, 'we should thank them too, don't you think?'

It had been easy for Draco to get a first edition copy of Rare Charms and Unique Spells for Granger, a chocolate frog card made in honour of Fred Weasley for Weasley and his sister and an assorted collection of Celestina Warbeck's classics for Longbottom, who loved them and transferred some of his admiration for her onto Blaise as well.

Pansy, Daphne and Millie had got some trinkets, rings and other accessories for all the girls while Blaise imported an Italian Bellflower plant for Neville. The purchases were all made through owl-post, from stores suggested by Narcissa Malfoy, under the name of Madame Zabini.

Draco curiously couldn't think of the best gift to Potter, though Potter was the one he knew the best out of everyone else. He decided he would ask Potter what he wanted but as the days passed, either Draco or Potter found themselves otherwise busy, to say more than "hey" to each other.

Draco sighed and shrugged. There was nothing he could do.

Thanksgiving dawned on them, abnormally cold and cloudy. Draco woke up late from a fitful sleep and didn't even have time to overthink if the atmosphere outside was setting the tone to what was to unfold that day.

Daphne had done that for him, however, whining every possible minute she could about how potentially disastrous the others could think their gifts were. Pansy and Blaise, in their attempts to find courage in liquor since they seemed to lack it in themselves, added to it after stumbling into the common room drunk, half an hour later than the time they had fixed.

Even then, Draco was glad when they had all assembled.

'So,' he began, fidgeting with his shirt, 'Blaise told us, technically it was Blaise's mother, that muggles celebrate Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November and well,' he gulped, ' well,' he licked his lips, 'we just..'

'Here are the gifts, bitches!' Pansy screamed, wand shooting confetti into the air as she twirled, tripped and fell over the neatly wrapped presents. 'Oops,' she said, grinning up at them with a dazed look in her eyes.

The stress of worrying his brains over the small surprise that lit up the faces of everyone present, finally melted away the stress beneath his skin. Draco wasn't even aware that he was beaming until Blaise knocked him on the shoulder, sloshed and swaying.

'You've become a sap, Draco,' he slurred.

'And you, a Hufflepuff,' Draco retorted, grinning wider, because yes, this group of unlikely people made each other smile to the maximum.

'I don't want to see all of your teeth, Draco.'

'I don't want to see you bouncing like a toddler either.'

'I'm in full control of myself, thanks.'

Draco had to give him a once over then. 'Yes, I can see that.'

'Are you two arguing over who is better at pretending to be the least affected by our reaction?' Lovegood's sweet voice wafted from behind them followed, an instant later, by her floral perfume and then a smacking kiss to their cheeks.

Weasley and his sister came up to them next, eyes shimmering. They held up Fred's chocolate frog card that read "one half of the only two who managed to set off fireworks in the Great Hall and literally got away with it." That had been Draco's personal addition. He would never forget Umbridge's horror at that.

'This,' Weasley choked.

'Means a lot,' Ginevra said, barely keeping it together. 'Excuse me,' she whispered and then she was exiting the common room, Draco's eyes trained on her till the door shut behind her.

When he turned back, he found Potter staring at him and he blushed, remembering that he hadn't got anything for him.

Potter held up the broom polish from Blaise and a few shirts from the girls as if to ask, 'you?'

'I didn't know what to get for you,' Draco mumbled, rocking on his heels. Behind Potter he spotted a radiant Granger hugging Weasley and talking his ear off about the book in her hand.

'If-' Draco said, glancing back at Potter, 'tell me what you want and I'll get it. For you.'

'Anything?' Potter asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

'Yes, anything.' Draco didn't know how his voice sounded so confident.

'Well,' Potter smirked, 'I want to see the sun, make the clouds go away.'

Draco thought for a while and smiled back. 'Be ready, then.'

Next morning found them both racing through the sky on their brooms at four am.

'Is this revenge, Malfoy?' Potter shouted when they landed on the hill, wet and shivering from the rain falling at Hogwarts.

'Why, scared Potter?' He called back.

'You wish!'

They sat next to each other on a boulder, Draco making them face a certain point in the sky.

'I can't see anything there,' Potter grunted.

'Not yet,' Draco murmured.

'Where are we anyway? Why isn't there snow here?'

'Shut up and watch, Potter.'

And watch they did as the sky lightened and the sun rose in a golden hue. Potter was dumbstruck.

Draco laughed at his expression, wrapping one arm around Potter's shoulder. It was instinctual but Draco had never initiated it before. He froze until Potter leaned into him, resting his head on Draco's shoulder.

'Do you know why I like the November sun?' He asked quietly. 'It shines brighter than in May. There's something about the warmth of the wintry sun, don't you think?' Potter looked up at him.

Draco's gaze was hooked onto the way the emerald orbs were reflecting the sunlight, brimming with satisfaction.

'Yes,' Draco whispered, not looking away. 'The sunshine is brighter.'

