#gwbgc

Merlin, Not Again - "Say one more word, Harry, and I'll put a permanent sticking charm on your mouth"

Works for the GWB Very Drarry Summer Vibes have been revealed! Here is my contribution for the exchange. If you like it, consider leaving me kudos and comments on AO3!

Here we celebrate all things Drarry, but this particular corner of the internet is where the illustrious members of GWB share the fruits of their labour for our annual summer and winter anonymous gift exchange fests. We hope you all enjoy them as much as we do, and that you’ll join us on Discord to participate in all the fun! 

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Drarry - Relationship, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Characters: Harry Potter Characters, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, Blaise Zabini, Ginny Weasley Additional Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, 8th year, Hogwarts, Post-War, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Drarry, Gryffindor Common Room, Slytherins, Gryffindors - Freeform, Slytherin Common Room, Roommates, Quidditch, Party Games, Chess, Wizards, Heart-to-Heart, Established Relationship, Spin the Bottle, Drarry fic - Freeform, harry potter fan-fiction Summary:

Hc: Harry is Hard of Hearing. It was caused by the sounds of too many curse blasts so close to him or something (I don’t really care what made him HoH, or if he was born with it). St. Mungo’s can’t reverse the hearing loss, and Harry gets muggle hearing aids to help compensate. But they don’t perfectly correct hearing even when they’re not being interfered with by magic, so he still has a hard time communicating, especially in noisy places. He started learning BSL (British sign language), but since all of his friends were hearing, nobody knew he had acquired the skill. Until he starts working on a case in the Auror department.

///

Narcissa cradled the head of her baby boy as she gently bounced him up and down, threading her fingers through his fine blonde hair. His face was relaxed, mouth slightly opened as he drooled on her shoulder, snoring quietly. Narcissa hummed softly. Her life changed when she had Draco. She had never loved anyone as much as she loved this beautiful, sweet, perfect boy.

///

It was six in the morning on a chilly April day when Narcissa was awoken by a small hand on her cheek. She opened her eyes sleepily and smiled when she realised it was Draco, his mouth open wide, his giggles filling the room. She tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. He reached up for her hand, gripping it tightly with both of his own. Narcissa squeezed back, tugging him closer, pulling him into the bed. It had only been three years, and Draco had taken over her whole heart. Draco snuggled up to her, burying his head in the crook of her neck, and they both drifted back to sleep. This was everything she could had ever hoped for.

///

Draco’s eighth birthday started with dozens of owls dropping parcels off at the Manor. His eyes lit up when he opened one up and it was his very own broom. He shook with his excitement, bouncing up and down as he begged to fly it. And how could Narcissa say no to that face? She took his hand and led him outside, reminding him to only try to fly low and stay close. He nodded and took off with ease, his broom listening to him from the start. Narcissa watched with a grin on her face as Draco flew in small circles, his head thrown back with laughter.

///

When his Hogwarts letter came, Draco ran first to his mother. His quick footsteps echoed off the walls of the Manor, his laughter like music to Narcissa’s ears. He had been waiting impatiently for weeks, ending each day with a frown on his face and complaints on his tongue. Why hadn’t Dumbledore sent him his letter yet? He was magic after all. When he turned the corner and ran into Narcissa at full speed, she scooped him up into her arms and twirled him around, kissing the side of his face. Draco couldn’t stop chattering, the excitement bubbling up in him and spilling over. Narcissa just smiled and listened, unable to get a word in.

///

Narcissa got a letter from Draco in December of his second year. All he did was complain about how stupid Harry Potter was, and how everyone thought he was perfect, but he wasn’t. Apparently their duel hadn’t gone well, and Draco was taking it badly. This wasn’t the first letter Narcissa had gotten like this. She chuckled to herself as she piled it on top of the others, all complaining about Harry Potter. How he wouldn’t be Draco’s friend, but he was friends with everyone else. How Dumbledore had given him house points for breaking rules, and those points cost Slytherin the House Cup. How he flew a car to Hogwarts and nobody seemed to care. Narcissa wondered if she’d ever stop hearing about what Harry Potter was doing at school.

