Chapter Text
Harry doesn't mind people interrupting his bath, so he didn't lock the door. If somebody came in here while he's butt-naked, floating in the warm water and the foam bubbles, he wouldn't care – not really. To be quite honest, he hasn't cared much about anyone or anything ever since the war ended. After the war everything seems so insignificant and meaningless. Silly. Small. Harry feels small. He doesn't know how to remove this ache from his chest.
Harry feels this cloud weighing down on him, making everything harder. The most mundane things suddenly feel like an impossible task, and Harry feels tired all the damn time.
Harry doesn't regret returning to Hogwarts to finish year eight, but walking around the castle makes his heart feel heavy and his chest tight. Memories of the battle haunt him everywhere. Thinking about the people he has lost, the people who should have survived but didn't.
Harry's heart feels heavy, everything hurts, and nothing really helps these days. Hermione constantly urges Harry to talk about his feelings, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to feel. He just wants to sleep.
He dives underwater, trying to let the warm water relax his muscles, but it's not really working. He holds his breath for as long as he possibly can — one minute, two minutes, three —until he can't physically stay underwater for much longer. That's when he returns to the surface, taking a big inhale of air.
"What the fuck —"
Harry jumps at the scream, his heart hammering inside his chest, water splashing around. He spots the owner of the voice in the corner, staring back at him with huge, grey eyes.
Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Harry hasn't seen him much since the war ended. He knew Draco was coming back to Hogwarts to finish his last year, just like Harry did, but they hadn't seen each other much.
The truth is, Harry had been thinking about Malfoy quite a lot. When he found out about Malfoy returning to Hogwarts, Harry had wondered what it would be like to meet him after the war; after everything. How would they act around each other now? All Harry has ever known was hating Malfoy.
But Harry is too exhausted to keep up their hostility. He doesn't want to hate Malfoy, not anymore.
While Harry once used to spit insults at Malfoy's face, now he doesn't know what to say. Neither does Malfoy. This is the first time they are in the same room together for — well. Harry doesn't even remember when he last talked to Malfoy. It's been so long. Life before war seems like another lifetime. The times they spent fighting and bickering seem silly and so far away now. Why did they even fight in the first place?
They look at each other for an awkward moment, both unsure of what to say. Then, Harry's eyes flicker away, unable to hold the eye contact.
"Were you trying to kill yourself?" Malfoy snaps, but Harry can see his hands still shaking from the shock.
"No," Harry says, "I don't think so."
"You don't —" Malfoy shakes his head, exasperated. "Merlin, Potter," he spits. "You scared me to death. I thought no one was here." He clutches his chest, his cheeks turning pink. "The door was unlocked. I thought the bathroom was empty, or else I wouldn't have come inside."
"Sorry," Harry replies, and he means it. He didn't mean to scare Malfoy. "Did you want to take a bath?" After a moment of hesitation, Malfoy nods. "I can leave." Harry swims to the bathtub's edge, ready to get out, but Malfoy shakes his head and steps back.
"No, it's fine," he says. "I'll come back later."
Harry frowns. "I was finished anyway."
Malfoy shakes his head again. "It's fine," he reassures him. "Don't worry." He grabs his towel and turns around, ready to leave, but somehow, Harry feels like they need more time to finish their conversation here. This is the first time in ages that Harry and Malfoy meet.
Harry is curious.
How is he doing now? How is he experiencing Hogwarts? Is he lonely? Does he feel the same heavy blanket as Harry? Does he still want to fight with Harry, or is he also ready to leave the past behind and start fresh?
It takes one moment of hesitation before Harry yells: "I truly don't wanna bathe anymore!" Draco stops in his steps. Desperate to keep the conversation going, Harry adds: "It's not as relaxing as I thought it would be."
Draco slowly turns and looks at Harry cautiously, surprised and confused as to why Harry is telling him this. They're both quiet for a moment, and Harry wonders if Draco will respond. Maybe he won't. His question surprises Harry: "Is this your way of coping?" Harry shrugs. Then, Draco clears his throat and asks, "How are you coping, then?"
Harry understands why Draco is asking this. He wants to know the same thing about Draco. He huffs through his nose and decides to be honest. "I'm not," he admits. He's not coping. At all. He's doing horrible, and Hermione thinks he should go and see a therapist.
Draco is quiet for a moment, his grey eyes losing focus, and suddenly, he is looking very, very tired. Somehow, those grey, tired eyes reflect exactly how Harry feels. "Me neither."
The fact that after all these years, after intense hatred between them, they're standing here, exhausted and sad together, is surprising and, at the same time, not. They've always been so similar. That could be what made Harry hate Draco so much. They were always competing with each other, and sometimes, Draco was better.
It's not surprising that after everything they've been through, after everything they've been through together, they're standing here, feeling similar emotions. They've always been similar.
