hd_hols (hd_hols) wrote in hd_holidays,


Author: leo_draconis
Recipient: groolover
Title: Feelings
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Summary: Upon returning for their ‘eighth’ year, Draco notices Harry doesn’t look well. He also notices that Harry’s best friends are too busy exploring their new relationship to see something is wrong, so he decides to take it upon himself to fix things.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Boys having sex… wait, that’s not a warning, that’s a reason to read on!
Epilogue compliant? My copy of the Deathly Hallows has the epilogue ripped out, and about 400 different fanfics pasted in. It’s like a’ choose your own adventure’ book, but every damn one ends with Harry and Draco living happily ever after. So, basically, the answer is no.
Word Count: 4982
Author's Notes: This… I cannot begin to describe the gratitude I have for the gorgeous mods, who allowed me to start over 150 times. The word count should rightfully be over 40k, because this is the 4th story I started for Hols. The first 3 are in my WIP folder, hoping to be finished one day, and were put away because they grew into things that would never be even half finished in time. In the end, I come bearing this little fic, to a totally different recipient – who I love – and I hope you will enjoy this bit of fluff I settled on because the thought of not participating in the LAST HOLS made me cry. Thank you to M, my loving beta. And thank you deeply for this and every round of Hols, modly goddesses, and I hope you enjoy this, groolover.

Draco’s first thought upon seeing Harry Potter on the train was that he looked tired.

It wasn’t easy to see; at least, to the untrained eye. But Draco had loads of experience watching Potter, didn’t he? And Potter was definitely tired. He looked a little like he’d looked at the beginning of 5th year, when he’d returned to school with a face as long as a wet week because he’d taken the death of Cedric Diggory so personally. Stupid, really, since the Dark Lord had been the one to kill him, and when the Dark Lord wanted someone dead they stood no chance.

At any rate, Potter was definitely not himself. He sat alone in his compartment while Weasley and Granger giggled to each other in the Prefects’ car. They’d been named Prefects for the students returning for their “eighth year,” as it had been dubbed, and Draco found their cooing and simpering rather nauseating even during the ten seconds it took to walk through the Prefects’ car on the way to the loo. He barely resisted the urge to cover his ears on the way back.

He stopped outside Potter’s compartment and a glance through the window told him the boy was still alone. He considered stepping inside, but what would he say if he did?

Hello, Potter – you look like utter shite.

Potter, as I can’t find myself terribly able to hate you anymore, might I suggest you have a liedown?

Why, Potter, have I ever thanked you for keeping my family out of Azkaban?

Draco paused – that last one should probably be said. Especially as Potter had tracked him down after the trial to return his wand, and instead of scathing words had simply wished him well, blinked at him with exhausted eyes, and Apparated away.

But Potter did look like shite, and hating Potter these days would be a bit like beating a crup that had protected you from a dragon and somehow survived.

With a sigh, Draco decided to leave the boy to himself and made his way down the aisle.


It was three days before Draco finally gave up and approached him. It was magnetic, in a way, and wasn’t much different than the pull he’d always felt for Potter. Except that the usual goal was to wipe the smarmy grin off Potter’s stupidly attractive face, whereas now…

Well, he wasn’t sure what he wanted, but instead of a smile Potter’s face was marred by frowns and dark smudges beneath far too dull eyes. And he was always alone. With that, Draco could sympathize.

“Potter.” Draco sidled up beside Harry as he trudged down the main corridor.

Potter raised an eyebrow. “Malfoy.”

“What’s new?” Draco mentally smacked himself for the less than scintillating conversation, but pushed forward. “You seem quiet.”

“I’m just tired, I guess.” Harry jerked a shoulder. “Haven’t been sleeping well. Having a hard time paying attention in class. I don’t know. And sorry, but why do you care?”

Draco bristled. “I apologize for showing concern for your well-being, Potter. I suppose I thought we might be on speaking terms now, considering… everything. I see I was mistaken.”

“Malfoy, wait. Sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I’m just not used to having normal conversation with you. I keep expecting you to call me a speccy git and shove me down a flight of stairs.”

Narrowing his eyes, Draco opened his mouth to fire back a response, but watching Potter knock his glasses askew to rub his eyes made him clamp his jaw closed instead. “As if,” he finally responded. “I might hire someone to push you, but I certainly wouldn’t lower myself to such common violence. Speccy git.”

Potter smiled – and Draco’s insides certainly did not warm at all upon seeing it – and scratched the back of his neck. “Of course. What was I thinking?”