This is probably a bit here and there and I tried to make it not huge but 🤷🏻‍♀️

#harry potter #draco malfoy #harry x draco #harry/draco #drarry fanfic #drarry fandom #drarry

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can-i-just-say-this · 4 years

Text

To Say I Love You

Draco Malfoy's 25 lives inspired by '25 Lives' by Tongari

part 2

11. Yet, always, you forgive me.

Draco doesn't know what to say, so he just kneels there, silently begging Harry for forgiveness he doesn't deserve.

"I understand, Draco, it's alright."

Draco doesn't want Harry to understand, because Draco himself doesn't. His mother is dying, and she wants to hold a Malfoy heir before she passes away, and in this cruel world Draco currently living neither of them could carry a child, and Draco curses.

"Fuck, Harry. I don't want to lose you."

"I will still be your friend, always."

Draco doesn't remember the last life he resented being Harry's friend as much.

12. As if you understand what’s going on

"No no no stay with me, Harry."

Draco keeps the pressure on Harry's stab wound. It was supposed to be a good day. Him, Harry, the groceries, and the competition to make the best cuisine for both chefs.

"The ambulance is coming. Please, Harry, stay with me."

Harry was saying something, but Draco didn't catch his words as he keeps chanting 'stay stay stay' like futile prayers. He positioned his right ear on Harry's lips.

"I love you. I'll be waiting."

Draco moved away, replies forming in his brain, but Harry already closes his eyes.

"I love you, too. I'll be waiting, always."

13. And you’re making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,

Draco wants to scratch his nose, but Harry's demand to stay still prevent him to do so. Still, Draco can't block the sneeze a few seconds later.

"Stay still!"

"I was sneezing, scarhead! Besides, you make enough paintings already!"

They were glaring at each other, but Harry softens his gaze first, he always does.

"It's not enough. The paintings, the photos, the songs, it's never enough to show how much I love you."

"What a sap"

Millions lives are not enough to love you, either.

14. And the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

"The Lighting Bolts, really?"

Millicent snatches her album from Draco's hand, profanities on her mouth.

"Just listen, Malfoy. The vocalist will blow your mind."

Draco is sceptical, rightfully so. He doesn't understand why he is crying after listening to the vocalist, HJ, afterwards. All he knows is he is willing to kill someone just for their concert ticket. Even after a few decades, He never gets the tickets, and The Lightning Bolts is disbanding, and he'll still deny if Millie tells anyone he is one of their loyal fan. Still, Draco pats himself on the back as he is able to recognize a talent when he sees one.

15. I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.

Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, and Harry Potter is The Savior of The Wizarding World. Draco wants to kill his father for choosing the wrong side, but he pledges loyalty in exchange of his mother's safety instead. This leads to him at the mercy of Harry Potter's wand in one of the ancient girl toilet of all places.

"You. You killed Ron."

Draco didn't, but he doesn't deny it. Draco just stares at Harry Potter's startling green eyes, waiting for his next words.

"I will kill you when we meet at the battlefield, Malfoy."

Draco shouldn't be happy at the threat, but it feels like a promise, and Draco welcomes it as mercy in this particular life.

16. But when all’s said and done, I’d rather surrender to you in other ways.

It's the first time Mother slaps Draco. He's so taken aback that he can't do anything except staring at her reddened face. Her voice trembles when she speaks.

"I will not conduct this behavior, Draco Lucius Malfoy. You are to marry Astoria and take the throne as you're supposed to do. No more of this Harry Potter nonse."

Draco never gets such reaction from Mother before, not in this life, and not in others.

"But mother, I love-"

That earns him a second slap, and for the first time, Draco walks away from his mother, his throne, his kingdom, to Harry Potter's little cottage on the hill.

17. Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder

Draco applies for the agency as soon as he sees Harry's name there. He doesn't even care about his singing skill, he just wants to be with Harry. Three years after their hellish trainee days, they debuted as a boyband with 6 other members. Their 'Coming Home' song becomes a billboard hit two years later, and he's content with all the Drarry secret affair their fans worship.

"So, Draco, the other members told me you never say I love you to Harry, even though you always express this explicitly to the other members. What do you want to say about this? I'm sure the fans are waiting for some explanation."

Draco gives a fake shy smile to the interviewer, hums a little, and then turns to Harry.

"Maybe if he says it first. Say, Harry, do you love me?"

Draco could praise Harry for his comically widened eyes. He holds his microphone like a lifeline and acts all flustered.

"Um, sure? I mean, we became trainees almost at the same time and you were my first friend here and you cared about my wellbeing and always making sure I eat healthy foods and I'm rambling, I'm sorry."

Really, Draco ships Drarry more than all of their fans combined.

"That's wonderful. But you still haven't said the L word yet, Harry. We are waiting."

"Um...maybe next time. I'm too embarrassed with myself right now."

Draco did his military service after that. He never once wondered about the next time Harry had promised, so he almost fainted when he heard Harry's new song on the radio. The title was 'To My Home'.

