[Fic] On Daftness, part 1
Title: On Daftness
Authors: tracy_loo_who & starlitshore (formerly ordencodex)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Draco wants Harry. Harry wants Draco. So why is everything so difficult? Post war.
Notes: Written for grunhilda's request at serpentinelion's Fantasy Fest: Harry and Draco work together (post war) and Draco secretly wants Harry, but is about to quit trying because Harry is an oblivious git, and why does he have to keep looking at Draco as though he's giving him an ulcer? Should include snark, stupidity and sod the darned moonlight. Inebriation and red ears give bonus points.
"Mr. Potter, sir, yesterday's case reports have been updated and filed for you to look over at your earliest convenience, sir."
Harry heaved an internal sigh and stared down at the man before him, dressed impeccably in a stuffy suit and sporting a thick comb-over. Carter meant well, he knew, but the boy was young and… somewhat star-struck. And he'd caught Harry just when he was heading out for the day. "Thanks, Carter. I'll look them over tomorrow morning and have them back to you in the afternoon."
He waited, but the boy seemed to decide it was appropriate to continue to block his way and stare. Harry cocked an eyebrow, becoming impatient. He could see Draco's blond head bent over a stack of paperwork just over Carter’s shoulder, and suddenly he itched to get rid of the little twerp. "If that's all…?"
Within moments, said twerp scurried away with muttered apologies, leaving Harry to roll his eyes expressively and step into the cubicle across the hall from his own. He threw himself down sideways into the chair next to Draco's and leaned back against the desk on his elbows, deliberately placing one in the middle of the parchment Draco was currently concentrating on.
"Draco," he said, tone warning against an impending sulk, "you have pushed our photo to the corner of your desk. Am I that unimportant to you?"
Draco glanced up, looking tired but managing to smirk at him nonetheless, and it was a good thing Harry was Harry or else he'd have gotten a swift kick to his arse and twelve extra hours of work. "Why, Harry, are you by any chance getting jealous?" he asked sweetly, even as he relocated Harry's elbow to another stack of parchment and replaced it with their picture, looking more than happy to be done for the day.
It was a fairly old picture that now stood in the middle of Draco's work, taken shortly after the end of the war nearly three years before. Harry had been trying to teach Draco how to play muggle rugby, but really the only thing Draco had learned was how to tackle people, and he was doing quite the fine job of it in the picture. As Harry watched, Draco in the photo flew at him, blond hair streaming, and they collided messily only to end up sprawled together even more messily in the grass. His lips twitched as he thought of the picture on his own desk a few meters away: the two of them sitting side by side in the grass afterwards, Harry panting heavily and his ponce of a friend fixing his hair.
Glancing back up at Draco, he grinned and reached out to tug at the other man's tie, tightening it slightly around the throat so that Draco was forced to lean towards him. "Why would I be jealous? After all, I know exactly who you'll be with and what you'll be doing tonight."
Draco's eyes widened a tiny bit and he looked quickly up at Harry before his expression melted back into its usual calm amusement. "Won't be much help with the decorating if you asphyxiate me first, though," he drawled, but didn't bother to fix his tie. Ron's bachelor party was this weekend, and Harry had forced Draco to agree to help him plan it as soon as he'd decided it would be at his place. He never did get the hang of decorating things; Draco had always been much better at it, Designer Guy that he was.
"So obliging," Harry murmured, releasing his hold on the tie after a moment. His fingers itched to smooth out the wrinkles he'd made against Draco's chest, but he didn't dare. As much fun as it was to flirt teasingly with his friend, he simply wasn't bold enough to touch him so blatantly - Draco would likely brush him off. That, or they'd do something stupid and put their comfortable friendship in jeopardy. Harry couldn't risk either. Clearing his throat, he stood and pulled an unresisting Draco from his chair. "One would almost think you enjoyed decorating. It's the sparkles, isn't it? You can't resist pretty, shiny things."
"You're not shiny and I can't resist you, either," the other man pointed out, cheesy smile in place. "Quite pretty, though." Then he turned around to grab his coat and Harry couldn't see his expression anymore.
Harry let out a low laugh, glad Draco couldn't see his expression either as his face had just flushed faintly; he could feel its warmth against his fingers when he reached up to adjust his perfectly-placed glasses. "Come on, Casanova," he said, shaking the moment off and managing a grin as he slipped back across the hall to grab his jacket and shoulder bag, "Shiny or not, we've got a hot date at my place tonight and if we don't hurry up, Moody's going to be on our arses to stay another shift. Curry or noodles, by the way? Your pick this time."
He saw Draco glance at him again at the words hot date, and it was the same way Draco always glanced at him when Harry flirted: brief and questioning and something else before the moment passed and might as well have never happened in the first place. Harry might've thought it meant the other man was uncomfortable if Draco hadn't been the one to start their casual flirting years before, when they'd worked together during the war.
"I've half a mind to make you eat something vile," Draco said thoughtfully, looking quite pleased with the idea. "But curry, it's on me tonight."
----
Draco flicked a piece of something shiny at him. "Where's that leftover curry?" he whined. "I'm hungry." He was sprawled across Harry's couch, though, and didn't look like he intended to ever move again. They'd been trying to decorate for three hours now and so far all they'd accomplished was cleaning up Harry's flat and putting a few streamers up around the room. The rest had, of course, gotten tangled around Harry in Draco's attempt to mummify him.
Harry blew a raspberry at him from where he sat on the floor, untangling himself from a knot of green tissue and trying not to be too obvious about staring at the way his friend graced the couch so prettily. "It's in the fridge, if you'd like to get up and get it yourself, Princess." He didn't bother acting the polite host anymore; Draco had been a semi-permanent fixture in his flat ever since he'd gotten it. Besides, he deserved to be punished with exercise if he was going to cover Harry in Slytherin colours. "And while you're in there, grab me a beer would you?"
"If that wretched Dobby creature didn't hate me so much I'd make you get him to come bring us food and beer," Draco mumbled even as he got up, and Harry smiled because no one else's wish for some beer would've made him do it. He could hear Draco shuffling around in the kitchen for a moment before he came back, curry and two bottles of beer in hand, one of which he tried to balance on top of Harry's head as he passed him.
He easily caught the beer as it toppled off and, after tearing at the rest of the streamers binding him, crawled over to the couch and lifted himself up to flop onto it next to Draco, head resting on a firm thigh. "Why have a house elf when I've got you, love?" he asked, reaching up to brush a finger over the tip of Draco's pointed nose. And that was half the thrill, wasn't it, being allowed to do something like that. Harry took advantage of it to touch Draco as much as reasonably possible.
Even he couldn't fail to notice the slight catch in Draco's breaths, as he caught the hand and pushed it away from his face. But in doing so, his fingers curled slowly around Harry's and Harry, without thinking, let their hands fall to rest on his chest. It was an innocent enough gesture, but one he hoped Draco would understand as more intentional.
He couldn't tell if Draco started to lean forward before the fire shot up in green flames or if Draco started to lean forward because the fire shot up in green flames, but a moment later Neville's face appeared in the fireplace, hands covering his eyes as he called, "Is it safe to look?"
Draco jerked away, nearly dislodging Harry's head from his lap. But his tone, when he spoke, sounded quite calm. "Of course it's safe to look, it's not like we shag each other or anything."
Harry's stomach dropped and he stared at the ceiling for a long moment before swallowing painfully and sitting up. Draco might sound calm, but he knew him too well and could tell he was uncomfortable. Shit, he thought despondently, twisting the cap off his untouched beer with a snap and taking a swig. "Hey Nev, what's up?"
All Neville wanted was to ask if they thought Ron and Hermione would like some kind of weird, everlasting sapling he'd cultivated as a wedding present. By the time he was gone Harry had already convinced himself that their random moment of spontaneity with trying to hold hands had been just that - a random moment of spontaneity.
"So, where were we?" Draco wondered aloud, maybe almost invitingly, but Harry didn't want to make him feel like he had to play along if the moment was over and probably shouldn't have happened in the first place.
He gave Draco a tense smile and heaved himself off the couch, quickly gulping down what was left of his drink. "It's late. We're not going to get anything else done. I'm heading to bed. You should take the curry with you, if you're still hungry."
It was always implicit that Draco was to leave at night - he rarely stayed at Harry's to sleep, and even then it was due to extenuating circumstances. There were just too many risks involved: the temptation of having him there, the idea of Draco hearing him say something incriminating in his sleep, but most of all, that he would get too used to the other man's constant, permanent, comfortable presence in his home.
Draco had been the one to flirt first. Draco had been the one to dig a little niche for himself in Harry's flat. Draco had been the first to make a dinner date and the first to initiate a hug goodbye. But Harry couldn't shake the feeling that that was all it was meant to be - he was Draco's best friend, but there were other, better prospects out there. He'd learned not to take his behaviour too seriously, but tonight's brush off had still stung.