///

Narcissa stood outside the closed door, trying to swallow her sobs as she heard Draco screaming. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t her son’s war. He shouldn’t be punished because her husband had failed. The screaming got worse and Narcissa turned away, holding herself up with the wall as she tried to escape. She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t help her baby boy. She couldn’t listen anymore. She choked on her tears as she collapsed on the stairs, screaming to try and block out the sound of Draco’s cries. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to have a better life. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair.

///

Narcissa walked slowly towards the body in the dirt in front of her. The Dark Lord at her back sent chills down her spine. As she crouched down to check that he was dead, she noticed a slight movement. She leaned down, her heart racing, as she whispered in Harry Potter’s ear, asking about her son. Her heart burst when she found out he was alive, he was still in the castle. She let out a shaky breath, tears stinging her eyes, as she stood and turned, pronouncing him dead. She would get her son back, Harry Potter would save the day, because by some miracle he still fighting, and her precious Draco wouldn’t have to live this life anymore.

///

Narcissa and Draco sat at the dining room table, their meals untouched in front of them as Draco stumbled over his words, unsure how to get them out. His mother reached out and grabbed his hand, urging him to relax. He held back tightly and forced out how he and Harry had been seeing each other. It was Harry, now, and he would really like it if his mother respected it, and it just happened and… Narcissa stood up and Draco stopped talking, his hands making his way to his lap, twisting together there, his eyes boring into the food in front of him. It was silent for a moment, before Narcissa made her way around the table, wrapping Draco in a tight hug and kissing him on the top of his head. All she could think about was how Draco could finally be happy again.

“Draco,” an almost hesitant knock came at his door.

“Come in,” Draco’s voice sounded unnaturally low and scratchy in contrast to his mother’s smooth tones.

The ornate oak clicked open softly and he was greeted with the image of a teary-eyed Narcissa, who was so obviously trying to pull herself together for the sake of her son. Draco pushed his covers back and stood up, summoning all of the shrapnels of dignity he had left and using them to build the illusion of a strong exterior

“Mother,“ Draco whispered.

That was all it took. Narcissa was across the room in a second. She took Draco in her arms and, although he was bigger than her now, squeezed him as though she could shrink him small enough to fit in her pocket. Hide him away from what few dreadful things he had yet been forced to face.

Draco felt his mother start to draw back and fought to suppress a whimper. He studied her face and watched as she composed her strong, aristocratic features into the usual Malfoy mask that occupied them.

Draco reached a pale hand up and wiped a stray tear from his mother’s face.

“I’m okay,” he assured her. Or maybe he was assuring himself. Or maybe he was assuring both of them. Draco didn’t believe it, and he doubted his mother did either.

She didn’t answer, but nodded her head and set her lips in a grim line.

Narcissa fussed with her son’s fair hair and Draco frowned but made no move to stop her. “You’re wanted in your father’s study within the hour.”

Draco sucked in a breath of air and nodded his head in a single jerky motion.

Everyone communicated in nods and vague hand gestures lately. It was almost as though they were scared of using their voices too much. Which was oddly ironic, considering how they had all ended up here. Voicing opinions no one else wanted.

His mother exited the room and Draco - with a shaky exhale - made his way to the bathroom that was connected to his spacious bedroom. He stripped down with only a few seconds hesitation, still uneasy after an unfortunate incident with the wolf, Fenrir Greyback. Thankfully, the Dark Lord had called the obscenely large werewolf into some sort of emergency meeting before Draco had seriously injured him. Or been seriously injured.

As he showered, he wondered idly if this was how the Gryffindors had felt back in third year when Sirius Black had been on the loose. Nervous in their own house because of a lunatic hunting down the Chosen One. Hunting down Potter.

It was with a heavy heart that Draco stepped out of the shower and dressed. Nothing too fancy, this could hardly be considered a special occasion.

Draco wasn’t stupid, he was well aware of the reasoning behind his requested presence.

Requested. Draco scoffed ever so slightly at the word. As if he had a choice. If he didn’t show, he - and his mother - would be killed.

If he did show… he’d be punished. For his failure, and his father’s.

~

Deep breath. Sharp exhale. Draco put his hand on the doorknob to his father’s study. His eyes slid shut as he braced himself to open the door and face whatever was waiting for him on the other side.