18. Is this the last time?

"You are supposed to have his back!" Draco shouts at Weasley, who just shed tears in response. They were standing in front of the operation room, and Draco already feels the familiar agonizing pain of losing Harry Potter in his gut. It doesn't make it easier.

"Draco, he said-he asked me to tell you-that he loved you, in case he didn't make it."

Draco punches Harry's best friend just because he could. He yanks his ruined police uniform, slams him on the wall, and pins his body there. Not even Granger's choked sobs could control his temper. His fisted hand hurts, his bloodshot eyes hurt, everything hurts whenever he's about to lose Harry, but this time he feels the most regretful.

"Did you know I never say it back to him? Not even once."

"I know. But he also knows that you do. Draco, Harry always knows you love him."

Draco falls on his knees, Ron's strong arms on his shoulders. Will there be another chance just to say he loves him?

19. Is that really you?

Draco meets Prongslet on twitter. Well, 'meet' is a bit of a stretch, but they both agree everything starts there. They exchange numbers, and Draco is amazed that the first call they share is not awkward at all. Of course, it's a bit strange to be called Black when you have skin as fair as Draco, but everything else is just perfect. That's why Draco gathers all of the courage his best friends lend him and asks Prongslet to meet on their seventy fifth call. Prongslet groans, and then he says in a hurry.

"Listen, I want to meet you but I have a date with Ginny this weekend, can we get a rain check? I really really want to meet, honest."

Draco never asks Prongslet again.

20. And what if you're already perfectly happy without me?

"Draco, you don't have to come." Pansy's eyes are dangerously teary for her make up, and Draco wants to cry with her. Instead, he fixes his hair and replies softly.

"I should, Pans. He's my best friend."

"No, he's an asshole."

Draco peeks at her reflection in the mirror, sure enough, there are mascaras running down her pretty face. Draco is always so lucky to meet Pansy. She always cries for him when he is not strong enough to show his emotions. They end up coming to the wedding, and it is as perfect as how Blaise had described his decoration plans a few months ago, when Draco didn't know Harry Potter was taken.

#draco malfoy x harry potter #drarry fic #draco malfoy #draco x harry #drarry #harry potter #reincarnation #25 lives #past lives

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narcissusneverknewme · 7 years

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#wokeuplikethis

~It all started with that potion. Well, it may have been more like a cocktail of potions. There might also have been some alcohol involved earlier but Draco would deny any knowledge of that until the day he died. Which might very well be sooner rather than later, if he continued drinking experimental potions thrown together by a couple of half-wits in their first year of healer training. . .

Through callous disregard for safety and the rules of potion making/administration Draco finds his consciousness transported to a magical Otherworld, wherein he once made a Right Choice that changed everything. ~

It all started with that potion. Well, it may have been more like a cocktail of potions. There might also have been some alcohol involved earlier but Draco would deny any knowledge of that until the day he died. Which might very well be sooner rather than later, if he continued drinking experimental potions thrown together by a couple of half-wits in their first year of healer training.

None of it was his fault, to be fair. Hue Mai had discovered an old letter in the lining of an positively ancient textbook. The letter was written by a wizard called Sir Ackley Blythe and was addressed to his sister, Osma.

According to a book on the subject that Hue later drug up from Merlin knows where, Sir Blythe was a philosopher and a member of a group of wizards who held a firm belief in what would now be termed “parallel universes.” They had attempted a number of spells and potions trying to catch a glimpse of the “otherworlds” but had famously disbanded after some kind of near-death experience that lead them each to make dramatic life changes. One notable member of the group, Collin Breathnach, gave up alcoholism and donated half of his wealth to charity within only a year.

The letter itself was long and covered in dust, but the most interesting part indicated that the philosophers had been more successful than people thought.

… Charles remained to observe our physical forms and ensure our hearts and lungs remained functional. After the five had partaken and I myself drank from the cauldron we fell into a sleep-like trance.

I seemed to wake in my own body, but not in my own world. When I examined my surroundings I found I was sitting in my old chair, in our father’s hall. My old hound Spédig lay at my feet. To my surprise, Elizabeth Bonde was there. She came to me with a merry laugh and sparkling eyes. She spoke to me with a peculiar familiarity. As we talked I soon understood why, for she called me ‘husband.’ Soon, the children came. There were four, Osma. Me! With four children! They were wonderful and strange creatures, the lot of them, and they did seem to adore me. The littlest girl brought me a flower for my pocket and sat on my knee.

Too soon I felt I was unable to remain, and was pulled back to my own world. When I was conscious of myself I lept up to speak with my companions, who all reported similar experiences. They seemed to have each found themselves in a place where they had clearly made different choices in life. After much arguing, we agreed not to publish our work, fearful that others would find the temptation to attempt to remain in the otherworld too great. We determined to destroy what records we had and each to swear upon our lives that we would leave that better world as it was.