If it had been on anyone else, Harry would've thought the expression Draco flashed him was one of disappointed confusion. Knowing Draco, it was more likely that he could tell Harry had taken his rejection a bit worse than he was meant to and felt mildly guilty over it. But that was the last thing Harry wanted, so he tried to appear less like he was having an ulcer and smiled at him.
Draco hesitated, looking like there was something he wanted to say, but Harry beat him to it. "See you in the morning?"
"Yeah. Alright." Harry imagined a slight frown before Draco returned his smile and picked up his coat. "Night, Harry." No peck on the cheek tonight, and though Harry wasn't surprised he found himself feeling a little disappointed as he watched Draco let himself out.
----
Like most mornings, Harry woke to the smell of coffee and Draco. The coffee was steaming on his bedside table, and Draco was dragging him bodily into a sitting position. As always, Harry's blanket wasn't dislodged one bit and remained tucked around his shoulders, a feat he never did figure out how Draco accomplished.
"Wake up, beauty, if I get in trouble for being late again because of you, this coffee's going to end up in your lap next time," Draco was saying. He even put Harry's glasses on for him.
Something between a whimper and a dark mumble escaped Harry and, despite having his glasses on, he tried to squirm away from Draco's firm grip and back into his nest of blankets and pillows. He'd been quite comfortable, just like every morning, and he didn't really want to get up and face another day of Moody, just like every morning.
"Draco," he whined, batting weakly at his hand when he didn't loosen his grip enough to let him escape, "don't wanna go work." He had to admit, though, that the cupful of addictive caffeine smelt rather heavenly, and he wouldn't be opposed to drinking it - later, when he was done sleeping.
"And I don't want to have to apparate you to work with no coffee and a pair of boxers on." Draco's voice sounded faintly amused now, Harry was sure the git would never let him live down the time when he'd done just that.
"Meanie." He stopped resisting, though, and slowly started to extricate himself from his tangled sheets, eyes clenched tightly shut to ward off the bright morning light Draco had so thoughtfully let in. Managing to swing his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, he let his head rest against Draco's shoulder and gestured vaguely in the direction of the cup of coffee. "Can't see."
He could almost feel Draco roll his eyes. But then the other man ruffled his hair and sat beside him, one arm looping casually around Harry's body as he pressed the warm mug into his hands. Draco must've been a few minutes earlier today, then, it wasn't every day that they had time to sit and… snuggle, as it were.
Harry leaned slightly into the touch and cracked one eye open to peer up at Draco. He was already immaculately dressed and ready for the day ahead, looking like he'd slept twelve hours with nary a disturbance. Harry pouted slightly and reached up to scratch at his messy hair, and then Draco scratched his messy hair for him.
"I feel," Harry declared, "extremely gross. I definitely need a shower." Instead of getting up to do that, he allowed himself to enjoy Draco's presence for a little while longer as he sipped at his coffee and hummed softly in contentment. It was nice to know that no matter what had happened the night before, morning always came, along with Draco and a cup of caffeine, and things were suddenly alright once again.
"You don't look extremely gross," the other man said lightly. "What do you want for breakfast, though? I'll see if I can make something while you shower, kind of hungry myself."
Harry smiled in appreciation at the gesture and pulled away to set the cup on his bedside table. "Make whatever you feel like. You know I'll eat just about anything." He placed a sloppy kiss somewhere near Draco's temple, then stumbled off the bed and across the room to where the shower was calling his name from behind the bathroom door. "Thanks, mate."
Once the door was closed he dropped his boxers, knowing Draco was collecting his cup to take to the kitchen. It was a rare but pleasant occasion when Draco arrived early enough to make breakfast because it meant Harry wouldn't have to wait until their lunch break to relieve hunger pains. And it was Draco, making breakfast. For him.
After washing himself quickly (and making sure to condition his hair so that Draco wouldn't scold him), he hopped out and pulled on his bathrobe. Then he proceeded to drip out to the kitchen and flopped onto a stool to watch Draco's slim figure at work. His eyes didn't drift to Draco's arse at all, really. "Mm. Smells good."
"You're dripping all over the floor," Draco nagged, sounding for all the world like it was his floor Harry was dripping on. But he brought omelets and some orange juice over to the table and sat across from Harry. "One of these days I'm going to slip in one of your more puddly puddles and fall and crack my head open and bleed profusely all over your pretty floor. And then I'll die there, and you'll be left with no Draco or coffee, a beautiful if somewhat cold body, and a bunch of blood on your floor. Happy Christmas."
Harry sighed dramatically and stabbed at his omelet. "Not only that, I wouldn't have anyone around to complain while they mopped it up. My life would be so empty."
"Carter might help you fill the void if you asked nicely," Draco mused. "He seems quite eager."
"Ew." Until that moment, Harry hadn't known that a single syllable could express so much disgust, contempt, and horror. Shuddering delicately, he took a quick gulp of juice, as if to wash away a nasty taste in his mouth. "Please, please, please never say anything like that again while I'm eating."
Draco snickered into his own glass and seemed, for some reason, very pleased with himself.
----
"Harryyyyy." Harry heard the whine from across the hall just as a ball of parchment hit the side of his head. "Are you almost done with that report? I'm hungry."
He'd started at the impact of the projectile, but now he blinked down at where it lay innocently on his desk, right in the middle of the report he was not finished with, no, thank you very much. Turning to meet Draco's eyes across the expanse of two desks and a hall, he cocked an eyebrow. "Malfoy. You did not just throw a paper ball at me."
Draco threw another paper ball at him.
This called for war.
With a wave of the hand and a flick of the wrist, a barrage of wrinkled parchment balls rose from Harry's wastebin and zoomed across the hall to pelt Draco, whose muffled yelp as he ducked was probably louder than it should have been. But he was back up a moment later, grinning as he sent every last missile back at Harry.
Harry giggled helplessly as he slipped off his chair and under the desk just in time to miss being hit. Poking his head around the corner of the desk, he didn't even wait for the balls to land before halting their progress mid-air and sending them back across the hall once again.
As Harry's fate had decreed long before, Alastor Moody chose that precise moment to finish hobbling down the hall to see what the commotion was about and stop in between Harry and Draco's cubicles. Half of Harry's thirty or so paper balls hit him squarely and in the dead silence afterwards Draco's slightly belated effort to cut off his giggle was quite clear if a bit strangled.
Harry was forced to press his palm firmly against his mouth to cut off another round of laughter as he stared up at his boss with wide eyes. He couldn't really tell if the twitch beginning around his - well, his natural eye - was one of amusement or -
"POTTER! MALFOY! WHAT THE HELL D'YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
- annoyance. Harry ducked behind his desk again as another fit of helpless giggles bent him double.
Heads were popping up over the tops of cubicles on either side of him, and he was sure more than a few people had started congregating in the passage outside the rows of offices.
"Why do I get yelled at for being the victim?" Draco asked, and though Harry couldn't quite see him from where he was still hiding under the desk he could tell the other man was pouting and on the verge of giggles too.
"QUIET!" Eye twisting madly in its socket, Moody rounded on the unfortunate man. "I WILL NOT HAVE YOU AND POTTER TURNING THIS OFFICE INTO A PLAYGROUND." Draco started to say something, but was of course cut off. "You," Moody growled, "will move to the spare cubicle at the other end of the hall immediately."
"Aw, come on Mad-Eye," Harry whined plaintively, finally crawling out. He stood and attempted to look apologetic, which worked best when he avoided looking anywhere near Draco. "We were just having a bit of fun. But we've learned our lesson and will never again disrupt your calm, quiet department. We solemnly swear."
"Look how pretty this report is," Draco said brightly, before their boss could threaten them again. He grabbed his morning's work off his desk. "I know you've been having a spot of trouble with that eye of yours lately, so my handwriting was extra neat today, you'll enjoy reading it." He shoved the parchment at Moody, stepped around him to grab Harry's wrist, and smiled prettily. "Tell me what you think when Harry and I get back from lunch." And with that, he jerked on Harry's arm and they were departing rapidly around the corner.
They didn't manage to get quite out of earshot before collapsing into another fit of laughter, leaning on each other for support as they stumbled away from Moody's grumpy tirade. "Oh my god, did you see his face?!" Harry asked loudly, prompting more than a few hisses of "shhh!" from the surrounding cubicles.
"I know, I was sure his eye was going to jump out and attack me," Draco giggled, ignoring their coworkers and grinning like a little boy. "But that was so close, do you think he'd really move me?" Now he just sounded petulant.
Harry melted. Reaching up, he pushed Draco's hair back off his face and smiled. "Nah. Why would he move you when he knows he'd just end up dealing with you whining at him about moving back for the rest of his days?"
"Ah, Harry. The things I'd do to be with you," he sighed, shaking his head and managing to look solemn for all of about two seconds before he was grinning again and tugging Harry up from where they'd landed on the floor, half smushed against a wall. "So where are we going for lunch?"