The truth is, Harry is exhausted. He feels burnt out after the war and tired of hating Malfoy. He's over the bickering, the fighting, the insults. Harry doesn't want that anymore, and it seems like Draco is just as tired, if not even more.
Two young men, exhausted and scarred from the war. It's a little ironic, and Harry almost wants to laugh. Draco leans against the tiles and closes his eyes, and Harry swims closer to the edge, watching him closely. Dark shadows grace Draco's face, showing how badly he must be sleeping. Harry knows all about bad sleep. He can't remember the last time he slept well.
"Do you have nightmares?" Harry can't help but ask. The question just slips out of his mouth, and for a moment, he wonders if he went too far. They're not friends after all. Why would they discuss their sleeping problems?
Draco doesn't seem offended, but he still looks cautious. He tilts his head and asks: "Do you?"
"Always," Harry responds truthfully. "Every night." He doesn't even know why he's telling Malfoy this. Maybe because Malfoy is not a friend. He's the only person who doesn't care about Harry. He doesn't look at Harry with worried eyes. He doesn't ask questions just so he can analyze Harry's response and calculate how badly Harry must be doing. Draco is just Draco. That's it.
Draco tilts his head, his grey eyes focusing on Harry. Then, Draco huffs, running a hand over his face. "Why am I even still here?"
For some reason, Harry has to grin. His tone reminds Harry of a much younger version of Draco. A version that wasn't broken but full of pride, fire, and arrogance. It's not that Harry misses the old Draco, that's not it. But it's funny to see an ounce of Draco's past self flicker back to the surface. "Because you wanted to take a bath."
Malfoy frowns. "Yeah, but you're occupying it."
"I already told you I don't mind stepping out of the bathtub," Harry responds.
"Then why don't you?"
"Because I'm naked."
Draco's eyes flicker, unsure, and he licks his lips. "Right," he breathes. "Right." He clears his throat, looking away and avoiding looking at Harry's body at all costs. "Do you want me to leave so you can step out?"
Harry shrugs. "I don't care," he responds. "Do you?"
"I think I do," Draco admits, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He turns around. "Now you can."
Harry chuckles, amused but not surprised that Draco is a bit uptight about nudity. He steps out of the water, walks up to his bag, and grabs his towel. He wraps it around his hips and tightens it. "I'm not naked anymore," Harry informs Draco. "You can use the bathtub now."
Draco clears his throat again, turning around and his eyes flickering to Harry. They turn big when he spots Harry's naked chest. He doesn't say anything, though. He stays in the corner, tense and unsure, and Harry almost feels sorry for him. So, he quickly grabs his sweater and pulls it over his head. Then, he puts on his underwear and sweatpants. "Now," Harry announces, "the bathtub is all yours."
He nods at Draco and steps away and around the corner. However, he doesn't want to leave. Not yet. He doesn't want to watch Draco taking a bath, but he would like to stick around for a little longer. Something about Draco is comforting; Harry can't really explain it. This is the first time ever since the war ended that Harry hasn't felt annoyed or aggravated by somebody's presence. It's ironic that out of all people, it's Draco Malfoy. Harry walks up to the sink. There, he pulls out his toothbrush and toothpaste and starts brushing his teeth. He hopes it's not too obvious that he's staying longer than necessary. Draco could totally call him out on this and make him leave. Maybe he should.
He feels Draco's eyes on him, and when Harry looks up, their eyes meet through the mirror. Harry raises a questioning eyebrow at him, and Draco slowly steps closer.
He seems hesitant and a bit shy, and seeing him like this is unusual. Harry only knows Draco as super confident, cocky, and arrogant. But now, Draco approaches him like a scared animal, and Harry isn't sure how to make Draco feel better. He quietly brushes his teeth, not making a sound or moving, while keeping his eyes on Draco.
Draco stops at the other sink, a meter away from Harry, but turns toward him. "Do you remember how I asked you to be friends on our first day at Hogwarts?"
Harry can't help but smile. God, that feels like a different life. They were so young and naive. He spits out the toothpaste and wipes the corner of his mouth. "I do." He smiles at Draco. "Of course I do."
"What do you think would've happened if you had agreed?"
Harry tilts his head, humming in thought. Good question. What would have happened? "I don't know," he admits. "Maybe we would've been good friends. Who knows?"
Draco is quiet for a moment. Then, he says: "I think I would've needed a good friend."
Oh. Merlin. If Harry is honest with himself, he knows that Draco would have needed a good friend. Draco must have been lonely, scared, and confused, especially when Voldemort moved into Malfoy's mansion. Harry can't imagine what he must've gone through, especially all alone. Harry has always had good friends surrounding him, helping him. Draco didn't really have that. Sadness makes Harry's chest clench, and he suddenly feels angry. He is sad, angry, and exhausted. Things should have been different—so many things should have been different.
