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Harry dragged himself into the hotel lobby with what felt like the last of his energy.
The warning from the Ministry had reached him too late. The snowstorm had already begun and had only worsened within the last thirty minutes of him being stuck outside.
Magical anomaly detected. Magically enhanced snow storm approaching. Seek cover. Storm feeds on magic, don't use it under any circumstances.
Harry knew that these sometimes happened in the Alps. Something about ancient magic not reacting well to the Muggle technology that was everywhere nowadays.
Still, he hadn't expected it to happen while he was here.
Shaking off the snow, he dragged himself to the front desk, arriving at the same time as a person entirely wrapped in their jacket.
The lady behind the desk looked at them and put a fake smile on her face. “Wie chan ich helfe?”
“Uhm.” Harry stuttered. He hadn't thought about a possible language barrier. “English?”
“Of course. How can I help you?” the lady said, her Swiss accent not as heavy as Harry had expected it to be.
“I need a room please. For however long this weather will stick around.”
The man next to him spun around to stare at him, making Harry jump a bit. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”
Feeling the colour physically drain from his face, Harry glared as Malfoy pulled the mega-sized hood off of his head.
Looking back at the lady at the desk, Malfoy sighed dramatically. “I need a room for the same duration. As far away from this pisspot as possible.”
“I'm afraid to inform you that that won't be possible, gentlemen,” the woman said. “We are fully booked. Every room is taken.”
The day couldn't get any worse. Harry was considering just facing the storm outside and dying when Malfoy spoke up again.
“There has to be something, you can't send me out there in this terrible weather.”
“We have one room, but it's the wedding suit,” the woman said, now sounding slightly annoyed. “You'd have to share, which doesn't seem feasible. And it's expensive.”
“Believe me, lady, neither the idiot over there nor me are poor. Give us the room, we'll figure it out. Right, Potter?”
“I mean really expensive.”
Seemingly fed up, Malfoy slapped a black credit card onto the desk. “I think you'll find that this will cover all costs. Can you show us to our suit?” Now turning to Harry, Malfoy glared at him. “If you'd rather die though, fine by me.”
And Harry actually contemplated it. He really, really did. Because this was just stupid. A bloody nightmare. In fact, he'd probably prefer sharing a room with Voldemort.
Harry sighed, resigning to his fate. “Fine. Yes. Show us our room, please. We promise we will be on our best behaviour.”
The woman had the audacity to actually snort and roll her eyes, obviously not believing a word of it.
“Here's two keys. Take the lift to the top floor, there's only one door. I just need you to sign in here.”
Malfoy scoffed at her obvious distrust towards them before reaching for a pen to sign himself in. “Thank you. Potter, be so nice and sign this thing so we can check out the suit.”
Stepping forward, Harry scrawled his name onto the contract and took his key.
He had gone on holiday to get away from the git, only to get trapped with him for Merlin knows how long.
Ever since Malfoy had joined George at the shop, he had been a constant in Harry's life.
Harry couldn't even go to the Burrow without Malfoy already being there and setting the table for Molly. Or visit Ron and Hermione without Malfoy being there discussing work or books with them.
Nowhere was safe.
Not even the Alps.
And that wasn't good for Harry's sanity. Not at all.
The lift dinged and they both stepped in, reaching for the top floor button at the same time.
Pulling back quickly, Harry swung his arms at his sides and waited for the doors to close and take them up to their suit.
The ride was short but the uncomfortable silence made it feel like forever.
When the lift dinged again, they both stepped out and froze in horror as they saw the hearts plastered all over the door that would be theirs.
“Well that's tacky,” Malfoy said flatly. “Whoever is responsible for this design should be paid less.”
Nodding in horror, Harry agreed. He didn't even have any words. The door itself reminded him of Madam Puddifoot's café on Valentine's Day. He could only pray that the inside was less overwhelming.
He had never seen a hotel room that was more expensive than what regular guests would pay for their stay. To say his mouth didn't fall open and stayed that way for an embarrassingly long time would be a lie.
The room wasn't tacky at all.
And it resembled a real apartment more than a room.
A massive four-poster bed was the obvious centrepiece of the room, followed only by a massive sofa facing towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the scenery outside.
Which was currently the worst snowstorm Harry had ever seen.
