Fic for Glompfest!
Title: I Fear What I've Done (Means I've Lost What I Loved)
Author/Artist: expectoyerface
Recipient: susan5124
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,042
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: It's been three years, and Harry, George, and Draco drink beer and scotch at a muggle bar.
Warning(s): angsty angst. Happy ending!
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: So this is my very first fic in the HD fandom and I'm quite sure this is the longest fic I've written. It kind of took off a style of it's own, but please let me know what you think. And susan5124 , I hope you like it!
Harry sat in the back corner of a bar, hiding from everyone besides the person across from him. He sipped slowly at beer while the familiar red head across from him started on his fourth scotch.
“George.” His voice cracked; it was the first time either one of them had spoken all night. “You’re not going to make it home at this rate.”
George grinned stupidly, though the jovial sparkle in his eyes Harry had come to expect hadn’t been seen in three years. “I suppose you’re right, Harry. I don’t have Ron to open up the shop for me anymore.” Last year, Ron had started his training to become an Auror while Ginny stood in wait for Harry to do the same. He looked down, feeling sick and they were silent again.
They did this twice a month, every other week. Harry and George would come to this run-down muggle bar that no wizard either of them had ever met would show up at and sat in the corner, silent. Harry didn’t feel comfortable drinking heavily in front of other people, save Ron on special occasions, so he normally just sat with one beer or wine while George got plastered. They never laughed or reminisced. He’s not so sure what goes though George’s mind during these nights, but Harry just thinks. Some nights, he was thankful.
The first few months following the war, Harry avoided George. He was busy, like everyone else, and yes, he did what he could, he knew this. But being around George, he could feel how much Fred’s death was weighing on his heart, destroying him. He was ashamed to even look George in the face.
Everyone else was moving on. Bill had his scars, but kept smiling. Harry was trying to forget, but then he’d see the hole on the side of George’s head and felt the nauseous guilt, the shame.
“I don’t understand why you don’t want to come to dinner with my family. Do you have some sort of problem? My mother loves you, we all love you.”
“I know.”
“You went last night.”
“I know. I just can’t. I’m so sorry.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t move on, and he had stopped visiting Teddy. He was too busy.
He liked the busy. It made things easier. The first year after the war, there was so much to do. The clean-up, the memorials, the rebuild, and the high of finally knowing it was all over. It was alright, and of course he felt the guilt over the lives he couldn’t save. But that would pass, this was normal.
The following year, he was less busy. Ron had decided to become an Auror, something they were both talking about. But for some reason, Harry couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yes, he loved helping people, he loved fighting dark arts.
But he couldn’t handle another war. He couldn’t handle losing another friend.
He was scared.
Ron just nodded and didn’t push the subject, while Hermione and Ginny were both at his throat.
“Harry, I think you’re depressed. Are you okay?”
“Harry, I don’t understand why you won’t become an Auror. You’d become the best.”
“Harry, you’re not yourself.”
And then his other friends began to assume there was something wrong.
“Mate, there’s no reason to feel bad. You did it. It’s over. You can live now.”
I’m trying.
“Talk to us. We’re here for you.”
I have. You just shook your head.
“I don’t understand.”
I really am selfish. I can’t even be completely happy.
And soon he wasn’t doing anything. Ron was there, thank god he was there. But Ron had Hermione. They loved and helped each other. And Harry had Ginny.
He never realized how cold she could be. She loved him, but she wanted him to become the all-star wizard everyone was expecting.
He couldn’t do that.
“Harry, I tried. I really did. I just can’t anymore. I love you, but I’m sorry.”
The only person who seemed to not push him to forget was George. He didn’t judge Harry for not being able to forget so easily. He had lost his best friend, his brother, after all, and couldn’t ‘go back to normal’ like everyone else tried so hard to do.
And this is where they began to have drinks. Harry needed someone to not talk at him, and there he was.
The following week, however, George had cancelled their drinks.
“Hey, Harry, I can’t make it this week. I’ve, ah, I’ve got a date.”
Harry sat in silence for a moment.
“Oh, really? With who?”
“Angelina Johnson? Yeah, she stopped by the shop today, out of the blue. Didn’t even buy anything, and we just started talking.” He nodded.
“That’s great.”
“I think I have a chance, Harry. I really do. I can feel it. You’ll get there, too.”
Harry swallowed dryly, and he was alone.
---
It gave him an excuse to finally not watch his drinks. There was something about loosing his control around people he knew that he just didn’t like. But if he was alone at the bar then he saw no reason to hold back from ordering a scotch. Or two.
After his third he noticed someone staring at him from across the bar. He squinted, trying to see who the blonde was. Harry shook his head, he hadn’t seen hair that blonde in three years.
It was after that conclusion that he stood up and started making his way over.
What is he up to? Why is he here?
Something must be going on.
Malfoy was looking down, away from him. Harry sat down across from him, feeling much more outgoing with three drinks in his stomach. Malfoy looked up with a disgusted look on his face.
“Have a problem, Potty?”
“What are you doing in a muggle bar, Malfoy?”
“Getting a drink. Is that not allowed? Fuck off.”
“Why were you staring at me?”
Malfoy grimaced. “Still so self-absorbed, Potter? You’re pathetic. Sitting all by yourself in a run-down bar, moping over your fame and victory and you have to come bother me. Did I not tell you to fuck off?”
Harry balled his hands into fists. Of course Malfoy would be as insufferable as always. “So you have been watching me.”
“This is the only bar I can get a drink served to me, so perhaps I have seen you and the Weasley on your dates. He ditched you tonight, but I have to confess something.” Draco grinned and leaned over. Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You might be able to handle a Weasley, but you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
What?
“So why don’t you run along, Potter. Leave me to wallow in my own, real problems.” Harry started to feel himself shake. Malfoy must have followed him here, only to mock him and make his life an even greater living hell. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he was this angry.
“What, the Malfoy name not getting the same fear it once had? The war’s over.”
Draco stood up, grabbing tightly onto the end of the table to keep his balance. “I know that, but it looks like you’re still living in it.” Draco walked away and Harry opened his mouth to retort, but no words came. Of course, he had Disapparated by the time Harry had ran outside.