Draco felt a delicate hand rest on his left shoulder lightly and he turned his head to meet his mother’s blue eyes. They held love and hints of reassurance, but Narcissa’s eyes had always been a direct window to her emotions, a trait she had unwillingly passed along to her son, and now they held barely concealed fear. Fear for the fate of the son she had raised. Fear for the boy who had no choice.

“Do you know-” Draco was cut off by the hesitant yet rough shaking of his mother’s head.

Grey eyes met blue one last time before Draco opened the door to his father’s study and stepped inside.

The tense atmosphere in the room prickled at Draco’s skin. His father refused to even look in Draco’s direction from his place in a chair in the edge of the room. On the flip side, his Auntie Bella looked positively ecstatic, smiling maniacally as the occasional giggle - which sounded suspiciously like a cackle - escaped her thin lips.

Lord Voldemort sat at the wooden desk in the centre of the room, stiffly perched in the same chair Draco’s father had sat in so many times before. There was something malicious glistening in his eyes. Though, that could just be one of the side effects of having red eyes. (Seriously, what muggle movie villain must the Dark Lord have based himself off of?)

The Dark Lord had always been intimidating but something was different this time.

“My Lord,” Draco regarded his master with a dip of his head.

“Draco,” The Dark Lord stood leisurely and a cold, cruel grin stretched across his white face as his snake, Nagini, slithered about near the bottoms of his robe. “You are to accompany us to Hogwarts, we have some… business to attend to.”

Draco had to restrain himself from furrowing his brow in confusion. (He could hear Pansy chastise him in his head, “Really, Draco, darling, that causes premature wrinkles,”).

“Yes, my Lord.”

~

Snow covered the Hogwarts grounds in a pillowy blanket. It seemed the sky, too, would have liked to cover the horrors that this war had conceived.

Draco walked behind his aunt and father, who were following the Dark Lord into the school. The irony of it all was not lost on Draco.

Familiar grey stone pillars towered around them as they entered the school. Every student in the vicinity - which wasn’t many, considering almost all of the students were already in the great hall - turned to glance in their direction before quickly looking away and flicking their eyes elsewhere, either at their shoes or towards the ceiling.

Draco watched silently as the doors to the great hall opened to accept their little group.

A hush fell over the already nearly quiet hall. Draco couldn’t think back to a time when the students had been this contained, not even after the death of Cedric Diggory, and it added to the ache he’d been feeling in his very soul since he had been marked a Death Eater, and therefore sealed his fate.

The Dark Lord stood at the front of the great hall, facing out towards the expanse of students.

“It has been brought to my attention that there are some,” the Dark Lord drawled and it made Draco regret ever using a similar tone, “who still resist my rule at this school.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes were skirting around the room - taking a particularly long look at Gryffindor table, Draco noted - before landing on Draco, himself.

A cruel smile stretched across his face and a shark’s mouth of teeth were put on display. “This will not be tolerated,” His words remained as calm and calculated as ever, but there were heavy notes of underlying anger in them that Draco only knew how to detect because the man (if he could even be called that) had been living in his house.

“And while I am unsure of what has given these students the false impression that Harry Potter is coming to save them,” He raised his arms up and glared cruelly out towards their audience, “No matter, I am here to right old wrongs, and give punishment to those who deserve it.”

Draco forced himself to stay still in his position between his Aunt Bellatrix and his father, Lucius. He was still confused as to why he, of all people, was asked to come along. He was also confused as to what they were doing here in the first place. Were they simply here to taunt the students with the hopelessness of their situation? No, he said he was here to ‘right old wrongs’ and to ‘give punishment’. Draco’s stomach flipped sickly as he realized the implications of what was happening.

This was his punishment.

Draco was no fool. He knew this was only the beginning. The Dark Lord surely had more planned than to force Draco to stand in front of his former peers and watch as he mocked them, like a petty schoolboy did a crush. Surely, there was more to come.

Sudden commotion dragged Draco out of his thoughts. He looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of uproar, and of course, it came from Gryffindor table. Specifically, from a certain boy known as Neville and a certain girl known as Ginny.

So, Potter’s sometimes-sidekick and his little girlfriend. Great.

“Harry is coming to save us you snake-faced bastard!” Longbottom burst out.

Girl Weasley stood next to him in a show of support, before yelling out, “Harry’s more of a leader than you could ever hope to be!”

