The first time Harry hears this ridiculous rumour, he finds it amusing. 

“Me and Malfoy?” He asks.

The intern nods. “Everyone thinks you’re together.”

“That’s ridiculous. People will just make up anything nowadays.”

“Y-yeah, totally.”

The second time, it's less funny because it’s from Dean, a fully trained adult Auror, not some naive teenage intern. 

“Potter, could you ask your healer boyfriend if he could send over the reports today?” 

“...my what.”

“Your boyfriend?” Dean replies, looking up from his work.

“Malfoy isn’t my boyfriend.” He replies quickly, defensively. 

Dean gives him a look. “Right. Just ask him for those reports.”

After the third, fourth, fifth, and even sixth time, Harry stops finding it funny.

"Why does everyone think I’m dating Malfoy? I mean, that’s insane. Right, guys?"

Ron and Hermione exchange the ‘are you seeing what I’m seeing?’ look that Harry has been a victim of since they were fourteen.

"What?" He asks.

“Well, Harry-” Hermione starts, clearly ready to gentle parent him into whatever realization he was missing, until Ron interrupts.

“Maybe you should ask Malfoy, mate.”

Harry is not asking Malfoy. He’ll just ask everyone else. He’s an Auror, after all; investigations like this are his thing. Obviously, this rumour is coming from somewhere. He’ll just ask around until he finds out where. 

He goes up to the Mungos’ receptionist, bracing himself. He inhales, then asks, “Could you tell me where my boyfriend is?”

She doesn’t even look up. “He’s on spell damage today, fourth floor.”

“Malfoy’s not my boyfriend.”

She looks up. “Alright.” She looks extremely unconvinced. 

“I’m being serious. We’re not dating.”

“Really?” 

“Yes.”

"Oh." 

Harry does not like how shocked she looks. He shakes his head. She probably sees lots of people and gets confused; he doubts it means anything.

That is, until everybody’s answer is like that. 

“Isn’t he your partner for every gala?”

“He leaves any case he’s on if you’re injured.”

“You literally threatened the Minister because he accidentally insulted Malfoy.”

“You bring him coffee every morning?”

“You guys go to the same place for lunch every day. Even the Prophet’s bored of it.”

Harry is beginning to suspect he may not survive this investigation with the insane things people are saying. I mean, it’s all true, but clearly taken out of context.

"Malfoy."

Draco doesn’t look up from his paperwork. "Potter."

"Everyone thinks we're dating." 

“I’m afraid they do.” He replies dryly.

“Uh, do you not care?” Harry asks.

Draco looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Harry pauses, realizing he actually doesn’t mind the idea. He was just worried Draco would take offense to such an egregious misunderstanding.

“No.”

“Then there isn’t really an issue, is there?”

“Suppose not.”

“Well, I have work to do. I’ll talk to you later tonight.”

“Er- alright then.” As Harry reaches for the door, Draco speaks again.

"Harry."

Harry turns. "Yeah?"

“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps everyone else might be right?” Draco asks, suddenly looking at him expectantly.

 “I, er, guess so,” Harry replies, faltering under his sharp stare. Draco looks satisfied with this answer, even though Harry has never felt more confused in his life.

Malfoy acts like everything is normal later that day, but Harry can't stop thinking about it.

‘Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps everyone else isn't misunderstanding the situation?’ What bloody situation? He tries to pay more attention to things.

The next morning, when Harry drops off Draco's coffee, nobody looks surprised, as per usual. One Healer actually says, "Morning, you two."

Draco replies, "Morning." Like, this is normal. Like that is a normal thing to say. Harry doesn't even work here!

During a meeting, Draco throws a hissy fit because Harry’s robes aren’t on right, and he adjusts his collar. Nobody reacts. Draco falls asleep on his shoulder during one of their breaks. Nobody reacts.

Later that day, he gets an invite to a Gala addressed to the both of them. Like they’re a unit. 

“This is insane! To Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy. What the hell are they thinking?”

Ron doesn’t even look up from his paper. “Yeah, Mate, that’s so crazy.” He says, half listening. 

He looks around to see if anyone else saw this insanity, but no one has reacted. Wait. Harry thinks about the stupid coffee. The lunches. The galas. The fact that they almost live together with how often Malfoy’s at Grimmauld.

Oh.

Shit.

take 2

“That’s right,” Potter whispers. “You’re doing so well. So good.”

Draco is close. Right on the edge. The precipice. He wants to make it last. He doesn’t want to fall over just yet, because he knows—he knows—this is their first and only time.

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: tremble | wc: 250

“I always get it wrong,” Harry mumbled, sounding confused. Worried. “I think I’ve got it wrong.”

Draco’s heart was hammering in his throat as his fingers tried to remember the movements, as he hummed the healing charm as best he could. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything perfect. You’re always so bloody perfect, so shut up and stay alive.”

“I don’t know. Is it right this time?” He was fading. Draco bit his lip as he paused the charm. The blood flowed. He cursed.

“Stay with me. Stay with me, help’s on the way,” Draco whispered. He started humming again. 

Harry’s shaking fingers met his. He was almost as pale as Draco.

“It’s ironic, right? You always tell me it’s a coincidence. But … this is ironic. I think.”

Draco gasped out a strange sound, something between gag, laugh, and sob. “Yes, this is ironic.”

“Because I’m going to die saving you from the curse I almost killed you with.”