"Anywhere, and I repeat, anywhere besides the canteen." He regretfully let his hand slip from Draco’s grasp, but smiled and fell into step beside him. "And considering we had curry last night, I vote against Indian."
"Sushi, then!" Draco decided cheerfully. "Nothing brightens up a day like some dead fish wrapped in rice."
Harry pulled a face. "On second thought, I'd rather go back and face Moody."
For some reason, Draco didn't seem to care. "Too bad, you said 'anywhere' and I picked, so we're having sushi for lunch." And they did, much to Harry's dismay.
----
"What do you mean, you're not coming to dinner?" Draco asked, scowling very close to Harry's face. He sighed, pushed his glasses up, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It'd already been a long day and he was tired, but Moody had given him an extra assignment that morning and he wanted to get it done before he left. Part of him wanted to prove that he really could be an upstanding auror after yesterday's paper ball fiasco, but Draco didn't seem terribly impressed.
"I mean," Harry said, pointedly moving Draco's hand off of the paperwork and portfolios set out on the desk before him, "I'm not coming to dinner." At the look on Draco's face, he sighed sat back in his chair, holding his hands out palm up. He couldn't hold out under that look. "What would you have me do, Draco?"
"Finish it in the morning." Draco rolled his eyes. "You know he's just griping at you for hitting him with thousands of paper balls yesterday."
"Whether it's payback or not, I'll still have another case on my desk by morning. If I don't stay here tonight, I'll be here late again tomorrow night."
"I'll help with it tomorrow." Draco was definitely sulking at him now.
Harry sighed again and removed his glasses to rub a hand over his eyes, partly to stave off the headache he could feel creeping behind his temples and partly so he wouldn't have to look at Draco's highly effective pout. "It's alright. I'll just whip up some leftovers when I get home. You, though, should go home and eat a proper meal. I don't think we've had anything but take-out since last week."
"You sound," Draco informed him succinctly, "like my mother." Then there was a pause during which Harry's nose scrunched up in distaste at the comparison (though it was probably more than a little accurate). Draco sighed, very dramatically. "Fine, eat your nasty leftovers, are we still decorating tonight?"
"Yeah. You can start without me if I get in late, I don't mind." Harry smiled perkily at that - he really didn't like decorating, and wasn't especially good at it, either.
Draco stuck his tongue out at him, flicked the lens of his glasses, and was gone with another petulant look, leaving Harry to stare briefly at the spot he'd just vacated. Then he sighed, scratched the side of his head, and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.
----
Harry woke, as usual, to the sound of Draco's voice, though this time the smell of coffee was distinctly lacking. "Honestly, Potter, you call this working? I don't." Before he even opened his eyes, he could feel Draco tilt his head up with a gentle hand under his chin. And before he even registered the moistness on his lips and cheek, he could feel Draco wiping it away with a thumb.
He pressed his lips together and carefully pulled away to sit up. Looking up at Draco with sleep-heavy eyes, Harry unconsciously rubbed his chin where he could still feel the warm imprint of fingers. "Hey," he croaked, and cleared his throat. "Must've fallen asleep. What time is it?"
"Just past eight," came the reply, accompanied by a roll of Draco's eyes. "I brought food to your flat, but you weren't there. Did you even get that case done? You're lucky you didn't drool on -" he glanced at the parchment, "- T. B. Hetcher's file."
"I doubt he'd mind," Harry answered with a yawn. Closing the offending file, he shoved it and the rest of his paperwork into a haphazard pile and set it aside. Then he stood and picked up his coat, leaving his satchel hanging from the hook next to the door. "Now," he stepped close to Draco and smiled tiredly at him, "what's this about food?"
"You are so lucky I adore you so much," Draco said dryly as he flicked the lights off and led him out of the office.
----
"A little more over there, I think," Harry said around a mouthful of noodles. He gestured vaguely with his spoon to the other side of the room. "There's hardly any sparkly stuff over there yet."
He'd been curled up in his favourite armchair for the past half hour, watching Draco decorate and slurping messily at the turkey noodle soup Draco had made. He hadn't bothered to observe etiquette in his own home.
Draco glanced over from where he was levitating some sparkly things around the room. He wrinkled his nose very, very delicately. "Ew, gross. If you talk with your mouth full at the party I'm going to have to send you to your room to reflect on your behaviour."
Mouth still full, Harry pressed a hand to his lips as he laughed at the expression on Draco's face. Finally managing to swallow, he grinned up at him. "Aw, Draco, you look so cute with your nose all scrunched up. And there are easier ways to get me into the bedroom, you know. Unless you're into punishment?"
"Oh?" Draco affixed the sparkly things to the doorframe and turned around to look at him properly. "So what's the most effective way?" he asked casually. "I've been trying to figure it out for years, wouldn't you know."
Harry smiled as they fell into their easy pattern of bantering. He was of half a mind to ask Draco the very same thing, but brushed that thought aside in favour of playing along.
"The most effective? Hm…" He tapped his spoon lightly against his chin and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Well, I am a total sop, so a declaration of undying love might do the trick. That or Swiss chocolate. You know I love those ones with the melty stuff inside."
"I'll keep that in mind," Draco grinned. "But as for now, I think I've got an idea that might work. You have dark circles around your eyes, can barely keep them open, and look like shit." He came over, took the empty bowl away from Harry, and pulled him out of the chair. "Come on, off to bed."
"You were doing alright before the comment about my appearance," Harry mumbled darkly, allowing himself to be pulled up and helped into the bedroom. When they'd made it through the doorway, Harry's knees a bit more wobbly than he'd thought, Draco dropped him unceremoniously on the unmade bed he'd dragged him out of that morning.
"Draco," Harry whined, looking pitifully up at him, "I'm still in my work clothes and now I can't get up." To prove his point, he tried to lift his head before letting it flop back onto the pillows. Then he rolled over and snuggled into his mound of bedding. "Mmpf."
Draco's fingers touched his shoulder first, and then the other man was turning him back over and making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He managed to pull Harry's arms out of them, somehow, and then pulled off his pants, too, all the while touching him as little as possible. "There," he said when Harry was in a tank and boxers. "Better?" Before Harry could even reply, Draco was pulling the covers up to his chin and tucking the corners around him.
Harry blinked sleepily up at him and decided it was nice, having Draco tuck him in. Wrestling an arm free of the covers, he hooked it around the back of Draco's neck and pulled him in for an awkward hug. "Thanks. I'll see you in the morning."
Draco smiled at him, and for a moment their faces were close enough that Harry could have kissed him if he tilted his chin up enough. But then Draco was pulling away and turning his lamp off with a soft "Night, git," and Harry closed his eyes.
It didn't take long at all for the quiet sounds of Draco puttering around in the living room to lull him to sleep.
Harry didn't wake again until two in the morning when he needed to go to the loo. Upon sitting up, though, he found that he'd been carefully decorated in streamers and confetti, and the stuff was also littered all over his sheets. "Arg!" he exclaimed, and took a moment to brush as much of it out of his hair as possible. Then, narrowing his eyes at nothing in particular, he stumbled to the bathroom, muttering about revenge and muggle silly string.
----
"Hmm." Draco was eyeing him appraisingly as Madam Maulkin hovered around taking his measurements. "I daresay you've grown a bit since the last time we were here," he said thoughtfully. "Not quite as severely gawkish anymore, either."
Harry stuck his tongue out at him. "Shame I can't say the same about you."
"Of course, I was never gawkish in the first place," Draco scoffed with a flip of his hair. "And just because I'm delicate and not a brute like you are doesn't mean I'm small."
"You keep telling yourself that, and it just might come true someda-OW!" He shot a wounded look down at Madame Maulkin, who was busy taking the robe in around his bum. Draco sniggered, but Harry carefully ignored him.
They'd already been at this for hours, and Harry was eternally grateful that Draco was there to keep him entertained. It was two days after Ron's highly successful bachelor party, and between the extra workload Moody had decided to pile on them and making sure the party went smoothly, they'd both been exhausted and had taken yesterday off work to lie around Harry's flat and relax.
Now here they were, two days before Ron was to be married off and domesticated by Hermione (who was clearly the one who wore the pants in the relationship), and their friend's anxiety over the wedding was driving both him and Draco up the wall. He just hoped that the bags under his eyes wouldn't show up in the wedding photos.
"Anyway," Draco was saying, "you have no idea how small or otherwise I am. Oooh, you should get these purple ones," he grinned, showing Harry a catalogue they hadn't already gone through and pointing at an atrocious purple dress robe.
He snorted at the thought of showing up as best man dressed in bright purple, and carefully shuffled his feet out of the robemaker's way so that he wouldn't be speared on the tip of her needle again. "Those are atrocious. And it would do Ron in if I showed up wearing a colour that was that gay."