None of us believe that any of the things we saw nor the words we spoke in that trance were fantasy or drunken apparition- Osma, there is a universe somewhere in which Ms. Bonde and I are the owners of Blythe Hall, and she is Ms. Bonde no longer. Somewhere in some time, I have four children and am happy.

The hall itself, I care little for, and in this life at least the old dog is gone for good: but perhaps I was granted this sight for a purpose. I thought it impossible to mend with Father, but now I think it may not be. And perhaps I will spend some more time in Ms. Bonde’s company. Somehow I had not noticed before, but she does have wonderful eyes.

Love, Ackley

It sounded like utter rubbish to Draco, but the others were immediately fascinated and Draco decided it was better to meddle with extremely dangerous and volatile potions than face boredom. On one point he proved right: the potions were extremely volatile.

The first time the students succeeded in creating a potion that didn’t explode before the final stage, Hue had to drink it. She was out for two hours and when she woke up (with bleary eyes and a fantastic hangover) she reported seeing nothing but bursts of color like a continuous firework show.

Soon they were starting to get a obsessive. None of them were really trying to see into a parallel universe, they weren’t sure what they were trying to do, but they were invested. Eventually they had a weekend off, without even homework to occupy them.

Instead of spending it with friends or getting blathered like normal people, the seven of them brewed three different potions in two days. So far no one had been unconscious for more than a few hours and the worst side effects had been Don Pike broke out in warts. Saturday evening it was Draco’s turn to drink. They’d all had a bit of firewhiskey earlier but they were all sure enough time had passed that it should be safe to take a potion.

Pike handed Draco a haphazardly measured cup of the crimson liquid they’d brewed. It bubbled in an odd, viscous way that turned Draco’s stomach, but smelt fine. It did not taste fine.

As Draco threw it back, swallowing harshly, the potion caught in his throat as if reluctant to be drunk. His peers cheered loudly. A moment passed. Nothing happened. Draco looked around and shrugged. A few more minutes passed. The others exchanged disappointed looks.

“Bad luck, Malfoy,” one of the girls said. Draco shrugged again.

“It’s getting late,” he said, “we can meet again on Monday.”

Draco arrived home at nearly midnight. He prepared for bed automatically, his mind on Sir. Blythe and his mystical Otherworlds. What would Draco’s Otherworld look like? What would be his best life?

“Probably one that doesn’t include you.” He said aloud, sneering at the vials in his hand. Two potions, one for sleep and the other for the nightmares. He took them quickly, pulling a face. As soon as he lay down he felt sleep settle over him, heavy and oppressive like a weight pulling him under.

His nightly potions did their work, and he did not dream.

###

Draco woke up feeling like he’d spent the night treading water, like sleeping had been a chore. He was used to waking like this. It was one of the effects of taking sleeping potions nightly. What he was not used to was waking with the knowledge that he could lay in bed as long as he wanted to.

He had woken laying on his side, unusual since he usually slept on his back, but undeniably comfortable. He was wrapped around one of his pillows, it was blissfully warm and smelt wonderful. He wondered idly if Pip had charmed it for him without saying anything. Pip was an extraordinarily old and caring sort of house-elf that his mother had insisted on him bringing to London, and was exactly the sort of elf likely to do that sort of thing.

He smiled slightly to himself, curling tighter around the pillow, nuzzling into it and humming lightly to himself. It had really been a long time since he’d slept in. He sighed happily again.

The pillow let out a soft sigh in response.

Draco froze. Now that he was awake and paying attention, the pillow was moving slightly, almost imperceptibly. Like it was breathing. And while it smelt good, it didn’t smell like the lavender soap Pip used. It smelt rather like sunshine and a bit like Draco’s hair wash. And it really was very warm.

This is a person. Draco thought. There is a person in my bed. Unless my Potion for Dreamless Sleep isn’t working. Draco considered that possibility, but as the person in his arms shifted and took Draco’s hand and raised it softly to their mouth to place a brief kiss on it, Draco dismissed that idea. Even if his dreams could be this vivid, they were never this pleasant.

So either someone broke into my apartment, snuck into my bed, cuddled with me all night, and is now kissing my hand, or the potion worked. This is my Otherworld. My right choice.

Draco wanted to laugh. He had believed in Sir. Blythe’s words even less than his peers had, yet he was the one to taste the working potion. He was in an Otherworld. A parallel universe in which he’d made some all-important Right Decision. As he considered this, the figure he was currently snuggling tugged his hand from their lips to lay over their heart, fingers intertwining as they did so.

Ok, so they’re a sap, whoever they are.

Draco was too close to the body in front of him to be able to see more than the curve of a shoulder blade, the back of a neck, and a wisp of black hair. The fingers that wound through his were longer and larger than his own, and a lot warmer.

It’s a man. This is a man. There is a universe where Father knows. I’m out. It’s a man. The thought made Draco feel a little panicked. He took a few deep breaths. The man must not have been unused to Draco’s early-morning freakouts, because he immediately turned over to wrap his arms around Draco murmuring a soothing “shh ssh” as he did so.