The Dark Lord surveyed them with a front of amusement but there was a certain amount of malice shining in eyes. “Bellatrix, restrain them.”

“With pleasure, My Lord,” His Aunt smiled in that extra disturbing way of hers. She aimed a Petrificus Totalus at Longbottom and before the Weaselette could protest she was hit with one as well.

Alecto and Amycus Carrow were at the scene within seconds, where they exchanged grins and levitated the two defiant teenagers out of the great hall. Bellatrix skipped merrily behind them, humming a tune and laughing to herself occasionally. Draco grimaced in sympathy.

“Lucius,” The Dark Lord’s high, cold voice echoed in the suddenly silent again hall. “The boy.”

Alarms rang in Draco’s head as a heavy sense of foreboding fell upon him. His palms had started to sweat and he was fighting the urge to run.

Large hands that belonged to Draco’s father gripped his wrists and Draco could feel waves of confusion rolling around inside the hall.

The telltale static of a radio being turned on filled the room. Merlin, they were broadcasting this?

“Now,” The Dark Lord said, “You know what you’ve done.”

Draco’s heartbeat increased tenfold. He was trying to control his breathing as he risked a glance toward the tables.

His gaze landed first on Pansy. She looked terribly frightened as Blaise kept one hand on her arm, a look of set determination on his face. When he met Pansy’s eyes the look on her face shifted into defiance. But her eyes, her eyes held a question.

‘Should we help?’

Draco managed a small and subtle shake of his head and watched as tears filled her eyes. But Draco did not miss the slight flashing of relief. Pansy’s Slytherin self-preservation was still a strong part of her.

Good, Draco thought, Maybe she’ll make it through the War.

He directed a look at Blaise and knew he understood it perfectly as his shoulders slumped the smallest bit, his chin staying high in the air while he comforted Pansy.

Draco took a deep breath and turned his head to face the Dark Lord, who had used the time Draco had taken to watch his friends to speak of his greatness. Speak of how no one could disobey the Dark Lord and get away with it.

The task must be completed, no matter the consequences or difficulty.

Draco remembered those words from when he had first been given his assignment. An impossible task.

The Dark Lord stared directly at Draco as his long, white fingers curled around his wand. He whipped the wand up and pointed it at Draco.

Draco felt the grip of his father’s hands intensify in their place of holding Draco’s wrists behind his back.

Draco knew he should stare the Dark Lord down as he was punished. Knew he should exert some form of bravery. A way of showing he was not scared. But he was. He was so scared.

And although Draco knew he should do all of this, he also knew he wouldn’t. Because those were all the kinds of things a Gryffindor like Potter would do. And Draco was not a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin through and through.

So Draco shut his eyes.

~

Huge thanks to @ferret-face for being my wonderful beta, @bigjellymonster for being the best Angst Lord™ anyone could ask for, and to @fairydrarry for just being an overall amazing wife.

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11750733/chapters/26483289 AO3 profile: Drabbleshy

Published: 2017-08-09 Updated: 2017-08-08 Words: 1623 Chapters: 1/?

Summary:

“That’s one way of putting it,” the other retorted in a low utter as he dusted his book off, before pausing again, the book in both his hands now. “Sorry, did you just say-”

“What I think you said?” Apollo finished the inquiry for himself and the young man, too. The prior held his wrist very close to his chest. “Nope, bye!” Moirai avail me, he prayed mentally, quickly dashing down the streets of New York City.

Chapter 1 : It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea

Apollo sighed. It had been too damn early for the average, lucid person to be awake; then again, he doubted he was either. People had either been sleeping for hours by this time or had just come home from night shifts and nights of parties and booze and drinking and had passed out on the couch or the floor. Oft the latter for our hero. People, he found, weren't particularly inclined to wake at very peak of dawn. It had been a peculiar revelation to him, seeing as he had done it since the day he had been born. His parents' friends used to laugh at the fact that he had been born with the rising sun. It - his birth - had been rather sudden, the labor starting a little too quickly. His father, he reasoned, broke a law or two too many to get them to the hospital on time.  "It's like you were born on a farm," his parents would tell him every morning when he was younger. When they were still... there. Gods, now he's made himself feel miserable. It had been about seven years now, approximately eight, but it hadn't stopped him from missing them. He figured that, as a child, losing your parents is just a big part of you. Forever.

