Harry/Draco - On My Side - One Shot
Title:On My Side
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry feels like he doesn't quite fit into Draco's world, and sometimes he feels like he doesn't know Draco at all. One Shot.
Warning: Unadulterated FLUFF.
Author Info: Beta-d by the lovely kcstories
On My Side
Harry stared into his glass of Merlot and sighed heavily to himself. It had been a really long evening and he felt completely out of place. He really didn’t belong here with Draco’s work mates and friends, amongst fine linen tablecloths and crystal glasses, and he couldn’t help feeling glum. He was sitting at a large oval table, listening to them all twitter on about sociological studies and Wizarding Law and he felt like a fish out of water.
It had taken him exactly five minutes to feel out of place and once everyone had gotten over the fact that the company’s newest junior partner had brought along Harry ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ Potter as his date, he had been sitting here silently. Every once in a while, someone would ask him a polite question or smile and nod at him, but other than that, it seemed as though these people either thought they were far too good to talk to the one who had gotten his hands dirty or they were just plain afraid of him.
Draco, his own sodding boyfriend, was sitting opposite him and had failed to give him so much as a moment’s glance all evening.
In spite of what everyone else thought about Draco, Harry had never felt good enough, cultured enough. He didn’t know the first thing about Pureblood Wizarding Rights or the laws that had defined their world and its people for thousands of years. Harry felt like an ignorant twit compared to his boyfriend who was currently laughing at a joke, the punch line of which, Harry was sure, he wouldn’t have understood, himself. He examined Draco’s relaxed yet always haughty expression and in that moment, he really hated him for making him come here tonight. Draco had made it sound like he needed Harry to be here, that this was the absolute most important thing to him, and yet, here they were and Harry was being ignored completely.
He felt like storming from the room, finding the bar and getting absolutely pissed. He felt like going home and crying into his pillow. After all, he was nothing but a fucking embarrassment to Draco wasn’t he?
He downed his glass and placed it in front of him on the table. Immediately, there was a waiter at his elbow waiting to refill his glass. Harry turned to him and smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” he said genuinely and the waiter raised a surprised eyebrow. Harry was probably the first person to look at one of the waiting staff all evening, let alone thank them for something.
“You’re welcome, sir.” Harry smiled again as the waiter moved away from him and then he turned his attention back to his glass. He glanced towards Draco once more, who was delicately sipping at his own wine just like every other person at the table, not gulping it down like Harry. He felt awful and stupid and before he knew it, he was up and away from the table, marching across the large hall, which was full of people Harry was sure he’d never get along with.
He pulled open the door to the hall and stalked along the corridor, immediately searching the pockets of the over priced suit Draco had made him wear. He desperately needed a cigarette. He didn’t care that he had promised he wouldn’t smoke anymore, or that Draco would complain about the smoke getting into the suit, his hands were shaking and he needed them to stop.
He stumbled down the steps of the building and perched himself on the second to last one. He really wished he had never come this evening. Draco wouldn’t have missed him anyway. He lit a cigarette and stared out across the front lawn of the manor which probably belonged to one of those incredibly stuck up people sitting in the hall with his boyfriend. Harry sighed; maybe they really were too different? What if all this had been an incredible mistake? Chalk and cheese, black and white, Slytherin and Gryffindor, maybe the differences between them were too great?
“Harry, what are you doing out here all alone?” Draco’s voice sounded surprisingly hesitant and Harry turned to look at him. He was genuinely surprised that Draco had even noticed him leave, let alone followed him out.
“I needed some fresh air.” Harry sighed wearily and stared back into the darkness of the never ending front lawn.
“So that’s why you’re smoking, for the fresh air?” Draco asked sarcastically.
“Don’t, Draco,” Harry warned.
“No, Harry, don’t you; don’t warn me about my behaviour. I wasn’t the one who just stormed out of a room full of important people, like a child throwing a tantrum because they weren’t getting enough attention,” Draco snorted angrily. Harry just shook his head and took another pull on his cigarette.