He decided that if he ever saw Malfoy again, he was just going to punch him in the face before figuring out what was going on.
---
The next time Harry went to the bar, George was there, smiling.
“I’m so scared,” he whispered softly.
Harry nodded, not knowing how to respond. Embarrassed, he looked across the bar and George went back to his drink.
Malfoy was sitting at the same table from before, staring back at him.
He was distracted for the rest of the night, mulling over the possible schemes Malfoy was up to.
The next week Harry went to the bar without George and waited to see if Malfoy showed up. Instead of sitting in his usual spot, he sat in Malfoy’s and around eleven he was confronted with a very angry wizard.
“Get out of my seat.”
“This isn’t your seat. I can sit wherever I want.”
Malfoy hissed and reminded Harry of an angry house cat. “Why can’t you leave me alone, Potter?”
Oh, now he was just being contradictory. “Why don’t you leave me alone, Malfoy? I saw you last week.”
“Not my fault you can’t stop staring at me. Really, Potter, I find your attraction to me a bit strange.”
Harry felt his face turn red with rage and slammed his hands on the table. “You were the one staring at me!”
“Right.” Malfoy sat down across from him. “Well, this is my corner to brood in, so why don’t you just leave.” Harry didn’t understand how his tone can go from teasing to pure hatred so quickly.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re doing.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing anything, Potter.”
Harry shrugged and finished his drink. He wouldn’t back down. No, he would win this.
But Malfoy was stubborn, and ordered enough drinks to last him the night.
“What are you doing here, Potter? Don’t you have something else to waste your time on, or is your life really that pathetic now?”
“Trying to figure out what you’re doing here.”
Malfoy stared at Harry, looking dumbfounded. “You’re sick.” And he chugged his first drink so quickly that Harry watched as drop fall from his lip and down his chin before he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. Harry found it strange that Malfoy would ever let himself become so disheveled. “Look at the hero you turned out to be. You saved us all and now hide in muggle bars, talking to death eater scum to try and make yourself feel better.”
Harry looked up, feeling a confusing pang of guilt. “That’s not--”
“Don’t fuck with me, Potter. That’s exactly what you’re doing. You hate your life so goddamn much that you have to mess around with the only person you can think of that’s lower than you. Everyone might put you on this pedestal, but I know you’re fucked. You always have been. Yes Potter, my side of the war lost, but do you have any idea...” He stopped mid-sentence, backing out of whatever it was he was about to say. “You’re pathetic. I didn’t start with you, you just came over here as a distraction, to see me and remind yourself maybe your life isn’t so bad. Not that I get why you’re so fucking depressed, since you have it all. You don’t have to live with the guilt.” Malfoy stood, and left, again.
Malfoy was right, about some things. And surprisingly, Harry felt bad.
---
Harry went to the bar the next day, and the day after that, hoping that he would see Malfoy again. He had to apologize, even if the little ferret was being a jackass, he had a point.
The fourth day, he got lucky, and saw Malfoy as soon as he walked in. He ordered two drinks before he sat down across from him, putting a drink in front of each of them.
Malfoy was glaring daggers. “Excuse me?”
“I wanted to apologize, though you’re still a jackass, and you’re wrong about some things. Still, I suppose I might have been in the wrong myself.” Malfoy stared at him, silent and completely unreadable. “Though I know you’ve been observing me at the bar and I’m not making that up.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re such a Gryffindor, it makes me nauseous.”
“I don’t get you, Malfoy.”
“I hate you, Potter.”
And Harry and Draco sat across from each other, and Harry didn’t care what Malfoy thought of him and was alright with ordering more than one drink. He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to be around Malfoy, but he made Harry feel something. Wether it was hatred or disgust or shame, he was feeling something. And Malfoy wasn’t a quiet drunk, so for once he was talking.
He hadn’t talked in a while.
“So, you’re hiding from the press? All your fans are so devastated.”
“The press is bullshit.”
“Don’t deny that you love it.”
Harry felt like smashing his drink into Malfoy’s face. “I really don’t. I hate it, I hate every second of it.”
Malfoy shrugged. “You don’t know how to live life.”
“And you do? Sitting in a bar every night getting drunk?”
“Excuse me, Sir Pot, I believe you’re calling me black.” And Harry smirked.
That night he crawled into his bed, the world spinning around him. He was drunk out of his mind, but he smiled. He was alright.
And a few days later, they did it again. And again after that.
“So, what happened with you and the Weaslette?”
Harry flinched at this one, using his drink as an excuse not to answer.
“None of your business, Malfoy.”
“So you started dating one of her brothers?”
Harry turned a bright red, disgusted. “Did you really think George and I were dating? I’m not gay, Malfoy! He’s a good friend.”
Malfoy shrugged. “I did think your dates were awfully depressing. So no love good enough for the great Chosen One?” He glared.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But you are the Chosen One.”
“I swear to Merlin, Malfoy. I’m going to hit you so hard one of these days.” Malfoy smirked. “But what about you? Still with Pansy?”
This was the first time Harry had ever heard Malfoy laugh. And that’s a real laugh, not one of those bitter, cruel laughs.
“God no. She caught me in bed with her cousin after I told her I wasn’t interested in sex.” He always got this lighthearted tone when he was drunk, and Harry could do nothing but listen. “Being the cruel, petty child that she is, she ran and told my father. And here I am, nearly every night.”
“He was angry?”
“Potter, I know you never had a daddy, but no father likes to find out that their son is gay. Especially when it’s my duty to carry on the family name.”
That night Harry woke in a cold sweat, his body on fire. He groaned softly, his dream still flashing in his mind.
His mouth and body far too close, the husky tone in his voice.
“You might be able to handle a Weasley, but you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
Must be from drinking too much. He should stop.
---
He had been going to the bar at least twice a week, and forgot about his night with George.
So needless to say, he was surprised when Hermione showed up during their usual game of twenty questions.
“So, you’re...you’re telling me, you didn’t put your name in the Goblet?” This was one of the nights were Malfoy got truly smashed.
“That’s right.”
“No. No way.” Malfoy slid down the booth so he was right next to Harry.