“Clearly you weren’t.”

“Well, I appreciate the concern. No one else has really noticed that I’m feeling… off. Not that I expect anyone to cater to me,” he added hurriedly. “It’s just that Ron and Hermione – especially Hermione – know pretty much everything I’m thinking without me telling them. By the end of the first day she’d have hauled me to the hospital wing and started spoon-feeding me chicken soup.”

“Chicken soup?”

“A Muggle thing. They think it cures everything. Anyway, it would have been a huge overreaction, but it’s what she does. Or what she used to do.”

“Before she decided to stop being your mum and be Weasley’s shag piece.”

Harry pulled a face. “That’s gross.”

“But true. I heard they were caught in the Prefect’s Bath.”

“Yeah, I heard that too. Hermione wouldn’t talk, but Ron had a dopey grin on his face that practically screamed ‘just shagged.’ Lucky sod. “

“Wanted Granger for yourself, did you?”

“Ugh, no. I can’t even begin to think of her that way. But I wouldn’t mind having regular sex.”

“Instead of all the irregular sex you usually have? Potter, you filthy thing. I’d never have pegged you as a kinky one.”

“You’re demented.” Harry’s smile widened and he looked at Draco.

After an uncomfortable silence, Draco cleared his throat. “I imagine they’ll coming running back to you when the newness wears off.”


“In the meantime, though…” Draco looked down. “If you want to go flying – when you’re up to it again – or just talk, or something…”

“I’d love it. Thanks… Draco.”

Draco glanced at him sharply, then smiled. “Anytime. Harry.”


“Sorry I’m late.” Harry dropped his books on the table and sat down across from Draco. “Can’t seem to do anything right today. Charms was a disaster. I swear, if I don’t get over this bug…”

“I don’t think it’s a bug, Harry. I think you need to pull your head out of your arse and go see Pomfrey.” Draco continued scratching away at his parchment, knowing full well that if he looked up he’d see only a tired glare on Harry’s face. “It’s November. You’ve felt like shite since school started and you’re falling behind in your classes.”

“I’m fine.”

“You just told me that you…” Draco exhaled and laid his quill down. “Go see Pomfrey, or I will bring her to you. You’re ill and you won’t admit it. You’ve told me you started feeling this way just before you came back to school. It could be some sort of delayed curse or reaction to your duel with the Dark Lord. What if…” He couldn’t finish the thought. He knew the Dark Lord’s penchant for twisted hexes well.

“I’m all right, Draco. But I’ll go and see her. If nothing else to shut you up.”

“You wanted someone to mother you, didn’t you? Told me all those weeks ago that you missed Granger changing your nappies and powdering your bum?”

“Pretty sure I didn’t say that,” Harry mumbled.

“Well, as she’s now attached to Weasley’s bum, the task apparently falls to me. I’ll take you to the hospital wing myself and powder your precious arse for you if you’ll just get this taken care of. You’re a bloody drag, you know. Sitting around when we could be flying, when we have full permission to go to Hogsmeade any time we like… don’t you want to live?”

“I suppose.” Harry stood. “Let’s go, then, before I change my mind. And keep away from my bum.”

“Potter,” Draco drawled, “if I so much as looked at that scrawny thing the right way you’d be thanking me for my time.” He grinned when Harry rolled his eyes and fell into stride beside him.


“It’s not physical, whatever it is.” Madam Pomfrey ran through a battery of diagnostic spells, far too quickly for Draco to keep up. “You’ve got exhaustion radiating from every pore, Mr. Potter, but it’s not due to illness. Your magical core… there is no change there, but…” She frowned. “There is something, though, tied to your magical energy. It’s almost too much for your body to handle. Are you even using magic?”

“Of course I am,” Harry said impatiently. “Have to for classes, don’t I?”

“I’ll thank you to watch your tone, Mr. Potter.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. “It’s just… I cast spells in class and it’s as though I can’t manage it. I mean, I can, but it takes so much bloody effort. I don’t know why.”

“That’s troubling.” Madam Pomfrey sighed. “Does anything seem to help? Sleep?”

“No, sleep doesn’t help. I feel all right for a while when I actually sleep, but then it just starts over. And most of the time I can’t sleep at all. Although…” he paused.


“I feel better when… when I’m with Draco.” He flushed deeply. “I don’t know why, but it helps a little.”

“A Malfoy is the best medicine,” Draco agreed. “Tell that to Granger next time she wants to feed you soup.”

