Gravity [Part 7] (Harry/Draco; PG [this part])
Title: Gravity [Part 7]
Author: _melodic_
Prompt used:
Word Count: ~680
Rating: PG (this part, R overall [so far])
Warning: Silly amounts of UST (sorry readers, it will get resolved… eventually)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Harry runs into Draco.
Author's Notes: This is part 7 of a continuous story with 25 parts. Catch up with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6.
Thank you so much to kerrilee75 for the beta!
A few flurries fall from the sky, twirling in the gentle breeze before landing softly on the cobbled ground. Harry blinks away a few flakes that land on his lashes and continues strolling through Diagon Alley. The streets are festive as the holidays draw closer; shops are brimming with decorations, red and green ornaments hanging from the windows.
He’s so distracted by the intricate, sparkling floating snitch display at Quality Quidditch Supplies that he runs right into a warm, solid body.
“Excuse me,” Harry stutters embarrassedly, straightening himself up. “Sorry about that.”
“Potter?” Malfoy’s lips curl into a smirk. “Clumsy as ever I see.”
“Malfoy,” Harry exhales. “Hi.”
“Hello yourself.” Malfoy’s warm smile chases away the winter chill in a heartbeat.
“Where’re you headed?”
“Back to my flat. It was slow at the shop today so I got sent home early.”
“Oh.” Harry slowly digests the information. “Your flat? You don’t live at the Manor anymore?”
“No.” Malfoy’s voice is cold and his eyes turn hard. “I haven’t lived there since after the War. It’s not exactly a pleasant place to be.”
“No, I’d imagine it isn’t.” Harry starkly recalls his own experience there, trapped in the dungeons as Hermione was tortured. He pushes down the bitterness rising in his throat. “Where do you live now?”
“Just a couple streets away.” Malfoy gestures down the road. “I found a suitable flat above The Hopping Pot.”
“Oh.” Harry fidgets nervously with his scarf. “I could walk you home if you like.”
“Such a gentleman,” Malfoy teases, but he nods his head in assent and begins walking down the street.
“So…” Harry trails off, suddenly feeling awkward and unable to start a conversation.
“Yes?”
“Uh, have you seen any friends since you’ve come back?”
“A few.” Malfoy blows into his hands and shoves them into his pockets. “Pansy’s living in Paris right now, so I stayed with her a bit when I was there and Blaise had me over for some drinks the other week.”
“How was that?” Harry tries but fails to not be mesmerised by the way Malfoy’s nose turns pink from the cold.
“Really nostalgic, actually. We played chess, drank butterbeer and reminisced about our time at Hogwarts.”
“Butterbeer, huh?” Harry chuckles softly. “So adolescent.”
“Hey,” Malfoy protests. “I recall you being rather fond of it just a couple years ago.” Harry attempts to laugh in reply but the sound gets caught in his throat. Memories of the last time they drank a few butterbeers together rush in and leave him breathless. Malfoy is looking rather serious himself. “Do you remember-”
“Yes,” Harry rushes out. He swallows roughly. “I do.”
“That was an interesting night.” Malfoy smiles, his expression fond and faraway. “It was the first time I ever kissed a bloke.”
“Me too,” Harry admits.
“We were really drunk,” Malfoy says firmly, though more to himself than Harry.
“I wasn’t that drunk,” Harry blurts out.
“Oh.” Malfoy’s face flushes bright pink, his lips curving into a small smile.
They walk in silence for the next few minutes, the air heavy and crackling with tension.
“This is my place.” Malfoy stops in front of a bright red door, vibrant against the faded bricks.
Harry can’t stop staring at Malfoy’s lips. They’re wet and shiny where Malfoy’s tongue just darted out to lick them, full and pink just as Harry remembered. Malfoy’s eyes lock with his-soft and searching-causing Harry’s breath to quicken. They’re standing so close, all Harry would need to do is lean in and they’d be kissing. Just move an inch forward and he could feel that pliable mouth against his. Want and fear dance inside Harry’s chest and with a heavy sigh he takes a step back.
“I better get going.”
“Right.” Malfoy nods his head in agreement though Harry’s certain he sees a flash of disappointment in those grey eyes. “Thanks for walking me home. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”
Harry watches, chest constricted with longing, as Malfoy smiles once more before stepping inside and closing the door.