"But you are that gay," Draco pointed out sweetly, and dropped his chin into his hands. He was perched on a stool and leaning over the counter, clearly very bored himself since they'd already picked out their respective dress robes and Draco had already been measured. "Are you almost done poking at his compromising places yet?" he asked Madam Maulkin, and something about his tone reminded Harry of a small, pointed, eleven-year-old Draco. The corner of his lip quirked.
When Madam Maulkin made a vague noise of agreement, Harry sighed in relief and let his shoulders slump. "Thank Merlin. I will be only too happy if I never have to attend another wedding in my lifetime. Thanks Madam," he said distractedly as he was helped out of the spiny robes. He stepped down from his perch and straightened his t-shirt before picking up and pulling on his sweater. "Right, then. Ready to go? I'm starving and I reckon we've got a bit before they're ready."
"Let's have ice cream!" Draco suggested, sounding very bright and gay.
Harry rolled his eyes and pushed him out of the shop without another word.
----
Having been the best man, Harry was exhausted all over again by the time the reception was finally over and the dancing had begun. He'd been up early in the day trying to calm Ron down (a feat he was singularly proud of, thank you very much) and bustling back and forth between Hermione and Ron's rooms before the wedding had even started. And then there was the wedding itself, and constantly checking that he still had the rings with him and that his robes were still in order. His speech at the reception afterwards had been inexplicably nerve-wracking, and he'd needed to focus on Draco's amused expression to get through it. All those people looking up at him - Ron really had far too many relatives. Now Harry was just relaxing in a chair watching the others dance.
He was incredibly happy for his best friends and a feeling of contentment settled over him as he saw Ron twirl a radiant Hermione around the floor as if he'd danced that well all his life and hadn't just learned in the past few weeks. Harry was tired, though, and wasn't that upset that the wedding planning, party throwing, dance lessons, and dress robe shopping were finally over. But he couldn't help feeling a bit wistful.
It was a feeling that had been summarily shoved aside in favour of concentrating on his friends, but which now rose its head as his gaze shifted to watch Draco dip, twirl, and grin with his pretty dance partner. He'd always hoped that one day he might have a wedding just like this one, and he'd known for quite a while now exactly who he wanted to be exchanging vows with - but it wasn't likely to happen any time soon. Harry sighed and almost wished Draco hadn't made him completely gay and uninterested in Ginny. Almost.
When the current dance ended, Draco gave the girl a charming smile and left her side to come over to Harry. "Come on, old man, get up and dance with me," he insisted, looking flushed and happy and slipping both hands into Harry's to pull him up. "It won't do to have the best man sitting alone in the corner, after all."
An involuntary smile graced his features as Draco's warm grip lured him into the crowd. The other man was obviously in his element, and Harry loved seeing him this happy. And it didn't hurt that he was finally getting to dance with him.
"The best man has been dancing. He was simply resting his feet while he waited for you to get bored of the girls and ask him."
Draco laughed and pulled him closer, guiding them smoothly into the music and moving with it. His left hand came to rest against the small of Harry's back and he grinned faintly. "Should've asked me yourself before the girls got me, then."
"Mm, no need," Harry replied lightly, reveling in the feeling of Draco's hands on him, "I knew you'd show up eventually. I am, after all, irresistible. And you must admit, I look quite dashing in this wedding get-up."
"Considering how much that Maulkin woman poked at you, I should really hope so," Draco said cheekily, right before sending him into a twirl. When he was back in Draco's arm again, the git was almost laughing. "You do twirl prettily, I hadn't noticed before."
Harry laughed, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. He ignored the strange looks they were getting from a few of the guests and pressed in close again. "I learned from the master. All these years watching you prance around - is it any wonder?"
For a moment Harry thought Draco looked like he might stick his tongue out at him, but then he didn't. And as close as their faces were to each other, it was probably a good thing. Or a bad one. Harry couldn't help feeling a faint twinge of disappointment, but a second later the moment had passed and Draco was saying something. "Shove off, you've just been going to too many of those dancing lessons with Ron. At least you'll be ready for when your own wedding rolls around, though," he added a heartbeat later.
Harry's breathing hitched almost imperceptibly at that, and he carefully considered the words. "I was thinking about that earlier, actually. Trying to figure out who I'd have as best man. Ron, or-" his throat tightened at the thought and he had to force out the next word: "you."
He saw Draco's eyes slide quickly over to his just as the music began to fade. The other man opened his mouth to say something but then closed it audibly, and Harry could see the muscles in his jaw twitch. "I don't want to be the best man at your wedding, Harry," he said finally, without inflection, and then stepped away from Harry as Ginny cleared her throat in the microphone.
Harry wasn't entirely sure how to take that, so he stamped down on the tiny flare of hope that had lit in his chest. And anyway, he didn't have time to dwell on it at the moment. He tore his eyes away from Draco's profile to watch Ginny announce the bouquet toss.
Before she could even finish her line, women were swarming around him and Draco, pressing them together and pushing against them from all sides as they warred with each other to get the best position. He shot Draco a look of complete horror as the woman in front of him backed up against him, her bottom pressing in on his thighs.
Draco caught his look and grinned at him even as he was unceremoniously shoved against Harry himself by a rather sizeable Weasley. "Makes me wonder if they're trying to catch the damned flowers or take advantage of the opportunity to feel you up," he whispered in Harry's ear just before Hermione tossed.
Harry wasn't sure what made him do it, but as he saw the bouquet sailing their way out of the corner of his eye, he reached up and snatched it out of the air. His seeker reflexes and comparative height certainly helped, especially as they tried in vain to climb his body and take the flowers away from him. He could hear Hermione laughing and catcalling at him, and he took a moment to grin up at her, before looking at the flowers and back at Draco. The grin was becoming permanent as he considered his handful and the traditions it represented.
For a moment Draco watched him with an unreadable expression on his face, but then he smiled. "Stop mauling the poor man, thank you," he was saying to the woman who'd pressed up against him earlier, and then he was extracting Harry from the mob and leading him over to a chair, oddly quiet.
Harry's grin faded a little as he slowly sat down, watching Draco with concern from under lowered lashes. "What’s wrong?" he asked lightly, "Wanted to catch it for yourself?"
Draco laughed and messed his hair up very efficiently, and suddenly everything seemed okay again. "Nah, you can have the flowers, they might make me sneeze. And who knows, might do you some good. It'd be nice to finally have someone to settle down with, I think," he said thoughtfully. Maybe even a bit wistfully.
How about me? Harry bit down on his tongue quick enough to prevent it slipping out and stared at the petals of the flowers. "Yeah. Yeah it would."
He wasn't sure what else he could say, and he wished he didn't feel so disheartened that Draco was getting restless and wanted a relationship. After all, he ought to be happy for his friends, even if their happiness didn't go hand-in-hand with his own.
"You know what we should do?" Draco continued, casual as you please. "We should make a pact. If we're both still single by the time we're thirty, we might as well just marry each other." He grinned and looked over to see Harry's reaction.
Harry simply stared at him in shock for a few moments, before blinking and smiling shakily back. "You can wear the dress. It'd suit you better." Please please please let my thirtieth birthday come as quickly as possible, he thought dizzily. Had Draco really just made such an offer?
For his part, Draco looked surprised himself for a moment and Harry wondered just how serious he'd been. Then the other man scoffed, "You'd clearly be the girl in the relationship, Potter." He gave the bouquet a pointed look.
"Ha, ha," was the dry answer. "I only grabbed it because it was about to whack you in the head. Obviously it was attracted to you and knew how pretty you'd look all trussed up in white - although white might not be entirely appropriate." The thought of why that might be made his chest clench in jealousy, but he managed to maintain a smile nevertheless.
"Which is why you'll have to wear the white dress, m'love," Draco teased, giving him an affectionate grin. "It'll be far more appropriate, we can gloss over the rest." He sounded rather happy to do that, in fact, gloss over the rest.
Trying not to blush at the reference to his fumbling experiences with a few others in the years since the war, Harry cleared his throat and tried to sound unaffected. "Alright, alright. We'll just have to wear robes - nothing else for it, I suppose. Hopefully within seven years the purple atrocities will have disappeared from the magazines."
Draco laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Make any more plans for our wedding and I'll begin to think you've already given up on finding someone else within seven years." He sounded amused and something else.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Harry set the bouquet on the table between them and shrugged. "What can I say? I've always dreamed of marrying a blond." This, of course, was the absolute truth, and whether Draco took it as such or as its twisted version, he felt almost relieved that he'd finally admitted to at least that much.
Another unreadable expression flitted over Draco's features before he suddenly changed the subject. "Come on, let's go get some drinks before the millions of Weasleys here hog it all," he suggested, getting up and pulling Harry to his feet again.
Harry adopted a neutral expression in an attempt not to look too put out at the conversation being brought to such an abrupt end. Maybe he'd gone too far. Either way, it was too late now and he allowed Draco to tug him towards the bar - he could definitely do with a drink at this point.