Draco huffs. "Stop frowning," he says in a soft voice. "It makes you look old."
"I feel old," Harry responds. "Old and tired."
"Me too," Draco sighs. He rubs a hand over his arm. After a moment of hesitation, he continues: "Sometimes, I have this intense need to talk about things, and other times, I don't want to talk about anything at all."
"I rarely wanna talk about things these days," Harry admits, staring at his hands. "I'm too tired."
Draco keeps quiet, and for some reason, Harry feels the strange urge to continue. "Hermione constantly forces me to talk, you know? She says I need to see a therapist," he says. "But I'm exhausted. I don't want to talk. I just — I guess I just want to be left alone."
"But being alone isn't good," Draco says quietly. "Trust me; I speak from experience."
Harry's eyes meet Draco's, and Draco's sad look makes his chest feel tight again. Suddenly, he doesn't know what to say.
"I didn't want to kill the mood," Draco says with a small smile. "I just wanted to say, be grateful that you have so many people in your life who genuinely care about you."
"I am grateful," Harry protests. "I am. But I'm also exhausted."
Draco hums in agreement. "I think we all are. Who knows? We might never feel young again."
"We definitely won't," Harry snorts. "The war has taken our youth, and we'll never get it back."
"Wow," Draco snorts, "look who's killing the mood now."
This makes Harry chuckle, shaking his head. "Fuck, sorry," he breathes. "I'm insufferable."
"You're not," Draco argues, his voice surprisingly soft. "Do you realize you're kinda talking to me right now even though you said you don't wanna talk at all?"
Oh. Huh. Draco is kind of right. But somehow, talking to Draco feels different. Draco listens. He doesn't judge. Harry doesn't feel the need to put on a show. He doesn't feel the need to fake a smile around him. Harry can just be sad and exhausted, and it's okay.
"I guess I am," Harry agrees. Then, his eyes find Draco's again. "Maybe I'm just happy that we are talking. Like, I don't even care about what." Harry cringes at himself. "You know?"
This makes Draco chuckle, and he shakes his head. "Yeah, I know," he responds, "that's why I'm here and not in that bathtub over there."
Harry snorts, grateful that Draco is on the same page and not weirded out by Harry's sudden interest in spending time with him. He stayed in the bathroom for no reason despite Draco obviously preferring privacy for a bath, after all. "I got out of the bathtub just for you," Harry jokes, "only for you to stand here and chat with me!"
Draco laughs. "Yeah, sorry," he responds. "I'll get going now."
Oh, well, that's not what Harry meant. That's not what he wanted. He turns and watches as Draco steps past him and closer to the bathroom, and to Harry's immense surprise, he takes off his shirt right in front of Harry, not even waiting for Harry to turn around and leave. Oh, that's — oh. Harry doesn't mind nudity at all. He's easy about that.
But seeing Draco shirtless... wow.
All Harry can do is stare at Draco's naked back—his skin is like porcelain. Milky, soft, and perfect. For some reason, Harry feels the strange need to touch it. Huh. He feels a little breathless.
Draco turns around and raises a questioning brow at Harry, and that's when Harry's eyes wander to Draco's chest, expecting smooth, milky, perfect skin. Instead, Harry finds multiple nasty red scars going from Draco's chest all over his tummy to his hip.
The blood rushes out of Harry's face, and he stumbles back, his hip hitting the sink and his hands suddenly shaking. Everything starts going blurry, and he only faintly registers Draco, calling out for him and stepping closer.
This was his doing.
Harry did this.
He caused these scars. The memories and the realization hit him in full force, and everything spins, his chest tightening, his eyes filling with tears.
"Potter!"
Harry feels like throwing up. The guilt threatens to suffocate him, and black spots fill his vision. He feels warm hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "Harry," Draco yells. Snap out of it."
Now, the scars are right in front of him. It's all Harry can see. Out of instinct, his hands reach out and gently touch Draco's chest. One fingertip carefully runs over the longest, nastiest scar. He expected the skin to be bumpy, but the scars feel soft.
"Harry." Draco's voice is now crystal-clear, and Harry's eyes snap up, meeting Draco's. He's standing so close now, Merlin. "What the fuck? You killed fucking Voldemort, and you get a panic attack seeing me half-naked? Seriously?"
Harry doesn't find his voice to reply. All he can do is blink at Draco.
"I don't know if I should feel offended or worried," Draco says with a pout, looking genuinely upset.
"I did this," Harry whispers, still feeling close to throwing up. His hand is still resting against Draco's chest, touching the scars.
"Yeah, get over yourself," Draco says, "it's been years."
"I had no idea I left these scars."
"Yeah, why would you?" Draco responds. There's no bite to Draco's voice. "You never saw me without a shirt on before."
True.