“Snape did it.”
“What?! You’re a liar. ” Malfoy laughed, and Harry found it contagious.
“Harry?” Harry looked up to see his best friend, standing there confused. She looked like she was about to cry.
“Oh, oh hey Hermione. You okay?” He suddenly felt Malfoy move closer, their legs pressing against one another.
Draco sneered. “Remember when she had buck-teeth? Oh god, she was ugly.” Harry pushed Malfoy as hard as he could, sending him tumbling off the booth.
“Remember when she punched you in the face? Because I do.”
“Fuck you, Potty,” he slurred, crawling back onto the booth, again sitting much to close to him.
Hermione was wide-eyed. “I just...George said he hadn’t seen you in a while, and Ron said you were never home when he stopped by. We...we’re getting worried.”
“It’s not like your his mommy, Granger.” Harry could feel the heat from his body, and he must have drank more than he thought because he was having trouble thinking straight.
“Malfoy, if you don’t shut your mouth I’m not buying you another drink.”
“Fine, fine, deal with your own pathetic problems.” Harry stood up to get away from him, and felt cold.
“Hey, no, I’ve been here mostly. I can’t believe George and I haven’t run into each other.”
“Yeah...Harry, are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah. I mean, I’m fine. I know what this looks like, but I don’t know. We just talk and make fun of each other and sometimes I hit him, but he doesn’t usually fight back.” Hermione was silent.
Harry shook his head. That hadn’t really come out right. “The war’s over, and I’m not doing anything that he can use against me. It’s okay, really.”
“I...I don’t really know what to make of this, but don’t forget your real friends, Harry.”
“I’m not!” Harry hadn’t realized how much time he was spending with Malfoy. He just couldn’t take the looks of pity he got from Ron and Hermione. “Look, how about we do dinner tomorrow?”
---
Harry was actually looking forward to dinner. He dressed nicely, and came in with a smiling face. He hugged Hermione and Ron, dinner was great, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much with his best friends.
He had missed them.
“Hey, can I come to Saturday dinner with your family, Ron?” He asked at the end of the night. Ron looked shocked for some reason.
“Yeah, mate, of course. You don’t have to ask.” He waved and started to leave but Hermione hugged him tightly, tears in her eyes.
When he got back to his flat he sat down, staring at the mirror.
He smiled.
---
“Potty, I’m so drunk.” Malfoy was leaning against Harry, breathing against his neck. “And you’re so warm.”
“Get the fuck off of me. I think you have a drinking problem.”
“No. No. You. You have a warm problem.” Malfoy’s hand was on his leg and Harry was quite sure he didn’t want it there.
“You need to go home.”
“I can’t Apparate in this condition! I’ll cut off my fingers, or something. I like my fingers.” Draco grinned and looked at Harry. “I can do great things with my fingers.” Since it was dark, Harry didn’t have to admit to the dark blush that crept up his neck.
“Alright, I’m bringing you back to my place.” He dragged Draco outside so they could Disapparate to his flat. “You can sleep on the couch.” Harry pushed him down onto the couch and before he could open the door to his room, Draco whined.
“I don’t want to sleep on the couch! I’m a Malfoy, Potter! Malfoy’s don’t sleep on couches!”
“Don’t care,” he called back and went into his room and closed the door.
“Potter, I swear to Merlin that I will break everything out here if you don’t let me in there. I am a guest, and you will sleep on the couch!”
Harry ignored him, and heard a picture frame smash.
“I hope you know my drunken magic is superb.” He laid down in his bed, knowing Malfoy would pass out eventually. He whispered, ‘nox’ and closed his eyes.
Though he wasn’t asleep when Malfoy tried to creep into the room. No one would have been able to sleep through that racket. Harry felt the bed dip behind him and he pretended to not notice.
“Potty?” He continued to feign sleep. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
Harry woke up once in the night, feeling Malfoy’s body pressed right against his, their legs intertwined. Though he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not, because when he woke up that morning Malfoy was gone.
---
The next time he saw George, he couldn’t believe how much he was smiling.
“Hey, Harry, take a seat! You look good!”
“Thanks, you too.”
“I’m happy, Harry. The happiest I’ve been in a long time. Man, the things love can do to a person, right?”
Harry shrugged. “Of course.”
“You know what I’m talking about. I can’t believe Angelina’s the one, but hey, you know how love can be found in strange places.” George raised an eyebrow suggestively and Harry was completely confused.
“I do?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t think Ron knows, but I support you, Harry. He might be a little git, but I know how important it is to find someone to love.”
Wait. He?
“George...I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m--”
“I saw you and Malfoy at the bar the other night. Really, you looked so content, just watching him. I mean, I was a little shocked, but I’m happy for you, really!” He laughed.
Harry paled.
“George, listen to me, I’m not with--”
“Well, Angelina’s waiting for me, so I have to go. Good luck with everyone, and don’t be afraid to tell Ron. I’ll give him a smack upside the head if he gives you two hard a time.”
Harry thought he was going to puke.
---
Instead of risking having people see them at the bar, Harry invited Malfoy over to his place to drink.
“Good thing I don’t have a problem taking advantage of you.” He grinned, and Harry snapped.
“I’m not gay! Why the fuck does everyone think I’m gay!”
“Relax, Potter. No need to get your panties in a bunch, I just meant taking advantage by the means of me drinking all your alcohol.”
“Oh. Right.” He blushed and Malfoy never took his eyes off him the entire night.
At least he was sober enough to get himself home.
---
“Yeah, he was over last night. But, Hermione, I mean, it’s weird to even call us friends! Can you talk to George for me, because I’m not really getting this whole thing.”
Hermione nodded, looking as if she knew more than what she was letting on.
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Harry.”
“I know that, but I just. I don’t like people thinking I’m something I’m not, and I really just don’t think people should be thinking that, because it’s not true!” He was starting to ramble and he was quite sure his voice was getting a bit high.
“Right. I’ll talk to him. But whatever it is you two have, it’s important, right?”
“Well, I guess. I mean, I like having him over and how I can be an asshole when I’m not in a good mood. It’s just. Different, I guess.”