He still remembered the day, in all its details, despite what others may tell him. His new guardians is what he called them, despite their gentle and, what they thought were subtle, nudges towards calling them Mom and Dad. His reply was always an astronomically simple one; "No." After which he'd leave the room or carry on with whatever scheme he was working on.

He shook his head and sighed. He can reminiscent of his parents later. Now is the time for one of the most consequential things in life: coffee! He paused and pouted, unsure where he was going. Well, he knew he where he was going, just not sure how to get there. He paused, surveying New York City with a determined look. Here, even minute streets could look familiar. He should have taken the subway, he knew that he should have done so since the moment he had passed the Lincoln Centre station. Now he was countless blocks away and he had seen no point in turning back now He supposed that if he turned right he could find a coffee shop near Central Park bu--

He stumbled forwards as somebody bumped into him. Turning around, he frowned at a puerile-looking man. The man smiled guiltily at Apollo, having forgotten to look ahead of himself as he walked. “Zeus, I apologise,” Apollo spoke first.

“That’s one way of putting it,” the other retorted in a low utter as he dusted his book off, before pausing again, the book in both his hands now. “Sorry, did you just say-”

“What I think you said?” Apollo finished the inquiry for himself and the young man, too. The prior held his wrist very close to his chest. “Nope, bye!” Moirai avail me, he prayed mentally, quickly dashing down the streets of New York City.

“...” The unfamiliar man stared in the direction that the other had made his elusion towards, before running after him. “HEY, WAIT A SECOND!” He caught up to him after a few streets but lost him when a crowd broke them up. He tried finding him, his apparent soulmate , again, however, he couldn’t. The man had disappeared into thin air. Not that could be done. Nope. That is ridiculous, he thought. Oh, well. He should go get coffee, he’s got classes in… He gaped at his watch and decided to hurry. He’ll be late as is.

***

He ran into the independent coffee shop, one of his new favourites in town, and ran up to the counter, out of breath. Releasing a tired sigh, he answered his phone. It was too early, he hadn’t had his coffee yet, he was going to be late, his soulmate ran away, and now his father was calling him. Could this day get any worse? “‘Mornin’,” he answered, endeavoring to sound as awake and gleeful as he possibly could at the very moment. A pause. “Yes, I’m up. Yes, I’m on my way to class.” A longer pause. He turned to check if the man ahead of him had finished with his order yet, before he paused, turning around sharply. In a somewhat hushed voice, he replied once again, readjusting his beanie meanwhile;

“What? There’s no need to come here, Dad! … Dad, please, I have to leave a good impression and, and working hard on the first month is consequential. Maybe you should come and meet me here in a few months, yeah?”

This had been some quick thinking on his side. He didn’t exactly want to spend his first month in college keeping his father away from potential friends. Once, Dad had been worried that he would drown. While standing. In ten inches of water. When he was fifteen . Just because he was looking up at the sun and the sky for a few minutes. He recollected the even with a small chuckle, forgetting to actually listen to his father speak.

“--, okay?”

“What? Um, sorry, affirmative, of course!” He relinquished a loud and surprised oh ! “Look, I gotta go, I’m gonna be late! BYELOVEYOUDAD!” His father barely responded before the young man ended the call and raised his head. “COFFEE.”

The waitress gave him a look. The Look. “You can stop yelling now, dude.” This earned her a blink.

“Right, sorry.”

“Kids these days. First, your friend comes in here, almost running away without paying when ya show up and now you. Yelling.” He observed her, confused. Kids these days? Miss, you’re five years older than me, tops! he didn’t say. “Tell me your order and your name. My break is now, but my buddy there will make your coffee. Or whatever you want. So, what will it be?”

He couldn’t decide if her smile was genuine or not. He gave it a thought before figuring that she’s either happy for a break or just trying to be polite to the customers, trying not to get fired. Either one was fine with him, voraciously. He glanced behind her, smiling a bit more. The guy was cute at least. One point to “Icarus. The name is Icarus.”

***

Icarus, mind you, did get that guy’s number. Well, he was working on it actually. He got started on it. He got his name. Craig. It was a nice name, he figured. He was more thinking about the amount of cute and hot one person could hold within themselves.