“Important to whom, Draco? They’re certainly not important to me. They’re disgustingly stuck up cretins who I’d never want to spend time with and frankly, I don’t know how you do it.” Harry knew he sounded petulant but he didn’t care. He had had a shitty evening and he wanted to make that abundantly clear. He hadn’t wanted to come, in the first place. Having to listen to all of those uptight arseholes talk about the war as if they’d experienced it, as if it meant nothing, had simply been the icing on the cake.
“They’re important to my career, Harry, and I thought that would make them important to you, because of me.” Draco sounded almost sad and Harry turned to look at his boyfriend once more.
“Well, then maybe I’m not good enough for you. After all, if I can’t just put my silly feelings aside for one evening, then what’s the point?” Harry sounded weary and he directed his gaze at the marble staircase he was sitting on, rather than look at Draco, before he stubbed his cigarette out on the crisp white stone.
“Why would you say that?” Draco felt choked. Harry had been quiet and distant recently, and it wasn’t the first time he had made such a statement about his own self worth.
“Because it might be true. I don’t belong in your world, Draco,” Harry looked up at him, his eyes as wide and green as Draco had ever seen them. He was obviously upset.
“I feel like a peasant mixing with nobles and they all know it. You can dress me up in the best robes you can buy and they’ll still see right through it, right through me. They’ll still find a smudge of dirt or a hair out of place.” Harry smoothed down the material of the expensive trousers Draco had bought for him and sighed heavily. He wasn’t even sure he was making sense; he just knew he didn’t belong here, while Draco obviously did, and didn’t that say something about their relationship? How could they ever work when they were so different?
Harry was surprised when Draco sat down next to him and sighed heavily. “I thought you knew who I was when we got together.”
Harry felt himself stop breathing. Here it comes, the break up speech. Draco would tell him how Harry had known all along that he was a proud Pureblood with strong beliefs and if Harry didn’t like it, then he could lump it.
“I can’t believe that you don’t know that I’d like to punch that twat in there as much as you would for talking about the Weasleys like that, as if Arthur’s work at the ministry means nothing because they don’t come from a wealthy family.” Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “But then, you see, that’s exactly why I can’t go around punching people, because I know for a sad fact, Harry, that because of my money and my name, I will always have the power to make changes, and right now, I’ve got to bide my time until I’m in a position that’s influential enough to help to make a real change in our world, to make sure people like the Weasleys are treated and rewarded with the respect they deserve, while the men in that room are punished. I know they weren’t Death Eaters but isn’t doing nothing when you see people suffer just as bad?”
Draco exhaled heavily and silence reigned in the large entrance way of the stately home they were sat in. Harry was too speechless to respond. Who was this man that still managed to shock him after so many months together? Who was haughty and snobbish, especially to the Weasleys, but obviously had so much heart? It was at times like these that Harry realised that Draco was so much more than a “Malfoy” and so unlike his father, despite the grey eyes and long blonde hair. The war had given him the substance his spoiled, rich childhood had failed to, and he was more human than his father could ever have hoped to be. That night when he had turned up at Grimmauld Place covered in blood had been a turning point for Draco and Harry only realised now, three years later, how much Draco Malfoy had really changed.
“Harry?”
“I love you, you know?” Harry whispered into the silence, interrupting whatever it was that Draco was going to say. He’d never said those words before but now seemed like the right time to do so. Draco had never been more gorgeous to him than at that moment, never more appealing or beautifully eloquent. Draco sat down next to him and stared at him for a moment, gauging whether or not he was serious, before smiling in that way he did sometimes that made Harry feel weak.
“I love you too.” Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s in a soft, loving gesture. “Shall we go inside and when they’re not looking, pour salt in their soups?” Draco’s eyes glinted wickedly, making Harry smile back in return, allowing the blonde to haul him to his feet.