Draco's skin is still beautiful. Pale, even, perfect. But the scars … Harry gulps. He can't help but move his fingers over the scars again, but this time, Draco stops him by wrapping his fingers around Harry's wrist. "My chest is not a petting zoo."
Harry blinks at Draco, feeling called out and very flustered. "Right," he rasps. "Sorry."
Draco sighs. "I thought we could leave the past behind us."
"How could I?" Harry protests. "I did this, and I had no idea."
Draco rolls his eyes. "You're being dramatic, Potter," he says softly and steps away. This time, Harry wraps his hand around Draco's wrist and stops him from walking away.
"I'm sorry," Harry says.
"Apology accepted," Draco says with another roll of his eyes and tugs at Harry's hand. "Now, let me go."
"Draco," Harry whispers. "I'm sorry."
Now, Draco stops and blinks at Harry. "You called me Draco."
"You called me Harry."
"I didn't — oh. I did."
It's silent for a long moment, neither of them knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry," Harry repeats, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."
Draco closes his eyes. "Me too," he says in a much softer voice. "I'm sorry, too."
Harry feels overwhelmed. All these emotions he had kept locked now bubble to the surface, threatening to take over him. It seems like Draco realizes this. With a sigh, he steps closer and, to Harry's immense surprise, wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug.
The surprise dims Harry's panic for a split second, but then he feels Draco's warmth. He feels — safe in his arms. Why? Harry doesn't know. This man right here tried to kill Harry.
Harry tried to kill him.
And still — Harry has not felt this safe with someone in a long, long time. He tightens his grip around Draco's torso and closes his eyes, trying to take deep breaths. Draco's hand now draws small circles against Harry's lower back, which feels even better. Harry melts like butter in Draco's arms, sinking against his chest. His head moves between the crook of Draco's shoulder and neck.
"Sorry," Harry mumbles, and it almost sounds like a slur.
"Shhh."
Harry can't help himself. Draco's skin is so warm, soft, and pretty. Harry presses his lips against Draco's throat, right underneath his jaw, and Draco whimpers. Harry expects Draco to shove him away, but then, he tilts his head and allows Harry to continue.
Harry isn't sure what any of this means. He doesn't know what Draco is thinking of this. If Harry is going too far.
Draco's fingers dig into Harry's waist, and Harry suddenly feels breathless and hot all over. Something about the way Draco feels, touches, smells, and moves makes Harry feel like burning up.
Harry gently bites Draco's collarbone and presses the tip of his tongue against the smooth skin, tasting Draco.
Draco shivers in Harry's grip, his fingers clutching Harry's sweater. Then, he clears his throat and takes a step back. Stunned, Harry blinks. He can only imagine what he must look like.
Draco looks positively fucked: his cheeks are pink, his lips plush, his hair is disheveled, and his eyes are huge. "I — I should take a bath now," Draco whispers, but his voice sounds hoarse.
All Harry can do is nod. He feels out of it.
Draco's eyes flicker all over Harry's face, and Harry is painfully aware that Draco is still shirtless. Now that he's getting used to the scars, Harry realizes they actually look quite beautiful, like a painting.
Or maybe that's because Draco is beautiful. He truly is. Harry had always been a little obsessed with him. Something about Draco had always pulled him in; he could never let him go.
He can't let go right now, either. Harry steps forward, and Draco's eyes go huge, but he doesn't step back. He stands his ground, waiting for Harry's next move.
Harry stops in front of Draco and takes a shuttering breath. Then, he runs a fingertip over Draco's cheek. Draco's eyes flutter, and Harry feels mesmerized. Fuck, what is he doing? This is the third time he's touching Draco. This is wrong! He's overstepping boundaries. Merlin, why is he still here? Draco wanted to bathe, and Harry lingered around like a total creep. "Enjoy your bath," Harry rasps and withdraws his hand quickly, feeling embarrassed about his behavior. Draco blinks at Harry, stunned, and observes how Harry steps toward the sink, hastily collecting his stuff and almost dropping his toothpaste. He needs to get out of here quickly, or else he will throw himself at Draco and do embarrassing things.
"You said it wasn't relaxing?" Draco suddenly asks, stepping closer once again. "The bath?"
Confused, Harry stops his rummaging and looks up at Draco through the mirror. Their eyes meet, and Harry doesn't know what is going through Draco's head. He nods.
"Maybe you didn't do it the right way," Draco says, his eyes shimmering. He looks nervous.
Harry frowns in confusion. "The right way?"
"I've mastered the art of taking baths," Draco says, suddenly looking determined and a lot more confident. He takes Harry entirely by surprise when he grabs Harry's wrist and pulls him toward the bathtub. "Come on, I'll show you."
"You — you'll show me?" Harry asks. "What does that mean?"
"Exactly that," Draco responds with a playful grin. He looks so much younger and more playful like this, and Harry feels captivated by his beauty. Draco points at Harry's clothes. "Sorry, but you'll have to undress again."