“I’d like to have you try a few things. Conduits for your energy that don’t require spell-casting, perhaps. Exercise – nothing too strenuous – and meditation might help. If your relationship with Mr. Malfoy helps you, then perhaps he would be willing to participate in these activities with you.”

“I suppose.” Draco heaved a sigh. “The good I do for the world…”

Harry nudged him. “Prat.”

“Most importantly, take note of how you feel before and after any spell casting, and whether any particular type of spell gives you more trouble than another. I don’t see evidence of a curse or hex, but if there is any residual damage from the battle…”

“That’s what I said,” Draco announced. “Fool didn’t believe me.”

“Yes, Draco, you’re right, I get it. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.” Harry slid off the cot and picked up his things.

Madam Pomfrey studied him. “You’ll come to see me again in a week, Mr. Potter, and sooner if things get worse.”

“Of course.”

“So, being around me is fixing things, is it?” Draco grinned and elbowed him when they reached the corridor.

“Hush. That’s why I didn’t tell you. You’re too full of yourself already. And it’s not fixing anything, obviously – I just feel less like Hippogriff dung when you’re around. Takes it down to more of a Hippogriff fart instead.”

“You disgust me.”

“Does that mean you won’t meditate with me?” Harry threw him a mock pout.

“Oh, I’ll meditate with you, all right...”


Being Harry Potter’s friend was interesting. Draco could scarcely believe they’d made it as far as they had. They were always alone together, though, and outside of a few curious looks from time to time the Gryffindors largely left him alone. He considered asking Harry what was said when Draco wasn’t with him, but he decided in the end that he’d rather not know.

It was comfortable, though, their friendship. Harry was bright, and his smile could light a room. Draco often wondered how things might have been had they been friends in the beginning, but came to the conclusion that it did no good to dwell on the could-have-beens. Merlin knew there were enough of those in his life to fill a vault or ten at Gringotts.

He was still concerned about Harry’s well-being. He was equally concerned with the lack of concern shown by Harry’s supposed best mates. Harry pretended it didn’t matter that he rarely spent time with them, but Draco knew better. He had considered approaching them, but Granger saved him the trouble by appearing before him in the library late one evening.


Draco glanced up. “Granger.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea how to remove clown pubes from between my teeth. If brushing doesn’t help, you might want to ask Weasley to try a hair-removal spell on his crotch wig. Anything else I can do for you?”

“You’re a pig, Malfoy. It’s about Harry.”

“What would you like to know about him?”

“What would I like to know?” Granger snorted and sat down across from him. “You may have made nice with him this term, but I’ve been his best friend for years.”

“I’d heard that rumor. Funny, then, that you’d abandon him now, when he needs you, instead of running off to strip for your boyfriend every available moment of the day.”

“What I do is none of your business, and what do you mean, when he needs me? Harry is fine.”

“Oh? Then why are you here?”

“I’m just concerned that he’s spending so much time with you. I thought perhaps it was a passing thing, that he felt sorry…” She trailed off and looked away.

“Felt sorry for the pathetic Slytherin who has no remaining friends here? Whose family name was dragged through the mud? I suppose he might, except I approached him first. Because I saw what you clearly don’t – that he’s ill.”

“He’s not. He’s in classes all the time. He’s been a little down because he and Ginny broke up this summer, and all the deaths…” Hermione crossed her arms. “He’s had a lot to deal with, you know.”

“I do. And he’s moving past all of that. We do talk about things, you know. You’re wrong about the baby Weasel, though – he’s pleased to be done with her.”

“Don’t speak of her that way!”

Draco shrugged. “I could have said worse. Harry’s not depressed, Granger, but he is a little put out that you and Weasley ignore him all the time. Good on you for finally getting together, and I hope you’ll be very happy in your shack with a dozen screaming children. But you might want to pay closer attention to your so-called best friend, because he is not well. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish.”

“Tell me what’s wrong with him, then.”

“Go and ask him yourself. I don’t share my friends’ secrets without their permission.”

“Is he…” Granger swallowed. “Look, I know that Ron and I have been preoccupied. It’s just… he wants to get married straight out of school, and I want to go to university…”

“Don’t care.”

“I don’t want to break up, but he wants to work with his brother, and I can’t just –“

“Granger.” Draco closed his book loudly. “I. Don’t. Care. I have no interest in your life. But you know who does? Harry. Might do him good to know that you still consider him someone to go to with your troubles. And while you’re there, ask him why he feels like shite all the time. Or ignore me, and go back to your boyfriend. But either way, get out of my face.”