The rest of the day went wonderfully, he even forgot about the random man who was plausibly his soulmate, as well as his dad-crises. His professor was late, too, having arrived and then remembered that he had forgotten to turn off an electrical appliance that was sure to burn the house down seven times out of ten. Icarus believes that it was a stove or an iron. He isn’t sure, he never listened to the adults too much, unless they were speaking about something he was truly interested in. Literature. His first classes had been “THE BEST THING EVER” according to him, and he was exhausted from the excitement only by the end of his last class. He ended up meeting a few people, adding each on his social media, whichever they preferred. Icarus nearly jumped through the roof from the exhilaration he felt when somebody gave him their actual Tumblr.

The day ended with few incidents: somebody always managed to make a ruckus behind him, above him, every few classes - it nearly got him into trouble, every time. Icarus ended up splitting from his new-found friends soon enough, or perhaps too soon, seeing as he had been messaging them within the hour. A few of them mentioned meeting up with a ‘ handsome guy from the class.’ Apparently, his name was something they hid, all seeming a bit too delighted to do so. He decided to try and ignore it, thinking that perhaps they had already formed a group joke or initiation of some sort; the lot knew each other, most of them, and most were not first-years at all. He sighed, rubbing at an eye as he locked his phone and pocketed it. He was glad that it was cool today, it gave him an excuse to wear a beanie and his favourite button-up sweater, too! He scowled, wishing that he could have more coffee, but he promised that he’d save! Well, promised himself. That means that he can’t break it, it’d be rude and dishonest to himself! He paused as his stomach grumbled, remembering that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, in all that excitement!

He ceased where he stood, staring at his ebony black boots. He decided that taking a pause from walking home was a good, if not a great idea; he stepped onto the soil of the kids’ park, he sat into a free swing and pushed nonchalantly. The rocks pushed against each other, deeper into the ground, as his boots pushed against them all. He observed the beige rocks, the yellow leaves, he listened as the sounds of a nearby busy street and the wind that messed with stray locks that crowned his cheeks and even his plump, soft lips. Icarus smiled, raising arms with the wind, thoughts, fantasies of flight crawling into his mind. He hadn’t even noticed that someone had been in the seat beside him until the light-haired man interrupted his mind’s work, just as he had tasted the seas and oceans far away.

after the war, the first thing harry said to draco was at least a little surprising, if not worrying 

”move in with me, malfoy”

”no way in hell, potter”

apparently, there was a way in hell

a nervous draco showed up to the address harry had owled him months before and knocked softly

the door swung open to reveal a ruffled potter, who immediately smiled as he saw draco

“i was hoping you’d show up, draco”

two weeks later, they’re skirting around the apartment and acting as if they barely knew each other

which, of course, wasn’t true

harry was acutely aware that draco brushed his teeth with his left hand, but turned a book page with his right

and draco was intensely trying to ignore the fact that harry cleaned up every single mess in the house without ever bringing it up to the blond

two months later, they’re friendly

joking around about the years they spent in misplaced hatred

“still think you got a chance with the weaslette, potter?”

“only if that flower girl – what’s her name, peony? – would take you off my hands”

quietly, they grew closer and closer

close enough to lay on top of each other

and jokingly flirt

and sometimes not jokingly flirt

after their first year, harry took draco to a christmas at the weasleys

“they’re my family, and i wouldn’t want to just leave you at home”

it was awkward and shifty

until molly took draco into the biggest bear hug and whispered “i’ll go knit you a sweater”

draco wouldn’t admit it, but he had tears in his eyes

after that, draco and harry were practically inseparable

the only way one could tell they weren’t actually together is by seeing that they weren’t hold hands

until one day, they did

maybe it was draco that grabbed harry’s hand, or harry grabbed draco’s

neither of them knew who made the first move

they never mentioned that moment

or the little sparks that flew whenever their fingers touched

but it was always on the back of their minds

and then, it was always in front

then it was on the tip of their tongues

and one night, tipsy draco told even tipsier harry

“i want to hold your hand all the time”

granted, it wasn’t the most articulated thought that draco ever had

but it was enough to get the point across

and enough to ignite the flame in harry’s heart and make harry’s eyes shine

harry reached over and grabbed draco’s hand