Harry grins, his heart hammering inside his chest, feeling nervous yet excited about whatever Draco plans to do. Harry is up for it. What a bizarre thought. Two years ago, Harry hated Draco's guts and couldn't even be in the same room as him without insulting him. Now, all Harry wants is to stay here with Draco, spend time with him, talk to him — and maybe even touch him. His skin had felt so soft, and Harry feels desperate to feel that softness again.
Harry looks at himself, hesitating for a moment. "Uh — should I undress here?"
Draco clears his throat and turns around. "Undress and get in the water first."
So, Harry does precisely that. He slips out of his clothes again and slips inside the bathtub, disappearing into the water and hiding behind the foam bubbles.
"Don't look," Draco tells him, and Harry turns around to give Draco some privacy.
He hears the rustling of clothes, and then the water slashes around, signaling that Draco is stepping inside the bathtub. Harry's heart starts hammering inside his chest, and nervous excitement takes over. What's going to happen now?
He feels Draco swimming closer. Harry doesn't know how, but he feels Draco's presence. Harry had always been attuned to Draco's presence — in a room full of people, Harry could easily tell where Draco was. Something about Draco's presence is intense and alluring. That's partly why Harry had never been able to just let Draco be. How often did his friends tell him to ignore Draco, avoid him, and forget about him? Yet, Harry never really could.
Harry knows when Draco is right behind him. He feels his warmth radiating off him, and he feels how Draco's hands hover right above Harry's shoulders. "You can touch," Harry whispers, not fully trusting his voice. He stares at the water, holding his breath.
When Draco places his large hands against Harry's shoulders, he sucks in a sharp breath. Draco is touching him. Harry feels all over the place.
Draco's thumbs press into the tight tension knots right underneath his shoulder blades, and he massages them. Oh, that feels good. Harry closes his eyes, his chin resting against his chest, enjoying Draco's touch.
Draco's hands run from his shoulders to his neck next. There, he rubs small circles into Harry's tight muscles. Harry sighs softly, his body going lax.
Draco hums softly, his hands working like magic, running all over Harry's back. "If you had told me three years ago, I'd share a bathtub with Harry Potter, giving you a massage, I would've hexed you."
Harry chuckles. "Maybe you should've given me a massage years ago," Harry mumbles. "You're way too good at it."
"I know," Draco hums. "Maybe a massage could've been a truce."
"Doesn't matter now," Harry mumbles. "The past doesn't matter." It doesn't. Harry doesn't want to think about the past anymore. He wants to move on — with Draco.
"Does it really not matter?"
"It doesn't matter to me," Harry tells him and can't help how he swims back, closer to Draco, seeking his warmth. Draco accepts it. He also swims closer, closing the gap between their bodies. Now, Draco's chest almost presses against Harry's back.
"Do you think we can forget about everything that has happened?
"I don't want to forget," Harry whispers. "We grew up together. I don't want to forget that. But I want to move on."
"Me too," Draco sighs, his breath tickling Harry's neck. God, he's so close. Goosebumps form all over his arms, back, and neck.
When Draco starts massaging Harry's arms, he can't help but sink against Draco's chest with a soft sigh.
In the back of Harry's mind, he does realize that their situation is way too intimate. They're both naked, taking a bath together, and Harry is leaning against Draco's naked chest.
But it feels so good that Harry doesn't really care. He sighs, closes his eyes, and rests against Draco's body, the warm water lulling him in. Draco helps him relax. Everything feels warm, soft, and wonderful.
Draco's hands find Harry's arms and start massaging gently, digging into the sore tension knots. Harry huffs softly. "Feels so nice," he mumbles.
"Yeah?" Draco's lips graze Harry's ear, making Harry shiver.
"Mhm," Harry hums. "You were right. You do know how to take relaxing baths."
Draco chuckles softly, the sound vibrating inside Harry's chest. "Mhm, yeah, I do."
Harry rests his head against Draco's shoulder, exposing his throat and neck, and for some silly reason, he wishes Draco would kiss him there. He wants to feel Draco's lips on his neck so badly. "Draco," Harry sighs, realizing it almost sounds like a moan.
"Hmmm?" Draco's thumbs press into Harry's shoulders again, rubbing the tight tension knots.
Why did Harry call out for Draco again? He doesn't remember. His brain feels foggy, and his body wants to be even closer to Draco.
"Harry?" Draco whispers, "what did you wanna say?"
Good question. Harry isn't sure. Instead of answering, he turns in Draco's arms and locks eyes with him. Grey eyes stare back at Harry, wide and nervous, but definitely not angry or distant. Draco is not backing away. He stays right where he is. Way too close.