Draco froze as he caught a short glimpse of a familiar face. A terribly familiar face. Draco’s nose bumped gently against the skin just below the man’s clavicle, a hand rubbed slow circles into Draco’s back. Draco blinked, hard. Hoping that maybe if he blinked hard enough he could erase the image of the man’s face from his eyes.

Dark hair, it looked as though it had been made messy by sleep, but Draco knew it always looked like that. Green eyes, startlingly bright even half-closed and sleepy. A thin, jagged scar shaped like lightning.

Harry Potter?

###

Draco was still freaking out when the soft noises Potter was making faded away. A moment past in which Draco thought furiously. If he was in an alternate universe, he really shouldn’t mess anything up. He shouldn’t curse Potter into a snaggletooth fish, shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t from that universe, shouldn’t even be there, really.

Potter interrupted his freakout yet again, this time by speaking, “Was it the dreams again?”

There was a long pause. Finally Draco said, “Yes.”

“A new one? Or more of the same?”

“... More of the same.”

“Which one?”

Oops. Apparently Harry Potter knew all of Draco’s nightmares by heart. Harry Potter rubbed Draco’s back when he had nightmares and did awful things like hold their joint hands over his heart. Harry Potter slept in his bed and smelt fantastic. Harry Potter was obviously a pathetic sap in every universe.

After a moment Draco said, “Same as last time,” and hoped Potter would drop it at that.

“I don’t like that one,” Potter said quietly.

“That makes two of us.” Draco said. Potter responded with a quiet hum that sounded both sad and amused.

Draco really wanted to not be right there. He very much wanted to not feel Potter card those fingers through his hair, to not feel the man’s breath ghost over his cheek. He very much wanted to not let Potter gently tug his face back from its resting place in the hollow of Potter’s throat where it had rested. He very much wanted to turn away as Potter leaned in. Draco never seemed to get what he wanted.

Potter’s lips brushed lazily against his, as though they had all the time in the world. There was a staggering familiarity in the gesture that made Draco wonder just how serious he and Potter were in this insane universe, how many mornings they had spent just like this. One of Potter’s hands moved to slowly caress Draco cheek. His lips were slightly chap (clearly, some things never change; the stupid boy had chronically chapped lips in school) but roughness only made everything feel more real, more intimate.

Draco was somewhere between preparing to jinx Potter and tell this whole crazy universe to piss off, and never moving again. He didn’t have the chance to do either. Potter pulled away and looked him directly in the eyes.

Absolutely asinine eyes. Much too green.

“Hungry?” Potter asked, but he seemed to be asking something else. Draco didn’t know what, so he raised his eyebrows and nodded. Potter flashed that stupid smile of his and rolled off the bed. All the way off. His back hit the floor as he let out a yell.

“Why… ?” Draco started, so dumbfounded at Potter’s idiocy he couldn’t even think up a good jibe.

“We’re usually more toward the middle,” Potter didn’t look embarrassed at all, “we were too far left.” We must have been together for a long time for him to not be humiliated by executing that feat of lunacy in front of me.

“No, you rolled too far left.”

“It wouldn’t have been too far if we’d slept in the center of the bed,” He said defensively.

“You’re ridiculous, Potter.”

Potter quirked an eyebrow at him. It took a minute for Draco to realize what was wrong.

“‘Potter,’ huh, Mr. Potter?” Potter said, making no so sense whatsoever, “I mean, the last time you called me ‘ridiculous’ was probably at dinner- you could use with widening your vocabulary, Draco- but Potter ?”

Draco shrugged and tried to look innocent. That was never his strong suit. Potter’s- Harry’s expression changed from amusement to worry as he took at Draco’s attempt at innocence.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, finally standing up off the floor. He leaned towards Draco, trying to hold his gaze, “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Oh. Oh, no,” Draco said, trying his best to sneer and crinkled his nose at the same time, “‘Babe?’ Do I let you call me that?”

Potter laughed, his shoulders relaxing just a little as he did so, “Not generally, no. Come on, let’s eat.” They walked to the kitchen together, though Harry was slightly more relaxed, that green gaze of his was as annoyingly intense as ever.

Draco tried not to be alarmed when he noticed the state of his dress. He was wearing only a ragged old shirt and underpants. During his school days he’d have rather died than let Potter see him dressed like that. He tried to calm himself by focusing on the fact that Potter was similarly dressed, but that didn’t prove to be a particularly calming line of thought.

Pip appeared to offer them breakfast as the two arrived in the kitchen. They sat at the table with tea as they waited. Potter was playing with Draco’s hand on the table. It was both bizarre and distracting. He was still shooting Draco sharp looks, like he was waiting for Draco to tell him what was going on. Draco thought fast.

“P- Harry.”

“Yep?”

“Something happened yesterday…”

Harry waited a moment. When Draco didn’t continue he prompted, “At work? Was it Mai? Did she get you to try one of her experimental potions again?”

