Draco

Winter is sliding into spring, a quarter of his probation sentence done, and Draco had found himselfpletely and hopelessly in love with Harry.

He probably had been at least interested in him for a long time, back before the war, but then it was always kept out of reach, some fantasy to visit late at night, one where they got along and Harry had never turned down his handshake that first year, where Draco had friends and Harry liked him and everything was going to turn out okay. It wasn’t a real thing, nothing that would ever be possible, but that’s why he thought it was okay to like him. As long as it could never be real, Draco would be safe.

Except now, it could be real. Now he cooks him breakfast in the morning and they eat it together, now sometimes they fall asleep on the couch together and wake up curled around each other, now Draco is around to hear him wake up from a nightmare at night and talk to his cousin Dudley on the phone. He watches him check in on Ge and on Seamus, sees him wrap Hermione and Ginny and Luna in a hug with the protectiveness of a brother. He’s up and close and personal now, and even though the flawed parts of him might be enough to make others turn away, it just makes Draco want him more.

(Like, the cracks are only places for the good things to shine through, testaments to all he had done and will still to do to protect the people he loves, to preserve what is right.)

“What?” Harry was leaning over the kitchen table, wax paper spread out in front of him. He was marking off names with a grease pencil and rubbing them away, creating a plan of attack to show to Kingsley the next day. It seems that even when he tries to walk away from the fight, the fight just wouldn’t let him go. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Draco had been staring at him for too long. He hadn’t meant to, but Harry wasn’t looking, and watching him was much more interesting than penciling in information about death eaters that he only met once, at some benefit when he was eleven.

“I don’t see how this helps.” He shoved the journal away, where he had scrawled meaningless details he had picked up from one party or another—who they had an affair with, where their summer vacation homes were, which ministry official they had reportedly bribed, what they had sold to in and Burkes. It was tedious work, but it seems that when Draco stopped to think about it, he had gathered more tidbits of gossip than he thought. “What’s it matter who some guy cheats on his wife with?”

Harry smiled at him, shaking his head so his hair falls out of his face. He’s always having a constant battle with his hair now, trying to keep it out of his way but also wanting it long enough to cover his scar. Fashion verses function, the eternal battle. “If you’re getting tired, you can get a break.” He was a natural leader, but Draco had noticed that he was more content to take all the responsibility on himself than the parcel out jobs to anyone else. “That doesn’t have to be done tonight.”

“Only if you do.” He wasn’t walking away and leaving Harry in here to puzzle out the problems alone. Hermione had specifically told him not to, that it would go faster if Harry had someone to bounce ideas off of, even if that someone was about as helpful as brick wall. (It doesn’t matter if you know what he’s talking about, anyways, he doesn’t take anyone’s suggestions even when they’re good.) “You can’t possibly still be thinking straight.”

“That doesn’t have to be done tonight, but this does.” Harry straightens up, and his back pops when he does, proof to how long he had been sitting like that. “I need to keep working.”

“No.” Draco crossed the room and pulled his work away from him, and Harry made a half hearting grabbing motion, but let it slide away. If he had really wanted to stop it, he could have. “It doesn’t. The world won’t stop turning just because you took a break for an hour.”

“But—”

“You deserve a break.” It felt like they were married. This is what it feels like all the time, like they are married and in love and do everything that couples do, ept for kiss and admit that they’re a couple. It’s quite frustrating. e hang out with me, just long enough to have dinner.”

He felt like a house wife, tearing his busy husband away from his work just so they could spend time together before the kids got home from their mothers. It’s a bad analogy, one that would get him a lecture from Ginny about sexism and gender roles, but it’s the one that he keepsing back to.

e on.” Draco shoves Harry’s coat at him, and then vanished the papers for good measure. They’re just on top of a set of cupboards, but Harry clearly doesn’t have the motivation to go look for them. “For me?”

Harry wavers, and Draco can see when he makes the decision. “Alright.” he grabs the coat and shrugs it on, then wraps his own scarf around Draco’s neck, ignoring the flinch when Harry reaches toward him. “But only because you asked nicely.”

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