Part 2
Authors: tracy_loo_who & starlitshore (formerly ordencodex)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Draco wants Harry. Harry wants Draco. So why is everything so difficult? Post war.
Notes: Written for grunhilda's request at serpentinelion's Fantasy Fest: Harry and Draco work together (post war) and Draco secretly wants Harry, but is about to quit trying because Harry is an oblivious git, and why does he have to keep looking at Draco as though he's giving him an ulcer? Should include snark, stupidity and sod the darned moonlight. Inebriation and red ears give bonus points.
"Mr. Potter, sir, yesterday's case reports have been updated and filed for you to look over at your earliest convenience, sir."
Harry heaved an internal sigh and stared down at the man before him, dressed impeccably in a stuffy suit and sporting a thick comb-over. Carter meant well, he knew, but the boy was young and… somewhat star-struck. And he'd caught Harry just when he was heading out for the day. "Thanks, Carter. I'll look them over tomorrow morning and have them back to you in the afternoon."
He waited, but the boy seemed to decide it was appropriate to continue to block his way and stare. Harry cocked an eyebrow, becoming impatient. He could see Draco's blond head bent over a stack of paperwork just over Carter’s shoulder, and suddenly he itched to get rid of the little twerp. "If that's all…?"
Within moments, said twerp scurried away with muttered apologies, leaving Harry to roll his eyes expressively and step into the cubicle across the hall from his own. He threw himself down sideways into the chair next to Draco's and leaned back against the desk on his elbows, deliberately placing one in the middle of the parchment Draco was currently concentrating on.
"Draco," he said, tone warning against an impending sulk, "you have pushed our photo to the corner of your desk. Am I that unimportant to you?"
Draco glanced up, looking tired but managing to smirk at him nonetheless, and it was a good thing Harry was Harry or else he'd have gotten a swift kick to his arse and twelve extra hours of work. "Why, Harry, are you by any chance getting jealous?" he asked sweetly, even as he relocated Harry's elbow to another stack of parchment and replaced it with their picture, looking more than happy to be done for the day.
It was a fairly old picture that now stood in the middle of Draco's work, taken shortly after the end of the war nearly three years before. Harry had been trying to teach Draco how to play muggle rugby, but really the only thing Draco had learned was how to tackle people, and he was doing quite the fine job of it in the picture. As Harry watched, Draco in the photo flew at him, blond hair streaming, and they collided messily only to end up sprawled together even more messily in the grass. His lips twitched as he thought of the picture on his own desk a few meters away: the two of them sitting side by side in the grass afterwards, Harry panting heavily and his ponce of a friend fixing his hair.
Glancing back up at Draco, he grinned and reached out to tug at the other man's tie, tightening it slightly around the throat so that Draco was forced to lean towards him. "Why would I be jealous? After all, I know exactly who you'll be with and what you'll be doing tonight."
Draco's eyes widened a tiny bit and he looked quickly up at Harry before his expression melted back into its usual calm amusement. "Won't be much help with the decorating if you asphyxiate me first, though," he drawled, but didn't bother to fix his tie. Ron's bachelor party was this weekend, and Harry had forced Draco to agree to help him plan it as soon as he'd decided it would be at his place. He never did get the hang of decorating things; Draco had always been much better at it, Designer Guy that he was.
"So obliging," Harry murmured, releasing his hold on the tie after a moment. His fingers itched to smooth out the wrinkles he'd made against Draco's chest, but he didn't dare. As much fun as it was to flirt teasingly with his friend, he simply wasn't bold enough to touch him so blatantly - Draco would likely brush him off. That, or they'd do something stupid and put their comfortable friendship in jeopardy. Harry couldn't risk either. Clearing his throat, he stood and pulled an unresisting Draco from his chair. "One would almost think you enjoyed decorating. It's the sparkles, isn't it? You can't resist pretty, shiny things."
"You're not shiny and I can't resist you, either," the other man pointed out, cheesy smile in place. "Quite pretty, though." Then he turned around to grab his coat and Harry couldn't see his expression anymore.
Harry let out a low laugh, glad Draco couldn't see his expression either as his face had just flushed faintly; he could feel its warmth against his fingers when he reached up to adjust his perfectly-placed glasses. "Come on, Casanova," he said, shaking the moment off and managing a grin as he slipped back across the hall to grab his jacket and shoulder bag, "Shiny or not, we've got a hot date at my place tonight and if we don't hurry up, Moody's going to be on our arses to stay another shift. Curry or noodles, by the way? Your pick this time."
He saw Draco glance at him again at the words hot date, and it was the same way Draco always glanced at him when Harry flirted: brief and questioning and something else before the moment passed and might as well have never happened in the first place. Harry might've thought it meant the other man was uncomfortable if Draco hadn't been the one to start their casual flirting years before, when they'd worked together during the war.
"I've half a mind to make you eat something vile," Draco said thoughtfully, looking quite pleased with the idea. "But curry, it's on me tonight."
----
Draco flicked a piece of something shiny at him. "Where's that leftover curry?" he whined. "I'm hungry." He was sprawled across Harry's couch, though, and didn't look like he intended to ever move again. They'd been trying to decorate for three hours now and so far all they'd accomplished was cleaning up Harry's flat and putting a few streamers up around the room. The rest had, of course, gotten tangled around Harry in Draco's attempt to mummify him.
Harry blew a raspberry at him from where he sat on the floor, untangling himself from a knot of green tissue and trying not to be too obvious about staring at the way his friend graced the couch so prettily. "It's in the fridge, if you'd like to get up and get it yourself, Princess." He didn't bother acting the polite host anymore; Draco had been a semi-permanent fixture in his flat ever since he'd gotten it. Besides, he deserved to be punished with exercise if he was going to cover Harry in Slytherin colours. "And while you're in there, grab me a beer would you?"
"If that wretched Dobby creature didn't hate me so much I'd make you get him to come bring us food and beer," Draco mumbled even as he got up, and Harry smiled because no one else's wish for some beer would've made him do it. He could hear Draco shuffling around in the kitchen for a moment before he came back, curry and two bottles of beer in hand, one of which he tried to balance on top of Harry's head as he passed him.
He easily caught the beer as it toppled off and, after tearing at the rest of the streamers binding him, crawled over to the couch and lifted himself up to flop onto it next to Draco, head resting on a firm thigh. "Why have a house elf when I've got you, love?" he asked, reaching up to brush a finger over the tip of Draco's pointed nose. And that was half the thrill, wasn't it, being allowed to do something like that. Harry took advantage of it to touch Draco as much as reasonably possible.
Even he couldn't fail to notice the slight catch in Draco's breaths, as he caught the hand and pushed it away from his face. But in doing so, his fingers curled slowly around Harry's and Harry, without thinking, let their hands fall to rest on his chest. It was an innocent enough gesture, but one he hoped Draco would understand as more intentional.
He couldn't tell if Draco started to lean forward before the fire shot up in green flames or if Draco started to lean forward because the fire shot up in green flames, but a moment later Neville's face appeared in the fireplace, hands covering his eyes as he called, "Is it safe to look?"
Draco jerked away, nearly dislodging Harry's head from his lap. But his tone, when he spoke, sounded quite calm. "Of course it's safe to look, it's not like we shag each other or anything."
Harry's stomach dropped and he stared at the ceiling for a long moment before swallowing painfully and sitting up. Draco might sound calm, but he knew him too well and could tell he was uncomfortable. Shit, he thought despondently, twisting the cap off his untouched beer with a snap and taking a swig. "Hey Nev, what's up?"
All Neville wanted was to ask if they thought Ron and Hermione would like some kind of weird, everlasting sapling he'd cultivated as a wedding present. By the time he was gone Harry had already convinced himself that their random moment of spontaneity with trying to hold hands had been just that - a random moment of spontaneity.
"So, where were we?" Draco wondered aloud, maybe almost invitingly, but Harry didn't want to make him feel like he had to play along if the moment was over and probably shouldn't have happened in the first place.
He gave Draco a tense smile and heaved himself off the couch, quickly gulping down what was left of his drink. "It's late. We're not going to get anything else done. I'm heading to bed. You should take the curry with you, if you're still hungry."
It was always implicit that Draco was to leave at night - he rarely stayed at Harry's to sleep, and even then it was due to extenuating circumstances. There were just too many risks involved: the temptation of having him there, the idea of Draco hearing him say something incriminating in his sleep, but most of all, that he would get too used to the other man's constant, permanent, comfortable presence in his home.
Draco had been the one to flirt first. Draco had been the one to dig a little niche for himself in Harry's flat. Draco had been the first to make a dinner date and the first to initiate a hug goodbye. But Harry couldn't shake the feeling that that was all it was meant to be - he was Draco's best friend, but there were other, better prospects out there. He'd learned not to take his behaviour too seriously, but tonight's brush off had still stung.