~*~*~
Continue with Part 8
Author: _melodic_
Prompt used:
Word Count: ~680
Rating: PG (this part, R overall [so far])
Warning: Silly amounts of UST (sorry readers, it will get resolved… eventually)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Harry runs into Draco.
Author's Notes: This is part 7 of a continuous story with 25 parts. Catch up with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6.
Thank you so much to kerrilee75 for the beta!
A few flurries fall from the sky, twirling in the gentle breeze before landing softly on the cobbled ground. Harry blinks away a few flakes that land on his lashes and continues strolling through Diagon Alley. The streets are festive as the holidays draw closer; shops are brimming with decorations, red and green ornaments hanging from the windows.
He’s so distracted by the intricate, sparkling floating snitch display at Quality Quidditch Supplies that he runs right into a warm, solid body.
“Excuse me,” Harry stutters embarrassedly, straightening himself up. “Sorry about that.”
“Potter?” Malfoy’s lips curl into a smirk. “Clumsy as ever I see.”
“Malfoy,” Harry exhales. “Hi.”
“Hello yourself.” Malfoy’s warm smile chases away the winter chill in a heartbeat.
“Where’re you headed?”
“Back to my flat. It was slow at the shop today so I got sent home early.”
“Oh.” Harry slowly digests the information. “Your flat? You don’t live at the Manor anymore?”
“No.” Malfoy’s voice is cold and his eyes turn hard. “I haven’t lived there since after the War. It’s not exactly a pleasant place to be.”
“No, I’d imagine it isn’t.” Harry starkly recalls his own experience there, trapped in the dungeons as Hermione was tortured. He pushes down the bitterness rising in his throat. “Where do you live now?”
“Just a couple streets away.” Malfoy gestures down the road. “I found a suitable flat above The Hopping Pot.”
“Oh.” Harry fidgets nervously with his scarf. “I could walk you home if you like.”
“Such a gentleman,” Malfoy teases, but he nods his head in assent and begins walking down the street.
“So…” Harry trails off, suddenly feeling awkward and unable to start a conversation.
“Yes?”
“Uh, have you seen any friends since you’ve come back?”
“A few.” Malfoy blows into his hands and shoves them into his pockets. “Pansy’s living in Paris right now, so I stayed with her a bit when I was there and Blaise had me over for some drinks the other week.”
“How was that?” Harry tries but fails to not be mesmerised by the way Malfoy’s nose turns pink from the cold.
“Really nostalgic, actually. We played chess, drank butterbeer and reminisced about our time at Hogwarts.”
“Butterbeer, huh?” Harry chuckles softly. “So adolescent.”
“Hey,” Malfoy protests. “I recall you being rather fond of it just a couple years ago.” Harry attempts to laugh in reply but the sound gets caught in his throat. Memories of the last time they drank a few butterbeers together rush in and leave him breathless. Malfoy is looking rather serious himself. “Do you remember-”
“Yes,” Harry rushes out. He swallows roughly. “I do.”
“That was an interesting night.” Malfoy smiles, his expression fond and faraway. “It was the first time I ever kissed a bloke.”
“Me too,” Harry admits.
“We were really drunk,” Malfoy says firmly, though more to himself than Harry.
“I wasn’t that drunk,” Harry blurts out.
“Oh.” Malfoy’s face flushes bright pink, his lips curving into a small smile.
They walk in silence for the next few minutes, the air heavy and crackling with tension.
“This is my place.” Malfoy stops in front of a bright red door, vibrant against the faded bricks.
Harry can’t stop staring at Malfoy’s lips. They’re wet and shiny where Malfoy’s tongue just darted out to lick them, full and pink just as Harry remembered. Malfoy’s eyes lock with his-soft and searching-causing Harry’s breath to quicken. They’re standing so close, all Harry would need to do is lean in and they’d be kissing. Just move an inch forward and he could feel that pliable mouth against his. Want and fear dance inside Harry’s chest and with a heavy sigh he takes a step back.
“I better get going.”
“Right.” Malfoy nods his head in agreement though Harry’s certain he sees a flash of disappointment in those grey eyes. “Thanks for walking me home. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”
Harry watches, chest constricted with longing, as Malfoy smiles once more before stepping inside and closing the door.
~*~*~
Continue with Part 8