“Almost die. Almost, you hear me? You won’t—”

“‘Snot a coincidence,” Harry mumbled. “It’s ironic.”

Draco heard a crack and felt a swarm of healers surround them. He pulled Harry’s face close.

“You want irony?” Draco asked, feeling hands pulling him away. “Irony would be you saving my life the day I was planning to tell you how I felt, and then dying before I got the chance.”

“You hate irony,” Harry slurred as the sleeping charm hit.

“And I love you,” Draco whispered, finally letting the tears fall.

Shall I do another 250 for resolution to heal my own heart?

"Harry halts, drawing back from Draco's face. Slow and deliberate, he slides down Draco's body, hands trailing over Draco's waistcoat, past his hips to his thighs. Kneeling, Harry traces the outline of the bulge in Draco's breeches with a single finger. Draco's breath quickens as Harry’s other hand curls around the back of his thigh.

“And what about this today?”

Excerpt of a scene from Chapter 2 of The Devoted Gentleman by Fluffy_Underneath. (It's so brilliant! Please check it out!)

Art by the amazing @substellaris ❤️

*

My dearest @fluffyunderneath, it was the hardest struggle choosing which scene from your gorgeous fic to have commissioned, but I went with this one - Harry on his knees worshipping and adoring Draco's body and his finery because not only is it the most romantic scene I've ever read and literally left me breathless, I believe it also captures their relationship so perfectly.

Thank you for sharing your talent so generously and for being my best sheep in the world ❤️ 🐑 I was saving this for Christmas but obviously I'm not known for my impulse control so Happy 23rd of December for all those who celebrate! 😂✨️🫴

Ron stared at his pint, pretending very hard to focus on the amber liquid and not eavesdrop on Draco and Harry's conversation at the other end of the bar.

"You're in my space, Potter," Draco said, but there was no heat in it. His hand rested on Harry's bicep, fingers curled around the muscle there.

"Am I?" Harry asked, leaning closer. He'd grown broader after Hogwarts, taller too, filled out properly with Auror training. Right now he was using all that extra height to crowd into Malfoy's space. "Didn't notice."

"You're a big, fat liar."

"Prove it."

Ron took a long drink. The Leaky Cauldron was busy tonight, full of witches and wizards unwinding after work. No one else seemed bothered by the fact that Harry Potter, Head Auror, had apparently lost his mind.

"I don't need to prove anything to you," Draco said. His thumb traced a small circle on Harry's arm.

"You like touching me now."

"I'm simply admiring the results of your training regimen. Professional interest."

"Professional interest."

"I work with runes, Potter. I appreciate well-constructed things."

Harry laughed, and Ron wanted to hex him. This was the same bloke who'd taken down three dark wizards last week with perfect strategy and timing. The same bloke who could coordinate an entire team of Aurors through complex raids without breaking a sweat.

Put him near Malfoy and he turned into a lovesick fool.

"How's the Ministry contract going?" Harry asked.

"Tedious. Your department keeps requesting modifications."

"Maybe I'm requesting them."

"Are you?"

"Maybe I just like having excuses to see you."

Ron gripped his glass harder. Hermione had warned him before she'd left for the night. She'd actually warned him that Harry and Malfoy would probably end up like this, but he hadn't listened.

"That's pathetic, Potter."

"You're still here."

"The drinks are good."

"The drinks are terrible. You told me that fifteen minutes ago."

Draco's lips twitched. "Did I?"

"You did. Right before you put your hand on my arm and haven't moved it since."

"I hate you," Draco said.

"No, you don't."

"I really, really do."

"Say it again. More convincingly this time."

Ron looked over despite himself. Harry had shifted even closer, his hand now resting on the bar beside Draco's, their fingers almost touching. Draco had tipped his head back to maintain eye contact, his hair catching the firelight. He looked like he wanted to be exactly where he was.

They both did.

"This is stupid," Draco murmured.

"No, you're stupid."

"Brilliant comeback. Did that take you all day to come up with?"

Harry grinned, absolutely besotted, and Ron wanted to leave. He should leave. He should have left ten minutes ago.

"I should go," Draco said, but he didn't move. "Early meeting tomorrow."

"Skip it."

"Some of us have professional obligations, Potter."

"Your contract isn't due for another week. I know because I'm the one who approved the timeline."

"Abuse of power."

"Definitely."

Blaise appeared at Ron's elbow, signaling Tom for a drink. He glanced toward Harry and Draco, then snorted.

"Finally," Blaise said. "Merlin, I thought they'd never get their act together."

Ron turned to stare at him. "You think this is good?"

"Weasley, I've been listening to Draco talk about Potter since first year. This is mercy." Blaise accepted his firewhisky from Tom. "And you can't tell me Potter was any better."

Ron slumped on his stool. "He wasn't."

"There you go then. It's time these two actually did something about it instead of making the rest of us suffer."

"I'm suffering right now."

"You're eavesdropping. That's your fault."

"They're doing this out in the open. I can't not hear them."

Blaise raised his glass toward Harry and Draco. "To them finally getting together. May they take it somewhere private soon so we can all have some peace."

Ron clinked his glass against Blaise's because what else could he do? His best friend was absolutely gone on Draco Malfoy, standing there with his hand creeping closer to Draco's on the bar, smiling like nothing else in the world mattered.

And Malfoy, the git, looked exactly the same way.