If it had been on anyone else, Harry would've thought the expression Draco flashed him was one of disappointed confusion. Knowing Draco, it was more likely that he could tell Harry had taken his rejection a bit worse than he was meant to and felt mildly guilty over it. But that was the last thing Harry wanted, so he tried to appear less like he was having an ulcer and smiled at him.
Draco hesitated, looking like there was something he wanted to say, but Harry beat him to it. "See you in the morning?"
"Yeah. Alright." Harry imagined a slight frown before Draco returned his smile and picked up his coat. "Night, Harry." No peck on the cheek tonight, and though Harry wasn't surprised he found himself feeling a little disappointed as he watched Draco let himself out.
----
Like most mornings, Harry woke to the smell of coffee and Draco. The coffee was steaming on his bedside table, and Draco was dragging him bodily into a sitting position. As always, Harry's blanket wasn't dislodged one bit and remained tucked around his shoulders, a feat he never did figure out how Draco accomplished.
"Wake up, beauty, if I get in trouble for being late again because of you, this coffee's going to end up in your lap next time," Draco was saying. He even put Harry's glasses on for him.
Something between a whimper and a dark mumble escaped Harry and, despite having his glasses on, he tried to squirm away from Draco's firm grip and back into his nest of blankets and pillows. He'd been quite comfortable, just like every morning, and he didn't really want to get up and face another day of Moody, just like every morning.
"Draco," he whined, batting weakly at his hand when he didn't loosen his grip enough to let him escape, "don't wanna go work." He had to admit, though, that the cupful of addictive caffeine smelt rather heavenly, and he wouldn't be opposed to drinking it - later, when he was done sleeping.
"And I don't want to have to apparate you to work with no coffee and a pair of boxers on." Draco's voice sounded faintly amused now, Harry was sure the git would never let him live down the time when he'd done just that.
"Meanie." He stopped resisting, though, and slowly started to extricate himself from his tangled sheets, eyes clenched tightly shut to ward off the bright morning light Draco had so thoughtfully let in. Managing to swing his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, he let his head rest against Draco's shoulder and gestured vaguely in the direction of the cup of coffee. "Can't see."
He could almost feel Draco roll his eyes. But then the other man ruffled his hair and sat beside him, one arm looping casually around Harry's body as he pressed the warm mug into his hands. Draco must've been a few minutes earlier today, then, it wasn't every day that they had time to sit and… snuggle, as it were.
Harry leaned slightly into the touch and cracked one eye open to peer up at Draco. He was already immaculately dressed and ready for the day ahead, looking like he'd slept twelve hours with nary a disturbance. Harry pouted slightly and reached up to scratch at his messy hair, and then Draco scratched his messy hair for him.
"I feel," Harry declared, "extremely gross. I definitely need a shower." Instead of getting up to do that, he allowed himself to enjoy Draco's presence for a little while longer as he sipped at his coffee and hummed softly in contentment. It was nice to know that no matter what had happened the night before, morning always came, along with Draco and a cup of caffeine, and things were suddenly alright once again.
"You don't look extremely gross," the other man said lightly. "What do you want for breakfast, though? I'll see if I can make something while you shower, kind of hungry myself."
Harry smiled in appreciation at the gesture and pulled away to set the cup on his bedside table. "Make whatever you feel like. You know I'll eat just about anything." He placed a sloppy kiss somewhere near Draco's temple, then stumbled off the bed and across the room to where the shower was calling his name from behind the bathroom door. "Thanks, mate."
Once the door was closed he dropped his boxers, knowing Draco was collecting his cup to take to the kitchen. It was a rare but pleasant occasion when Draco arrived early enough to make breakfast because it meant Harry wouldn't have to wait until their lunch break to relieve hunger pains. And it was Draco, making breakfast. For him.
After washing himself quickly (and making sure to condition his hair so that Draco wouldn't scold him), he hopped out and pulled on his bathrobe. Then he proceeded to drip out to the kitchen and flopped onto a stool to watch Draco's slim figure at work. His eyes didn't drift to Draco's arse at all, really. "Mm. Smells good."
"You're dripping all over the floor," Draco nagged, sounding for all the world like it was his floor Harry was dripping on. But he brought omelets and some orange juice over to the table and sat across from Harry. "One of these days I'm going to slip in one of your more puddly puddles and fall and crack my head open and bleed profusely all over your pretty floor. And then I'll die there, and you'll be left with no Draco or coffee, a beautiful if somewhat cold body, and a bunch of blood on your floor. Happy Christmas."
Harry sighed dramatically and stabbed at his omelet. "Not only that, I wouldn't have anyone around to complain while they mopped it up. My life would be so empty."
"Carter might help you fill the void if you asked nicely," Draco mused. "He seems quite eager."
"Ew." Until that moment, Harry hadn't known that a single syllable could express so much disgust, contempt, and horror. Shuddering delicately, he took a quick gulp of juice, as if to wash away a nasty taste in his mouth. "Please, please, please never say anything like that again while I'm eating."
Draco snickered into his own glass and seemed, for some reason, very pleased with himself.
----
"Harryyyyy." Harry heard the whine from across the hall just as a ball of parchment hit the side of his head. "Are you almost done with that report? I'm hungry."
He'd started at the impact of the projectile, but now he blinked down at where it lay innocently on his desk, right in the middle of the report he was not finished with, no, thank you very much. Turning to meet Draco's eyes across the expanse of two desks and a hall, he cocked an eyebrow. "Malfoy. You did not just throw a paper ball at me."
Draco threw another paper ball at him.
This called for war.
With a wave of the hand and a flick of the wrist, a barrage of wrinkled parchment balls rose from Harry's wastebin and zoomed across the hall to pelt Draco, whose muffled yelp as he ducked was probably louder than it should have been. But he was back up a moment later, grinning as he sent every last missile back at Harry.
Harry giggled helplessly as he slipped off his chair and under the desk just in time to miss being hit. Poking his head around the corner of the desk, he didn't even wait for the balls to land before halting their progress mid-air and sending them back across the hall once again.
As Harry's fate had decreed long before, Alastor Moody chose that precise moment to finish hobbling down the hall to see what the commotion was about and stop in between Harry and Draco's cubicles. Half of Harry's thirty or so paper balls hit him squarely and in the dead silence afterwards Draco's slightly belated effort to cut off his giggle was quite clear if a bit strangled.
Harry was forced to press his palm firmly against his mouth to cut off another round of laughter as he stared up at his boss with wide eyes. He couldn't really tell if the twitch beginning around his - well, his natural eye - was one of amusement or -
"POTTER! MALFOY! WHAT THE HELL D'YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
- annoyance. Harry ducked behind his desk again as another fit of helpless giggles bent him double.
Heads were popping up over the tops of cubicles on either side of him, and he was sure more than a few people had started congregating in the passage outside the rows of offices.
"Why do I get yelled at for being the victim?" Draco asked, and though Harry couldn't quite see him from where he was still hiding under the desk he could tell the other man was pouting and on the verge of giggles too.
"QUIET!" Eye twisting madly in its socket, Moody rounded on the unfortunate man. "I WILL NOT HAVE YOU AND POTTER TURNING THIS OFFICE INTO A PLAYGROUND." Draco started to say something, but was of course cut off. "You," Moody growled, "will move to the spare cubicle at the other end of the hall immediately."
"Aw, come on Mad-Eye," Harry whined plaintively, finally crawling out. He stood and attempted to look apologetic, which worked best when he avoided looking anywhere near Draco. "We were just having a bit of fun. But we've learned our lesson and will never again disrupt your calm, quiet department. We solemnly swear."
"Look how pretty this report is," Draco said brightly, before their boss could threaten them again. He grabbed his morning's work off his desk. "I know you've been having a spot of trouble with that eye of yours lately, so my handwriting was extra neat today, you'll enjoy reading it." He shoved the parchment at Moody, stepped around him to grab Harry's wrist, and smiled prettily. "Tell me what you think when Harry and I get back from lunch." And with that, he jerked on Harry's arm and they were departing rapidly around the corner.
They didn't manage to get quite out of earshot before collapsing into another fit of laughter, leaning on each other for support as they stumbled away from Moody's grumpy tirade. "Oh my god, did you see his face?!" Harry asked loudly, prompting more than a few hisses of "shhh!" from the surrounding cubicles.
"I know, I was sure his eye was going to jump out and attack me," Draco giggled, ignoring their coworkers and grinning like a little boy. "But that was so close, do you think he'd really move me?" Now he just sounded petulant.
Harry melted. Reaching up, he pushed Draco's hair back off his face and smiled. "Nah. Why would he move you when he knows he'd just end up dealing with you whining at him about moving back for the rest of his days?"
"Ah, Harry. The things I'd do to be with you," he sighed, shaking his head and managing to look solemn for all of about two seconds before he was grinning again and tugging Harry up from where they'd landed on the floor, half smushed against a wall. "So where are we going for lunch?"