“Well, whatever it is, you better tell Ron you’re friends with him soon, because Ron’s convinced you have a secret girlfriend.”
---
Malfoy was over and Harry couldn’t stop laughing.
“Potter, you’re so drunk.”
“Yeah, well you’re gay.” He snickered.
“Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Pfft, no. You’re just gay. When was the last time you kissed a man?”
“A while ago.”
“Draco.”
“Yes?”
“Nothing, I was just trying it out.” Draco seemed alright to say. “Why has it been so long?”
“I don’t know, probably because I’ve been spending most of my free time with you, Potter.”
“Do you want to kiss me?” Harry got excited. Maybe he would say yes.
But Draco didn’t answer.
“Why are you asking, Potter. Do you want to kiss me?”
“I don’t know. I’m not gay. But you have nice lips, and I haven’t kissed someone in a long, long, long, long time. So maybe it would be alright. But I’m not gay. You are.” Draco was suddenly a whole lot closer than before, and Harry was having a hard time focusing.
“So if you’re not gay, then I probably shouldn’t kiss you right now.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” For some reason Harry couldn’t breathe. Oh. Oh wait.
He grabbed onto Draco’s shoulders and pulled him closer.
Harry passed out just after Draco pulled off his shirt, and he kissed his neck before bringing Harry to his bed.
When Harry woke up and stumbled to his bathroom that morning, he looked in the mirror and rubbed his head.
His bottom lip was really swollen.
---
“HERMIONE!” Harry was out of breath and had no idea what time it was.
“What?” She hissed. “Ron’s at work.” She walked into her dining room and saw Harry, and she sighed. “Oh god, you kissed him, didn’t you.”
“Shhh, don’t say it, don’t say it out loud.” He leaned against the wall and slumped down, resting his head on his knees. He felt Hermione put her arm around him and his eyes began to water. “He wasn’t here this morning.” She just rubbed his arm. “Hermione?”
“I know.” Of course she would predict all of this.
“I think I like him.”
“It’s okay. And it’s okay to be scared.”
“But what if--”
“Harry, I can’t tell you if Draco feels the same, but I can tell you what will happen if you don’t try. You’ve been happy, Harry, and you’ve never been one to turn down a risk.” And they sat there till her arms got tired and Harry could get up.
---
Harry swallowed nervously.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” Draco shrugged.
“You asked me to come, and I did.”
Harry stood completely still before blurting out, “Do you like me?”
“I know. Okay, I know. You remind me all the time; you’re not gay. I am. I get this, and whatever. But don’t worry about it, alright? You were drunk when we kissed, it didn’t mean anything.”
Harry frowned. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out like he planned. “Do you like me?”
Draco seemed confused. “What do you mean?” Merlin, why did he have to be so difficult?
“I mean, I’ve never done this before. I don’t really know how this works, but I’m willing to try it, if you want to. And god, Malfoy, if you’re using me I swear to Merlin I will break your face in, because I don’t really understand this and--”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, what?”
“Yeah, take off your clothes. I want to try this.” Harry turned red and Draco took off his shirt and walked into Harry’s room like he was the most collected person in the world.
---
“I’ve only done this with one other person before. And that wasn’t another guy.”
“Relax, just shut up for a second.” Draco tugged off Harry’s boxers, kissing a line down his stomach. Harry was quite certain his lungs were going to burst and tried his hardest to control how much his chest went up and down. He could feel Draco running a hand up his thigh and he sat up.
“No, no, I’m not doing that.”
“What?” Draco looked offended. “Like you could take control of this. You’re like a little puppy, all confused.” Harry threw his bodyweight so that Draco was pinned beneath him.
“I’m not submitting to a Malfoy.” Draco grinned.
“You dick.” Harry kissed down his neck and sucked at his skin. He tasted so much better than Ginny. His hand grabbed at Draco’s thigh, lifting him up.
“Wait!” Harry stopped. “God, you can’t just go at it like that.” He paled. Draco grabbed his wand and whispered a spell Harry recognized from the nights he spent alone with the lights off.
He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Draco’s slick, oil covered hand wrap around him, tugging at his length. Once, twice, Harry let out a shaky moan, and once more before Draco let go. He was in a bit of daze, not realizing what Draco was doing to himself till he heard him let out a soft whine. He decided Draco was right about his fingers.
“Alright, alright,” he panted. “Now.” One of his hands grabbed Harry’s arm, while the other lay on the bed beneath them. Harry lined himself up and pushed against him.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m not going to fit.”
“Yes you will, just do it.”
“No, I’m really not. What if it hurts you?”
“Like that ever stopped you before, fuck, oh god, come on just do it--Merlin, yes.” Draco’s eyes were closed and Harry thought his were going to pop out. He was so fucking tight, he didn’t think he could breathe, let alone move.
“Move, Harry.”
“What?”
“Harry, fucking move!” So he did, and again, and it was great and Merlin, he hoped he wasn’t so bad that Draco won’t let him do this again.
In the midst of their euphoria, Harry felt Draco’s hand go up his neck, grabbing onto the side of his head and pulling him down into a peck of a kiss. They gasped against each other’s lips, and Harry came first as Draco tightened around him. He felt Draco grab onto his arm and his hair, writhing beneath him as he collapsed. Their sweat-slicked bodies stuck to each other and Draco’s knee was digging into his side but it felt perfect.
---
Harry looked over at Draco, sipping at his cup of coffee. “Will you come with me to the Weasley’s for dinner later tomorrow?”
“Are you kidding me? I’d rather eat my own arm.”
“I want to tell them that I’ve decided to become an Auror.” Draco raised an eyebrow, surprised.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I think really think I can do it. And also, I thought it would soften them up before I tell them that we’re dating.”
“Yeah, maybe you could just put it there as a side note. Perhaps whisper it while they’re congratulating you. Maybe then Ron won’t kill me.” Harry laughed and pulled his lover into a kiss.
“So, Harry, you want to know what I think?”
“Not really.” A smack to the side of his head.
“Lets go see Teddy. I’ve never met him.” Harry remembered the last time he saw his godson, and the sickening guilt. Before he couldn’t handle it.
“Yeah. Lets’s go. Right now.”