“YES!” Draco said, pointing at Harry emphatically, “Yes, she did.”

“Draco, we talked about this. I don’t care how important it is the bloody things get tested, you can’t do it at work with no advanced medical supervision. Hermione said-- “

“I know what Granger said,” Draco snapped untruthfully, “don’t need to hear it again.”

Harry took a calming breath. He’d always had such a terrible temper, Draco thought absently. Harry finally asked, “So. What happened, then?”

“Well, the good new is, no warts.” Draco said. Harry raised his eyebrows. “The bad news,” Draco continued, “I’ve suffered some memory loss.”

There was a pause, “Memory loss?” Harry said, a false evenness to his tone, “how bad?”

Draco silently congratulated himself on his cleverness, “I’m not sure, I can’t remember.” He smirked.

Harry looked like he was going to hit Draco for a minute, but then he grinned. “So what do you remember?”

“ Well… my name is Lucius Weasley and you’re Cornelius Fudge.”

Harry threw a spoon at Draco’s head, which Draco dodged easily. “It’s a remarkably good thing you weren’t a chaser, Potter,” he said conversationally, “You’d’ve been terrible.”

“Maybe you could’ve beat me then.”

“Touche.”

“That’s twice you’ve called me ‘Potter’ in one hour. Did you actually drink one of Mai’s potions?”

“Yes. And I am suffering some memory loss.” Draco said, “But if you ask her about it she’ll deny everything.” he added quickly.

“Did Mai at least try to assess the damage?”

“Yeah, she said it’s very pervasive but likely temporary. She says I’m missing big chunks of basic information. For example, I have no memory of this apartment.”

Harry was silent for a minute as he stared into Draco’s eyes. It was like being burned with a bright emerald flame, but his expression was worried and caring. That’s much scarier than anger.

“Do you… do you remember much about our life at all?”

Draco gulped at “our life” and shook his head. It didn’t looking like Harry was just visiting. Harry’s gaze was flickering between Draco’s eyes like he was searching for something.

Low and quiet he asked, “And… us? Do you remember? Us?”

“N-” Draco was about to say “no” but something in Harry’s expression changed his mind. Instead he said, “not really.”

“How much have you lost? Do you remember the Jumper Incident? That time in Wales?” As Draco shook his head Harry’s look of contained panic intensified and his words came slower, “Our first date? Or when I kissed you? Th- The wedding?”

“ARE WE MARRIED?”

Harry stared, leaning towards Draco, those green orbs searching again. “Draco,” He said with forced calm, “When you called me ‘Potter’ earlier… ?”

“Yes. That’s all I’ve ever called you.”

“To be fair, you never move on from ‘Harry,’ so. Not that far to go.” Harry said weakly. There was a long pause as Harry watched their hands. Now that Draco was looking, Harry wore a silver band on his hand. Draco’s own hand still bore a ring as well, but it was not his old ring, which had borne the Malfoy crest. It was a sleek silver band that matched Harry’s.

“Harry Potter.” Draco said to their kitchen table, “I married Harry Potter. That’s-- “

“Ridiculous?” Harry suggested, and when Draco looked up at him, he smiled.

“Listen, Draco,” He said, “I- we- you- you, and me- well.” His eyes fell to the tabletop and his cheeks flushed red and when he spoke again his words were a muffled, mangled mess, “I- I, er, I love you, and, um, that isn’t dependant on, er. The memories and, yes.” He took a deep breath and met Draco’s eyes, a spark in his own that Draco had never been able to identify if it was passion or madness.

Suddenly, Harry’s voice become strong and his words sure, “Our past doesn’t define us, Draco. It never has. You have to know that I believe that, you believe that, or we wouldn’t be here.” They were so close together now that Draco felt like he was drowning in those firey green depths. Harry’s breath fanned across his face his hand had reclaimed Draco’s.

Right then Pip arrived with food. They broke apart to thank her and accept breakfast, and the tension in the room dissipated slightly.

“Is it always that hard for you to say? I mean, we got married didn’t we?” Draco said, flinging his hand through the air so that his wedding band caught the light.

“What?”

“Is it always that hard for you to admit how loveable I am, or is it because I have no memory of any of this?”

“HA. Is that a joke?” Draco looked over at Harry to see him grinning, “It’s twice as hard for you and we were together for a year before you could say it at all. At least, not without punctuating it with insults.”

Draco looked away, biting the inside of his lips. That’s pathetic. Why would I marry someone as awful as Harry Potter if I wasn’t horrifically in love with the clot? How could I be afraid to say it if we’ve been married? And I trust him with my nightmares and things?

“Draco,” Harry’s voice had gotten weirdly soft. Draco looked up to see him blinking back at him, stupid, wild hair caught in his glasses. “It’s not always easy for us. Hermione says it’s because neither of us were ‘raised that way.’”