Harry should probably take a few steps back. They're standing so close already, and Harry feels this overwhelming urge to kiss him. God, why does he want to kiss Draco Malfoy? When did that happen? Harry closes his eyes. "Never mind," he rasps and wants to swim away, wanting to create some space between them, but Draco stops him by grabbing his wrists.
"Did I go too far?" Draco whispers, his eyes flickering nervously across Harry's face. "Was it too much?"
Harry quickly shakes his head. "Not at all," he responds. "No."
Draco licks his lips, his eyes flickering all over Harry's face. "But?"
"No, but."
"Why did you swim away then?"
Harry closes his eyes and exhales shakily. Should he tell Draco the truth? Should he be honest? He opens his eyes again and finds Draco staring back at him, looking nervous, timid, and unsure. Harry hates that look. He hates that he caused it. And because he's a Gryffindor, Harry takes a deep breath and says, "Because I wanted to kiss you."
Draco blinks, stunned. He opens his mouth and closes it. Opens it, closes it. Then, he breathes: "Kiss me?"
Harry nods, his heart hammering inside his chest. He totally expects Draco to hex him now. Harry wouldn't even be mad at him.
Instead, Draco's eyes flicker to Harry's lips, and he slowly swims closer. Harry holds his breath. "You want to kiss me?"
Harry nods, not trusting his voice. Draco is so close now, Merlin. Harry can count the water drops on Draco's cheeks. Mesmerized by Draco, all Harry can do is stare. He's so beautiful.
"Then why don't you?"
Harry blinks at Draco, needing a moment to register what Draco just said. The words don't make sense yet. When he finally understands, he stares at Draco in shock. "You want me to?"
"Come and find out."
Harry doesn't need to be told twice. If Draco curses him for trying to kiss him, so be it. At least he tried.
Determined, Harry cups Draco's face with both hands and leans forward, fully expecting Draco to shove him away, but the shove never comes. Instead, Draco meets him halfway and wraps his arms around Harry's waist. Their lips meet, and Harry feels breathless right from the start. Draco's lips are soft and plush and feel incredible against his. When they start moving their lips, they find a matching rhythm right away, and Harry has never enjoyed kissing anyone more than he does right now.
Merlin, why is Draco such a good kisser? How did he learn to kiss like that? Why have they wasted so much time hating each other when they could've kissed each other? Harry presses Draco back, back, back until he hits the bathtub's edge. Harry presses himself against Draco's front and lets his hands roam all over Draco's body, touching everywhere, trying to feel as much smooth, milky skin as possible. He can't get enough. He feels greedy and desperate for more. Touching Draco is addictive. It's only natural when blood rushes south, right between his legs. Harry can't help it. He gasps into Draco's mouth, pulling Draco's bottom lip between his teeth.
Draco whimpers — a needy, desperate sound that makes Harry feel breathless. He wants more. He needs more. So much more.
"I want to touch you," Harry gasps into Draco's mouth. "Can I?"
"Yes," Draco moans, his fingers digging into Harry's hips. "God, yes."
Harry moves his hand and reaches between Draco's legs. He wraps his fingers around Draco's hard dick. "Oh —" Draco gasps, his head thrown back, his throat exposed.
Draco is freaking beautiful, and all Harry can do is admire him. Watching him in pleasure is truly mesmerizing.
Harry starts stroking between Draco's legs from base to tip once, just to test the waters, and he feels Draco shudder in his arms. He spreads the fluid at the tip to the rest of him and squeezes lightly. The water makes the glide even smoother, making Draco gasp in pleasure.
He strokes Draco painfully slow so that he bites Harry's shoulder after breathing an unsteady "please," which leads Harry to steadily pick up the pace, moving his fingers over Draco's length, pleasuring Draco.
"Ah. Harry." Hearing Draco moan his name makes Harry's hips roll forward, pressing himself against Draco's hip, looking for some friction.
Draco understands. He reaches out and wraps his hand around Harry's length, and Harry almost comes right then and there. Draco's hands feel insanely good. "Fuck," he curses under his breath, gently biting Draco's jaw.
Harry presses his mouth against Draco's neck, trying to muffle his moans.
While Harry keeps his original rhythm, Draco speeds his movements, making Harry slip up and his rhythm slightly falter. Those quick, deep strokes make Harry's abdomen tremble, and he already knows this isn't going to last very long.
He sucks and kisses Draco's neck as he wraps his free arm tighter around Draco, needing him as close as possible. The rhythm is just so fucking perfect for Harry as he gets lost in the feeling, forgetting about everything and everyone.
Harry tries to match Draco's fast rhythm: he swipes his thumb over the head and puts more pressure into his fast-paced strokes. He can feel Draco's body getting more tense and notices a pretty flush spreading over his skin.
"Ah. Harry — ah."
Draco's breathing becomes more rapid, and he tentatively grinds into Harry's hand, chasing his release.