"Anywhere, and I repeat, anywhere besides the canteen." He regretfully let his hand slip from Draco’s grasp, but smiled and fell into step beside him. "And considering we had curry last night, I vote against Indian."
"Sushi, then!" Draco decided cheerfully. "Nothing brightens up a day like some dead fish wrapped in rice."
Harry pulled a face. "On second thought, I'd rather go back and face Moody."
For some reason, Draco didn't seem to care. "Too bad, you said 'anywhere' and I picked, so we're having sushi for lunch." And they did, much to Harry's dismay.
----
"What do you mean, you're not coming to dinner?" Draco asked, scowling very close to Harry's face. He sighed, pushed his glasses up, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It'd already been a long day and he was tired, but Moody had given him an extra assignment that morning and he wanted to get it done before he left. Part of him wanted to prove that he really could be an upstanding auror after yesterday's paper ball fiasco, but Draco didn't seem terribly impressed.
"I mean," Harry said, pointedly moving Draco's hand off of the paperwork and portfolios set out on the desk before him, "I'm not coming to dinner." At the look on Draco's face, he sighed sat back in his chair, holding his hands out palm up. He couldn't hold out under that look. "What would you have me do, Draco?"
"Finish it in the morning." Draco rolled his eyes. "You know he's just griping at you for hitting him with thousands of paper balls yesterday."
"Whether it's payback or not, I'll still have another case on my desk by morning. If I don't stay here tonight, I'll be here late again tomorrow night."
"I'll help with it tomorrow." Draco was definitely sulking at him now.
Harry sighed again and removed his glasses to rub a hand over his eyes, partly to stave off the headache he could feel creeping behind his temples and partly so he wouldn't have to look at Draco's highly effective pout. "It's alright. I'll just whip up some leftovers when I get home. You, though, should go home and eat a proper meal. I don't think we've had anything but take-out since last week."
"You sound," Draco informed him succinctly, "like my mother." Then there was a pause during which Harry's nose scrunched up in distaste at the comparison (though it was probably more than a little accurate). Draco sighed, very dramatically. "Fine, eat your nasty leftovers, are we still decorating tonight?"
"Yeah. You can start without me if I get in late, I don't mind." Harry smiled perkily at that - he really didn't like decorating, and wasn't especially good at it, either.
Draco stuck his tongue out at him, flicked the lens of his glasses, and was gone with another petulant look, leaving Harry to stare briefly at the spot he'd just vacated. Then he sighed, scratched the side of his head, and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.
----
Harry woke, as usual, to the sound of Draco's voice, though this time the smell of coffee was distinctly lacking. "Honestly, Potter, you call this working? I don't." Before he even opened his eyes, he could feel Draco tilt his head up with a gentle hand under his chin. And before he even registered the moistness on his lips and cheek, he could feel Draco wiping it away with a thumb.
He pressed his lips together and carefully pulled away to sit up. Looking up at Draco with sleep-heavy eyes, Harry unconsciously rubbed his chin where he could still feel the warm imprint of fingers. "Hey," he croaked, and cleared his throat. "Must've fallen asleep. What time is it?"
"Just past eight," came the reply, accompanied by a roll of Draco's eyes. "I brought food to your flat, but you weren't there. Did you even get that case done? You're lucky you didn't drool on -" he glanced at the parchment, "- T. B. Hetcher's file."
"I doubt he'd mind," Harry answered with a yawn. Closing the offending file, he shoved it and the rest of his paperwork into a haphazard pile and set it aside. Then he stood and picked up his coat, leaving his satchel hanging from the hook next to the door. "Now," he stepped close to Draco and smiled tiredly at him, "what's this about food?"
"You are so lucky I adore you so much," Draco said dryly as he flicked the lights off and led him out of the office.
----
"A little more over there, I think," Harry said around a mouthful of noodles. He gestured vaguely with his spoon to the other side of the room. "There's hardly any sparkly stuff over there yet."
He'd been curled up in his favourite armchair for the past half hour, watching Draco decorate and slurping messily at the turkey noodle soup Draco had made. He hadn't bothered to observe etiquette in his own home.
Draco glanced over from where he was levitating some sparkly things around the room. He wrinkled his nose very, very delicately. "Ew, gross. If you talk with your mouth full at the party I'm going to have to send you to your room to reflect on your behaviour."
Mouth still full, Harry pressed a hand to his lips as he laughed at the expression on Draco's face. Finally managing to swallow, he grinned up at him. "Aw, Draco, you look so cute with your nose all scrunched up. And there are easier ways to get me into the bedroom, you know. Unless you're into punishment?"
"Oh?" Draco affixed the sparkly things to the doorframe and turned around to look at him properly. "So what's the most effective way?" he asked casually. "I've been trying to figure it out for years, wouldn't you know."
Harry smiled as they fell into their easy pattern of bantering. He was of half a mind to ask Draco the very same thing, but brushed that thought aside in favour of playing along.
"The most effective? Hm…" He tapped his spoon lightly against his chin and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Well, I am a total sop, so a declaration of undying love might do the trick. That or Swiss chocolate. You know I love those ones with the melty stuff inside."
"I'll keep that in mind," Draco grinned. "But as for now, I think I've got an idea that might work. You have dark circles around your eyes, can barely keep them open, and look like shit." He came over, took the empty bowl away from Harry, and pulled him out of the chair. "Come on, off to bed."
"You were doing alright before the comment about my appearance," Harry mumbled darkly, allowing himself to be pulled up and helped into the bedroom. When they'd made it through the doorway, Harry's knees a bit more wobbly than he'd thought, Draco dropped him unceremoniously on the unmade bed he'd dragged him out of that morning.
"Draco," Harry whined, looking pitifully up at him, "I'm still in my work clothes and now I can't get up." To prove his point, he tried to lift his head before letting it flop back onto the pillows. Then he rolled over and snuggled into his mound of bedding. "Mmpf."
Draco's fingers touched his shoulder first, and then the other man was turning him back over and making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He managed to pull Harry's arms out of them, somehow, and then pulled off his pants, too, all the while touching him as little as possible. "There," he said when Harry was in a tank and boxers. "Better?" Before Harry could even reply, Draco was pulling the covers up to his chin and tucking the corners around him.
Harry blinked sleepily up at him and decided it was nice, having Draco tuck him in. Wrestling an arm free of the covers, he hooked it around the back of Draco's neck and pulled him in for an awkward hug. "Thanks. I'll see you in the morning."
Draco smiled at him, and for a moment their faces were close enough that Harry could have kissed him if he tilted his chin up enough. But then Draco was pulling away and turning his lamp off with a soft "Night, git," and Harry closed his eyes.
It didn't take long at all for the quiet sounds of Draco puttering around in the living room to lull him to sleep.
Harry didn't wake again until two in the morning when he needed to go to the loo. Upon sitting up, though, he found that he'd been carefully decorated in streamers and confetti, and the stuff was also littered all over his sheets. "Arg!" he exclaimed, and took a moment to brush as much of it out of his hair as possible. Then, narrowing his eyes at nothing in particular, he stumbled to the bathroom, muttering about revenge and muggle silly string.
----
"Hmm." Draco was eyeing him appraisingly as Madam Maulkin hovered around taking his measurements. "I daresay you've grown a bit since the last time we were here," he said thoughtfully. "Not quite as severely gawkish anymore, either."
Harry stuck his tongue out at him. "Shame I can't say the same about you."
"Of course, I was never gawkish in the first place," Draco scoffed with a flip of his hair. "And just because I'm delicate and not a brute like you are doesn't mean I'm small."
"You keep telling yourself that, and it just might come true someda-OW!" He shot a wounded look down at Madame Maulkin, who was busy taking the robe in around his bum. Draco sniggered, but Harry carefully ignored him.
They'd already been at this for hours, and Harry was eternally grateful that Draco was there to keep him entertained. It was two days after Ron's highly successful bachelor party, and between the extra workload Moody had decided to pile on them and making sure the party went smoothly, they'd both been exhausted and had taken yesterday off work to lie around Harry's flat and relax.
Now here they were, two days before Ron was to be married off and domesticated by Hermione (who was clearly the one who wore the pants in the relationship), and their friend's anxiety over the wedding was driving both him and Draco up the wall. He just hoped that the bags under his eyes wouldn't show up in the wedding photos.
"Anyway," Draco was saying, "you have no idea how small or otherwise I am. Oooh, you should get these purple ones," he grinned, showing Harry a catalogue they hadn't already gone through and pointing at an atrocious purple dress robe.
He snorted at the thought of showing up as best man dressed in bright purple, and carefully shuffled his feet out of the robemaker's way so that he wouldn't be speared on the tip of her needle again. "Those are atrocious. And it would do Ron in if I showed up wearing a colour that was that gay."