“My parents--”

“Yeah, they love each other, and you. But they’re not big on words, are they? If I remember, your mum thinks sentiment is ‘very middle class.’” Draco smiled at that, and Harry smiled back. He continued, “We do say stuff sometimes, because it matters. And we’re better than we used to be. Better with nice things, better with the difficult stuff, better at talking. We’re growing up, Draco. Together.” As he said this, Harry raised their joined hands like he had in earlier in bed, pressing the back of Draco’s hand to his lips, eyes still fixed on Draco’s.

“That’s disgusting. You’re a total sap, you know that?” Draco said. Harry grinned at him.

They spent the rest of the morning as ‘normally’ as they could. At any rate, Harry claimed it was normal. Apparently, Draco now does the crossword while Harry peeks over his shoulder and occasionally ‘helps’. How revoltingly domestic. Then there is a program on the muggle television they sit down to watch. Harry pulled Draco into his lap without a second’s thought.

Draco had to fight the urge to pull his wand on Harry, and settled for shrinking away from him. Harry tried not to look hurt, but just ended up looking like a poorly groomed puppy that’d just received a sharp kick. Draco did not feel sorry for it.

The injured puppy eyes lasted for the entire program. Harry periodically threw Draco sad little glances out of the corner of his eye, his bottom lip jutting out. Draco just smirked and rolled his eyes in response. Git .

They went for a walk after that so that Draco could see the neighborhood. Harry gave Draco more of the sad, blinking eyes when they first left the house, as Draco refused to hold his hand, but his foul mood didn’t last too long, as he soon got swept up in reintroducing Draco to all his favorite places and telling him little details about their life together.

In the center of a little park near their apartment was a large wooden bench, Harry informed Draco it was ‘their spot.’ As they sat Draco’s eyes fell on an old bronze statue of a large man with a heavy jaw and deep-set eyes. His teeth were bared in an ugly grin and held a garden hoe like a weapon. Something about the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head made him look cruel.

“What is that?” Draco drawled, eyes roaming over the unattractive statue, “He looks like he’s half Spriggan. Even trolls would find that hideous.”

Harry laughed, “You come up with a new one every time we come here. Sometimes we just sit here and compete, see who come up with the most inane insults. I usually win, as you can imagine.”

“ Right. ” Draco said.

“Yep. Today, I think his face looks even more like the backend of a shovel than it usual.”

“It’s the lighting,” Draco said, “It does wonders. You should see what it’s doing for your features.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

And Harry kissed him. Just like that. With no warning, no reason, nothing. He just flashed that wild, unpredictable smile before burying his fingers in Draco’s shirt and slotting their lips together.

Honestly, Draco could have put up more of a fight. Or attempted to put up one at all. Or done anything, really, other than sigh and tangle his own fingers in that sodding mess of a kneazle’s nest Harry called hair. My Harry will never know , Draco thought disjointedly as he turned his head to deepen the kiss, and Other Draco’s Harry is in no position to judge. Draco had a split second to worry about the phrase “my Harry” before a pair of hands slipped under the hem of Draco’s shirt and Harry made a little noise in the back of his throat that drove every thought straight out of Draco’s head.

They made it back to the apartment sometime between noon and suppertime. Harry had this dopey grin on his stupid, beautiful face the entire way back, because Draco was grudgingly holding his hand. When they reached their own door, Draco turned to Harry, expecting him to open it.

Instead, Harry crowded Draco up against the closed door, pressing his hands against the wood on either side of Draco’s head.

Draco raised an eyebrow in an expression he knew had aggravated Harry since they were 11, “That supposed to impress me, Potter?”

Harry chuckled and leaned in to whisper in Draco’s ear. Draco tried to remember to breathe. He could feel Harry’s hot breath on his ear and neck and sense the heat from his body, their chests were mere inches apart then Harry murmured, “Doesn’t this feel easier than it should? I like to believe that’s because it’s was right.” He paused for a moment, nuzzling at the base of Draco’s throat.

“You said that before, you know.” He continued, just as softly, “Last time. The first time. When you called the statue a changeling and held my hand when we walk from that bench. And we did exactly this. You asked if you were supposed to be impressed. I didn’t say last time, but,” Harry trailed his lips up Draco’s neck and pressed a kiss just behind his ear, “yes. Yes, you were meant to be impressed.” Draco felt Harry smile against his skin and shivered in response.

“Harry-” Draco took one of the hands he had unwittingly put on Harry’s waist and placed it over his chest, pushing him away.

Harry’s smile just deepened, he bit his lip as though to contain it, “this is when you said goodnight.”

“Did I?” Draco asked, feeling a little dizzy.

“Well, I think you said ‘get lost,’ but the message was the same.” Harry stepped back a little and withdrew his keys, letting them into the apartment, “Only if you tell me to get lost this time it would be a bit inconvenient given that I live here.”

A few minutes later and they were seated at the table with Pip bringing them sandwiches and drinks. Draco started to feel a heaviness in his limbs and a light tugging sensation in his middle, almost like the instant just before being swept away by a portkey. I have to go .