He grabbed Draco’s hand, and they left.
Author/Artist: expectoyerface
Recipient: susan5124
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,042
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: It's been three years, and Harry, George, and Draco drink beer and scotch at a muggle bar.
Warning(s): angsty angst. Happy ending!
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: So this is my very first fic in the HD fandom and I'm quite sure this is the longest fic I've written. It kind of took off a style of it's own, but please let me know what you think. And susan5124 , I hope you like it!
Harry sat in the back corner of a bar, hiding from everyone besides the person across from him. He sipped slowly at beer while the familiar red head across from him started on his fourth scotch.
“George.” His voice cracked; it was the first time either one of them had spoken all night. “You’re not going to make it home at this rate.”
George grinned stupidly, though the jovial sparkle in his eyes Harry had come to expect hadn’t been seen in three years. “I suppose you’re right, Harry. I don’t have Ron to open up the shop for me anymore.” Last year, Ron had started his training to become an Auror while Ginny stood in wait for Harry to do the same. He looked down, feeling sick and they were silent again.
They did this twice a month, every other week. Harry and George would come to this run-down muggle bar that no wizard either of them had ever met would show up at and sat in the corner, silent. Harry didn’t feel comfortable drinking heavily in front of other people, save Ron on special occasions, so he normally just sat with one beer or wine while George got plastered. They never laughed or reminisced. He’s not so sure what goes though George’s mind during these nights, but Harry just thinks. Some nights, he was thankful.
The first few months following the war, Harry avoided George. He was busy, like everyone else, and yes, he did what he could, he knew this. But being around George, he could feel how much Fred’s death was weighing on his heart, destroying him. He was ashamed to even look George in the face.
Everyone else was moving on. Bill had his scars, but kept smiling. Harry was trying to forget, but then he’d see the hole on the side of George’s head and felt the nauseous guilt, the shame.
“I don’t understand why you don’t want to come to dinner with my family. Do you have some sort of problem? My mother loves you, we all love you.”
“I know.”
“You went last night.”
“I know. I just can’t. I’m so sorry.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t move on, and he had stopped visiting Teddy. He was too busy.
He liked the busy. It made things easier. The first year after the war, there was so much to do. The clean-up, the memorials, the rebuild, and the high of finally knowing it was all over. It was alright, and of course he felt the guilt over the lives he couldn’t save. But that would pass, this was normal.
The following year, he was less busy. Ron had decided to become an Auror, something they were both talking about. But for some reason, Harry couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yes, he loved helping people, he loved fighting dark arts.
But he couldn’t handle another war. He couldn’t handle losing another friend.
He was scared.
Ron just nodded and didn’t push the subject, while Hermione and Ginny were both at his throat.
“Harry, I think you’re depressed. Are you okay?”
“Harry, I don’t understand why you won’t become an Auror. You’d become the best.”
“Harry, you’re not yourself.”
And then his other friends began to assume there was something wrong.
“Mate, there’s no reason to feel bad. You did it. It’s over. You can live now.”
I’m trying.
“Talk to us. We’re here for you.”
I have. You just shook your head.
“I don’t understand.”
I really am selfish. I can’t even be completely happy.
And soon he wasn’t doing anything. Ron was there, thank god he was there. But Ron had Hermione. They loved and helped each other. And Harry had Ginny.
He never realized how cold she could be. She loved him, but she wanted him to become the all-star wizard everyone was expecting.
He couldn’t do that.
“Harry, I tried. I really did. I just can’t anymore. I love you, but I’m sorry.”
The only person who seemed to not push him to forget was George. He didn’t judge Harry for not being able to forget so easily. He had lost his best friend, his brother, after all, and couldn’t ‘go back to normal’ like everyone else tried so hard to do.
And this is where they began to have drinks. Harry needed someone to not talk at him, and there he was.
The following week, however, George had cancelled their drinks.
“Hey, Harry, I can’t make it this week. I’ve, ah, I’ve got a date.”
Harry sat in silence for a moment.
“Oh, really? With who?”
“Angelina Johnson? Yeah, she stopped by the shop today, out of the blue. Didn’t even buy anything, and we just started talking.” He nodded.
“That’s great.”
“I think I have a chance, Harry. I really do. I can feel it. You’ll get there, too.”
Harry swallowed dryly, and he was alone.
---
It gave him an excuse to finally not watch his drinks. There was something about loosing his control around people he knew that he just didn’t like. But if he was alone at the bar then he saw no reason to hold back from ordering a scotch. Or two.
After his third he noticed someone staring at him from across the bar. He squinted, trying to see who the blonde was. Harry shook his head, he hadn’t seen hair that blonde in three years.
It was after that conclusion that he stood up and started making his way over.
What is he up to? Why is he here?
Something must be going on.
Malfoy was looking down, away from him. Harry sat down across from him, feeling much more outgoing with three drinks in his stomach. Malfoy looked up with a disgusted look on his face.
“Have a problem, Potty?”
“What are you doing in a muggle bar, Malfoy?”
“Getting a drink. Is that not allowed? Fuck off.”
“Why were you staring at me?”
Malfoy grimaced. “Still so self-absorbed, Potter? You’re pathetic. Sitting all by yourself in a run-down bar, moping over your fame and victory and you have to come bother me. Did I not tell you to fuck off?”
Harry balled his hands into fists. Of course Malfoy would be as insufferable as always. “So you have been watching me.”
“This is the only bar I can get a drink served to me, so perhaps I have seen you and the Weasley on your dates. He ditched you tonight, but I have to confess something.” Draco grinned and leaned over. Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You might be able to handle a Weasley, but you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
What?
“So why don’t you run along, Potter. Leave me to wallow in my own, real problems.” Harry started to feel himself shake. Malfoy must have followed him here, only to mock him and make his life an even greater living hell. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he was this angry.
“What, the Malfoy name not getting the same fear it once had? The war’s over.”
Draco stood up, grabbing tightly onto the end of the table to keep his balance. “I know that, but it looks like you’re still living in it.” Draco walked away and Harry opened his mouth to retort, but no words came. Of course, he had Disapparated by the time Harry had ran outside.