“I'll go check out the bathroom. I'll be back once you stop gawking.”
Harry could hear the eye-roll in Malfoy's voice but that still didn't stop him from looking around the room in awe.
Walking in, Harry shedded his now drenched snow-gear and placed it on the wardrobe.
A knock at the door finally snapped him out of his stupor.
“Room service!”
Room service? Confused, Harry opened the door and looked at the guy standing outside their room. “Uhm. I don't think we ordered something?”
“It's included in the room. A bottle of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries as a welcome present.”
“Uhm. Okay? I don't think we'll say no to that. Just put it somewhere, thank you.”
“Of course. There's also the menu and the number you call to order,” the man said, placing the fruit and champagne on the coffee table.
“Thank you.”
Harry waited for the man to leave before he picked up one of the strawberries, hungrily biting into it.
After all the bad news he had to endure, this was a gift sent from heaven.
“What's that you're eating?” Malfoy asked, reappearing from the bathroom.
Harry had nearly forgotten that they had to share a room.
“Chocolate-covered strawberries. Room Service brought them just now, we got a bottle of champagne too.”
Looking at him sceptically, Malfoy walked over to inspect the plate and bottle. “Room service?”
“You know, food is ordered to your room and they bring it?” Harry said, rolling his eyes.
Malfoy didn't even notice, too focused on studying the menu. “Either the other places I’ve stayed at so far never had that, or I’ve just never found it.”
Not sure what he was supposed to say to that, Harry shrugged and reached for another strawberry before venturing off to inspect the rest of the suit. He almost choked on the fruit when he spotted the whirlpool adjacent to the bathroom.
“Why the fuck didn't you tell me that there's a whirlpool?”
“What's a whirlpool?”
Harry was too excited to be annoyed. Pressing the start button, Harry watched as the pool started to fill itself with steaming hot water.
“Looks like an excessive bathtub to me,” Malfoy scoffed from behind him.
“Weren't you a prefect and could use the bathroom there? It's similarly exciting. This one bubbles.”
“How do you know of the prefects bathroom?”
“Cedric told me.” Harry shrugged. “Gave me the password and everything. Mrs Norris nearly caught me out of bed because I used so much of the fancy smelly stuff.”
“Of course. Saint Potter breaking the rules. Shouldn't be surprised about that anymore, but somehow I still always am.”
“As if you'd be a saint,” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes.
“I'm one of the bad guys. It's expected of me to break the rules and be an arsehole.” Malfoy had the audacity to actually sound slightly amused about that.
“The only thing you are is annoying and somehow constantly present.”
“My therapist said it's good to have a constant in your life. So, you're welcome.”
The second the whirlpool filled up enough, Harry activated the bubbles and started stripping off his clothes.
He couldn't care less about the audience. It had been way too cold outside, and everything that had happened after he had walked through the door of the hotel had been exhausting. Harry deserved to climb into a steaming hot whirlpool without having to worry about a thing.
“What in Salazar's name are you doing, Potter?”
“Undressing and getting in. I'm cold and miserable.”
“Okay.”
It took Harry way too long to realise that Malfoy was actually stripping down as well, obviously planning on joining him.
Suddenly the tub looked way too small for both of them. Maybe the entire suit.
“And what exactly are you doing?” Harry hissed irritatedly.
“I'm cold and miserable too. Plus, I'm paying for this room. And I want to know what the fuss is about.”
Resigning to his fate, Harry pulled down his boxers and climbed into the bubbly water, stoically not looking up at Malfoy.
He hadn't thought to bring swimwear. This was supposed to be a holiday in the mountains. Hiking, drinking hot cocoa, maybe finding a skiing teacher and borrowing some skis.
It surely wasn't supposed to be a climb into a hot tub with your former nemesis kind of holiday.
The water splashed slightly as Malfoy climbed in opposite him, letting out a deep long sigh. “I see the appeal, Potter. This is glorious. Can we order room service after? You'll have to show me how to do that.”
“You have a black visa card, but don't know how to use a phone for room service?”
“There's only so much a man can learn within five years. I focused on the important stuff. Money, transportation, clubs, restaurants, and how to find Muggle hookers.”
Harry nearly choked on his own spit. “Hookers?!?”