This was what Sir Blythe meant when he said he felt “unable to remain.” I have to go, but I’m not sure I want to.

“Harry, I think I’m going to fall asleep very soon. I think when I wake up I’ll have my memories back.’

Harry sat up straighter, eyes fixing on Draco from behind his glasses.

“Before I go, could I ask you something? Well, three things.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“The war- which side did I chose?”

Harry paused a moment, looking intently at Draco. Then he sighed, “When I said our past has never defined us, I meant it... You chose your family and they chose Voldemort. But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve chosen to save and to heal others everyday since then. We were just kids.”

Draco was surprised to feel himself give a sigh of relief. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t the defining choice. He realized.

“Alright.” He said aloud, “and my parents. I assume they know about… this?” He gestured around at the apartment.

“What, about us?” Harry asked. Draco nodded.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “they know. They weren’t thrilled but” He shrugged, “they’re your parents and they almost lost you in the war. They weren’t going to kick up a fuss so big they might lose you to me.” He smiled.

“What about… in general?” Draco said. “For a bloke, you’re fairly advantageous in the current climate,” Harry huffed at that, “but how did they take the whole…” Draco paused. He’d never said the word out loud. “How did they handle the whole ‘gay’ thing?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You were so worried about it,” he sounded fond even as he tried to look annoyed, “When you told Narcissa she said she was proud of you. When you told Lucius he said, ‘Ah, Draco, I see… Potter, then?’”

Draco colored, “He did not!”

“I swear. It took you like a year to tell me he said that.”

Draco took a few breaths. “So,” he said, “They’re still… in contact with me? With us?”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, “just a bit more than either of us would like, actually. We eat with time at least three times a month. You complain about it all the time.”

They were silent for a few minutes, Draco thinking and Harry quietly watching him.

Suddenly, Harry spoke, “What’s the third thing?”

“What?”

“The third thing you were going to ask me.”

“Nothing, Potter, forget it.”

“You don’t remember this, but you only call me Potter when you’re trying to distract me.”

Draco smirked, “I bet is generally works.”

Harry gave him a smirk in return, “Not this time. What’s the third thing?”

Draco felt his face warm slightly. “It’s just- I have to sleep soon. I can feel it’s time. I just wondered… wouldyoumindtogotobedwithmeIdon’twanttoalone?”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

Harry’s face split in a grin, “I heard you, I’m coming.”

They walked up the stairs to their room. Draco didn’t know why he wanted Harry there. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared, he knew they hadn’t made the potion right and he didn’t want to be alone.

In case something goes wrong.

About halfway up the stairs Harry took his hand, and Draco let him without even faking a grimace.

They lay down on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Harry had not let go of Draco’s hand, but had insisted they lay in the very center of the bed. “So I don’t roll off.”

“If you looked before you rolled it wouldn’t matter.”

Harry gasped, “How dare you? I am a Gryffindor !” He said with mock outrage.

Despite his best efforts (so, maybe not his best ) Draco somehow inexplicably wound up on his side, with Harry James Potter’s face pressed against his shoulder, and his arm draped over Draco, still holding his hand. He was embarrassingly reluctant to leave, but he knew he had to.

Even if the tug to sleep, to return to his own world, were not growing stronger by the second, he knew that there was another Draco here, one that needed to come home to his Harry. One that this Harry needed to have back.

Draco closed his eyes knowing that no matter what happened when he got home, there would be a universe somewhere, somewhen, in which the startling, intense, much more patient man that Harry had grown up to be was happy with a freer, kinder Draco.

###

Draco woke up in his own bed, in his own flat, feeling extremely knackered. He was relieved that he had survived, that his heart hadn’t quit or his lungs collapsed, but he was also very irritated by how his whole body was tired and achy.

When he checked the clock it showed that he’d only been gone for seven-or-so hours, which made sense. He immediately fell back asleep.

When he woke up for the second time to his empty room in his empty flat, he was less relieved.

He spent the next few weeks putting off what he knew he had to at least try to do. Eventually, he got a day off and no longer had any excuse other than cowardice.

He stood outside the door to the auror department. He took a number of fortifying breaths, then pulling himself up straight and tall like any Malfoy, he strode in as though he owned the place, despite being only too aware of how far that was from true.

He ran into Weasley first, almost literally. “Ah, Weasley.” Draco said as Ronald gaped at him, “If you could point me in the direction of Potter’s current location?”

When did I get so posh? I sound like a ponce. The sight of Weasley must be making me regress.

Weasley said nothing, he just pointed silently.

-One Month Later-

“So I ran across a park when I was tracking this old wizard dealing in cursed memorabilia from the war.” Harry said casually, “There’s a statue right in the middle that I think you’ll like. If you want I could show it to you… ?”

#drarry #harry/draco #Draco Malfoy #potions #au #harry potter #hp #i suck at tagging things #alternate reality

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