He decided that if he ever saw Malfoy again, he was just going to punch him in the face before figuring out what was going on.
---
The next time Harry went to the bar, George was there, smiling.
“I’m so scared,” he whispered softly.
Harry nodded, not knowing how to respond. Embarrassed, he looked across the bar and George went back to his drink.
Malfoy was sitting at the same table from before, staring back at him.
He was distracted for the rest of the night, mulling over the possible schemes Malfoy was up to.
The next week Harry went to the bar without George and waited to see if Malfoy showed up. Instead of sitting in his usual spot, he sat in Malfoy’s and around eleven he was confronted with a very angry wizard.
“Get out of my seat.”
“This isn’t your seat. I can sit wherever I want.”
Malfoy hissed and reminded Harry of an angry house cat. “Why can’t you leave me alone, Potter?”
Oh, now he was just being contradictory. “Why don’t you leave me alone, Malfoy? I saw you last week.”
“Not my fault you can’t stop staring at me. Really, Potter, I find your attraction to me a bit strange.”
Harry felt his face turn red with rage and slammed his hands on the table. “You were the one staring at me!”
“Right.” Malfoy sat down across from him. “Well, this is my corner to brood in, so why don’t you just leave.” Harry didn’t understand how his tone can go from teasing to pure hatred so quickly.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re doing.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing anything, Potter.”
Harry shrugged and finished his drink. He wouldn’t back down. No, he would win this.
But Malfoy was stubborn, and ordered enough drinks to last him the night.
“What are you doing here, Potter? Don’t you have something else to waste your time on, or is your life really that pathetic now?”
“Trying to figure out what you’re doing here.”
Malfoy stared at Harry, looking dumbfounded. “You’re sick.” And he chugged his first drink so quickly that Harry watched as drop fall from his lip and down his chin before he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. Harry found it strange that Malfoy would ever let himself become so disheveled. “Look at the hero you turned out to be. You saved us all and now hide in muggle bars, talking to death eater scum to try and make yourself feel better.”
Harry looked up, feeling a confusing pang of guilt. “That’s not--”
“Don’t fuck with me, Potter. That’s exactly what you’re doing. You hate your life so goddamn much that you have to mess around with the only person you can think of that’s lower than you. Everyone might put you on this pedestal, but I know you’re fucked. You always have been. Yes Potter, my side of the war lost, but do you have any idea...” He stopped mid-sentence, backing out of whatever it was he was about to say. “You’re pathetic. I didn’t start with you, you just came over here as a distraction, to see me and remind yourself maybe your life isn’t so bad. Not that I get why you’re so fucking depressed, since you have it all. You don’t have to live with the guilt.” Malfoy stood, and left, again.
Malfoy was right, about some things. And surprisingly, Harry felt bad.
---
Harry went to the bar the next day, and the day after that, hoping that he would see Malfoy again. He had to apologize, even if the little ferret was being a jackass, he had a point.
The fourth day, he got lucky, and saw Malfoy as soon as he walked in. He ordered two drinks before he sat down across from him, putting a drink in front of each of them.
Malfoy was glaring daggers. “Excuse me?”
“I wanted to apologize, though you’re still a jackass, and you’re wrong about some things. Still, I suppose I might have been in the wrong myself.” Malfoy stared at him, silent and completely unreadable. “Though I know you’ve been observing me at the bar and I’m not making that up.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re such a Gryffindor, it makes me nauseous.”
“I don’t get you, Malfoy.”
“I hate you, Potter.”
And Harry and Draco sat across from each other, and Harry didn’t care what Malfoy thought of him and was alright with ordering more than one drink. He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to be around Malfoy, but he made Harry feel something. Wether it was hatred or disgust or shame, he was feeling something. And Malfoy wasn’t a quiet drunk, so for once he was talking.
He hadn’t talked in a while.
“So, you’re hiding from the press? All your fans are so devastated.”
“The press is bullshit.”
“Don’t deny that you love it.”
Harry felt like smashing his drink into Malfoy’s face. “I really don’t. I hate it, I hate every second of it.”
Malfoy shrugged. “You don’t know how to live life.”
“And you do? Sitting in a bar every night getting drunk?”
“Excuse me, Sir Pot, I believe you’re calling me black.” And Harry smirked.
That night he crawled into his bed, the world spinning around him. He was drunk out of his mind, but he smiled. He was alright.
And a few days later, they did it again. And again after that.
“So, what happened with you and the Weaslette?”
Harry flinched at this one, using his drink as an excuse not to answer.
“None of your business, Malfoy.”
“So you started dating one of her brothers?”
Harry turned a bright red, disgusted. “Did you really think George and I were dating? I’m not gay, Malfoy! He’s a good friend.”
Malfoy shrugged. “I did think your dates were awfully depressing. So no love good enough for the great Chosen One?” He glared.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But you are the Chosen One.”
“I swear to Merlin, Malfoy. I’m going to hit you so hard one of these days.” Malfoy smirked. “But what about you? Still with Pansy?”
This was the first time Harry had ever heard Malfoy laugh. And that’s a real laugh, not one of those bitter, cruel laughs.
“God no. She caught me in bed with her cousin after I told her I wasn’t interested in sex.” He always got this lighthearted tone when he was drunk, and Harry could do nothing but listen. “Being the cruel, petty child that she is, she ran and told my father. And here I am, nearly every night.”
“He was angry?”
“Potter, I know you never had a daddy, but no father likes to find out that their son is gay. Especially when it’s my duty to carry on the family name.”
That night Harry woke in a cold sweat, his body on fire. He groaned softly, his dream still flashing in his mind.
His mouth and body far too close, the husky tone in his voice.
“You might be able to handle a Weasley, but you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
Must be from drinking too much. He should stop.
---
He had been going to the bar at least twice a week, and forgot about his night with George.
So needless to say, he was surprised when Hermione showed up during their usual game of twenty questions.
“So, you’re...you’re telling me, you didn’t put your name in the Goblet?” This was one of the nights were Malfoy got truly smashed.
“That’s right.”
“No. No way.” Malfoy slid down the booth so he was right next to Harry.
“Snape did it.”