"But you are that gay," Draco pointed out sweetly, and dropped his chin into his hands. He was perched on a stool and leaning over the counter, clearly very bored himself since they'd already picked out their respective dress robes and Draco had already been measured. "Are you almost done poking at his compromising places yet?" he asked Madam Maulkin, and something about his tone reminded Harry of a small, pointed, eleven-year-old Draco. The corner of his lip quirked.
When Madam Maulkin made a vague noise of agreement, Harry sighed in relief and let his shoulders slump. "Thank Merlin. I will be only too happy if I never have to attend another wedding in my lifetime. Thanks Madam," he said distractedly as he was helped out of the spiny robes. He stepped down from his perch and straightened his t-shirt before picking up and pulling on his sweater. "Right, then. Ready to go? I'm starving and I reckon we've got a bit before they're ready."
"Let's have ice cream!" Draco suggested, sounding very bright and gay.
Harry rolled his eyes and pushed him out of the shop without another word.
----
Having been the best man, Harry was exhausted all over again by the time the reception was finally over and the dancing had begun. He'd been up early in the day trying to calm Ron down (a feat he was singularly proud of, thank you very much) and bustling back and forth between Hermione and Ron's rooms before the wedding had even started. And then there was the wedding itself, and constantly checking that he still had the rings with him and that his robes were still in order. His speech at the reception afterwards had been inexplicably nerve-wracking, and he'd needed to focus on Draco's amused expression to get through it. All those people looking up at him - Ron really had far too many relatives. Now Harry was just relaxing in a chair watching the others dance.
He was incredibly happy for his best friends and a feeling of contentment settled over him as he saw Ron twirl a radiant Hermione around the floor as if he'd danced that well all his life and hadn't just learned in the past few weeks. Harry was tired, though, and wasn't that upset that the wedding planning, party throwing, dance lessons, and dress robe shopping were finally over. But he couldn't help feeling a bit wistful.
It was a feeling that had been summarily shoved aside in favour of concentrating on his friends, but which now rose its head as his gaze shifted to watch Draco dip, twirl, and grin with his pretty dance partner. He'd always hoped that one day he might have a wedding just like this one, and he'd known for quite a while now exactly who he wanted to be exchanging vows with - but it wasn't likely to happen any time soon. Harry sighed and almost wished Draco hadn't made him completely gay and uninterested in Ginny. Almost.
When the current dance ended, Draco gave the girl a charming smile and left her side to come over to Harry. "Come on, old man, get up and dance with me," he insisted, looking flushed and happy and slipping both hands into Harry's to pull him up. "It won't do to have the best man sitting alone in the corner, after all."
An involuntary smile graced his features as Draco's warm grip lured him into the crowd. The other man was obviously in his element, and Harry loved seeing him this happy. And it didn't hurt that he was finally getting to dance with him.
"The best man has been dancing. He was simply resting his feet while he waited for you to get bored of the girls and ask him."
Draco laughed and pulled him closer, guiding them smoothly into the music and moving with it. His left hand came to rest against the small of Harry's back and he grinned faintly. "Should've asked me yourself before the girls got me, then."
"Mm, no need," Harry replied lightly, reveling in the feeling of Draco's hands on him, "I knew you'd show up eventually. I am, after all, irresistible. And you must admit, I look quite dashing in this wedding get-up."
"Considering how much that Maulkin woman poked at you, I should really hope so," Draco said cheekily, right before sending him into a twirl. When he was back in Draco's arm again, the git was almost laughing. "You do twirl prettily, I hadn't noticed before."
Harry laughed, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. He ignored the strange looks they were getting from a few of the guests and pressed in close again. "I learned from the master. All these years watching you prance around - is it any wonder?"
For a moment Harry thought Draco looked like he might stick his tongue out at him, but then he didn't. And as close as their faces were to each other, it was probably a good thing. Or a bad one. Harry couldn't help feeling a faint twinge of disappointment, but a second later the moment had passed and Draco was saying something. "Shove off, you've just been going to too many of those dancing lessons with Ron. At least you'll be ready for when your own wedding rolls around, though," he added a heartbeat later.
Harry's breathing hitched almost imperceptibly at that, and he carefully considered the words. "I was thinking about that earlier, actually. Trying to figure out who I'd have as best man. Ron, or-" his throat tightened at the thought and he had to force out the next word: "you."
He saw Draco's eyes slide quickly over to his just as the music began to fade. The other man opened his mouth to say something but then closed it audibly, and Harry could see the muscles in his jaw twitch. "I don't want to be the best man at your wedding, Harry," he said finally, without inflection, and then stepped away from Harry as Ginny cleared her throat in the microphone.
Harry wasn't entirely sure how to take that, so he stamped down on the tiny flare of hope that had lit in his chest. And anyway, he didn't have time to dwell on it at the moment. He tore his eyes away from Draco's profile to watch Ginny announce the bouquet toss.
Before she could even finish her line, women were swarming around him and Draco, pressing them together and pushing against them from all sides as they warred with each other to get the best position. He shot Draco a look of complete horror as the woman in front of him backed up against him, her bottom pressing in on his thighs.
Draco caught his look and grinned at him even as he was unceremoniously shoved against Harry himself by a rather sizeable Weasley. "Makes me wonder if they're trying to catch the damned flowers or take advantage of the opportunity to feel you up," he whispered in Harry's ear just before Hermione tossed.
Harry wasn't sure what made him do it, but as he saw the bouquet sailing their way out of the corner of his eye, he reached up and snatched it out of the air. His seeker reflexes and comparative height certainly helped, especially as they tried in vain to climb his body and take the flowers away from him. He could hear Hermione laughing and catcalling at him, and he took a moment to grin up at her, before looking at the flowers and back at Draco. The grin was becoming permanent as he considered his handful and the traditions it represented.
For a moment Draco watched him with an unreadable expression on his face, but then he smiled. "Stop mauling the poor man, thank you," he was saying to the woman who'd pressed up against him earlier, and then he was extracting Harry from the mob and leading him over to a chair, oddly quiet.
Harry's grin faded a little as he slowly sat down, watching Draco with concern from under lowered lashes. "What’s wrong?" he asked lightly, "Wanted to catch it for yourself?"
Draco laughed and messed his hair up very efficiently, and suddenly everything seemed okay again. "Nah, you can have the flowers, they might make me sneeze. And who knows, might do you some good. It'd be nice to finally have someone to settle down with, I think," he said thoughtfully. Maybe even a bit wistfully.
How about me? Harry bit down on his tongue quick enough to prevent it slipping out and stared at the petals of the flowers. "Yeah. Yeah it would."
He wasn't sure what else he could say, and he wished he didn't feel so disheartened that Draco was getting restless and wanted a relationship. After all, he ought to be happy for his friends, even if their happiness didn't go hand-in-hand with his own.
"You know what we should do?" Draco continued, casual as you please. "We should make a pact. If we're both still single by the time we're thirty, we might as well just marry each other." He grinned and looked over to see Harry's reaction.
Harry simply stared at him in shock for a few moments, before blinking and smiling shakily back. "You can wear the dress. It'd suit you better." Please please please let my thirtieth birthday come as quickly as possible, he thought dizzily. Had Draco really just made such an offer?
For his part, Draco looked surprised himself for a moment and Harry wondered just how serious he'd been. Then the other man scoffed, "You'd clearly be the girl in the relationship, Potter." He gave the bouquet a pointed look.
"Ha, ha," was the dry answer. "I only grabbed it because it was about to whack you in the head. Obviously it was attracted to you and knew how pretty you'd look all trussed up in white - although white might not be entirely appropriate." The thought of why that might be made his chest clench in jealousy, but he managed to maintain a smile nevertheless.
"Which is why you'll have to wear the white dress, m'love," Draco teased, giving him an affectionate grin. "It'll be far more appropriate, we can gloss over the rest." He sounded rather happy to do that, in fact, gloss over the rest.
Trying not to blush at the reference to his fumbling experiences with a few others in the years since the war, Harry cleared his throat and tried to sound unaffected. "Alright, alright. We'll just have to wear robes - nothing else for it, I suppose. Hopefully within seven years the purple atrocities will have disappeared from the magazines."
Draco laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Make any more plans for our wedding and I'll begin to think you've already given up on finding someone else within seven years." He sounded amused and something else.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Harry set the bouquet on the table between them and shrugged. "What can I say? I've always dreamed of marrying a blond." This, of course, was the absolute truth, and whether Draco took it as such or as its twisted version, he felt almost relieved that he'd finally admitted to at least that much.
Another unreadable expression flitted over Draco's features before he suddenly changed the subject. "Come on, let's go get some drinks before the millions of Weasleys here hog it all," he suggested, getting up and pulling Harry to his feet again.
Harry adopted a neutral expression in an attempt not to look too put out at the conversation being brought to such an abrupt end. Maybe he'd gone too far. Either way, it was too late now and he allowed Draco to tug him towards the bar - he could definitely do with a drink at this point.
Part 2