“Fine.” Granger stood. “I’ll find him now and talk to him. But you…”


“Just don’t hurt him, all right? If this is a game, some sort of revenge...”

Draco threw his hands up. “Well, damn you, Granger, you’ve cottoned on to my evil plan. Because, you see, years of childhood idiocy could not possibly have been replaced by genuine respect for a person who, despite everything I’ve done, saved my life on multiple occasions, including risking his own hide to make sure I didn’t burn to a crisp. Or the gratitude that I have for the man who saved my mother and me from punishment, and kept my father out of Azkaban.”

“All right, then.” With a jerky nod, Granger took her leave.

Or the fact that I’m very rapidly falling in love with that man.

Draco put his head in his hands.


“Hermione was impressed with you.”

“Hmm?” Draco turned his head to look at Harry, who was lying on a blanket beside him. It was an unseasonably warm day for early December, and the Warming Charm he’d cast around them allowed them to watch the fading sun in comfort.

“I know she spoke to you. I haven’t brought it up because I imagine it made you uncomfortable.”

“Potter, very little can make me uncomfortable at this point in my life,” Draco scoffed.

“Hmm. Well, she thinks you’ve matured. She told Ron as much when he was harping on me for being your friend.”

“She was probably excited to speak to someone intelligent for once. And not a ginger.”

“Hey, she speaks to me, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“Shut it.”

Draco grinned and propped himself up on an elbow. “You’re not as dim as I once thought you were, don’t worry.”

“What an endorsement, that,” Harry grumbled. “Listen, thanks for whatever you said. I didn’t want to whinge about missing them, but Hermione apologized for ignoring me so much, and for not realizing I was poorly, and I know you had something to do with it.”


“She and Ron have been spending so much time alone because he wants to marry her straight out of –“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, not that story again. I can’t take it.”

Harry laughed. “Sorry.”

“And how are you feeling today? You don’t look as tired.”

“I’m feeling a little better. Better still now that you’re here.” He smiled up at Draco, a bit shyly, and Draco swallowed audibly.

“I’m glad.”

“Do you think we could sleep out here?”

“I don’t think I could keep up the charm too well asleep, and then we’d freeze. Gets too bloody cold at night. Like camping, do you?”

Harry snorted. “Definitely not. But I feel a lot calmer than I have in a long time, and I don’t want to move.”

“Then don’t. We have all the time in the world – or at least another hour.”

“You’re wonderful,” Harry blurted, then flushed to the roots of his hair. “I mean… you’re a wonderful friend.”

“So are you.” Draco dared to touch Harry’s face under the guise of brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

“That’s… that’s nice,” Harry breathed. He turned his body toward Draco’s and laid a tentative hand on Draco’s side. The moment they made contact, Harry moaned.

It was too much. The sound went directly to Draco’s groin, and before he could stop himself his mouth covered Harry’s. They moved together easily, arms wrapped around one another and legs tangling as Draco climbed on top of him.

“Draco, Draco…” Harry panted. “Oh, fuck, yes…”

Draco could only grunt in response as he nestled himself between Harry’s thighs to more precisely align his erection with Harry’s. They kissed and kissed and frotted together until Draco couldn’t hold back any longer, and with a pained groan he came in his pants and even then he couldn’t stop rubbing against Harry’s insistent hardness. Harry followed him moments later, thrusting upward and crying out Draco’s name as he reached his crest.

“That felt so good.” Harry grinned up at Draco, eyes sparking. “I feel so alive right now. I feel like I could run a mile.”

Draco frowned. “Really?”

“Really. We have to do this again. Tonight.”

“Well…” Draco rolled to the side and pretended to think. “I don’t know if I’m ready for anything else right now.”

Harry’s face fell. “Oh. I see.”

“I’m taking the piss, prat. I want you so fucking much, Harry. Stay with me tonight.”

“In your room?”

“Yes, in my room. I’m the only one of us who has a private, after all. I suppose there’s one good thing about having no remaining friends here. We’ll go eat dinner, and then spend the night in my room. We need to test this – maybe the sexual energy was some sort of an outlet for your magic.”

“Maybe.” Harry made a face. “Care to cast a Cleaning Charm for me? My pants are stuck to my balls.”

“Sexy,” Draco teased. He aimed his wand at Harry’s crotch and raised an eyebrow when Harry’s back arched. “All right there?”