“What?! You’re a liar. ” Malfoy laughed, and Harry found it contagious.
“Harry?” Harry looked up to see his best friend, standing there confused. She looked like she was about to cry.
“Oh, oh hey Hermione. You okay?” He suddenly felt Malfoy move closer, their legs pressing against one another.
Draco sneered. “Remember when she had buck-teeth? Oh god, she was ugly.” Harry pushed Malfoy as hard as he could, sending him tumbling off the booth.
“Remember when she punched you in the face? Because I do.”
“Fuck you, Potty,” he slurred, crawling back onto the booth, again sitting much to close to him.
Hermione was wide-eyed. “I just...George said he hadn’t seen you in a while, and Ron said you were never home when he stopped by. We...we’re getting worried.”
“It’s not like your his mommy, Granger.” Harry could feel the heat from his body, and he must have drank more than he thought because he was having trouble thinking straight.
“Malfoy, if you don’t shut your mouth I’m not buying you another drink.”
“Fine, fine, deal with your own pathetic problems.” Harry stood up to get away from him, and felt cold.
“Hey, no, I’ve been here mostly. I can’t believe George and I haven’t run into each other.”
“Yeah...Harry, are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah. I mean, I’m fine. I know what this looks like, but I don’t know. We just talk and make fun of each other and sometimes I hit him, but he doesn’t usually fight back.” Hermione was silent.
Harry shook his head. That hadn’t really come out right. “The war’s over, and I’m not doing anything that he can use against me. It’s okay, really.”
“I...I don’t really know what to make of this, but don’t forget your real friends, Harry.”
“I’m not!” Harry hadn’t realized how much time he was spending with Malfoy. He just couldn’t take the looks of pity he got from Ron and Hermione. “Look, how about we do dinner tomorrow?”
---
Harry was actually looking forward to dinner. He dressed nicely, and came in with a smiling face. He hugged Hermione and Ron, dinner was great, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much with his best friends.
He had missed them.
“Hey, can I come to Saturday dinner with your family, Ron?” He asked at the end of the night. Ron looked shocked for some reason.
“Yeah, mate, of course. You don’t have to ask.” He waved and started to leave but Hermione hugged him tightly, tears in her eyes.
When he got back to his flat he sat down, staring at the mirror.
He smiled.
---
“Potty, I’m so drunk.” Malfoy was leaning against Harry, breathing against his neck. “And you’re so warm.”
“Get the fuck off of me. I think you have a drinking problem.”
“No. No. You. You have a warm problem.” Malfoy’s hand was on his leg and Harry was quite sure he didn’t want it there.
“You need to go home.”
“I can’t Apparate in this condition! I’ll cut off my fingers, or something. I like my fingers.” Draco grinned and looked at Harry. “I can do great things with my fingers.” Since it was dark, Harry didn’t have to admit to the dark blush that crept up his neck.
“Alright, I’m bringing you back to my place.” He dragged Draco outside so they could Disapparate to his flat. “You can sleep on the couch.” Harry pushed him down onto the couch and before he could open the door to his room, Draco whined.
“I don’t want to sleep on the couch! I’m a Malfoy, Potter! Malfoy’s don’t sleep on couches!”
“Don’t care,” he called back and went into his room and closed the door.
“Potter, I swear to Merlin that I will break everything out here if you don’t let me in there. I am a guest, and you will sleep on the couch!”
Harry ignored him, and heard a picture frame smash.
“I hope you know my drunken magic is superb.” He laid down in his bed, knowing Malfoy would pass out eventually. He whispered, ‘nox’ and closed his eyes.
Though he wasn’t asleep when Malfoy tried to creep into the room. No one would have been able to sleep through that racket. Harry felt the bed dip behind him and he pretended to not notice.
“Potty?” He continued to feign sleep. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
Harry woke up once in the night, feeling Malfoy’s body pressed right against his, their legs intertwined. Though he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not, because when he woke up that morning Malfoy was gone.
---
The next time he saw George, he couldn’t believe how much he was smiling.
“Hey, Harry, take a seat! You look good!”
“Thanks, you too.”
“I’m happy, Harry. The happiest I’ve been in a long time. Man, the things love can do to a person, right?”
Harry shrugged. “Of course.”
“You know what I’m talking about. I can’t believe Angelina’s the one, but hey, you know how love can be found in strange places.” George raised an eyebrow suggestively and Harry was completely confused.
“I do?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t think Ron knows, but I support you, Harry. He might be a little git, but I know how important it is to find someone to love.”
Wait. He?
“George...I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m--”
“I saw you and Malfoy at the bar the other night. Really, you looked so content, just watching him. I mean, I was a little shocked, but I’m happy for you, really!” He laughed.
Harry paled.
“George, listen to me, I’m not with--”
“Well, Angelina’s waiting for me, so I have to go. Good luck with everyone, and don’t be afraid to tell Ron. I’ll give him a smack upside the head if he gives you two hard a time.”
Harry thought he was going to puke.
---
Instead of risking having people see them at the bar, Harry invited Malfoy over to his place to drink.
“Good thing I don’t have a problem taking advantage of you.” He grinned, and Harry snapped.
“I’m not gay! Why the fuck does everyone think I’m gay!”
“Relax, Potter. No need to get your panties in a bunch, I just meant taking advantage by the means of me drinking all your alcohol.”
“Oh. Right.” He blushed and Malfoy never took his eyes off him the entire night.
At least he was sober enough to get himself home.
---
“Yeah, he was over last night. But, Hermione, I mean, it’s weird to even call us friends! Can you talk to George for me, because I’m not really getting this whole thing.”
Hermione nodded, looking as if she knew more than what she was letting on.
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Harry.”
“I know that, but I just. I don’t like people thinking I’m something I’m not, and I really just don’t think people should be thinking that, because it’s not true!” He was starting to ramble and he was quite sure his voice was getting a bit high.
“Right. I’ll talk to him. But whatever it is you two have, it’s important, right?”
“Well, I guess. I mean, I like having him over and how I can be an asshole when I’m not in a good mood. It’s just. Different, I guess.”
“Well, whatever it is, you better tell Ron you’re friends with him soon, because Ron’s convinced you have a secret girlfriend.”