“Do you really want to talk about hookers while we're both naked in a whirlpool? You can barely stand looking at me while I'm dressed, I think this conversation might break the little of your brain that's still left.”
“I can look at you!” Harry protested, too fast and loud even for his own ears.
He did look at Malfoy. He had always looked. But after leaving Hogwarts, he wasn't as obvious anymore. Only when he thought no one would notice would he dare to cast a glance or two.
“Look at me then. Or would you rather I pretend to look somewhere else like we do at the Burrow?”
Frowning, Harry looked up and stared directly into Malfoy's eyes. “Happy?”
Malfoy looked positively ethereal and Harry immediately regretted his decision to follow the bait. Harry had hoped that the arse would look like a drowned rat, but the opposite was the case.
Malfoy's hair had become slightly curly from the steam and his cheeks were a plush pink from the heat. He looked entirely relaxed and way too smug about having Harry's entire attention on himself.
“Am I that terrible to look at, Potter? You look way too upset about all of this.”
“What if I said yes?” Harry bit out, still staring into Malfoy's eyes.
“I wouldn't believe you. You spent months staring at me at the Burrow, thinking I wouldn't notice. And I'm in Muggle clubs every weekend, every single bloke I dance with tells me that I am in fact not bad on the eyes.”
Something moved in Harry's chest. A nasty feeling, but he couldn't pinpoint it. “It's our thing, isn't it? Staring at each other, always watching from afar. We've been doing that for years.”
“Only that you're not far away right now. If I'd stretch my leg, I'd touch you. I'd also like to note that we never stared at each other while we were naked, though I’m not sure if I want to count this here as progress.”
“Why do you want me to look at you?” And why the fuck did he mention that they were both naked in a very small space together?
“I’ve always liked having your eyes on me, Potter. Except for that one year. But even then. I don't care much for attention. But yours? I’ve always wanted your attention. Same as you wanted mine. It gave us something to do while others decided our fate without asking us about what we wanted.”
Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned back slightly, deciding to take the bait. “And what do you want now that others aren’t deciding for us anymore?”
“In the future? Peace, a quiet life.”
“And now?”
Malfoy grinned, his eyes darkening as soon as Harry had asked. “You. If you're up for it. You just have to make the first move.”
Harry really needed to work on his impulse control. He really had to.
But it wasn't Harry's brain that had made the decision for him. So he was only half to blame. At least that's what he told himself when he shoved his tongue into Malfoy's mouth and sat down on his lap as if that spot had been his to begin with.
Harry nearly whimpered as Malfoy closed his arms around him and pulled him even closer, their bodies sliding against each other.
It should be forbidden by law to fuck with Harry's head as well and thoroughly as Malfoy did it at any given moment.
Harry had tried to get away from all of this. Had gone on holiday to get his mind off it, to think of something else.
And now here he was, living the dreams he had never admitted to having.
Reaching down, Harry let his hand glide over Malfoy's chest, drinking in the small sounds Malfoy made as Harry explored his skin.
Following the trail of Sectumsempra scars slowly, as if the motion could take the hurt back he had caused.
They hadn't deserved the things they had gone through.
Draco pulled back, studying his face for a second, surely spotting the pain of regret in Harry's eyes. “Don't feel too sorry about yourself. I deserved that.”
“I nearly killed you.”
“We were excellent at nearly killing each other. Even better at saving each other's arses.”
“And the best at keeping each other distracted so we don't go insane with everything else that was going on.” Harry smiled sadly. “It wasn't fair on any of us.”
“No. But who else would say that the hero of everyone's story was nearly as obsessed with them as they were with him?” Draco laughed.
“Oh, so you agree that you were obsessed with me?”
“No. I still am, that never changed. You have no idea how hard it was to behave myself ever since I started working with George. Painful, true torture. Not once did I get to insult you. Insults are practically foreplay for us.”
At that Harry had to laugh. “Is it now?”
“You're the one sitting in my lap after only a tiny bit of playful banter. You tell me, hero boy.”
Harry answered by biting Draco's lip hard enough for Draco to dig his nails into Harry's flesh.
Maybe he was onto something.
And maybe Harry should have really looked at Malfoy sooner.
Then he wouldn't have had to wait until they were trapped in the Alps to stop dreaming of Draco's cock.
He had missed out.
The real thing was way better than anything Harry had imagined.