Harry also feels close. He rolls his hips forward, relishing the wonderful sensation. His body feels hot, his muscles tense, and he feels so close to reaching his high. Draco throws his head back, letting out a broken sob, and his body goes completely tense right before he comes with Harry's name on his lips.
The sight and sound alone are enough to push Harry over the edge. Draco tightens his grip around Harry's length, and Harry pushes into his hand a few more times before his orgasm hits him with full force, his vision going white. Draco wraps his arms around him tightly when he hits that point and strokes him through it while his fingernails dig into Draco's shoulder blades, spurts of cum covering Draco's hand. With a soft gasp, he sinks against Draco's chest, exhausted and spent.
"That's it," Draco murmurs into his ear. Harry's muscles still spasm rhythmically. His body releases all the tension at once, and his breathing becomes deeper, and he's floating. He falls into a deep state of relaxation. He hasn't felt this relaxed in a long, long time.
They stay like this for — Harry isn't sure for how long. An hour? Two?
His skin is definitely starting to wrinkle, and he knows they have to get out of the water soon, but Harry doesn't really want to. It feels so good to lie in Draco's arms like this. It's peaceful. Quiet. For the first time in a long time, Harry actually feels himself relaxing. Everything feels warm and wonderful, and Harry doesn't want to destroy the peaceful atmosphere. Also, Harry is scared of the moment they will separate. Will it be awkward? Will it be tense?
Does Draco regret what they just did? How will they act around each other now?
Harry slowly leans back to look Draco in the eyes just to find him already staring back at him. For a long moment, all they do is stare, and Harry holds his breath, the tension almost unbearable. Harry's heart is racing inside his chest, his belly doing somersaults. Instinctively, Harry leans forward and kisses Draco softly, their lips connecting in a careful kiss. For a moment, Harry fears Draco will push him away, but then Draco leans forward and cups Harry's cheek with his hand, and Harry sighs in relief. If Draco kisses back, he can't regret what they did, right? They're kissing slowly, and it feels so good. Draco is such a fantastic kisser; Harry could kiss him for the rest of his life. He sighs and wraps his arms around Draco, pressing their bodies together, and Draco tightens his grip around Harry. It seems like they both don't want to let go, wanting to stay interlocked.
To Harry's displeasure, they eventually pull apart. "My skin is getting wrinkly," Harry mumbles, nipping at Draco's jaw with soft lips. We should probably get out of the bathtub."
Draco hums in agreement, stretching his neck and giving Harry more space. "We probably should."
Harry takes another second to press his lips against Draco's throat, running his teeth over sensitive skin. He desperately wants to mark the smooth, milky skin as his, leave a love bite, and show the world what they did—he wants to show the world that Draco is his. But he realizes that's not true. Draco isn't his. He has no right to mark him. So, Harry pulls back with a heavy sigh.
"You can go first," Harry suggests. "I'll turn around and wait."
Draco smiles softly and gently runs his thumb over Harry's face. Then, he pulls away from Harry and swims to the staircase of the bathtub, slowly getting out. Harry tries his hardest to look away and give Draco some privacy. Just because they hooked up doesn't mean Harry has the right to stare at Draco and make him uncomfortable.
"You can come."
That's Harry's sign to get out of the bathtub. He grabs his clothes and towel from the floor and quickly dries himself so he can slip into his clothes. Then, he turns toward Draco, only to find him already staring.
"Are we going back to our dorms now?" Draco asks, looking unsure. He rubs a hand over his arm.
"It's probably past midnight at this point," Harry says, his heart feeling heavy. He doesn't want to leave, and he doesn't want them to go their separate ways, but they can't stay here forever. "I guess we should."
Draco nods and follows Harry out of the bathroom, clutching his toiletries tightly in his arms. They walk down the corridor silently, both lost in their thoughts.
Harry dreads the moment they will have to say goodbye and step apart.
"We used to sneak out at night so many times," Draco whispers with a chuckle. He points at a statue. "I remember hiding behind that statue and spying on you once."
"When did we not spy on each other?" Harry softly laughs. "We were obsessive."
"I definitely was," Draco agrees. "I was borderline obsessed with you."
Harry can only hum in agreement. He was also always borderline obsessed with Draco. When he turns to look at Draco, he realizes that he is probably still obsessed with him, but now the obsession is different. He's not filled with hate anymore but full of admiration, want, and desire. They reach the Gryffindor common room way too quickly, and they both awkwardly stop at the portrait. Harry clears his throat, not knowing what to say.
This is the moment when they will have to say goodbye.
It feels weird to go separate ways now. Harry doesn't want to go to his room alone. He wants Draco to join him, but can he invite Draco to his room? Would that be too much? Harry isn't sure.
Nervous, Harry moves from one foot to the other, contemplating his next words. He wants to ask Draco to come to his bedroom and sleep together so badly, but his self-doubt gets the best of him.