---
Malfoy was over and Harry couldn’t stop laughing.
“Potter, you’re so drunk.”
“Yeah, well you’re gay.” He snickered.
“Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Pfft, no. You’re just gay. When was the last time you kissed a man?”
“A while ago.”
“Draco.”
“Yes?”
“Nothing, I was just trying it out.” Draco seemed alright to say. “Why has it been so long?”
“I don’t know, probably because I’ve been spending most of my free time with you, Potter.”
“Do you want to kiss me?” Harry got excited. Maybe he would say yes.
But Draco didn’t answer.
“Why are you asking, Potter. Do you want to kiss me?”
“I don’t know. I’m not gay. But you have nice lips, and I haven’t kissed someone in a long, long, long, long time. So maybe it would be alright. But I’m not gay. You are.” Draco was suddenly a whole lot closer than before, and Harry was having a hard time focusing.
“So if you’re not gay, then I probably shouldn’t kiss you right now.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” For some reason Harry couldn’t breathe. Oh. Oh wait.
He grabbed onto Draco’s shoulders and pulled him closer.
Harry passed out just after Draco pulled off his shirt, and he kissed his neck before bringing Harry to his bed.
When Harry woke up and stumbled to his bathroom that morning, he looked in the mirror and rubbed his head.
His bottom lip was really swollen.
---
“HERMIONE!” Harry was out of breath and had no idea what time it was.
“What?” She hissed. “Ron’s at work.” She walked into her dining room and saw Harry, and she sighed. “Oh god, you kissed him, didn’t you.”
“Shhh, don’t say it, don’t say it out loud.” He leaned against the wall and slumped down, resting his head on his knees. He felt Hermione put her arm around him and his eyes began to water. “He wasn’t here this morning.” She just rubbed his arm. “Hermione?”
“I know.” Of course she would predict all of this.
“I think I like him.”
“It’s okay. And it’s okay to be scared.”
“But what if--”
“Harry, I can’t tell you if Draco feels the same, but I can tell you what will happen if you don’t try. You’ve been happy, Harry, and you’ve never been one to turn down a risk.” And they sat there till her arms got tired and Harry could get up.
---
Harry swallowed nervously.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” Draco shrugged.
“You asked me to come, and I did.”
Harry stood completely still before blurting out, “Do you like me?”
“I know. Okay, I know. You remind me all the time; you’re not gay. I am. I get this, and whatever. But don’t worry about it, alright? You were drunk when we kissed, it didn’t mean anything.”
Harry frowned. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out like he planned. “Do you like me?”
Draco seemed confused. “What do you mean?” Merlin, why did he have to be so difficult?
“I mean, I’ve never done this before. I don’t really know how this works, but I’m willing to try it, if you want to. And god, Malfoy, if you’re using me I swear to Merlin I will break your face in, because I don’t really understand this and--”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, what?”
“Yeah, take off your clothes. I want to try this.” Harry turned red and Draco took off his shirt and walked into Harry’s room like he was the most collected person in the world.
---
“I’ve only done this with one other person before. And that wasn’t another guy.”
“Relax, just shut up for a second.” Draco tugged off Harry’s boxers, kissing a line down his stomach. Harry was quite certain his lungs were going to burst and tried his hardest to control how much his chest went up and down. He could feel Draco running a hand up his thigh and he sat up.
“No, no, I’m not doing that.”
“What?” Draco looked offended. “Like you could take control of this. You’re like a little puppy, all confused.” Harry threw his bodyweight so that Draco was pinned beneath him.
“I’m not submitting to a Malfoy.” Draco grinned.
“You dick.” Harry kissed down his neck and sucked at his skin. He tasted so much better than Ginny. His hand grabbed at Draco’s thigh, lifting him up.
“Wait!” Harry stopped. “God, you can’t just go at it like that.” He paled. Draco grabbed his wand and whispered a spell Harry recognized from the nights he spent alone with the lights off.
He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Draco’s slick, oil covered hand wrap around him, tugging at his length. Once, twice, Harry let out a shaky moan, and once more before Draco let go. He was in a bit of daze, not realizing what Draco was doing to himself till he heard him let out a soft whine. He decided Draco was right about his fingers.
“Alright, alright,” he panted. “Now.” One of his hands grabbed Harry’s arm, while the other lay on the bed beneath them. Harry lined himself up and pushed against him.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m not going to fit.”
“Yes you will, just do it.”
“No, I’m really not. What if it hurts you?”
“Like that ever stopped you before, fuck, oh god, come on just do it--Merlin, yes.” Draco’s eyes were closed and Harry thought his were going to pop out. He was so fucking tight, he didn’t think he could breathe, let alone move.
“Move, Harry.”
“What?”
“Harry, fucking move!” So he did, and again, and it was great and Merlin, he hoped he wasn’t so bad that Draco won’t let him do this again.
In the midst of their euphoria, Harry felt Draco’s hand go up his neck, grabbing onto the side of his head and pulling him down into a peck of a kiss. They gasped against each other’s lips, and Harry came first as Draco tightened around him. He felt Draco grab onto his arm and his hair, writhing beneath him as he collapsed. Their sweat-slicked bodies stuck to each other and Draco’s knee was digging into his side but it felt perfect.
---
Harry looked over at Draco, sipping at his cup of coffee. “Will you come with me to the Weasley’s for dinner later tomorrow?”
“Are you kidding me? I’d rather eat my own arm.”
“I want to tell them that I’ve decided to become an Auror.” Draco raised an eyebrow, surprised.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I think really think I can do it. And also, I thought it would soften them up before I tell them that we’re dating.”
“Yeah, maybe you could just put it there as a side note. Perhaps whisper it while they’re congratulating you. Maybe then Ron won’t kill me.” Harry laughed and pulled his lover into a kiss.
“So, Harry, you want to know what I think?”
“Not really.” A smack to the side of his head.
“Lets go see Teddy. I’ve never met him.” Harry remembered the last time he saw his godson, and the sickening guilt. Before he couldn’t handle it.
“Yeah. Lets’s go. Right now.”
He grabbed Draco’s hand, and they left.