“Your magic…” Harry took a deep breath. “It felt really good.”

“Hmm.” Draco cast the same spell and Harry whimpered. “I’m beginning to think we should really just skip dinner.”

“I think you’re right.”


Draco lay on his back beside Harry, attempting to catch his breath. “You… fuck,” he managed.

“You, too.” Harry twined his fingers with Draco’s. “Can I tell you how bloody long I’ve wanted to do this with you?”

“Have a sloppy 69 where you come all over my face instead of in my mouth?”

“Hey, you shouldn’t have let it go right then.”

“Couldn’t help it. My cock was in your throat and it was the best orgasm I’ve had to date. Had to empty my mouth so I could scream.”

“And I had to empty my balls. Couldn’t hold back – having you come in my mouth was so fucking hot.”

“Anytime, darling,” Draco told him with a grin. “And for the record, I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, too. I may have… feelings.”


“And that’s all I’m saying on the topic.”

“I see.” Harry squeezed his hand. “Well, I have them too.”



“Oh.” Draco turned his head to smile at Harry. “Lovely.”


“Could you cast a Cleaning Charm this time? I can’t move and I have your spunk dried to my eyelashes.”

“It’s sexy.”

“It’s sticky.”

“Oh, all right.” Harry sat up. “My wand’s in my room with my books and things.”

“Poor excuse for a wizard, you are. Grab mine. It’s on the night table beside you.”

Harry picked up the wand and gasped. “Oh…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” Harry took a breath and cast the spell. Draco rolled over and scowled.

“You nearly took the skin clean off my face!”

“I did it,” Harry said softly. “It felt like the first spell I cast in ages. It felt right again. And I feel so good.”

“You…” Draco’s eyes widened. “Oh, Merlin… Harry, where did you get your wand?”

“Mail order. Ollivander’s hadn’t reopened and I needed another for when I gave yours back.”

“And has it ever worked all right?”

“At first it wasn’t bad, but…”


“But then I gave your wand back and it all went downhill. Fuck, Draco, it’s the wand!”

Draco sat up and took his wand from Harry, rolling it between his fingers. “It works all right for me. Not quite as responsive as before, but I figured it was due to having lost it to you. It just didn’t affect me the same way. But for you… I’ve read a lot of wand lore. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this. You won this from me, and you willingly returned it to me. The wand accepted me, mostly, but you are still its master. You battled the Dark Lord with it, for fuck’s sake. Your magic is looking for the wand it wants to respond to, and it’s not manifesting properly with the wand you have, so it’s staying inside and eating up your physical energy instead of being released as it should.”

“Do you think I can get a similar wand?”

“Don’t be daft, Harry. It’s yours. I’ll get another.”


“It’s made you ill. It hasn’t affected me that way at all. We’ll need to visit Ollivander’s… if he’s willing to see me.” Draco looked down.

“He told me how you helped him, and Luna, and the rest. Gave them extra food so they wouldn’t starve. He doesn’t blame you.”

Draco blinked. “Right. Well. I’m sure McGonagall will allow us to go, considering you’re taking mine for your health.”

“Are you certain?” Harry’s fingers toyed with the bedclothes, as if itching to reach for the wand.

Draco chuckled and handed it over. “I’m certain. I’m just a little sad that it was my wand making you want to be around me.”

Wordlessly, Harry chucked the wand over his shoulder and tackled Draco onto the bed, kissing him breathless. When they parted he smiled. “Believe me, it was not just the wand.”

“Well, having both been masters of the same wand, we probably have some complimentary magic…”

“Mmm, no. Feelings, remember?” Harry kissed Draco’s neck. “Not magic. Feelings.”

“Oh… oh, Harry…” Draco moaned as Harry moved quickly down his body to swallow his cock again.

Harry hummed around his mouthful and pressed a finger against Draco’s furled arsehole. When Draco pushed back, Harry sucked his finger into his mouth beside Draco’s prick and then eased the saliva-coated digit into the tight entrance.

“More, more,” Draco chanted. “Harry, more!”

Harry released Draco’s cock and added a second finger. “This would work better with lube.”

“It would work better if you’d use it on that fat fucking cock of yours and put it in me!” Draco growled, reaching for a bottle on the table beside the bed. “Now that you’ve got your energy back, use it to fuck me, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry took the bottle from Draco and slicked his erection. “On your knees.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?” Draco rolled over and pushed his arse into the air. “Have at it, then.”