"Well, then. Goodnight," Draco whispers, his grey eyes shimmering softly in the dim light. He looks even more unsure than Harry feels, but he still reaches out and takes Harry's hand, squeezing it once. Then he steps back and turns around. He takes three steps away from Harry. Four.
Harry's chest tightens, and he almost calls out for him. Fuck, should he? It's now or never. Draco is almost around the corner.
Harry is a Gryffindor. He's brave. That's why he calls: "Draco!"
Draco stops right away. He turns around, a questioning eyebrow raised to his hairline.
"Do you wanna sleep in my room tonight?"
Harry said it. He did it.
He can only pray that Draco will say yes.
Draco's eyes go big for a moment. Harry fears he might say no. Oh, Merlin. Did Harry go too far? Is Draco going to reject him?
But then, he steps closer and closes the distance with a small, timid nod. Harry smiles and grabs Draco's hand, guiding him through the portrait, the common room, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. It's a blessing that the year eight students now have their own bedrooms. It would be awkward to explain to Neville and Ron why he's bringing Draco Malfoy with him.
"Oh, you're messy," Draco says once he steps inside, looking at the pile of clothes on the floor. His nose is slightly crunched, but his comment doesn't offend Harry. It's true. Harry is messy.
Harry doesn't feel embarrassed about that. He's so excited that Draco agrees to sleep here with him that he doesn't care about the mess. "Yeah, sorry about that," Harry chuckles. "I didn't expect any visitors."
Draco tilts his head, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "What, the boy who lived doesn't invite lovers to his chambers?"
"No, I'm inviting you instead," Harry responds with a playful grin. He snaps his fingers, and the clothes start folding and flying to the closet. They put themselves on the hangers.
Draco blinks at Harry, ignoring the clothes altogether. "Does that mean I'm your lover?"
Stunned, Harry turns to look at Draco. When he joked about inviting Draco to his chambers, he didn't really mean that Draco was his lover, but now that Draco asked, Harry finds the word quite fitting. "I guess?" Harry says, scratching his chin. "I mean, you're definitely not my friend."
"I'm not?" Draco says with a slight pout.
"No," Harry laughs. "I don't kiss my friends and make them come." He walks to the bed and pulls the blanket back. Harry looks down at himself and wonders if he should undress for sleeping, but he decides against it. The sweatpants and sweater will have to work tonight. If Draco stays here with him, Harry doesn't want to make him uncomfortable by sleeping half-naked next to him.
Draco clenches his jaw and slowly steps closer to the bed. "Me neither," he replies, staring at the bed with big, grey eyes. "So… we're not enemies anymore. Right?"
Harry nods. "Right."
"And we're not friends either," he slowly says. "But lovers feels … very intimidate."
"We kissed," Harry points out, "and you touched my dick. That's quite intimate, no?"
Draco coughs, his cheeks turning pink. It's amusing to witness. Who would have thought Draco would be so uptight and shy? Somehow, it's fitting, but Harry definitely didn't expect it. "Right."
Harry slides under the covers and pats the space next to him. "Come here." Harry is pleased when Draco immediately starts moving, crawling under the covers and lying down next to Harry. He doesn't even hesitate when he wraps his arms around Harry's waist, resting his head against Harry's chest. It feels natural to lie here with Draco in his arms. Easy and good. Harry likes this position way too much and tries not to think about why that is the case.
He sighs, pleased, and closes his eyes. He feels very relaxed after today and is glad that Draco decided to sleep with him tonight. "Don't overthink it," he tells him in a soft voice and gently presses a kiss against Draco's forehead.
"Trying," Draco responds, sounding very tired. Harry doesn't blame him. He also feels tired, his eyes growing heavier with each second. "But I don't wanna get my hopes up."
"Huh?"
"What if you wake up tomorrow and decide you hate me again?"
What? No! Upset about Draco's words, Harry frowns and cups Draco's cheek, softly guiding his face to look at him. Their eyes meet, and Harry's thumb rubs Draco's jaw. "Never," he promises, his eyes never leaving Draco's. "What about you?"
Draco's eyes flicker to Harry's lips. "Yeah," he breathes. "Never." For a moment, they stay like this, neither of them moving. Harry wants to kiss Draco again — his lips are so inviting. So pink and soft.
However, this time, it's Draco who closes the distance between them. It's Draco who leans forward and kisses Harry. Their lips connect, moving softly against each other, and Harry is in heaven. Kissing Draco is so easy, so right, and it feels so good.
Harry closes his eyes and tightens his grip around Draco's body, scared that he might disappear. He wants to keep Draco in his bed forever.
They're kissing and kissing. They're kissing until Harry's lips tingle, his body feels light, his skin warm, his thoughts silent. They fall asleep at some point, and for the first time in years, Harry sleeps well, excited about the promise of tomorrow.