They made their way back into the hall, and even though they sat down at opposite ends of the table, Harry knew Draco was on his side.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry feels like he doesn't quite fit into Draco's world, and sometimes he feels like he doesn't know Draco at all. One Shot.
Warning: Unadulterated FLUFF.
Author Info: Beta-d by the lovely kcstories
On My Side
Harry stared into his glass of Merlot and sighed heavily to himself. It had been a really long evening and he felt completely out of place. He really didn’t belong here with Draco’s work mates and friends, amongst fine linen tablecloths and crystal glasses, and he couldn’t help feeling glum. He was sitting at a large oval table, listening to them all twitter on about sociological studies and Wizarding Law and he felt like a fish out of water.
It had taken him exactly five minutes to feel out of place and once everyone had gotten over the fact that the company’s newest junior partner had brought along Harry ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ Potter as his date, he had been sitting here silently. Every once in a while, someone would ask him a polite question or smile and nod at him, but other than that, it seemed as though these people either thought they were far too good to talk to the one who had gotten his hands dirty or they were just plain afraid of him.
Draco, his own sodding boyfriend, was sitting opposite him and had failed to give him so much as a moment’s glance all evening.
In spite of what everyone else thought about Draco, Harry had never felt good enough, cultured enough. He didn’t know the first thing about Pureblood Wizarding Rights or the laws that had defined their world and its people for thousands of years. Harry felt like an ignorant twit compared to his boyfriend who was currently laughing at a joke, the punch line of which, Harry was sure, he wouldn’t have understood, himself. He examined Draco’s relaxed yet always haughty expression and in that moment, he really hated him for making him come here tonight. Draco had made it sound like he needed Harry to be here, that this was the absolute most important thing to him, and yet, here they were and Harry was being ignored completely.
He felt like storming from the room, finding the bar and getting absolutely pissed. He felt like going home and crying into his pillow. After all, he was nothing but a fucking embarrassment to Draco wasn’t he?
He downed his glass and placed it in front of him on the table. Immediately, there was a waiter at his elbow waiting to refill his glass. Harry turned to him and smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” he said genuinely and the waiter raised a surprised eyebrow. Harry was probably the first person to look at one of the waiting staff all evening, let alone thank them for something.
“You’re welcome, sir.” Harry smiled again as the waiter moved away from him and then he turned his attention back to his glass. He glanced towards Draco once more, who was delicately sipping at his own wine just like every other person at the table, not gulping it down like Harry. He felt awful and stupid and before he knew it, he was up and away from the table, marching across the large hall, which was full of people Harry was sure he’d never get along with.
He pulled open the door to the hall and stalked along the corridor, immediately searching the pockets of the over priced suit Draco had made him wear. He desperately needed a cigarette. He didn’t care that he had promised he wouldn’t smoke anymore, or that Draco would complain about the smoke getting into the suit, his hands were shaking and he needed them to stop.
He stumbled down the steps of the building and perched himself on the second to last one. He really wished he had never come this evening. Draco wouldn’t have missed him anyway. He lit a cigarette and stared out across the front lawn of the manor which probably belonged to one of those incredibly stuck up people sitting in the hall with his boyfriend. Harry sighed; maybe they really were too different? What if all this had been an incredible mistake? Chalk and cheese, black and white, Slytherin and Gryffindor, maybe the differences between them were too great?
“Harry, what are you doing out here all alone?” Draco’s voice sounded surprisingly hesitant and Harry turned to look at him. He was genuinely surprised that Draco had even noticed him leave, let alone followed him out.
“I needed some fresh air.” Harry sighed wearily and stared back into the darkness of the never ending front lawn.
“So that’s why you’re smoking, for the fresh air?” Draco asked sarcastically.
“Don’t, Draco,” Harry warned.
“No, Harry, don’t you; don’t warn me about my behaviour. I wasn’t the one who just stormed out of a room full of important people, like a child throwing a tantrum because they weren’t getting enough attention,” Draco snorted angrily. Harry just shook his head and took another pull on his cigarette.