Harry spread Draco’s buttocks apart and licked his lips at the sight of the loosened hole he found nestled in between. “Never thought I’d find this body part particularly attractive, but there you are.”

“You hadn’t seen mine yet. I swear to Salazar that if you don’t put something in there right bloody now, I will make you regret it!”

“Now who’s bossy?” Harry countered. “How’s this?” He leaned forward and shoved his tongue inside as far as he could manage.

“Oh, my God, yes!” Draco cried. “Harry!”

Harry moved his tongue steadily, and Draco wondered how he’d lived to date without knowing that sensation. It was incredible – in part because it felt bloody good, in part because it seemed like such a forbidden thing to do, and in part because it was Harry. He whined when Harry sat up abruptly.

“Sorry, but I’m so bloody close and I’d like to get inside you at least once.” He lined himself up and pushed in with one quick motion, stopping when Draco hissed. “Fuck, sorry! I’ve never…”

“Clearly,” Draco grumbled. “It’s fine… just go a bit slower at first.”

Harry took a deep breath and pulled back, then pushed in again. “Is… is it all right?”

“Yeah…” Draco rested his head on his forearm. The initial burn had eased and it was beginning to feel good… sometimes very good when Harry brushed a particular spot. Draco didn’t have much experience, and Harry lacked the finesse that came with practice, but just hearing the man who featured in so many of his wet dreams panting, feeling trembling fingers grip his hips… fuck, it was good.

“Draco, I’m… sorry… I…” Harry groaned and thrust forward hard, once, twice… then he was coming with a howl and Draco felt his own climax nearing.

Harry pulled out and pushed Draco gently over until he was on his back, then took Draco’s cock in hand and started stroking. Draco planted his feet on either side of Harry and rocked his hips up into Harry’s clumsy grip. That broom-calloused hand felt like heaven on his heated shaft, and it took mere moments before he was spilling into Harry’s fist.

Harry Accio’d Draco’s – Harry’s, Draco corrected himself – wand and cleaned them both effortlessly. The smile that lit up his face made Draco’s own lips curve. “Feel good?” he asked.

“God, yes. I feel right again, finally. You’re sure –“

“I’m sure. It’s yours. It’s chosen you, Chosen One.”

“Stop. Thank you. We’ll go tomorrow for a new one for you.”

“It’s rare, you know. For a wizard to be so tied to his wand. I’m sure Ollivander could explain it better, but it’s actually an indication that you could learn wandless magic. More than just the few spells most can do – you just need to learn how to focus your energy on the Earth’s natural magic. Your magical energy was desperate for the right conduit because you have so much of it. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was an incompatible wand… it’s just that most of us wouldn’t have reacted that way.”

Harry snorted. “Yes, well, I always have to be different, don’t I?”

“Different isn’t always bad.”

“No, it just has the tendency to get me in trouble.”

“No comment there.”

“Hermione’s going to be angry she didn’t figure it out. She’s been researching like mad since she found out what was going on.”

“Really? And the answer wasn’t on Weasley’s tongue? Strange, that… I’ve seen her ‘researching’ there more times than I care to count.”

“They’ve finally calmed down. Hermione’s going to go to school near home so that she and Ron can connect via Floo. He’s going to work with George, and they’ll consider marriage after they’ve been out of school a year.”

“Practical. And boring.”

“Nothing wrong with having a plan for the future.” Harry glanced at him. “Do you… know what you’re doing after school is done?”

“Moving to the States and shagging as many blokes as possible.”


“Really, Potter, I just gave you my wand. The wand I’ve had since I was eleven, give or take a Dark Lord. I’d say that indicates I plan to keep you around for a bit, wouldn’t you?”

Harry smiled. “Good.”

“And what are your plans? Auror? Quidditch? Minister for Magic? Rentboy?”

“No, maybe, hell no, and… maybe.”

“Good, I – what?” Draco turned his head sharply to glare at Harry. “You’d better be having me on.”

Harry laughed. “About the last part, yeah. Quidditch, though… been thinking that might not be a bad gig all together.”

“No, it wouldn’t. And as I like to travel, perhaps we could meet for tea when you’re on the road.”

“If ‘tea’ is a euphemism for hot monkey sex, then you have a deal.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m going to sleep for a bit, I think. I feel like I can now.”

“Sleep then,” Draco murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead. He linked his fingers with Harry’s and closed his eyes, a smile on his lips.

Life was good.

Tags: [fic], rated: nc-17, round: winter 2012

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