“Important to whom, Draco? They’re certainly not important to me. They’re disgustingly stuck up cretins who I’d never want to spend time with and frankly, I don’t know how you do it.” Harry knew he sounded petulant but he didn’t care. He had had a shitty evening and he wanted to make that abundantly clear. He hadn’t wanted to come, in the first place. Having to listen to all of those uptight arseholes talk about the war as if they’d experienced it, as if it meant nothing, had simply been the icing on the cake.
“They’re important to my career, Harry, and I thought that would make them important to you, because of me.” Draco sounded almost sad and Harry turned to look at his boyfriend once more.
“Well, then maybe I’m not good enough for you. After all, if I can’t just put my silly feelings aside for one evening, then what’s the point?” Harry sounded weary and he directed his gaze at the marble staircase he was sitting on, rather than look at Draco, before he stubbed his cigarette out on the crisp white stone.
“Why would you say that?” Draco felt choked. Harry had been quiet and distant recently, and it wasn’t the first time he had made such a statement about his own self worth.
“Because it might be true. I don’t belong in your world, Draco,” Harry looked up at him, his eyes as wide and green as Draco had ever seen them. He was obviously upset.
“I feel like a peasant mixing with nobles and they all know it. You can dress me up in the best robes you can buy and they’ll still see right through it, right through me. They’ll still find a smudge of dirt or a hair out of place.” Harry smoothed down the material of the expensive trousers Draco had bought for him and sighed heavily. He wasn’t even sure he was making sense; he just knew he didn’t belong here, while Draco obviously did, and didn’t that say something about their relationship? How could they ever work when they were so different?
Harry was surprised when Draco sat down next to him and sighed heavily. “I thought you knew who I was when we got together.”
Harry felt himself stop breathing. Here it comes, the break up speech. Draco would tell him how Harry had known all along that he was a proud Pureblood with strong beliefs and if Harry didn’t like it, then he could lump it.
“I can’t believe that you don’t know that I’d like to punch that twat in there as much as you would for talking about the Weasleys like that, as if Arthur’s work at the ministry means nothing because they don’t come from a wealthy family.” Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “But then, you see, that’s exactly why I can’t go around punching people, because I know for a sad fact, Harry, that because of my money and my name, I will always have the power to make changes, and right now, I’ve got to bide my time until I’m in a position that’s influential enough to help to make a real change in our world, to make sure people like the Weasleys are treated and rewarded with the respect they deserve, while the men in that room are punished. I know they weren’t Death Eaters but isn’t doing nothing when you see people suffer just as bad?”
Draco exhaled heavily and silence reigned in the large entrance way of the stately home they were sat in. Harry was too speechless to respond. Who was this man that still managed to shock him after so many months together? Who was haughty and snobbish, especially to the Weasleys, but obviously had so much heart? It was at times like these that Harry realised that Draco was so much more than a “Malfoy” and so unlike his father, despite the grey eyes and long blonde hair. The war had given him the substance his spoiled, rich childhood had failed to, and he was more human than his father could ever have hoped to be. That night when he had turned up at Grimmauld Place covered in blood had been a turning point for Draco and Harry only realised now, three years later, how much Draco Malfoy had really changed.
“Harry?”
“I love you, you know?” Harry whispered into the silence, interrupting whatever it was that Draco was going to say. He’d never said those words before but now seemed like the right time to do so. Draco had never been more gorgeous to him than at that moment, never more appealing or beautifully eloquent. Draco sat down next to him and stared at him for a moment, gauging whether or not he was serious, before smiling in that way he did sometimes that made Harry feel weak.
“I love you too.” Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s in a soft, loving gesture. “Shall we go inside and when they’re not looking, pour salt in their soups?” Draco’s eyes glinted wickedly, making Harry smile back in return, allowing the blonde to haul him to his feet.
They made their way back into the hall, and even though they sat down at opposite ends of the table, Harry knew Draco was on his side.