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Assistant: Title: Stay
        Author: shushu_yaoi_lj shushu_yaoi_lj 
        Chapter: 1/1 
        Summary: The day Draco Malfoy finds out that the Manor has finally found a new owner is a Tuesday.It takes him less than two minutes to realise that he’s screwed. He has nowhere to go.Things go from bad to worse when he finds out that he's been assigned a new probation officer.Harry bl@@dy Potter.
        Contents: Summary:
            
              The day Draco Malfoy finds out that the Manor has finally found a new owner is a Tuesday.It takes him less than two minutes to realise that he’s screwed. He has nowhere to go.Things go from bad to worse when he finds out that he's been assigned a new probation officer.Harry bl@@dy Potter.
            
        

        
  Notes:

    
      For acari.



    

    
      A big thank you to Mosrael for helping me with this fic. And a huge shiny thank you to AvenueofESC for being such a lovely person and for bonking me in the head on a daily basis.Acari, I really really hope you like this fic!
    

    (See the end of the work for more notes.)



  





    
        
          The day Draco Malfoy finds out that the Manor has finally found a new owner is a Tuesday. He stops in his tracks on the way to the kitchens, the letter from the Ministry still clutched in his hands, which have started to tremble ever so slightly.“Well, isn't that brilliant?” he asks himself, since there’s no one else he can talk to. “Absolutely f@ck@ng marvellous!”It takes him less than two minutes to realise that he’s screwed. Pansy is in France, Blaise at Hogwarts and Greg in Azkaban. His mother has been lying in a catatonic state in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's since his Father's death.He has nowhere to go.Not even ten minutes go by before another owl arrives; this time to let him know that his probation officer has decided to retire."Bl@@dy perfect,” Draco exclaims, throwing the parchment in the air as he nervously paces around the kitchen. “This day keeps getting better and better."It’s not that he cares about Auror Franklin that much; that witch looked a million years old. Draco could have escaped to Mexico under her nose and the old bat would have never even realised.The third owl is the final straw, making Draco groan loudly in frustration.The missive announces that he's been assigned a new probation officer.Harry bl@@dy Potter."Of f@ck@ng course it's you," Draco groans when Potter appears at the front gates of the Manor five minutes later, looking tired and gloomy. There are dark circles under his eyes, and messy curls lie limp over his forehead, barely covering his famous scar. His cheeks are gaunt and covered in dark stubble.“Malfoy,” Potter says, sounding exhausted.“You look like sh@t,” Draco replies, because the six months under house arrest in complete isolation have done nothing to improve his bad temper.“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” Potter replies sarcastically, but he looks like he doesn’t really mean it, like snapping back is costing him too much effort. “Do you have a place to stay? I’ve just been told you need to vacate the property within twenty-four hours.”“No,” Draco replies, finally moving aside to let Potter in. “I guess I’ll have to find a nice bridge to live under, because there’s f@ck@ng nowhere I can go.”“I have a house,” Potter declares tentatively after a few seconds.“Good for you, Potter. No need to rub it in now, though,” Draco says, glaring at the Gryffindor tw@t. Seriously, he thinks, the git needs to learn some manners.“I have spare rooms,” Potter adds, looking anywhere but at Draco.“Bl@@dy brilliant, I am sure you organise lots of parties with all your friends. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a panic attack waiting for me in my bedroom, and a bridge to find.”“Will you shut up for a minute?” Potter snaps, finally looking at him. “You can come and stay with me.”“Oh,” Draco replies, suddenly at a loss for words. He was not expecting that.“At least that way I can keep an eye on you,” Potter mutters, staring at the chandelier, then at the wallpaper, his hands in the pocket of his Auror robes.But of course, thinks Draco, he just thinks I’ll be up to no good.It pains him to accept, especially because it’s Potter, of all people. But he has no alternative, and he hates the idea of being homeless. There are only three months until the end of his sentence, and he will be able to complete his N.E.W.T.s and find a job by then.Just three months and then he’s free.Draco agrees to move in with Harry Potter.He packs his trunk, shrinking his clothes and his books under Potter’s watchful eye. He takes the photos of his mother, and a few of her possessions, just in case one day she remembers who she is. Just in case she remembers she has a son.He leaves the Manor with a heavy heart. He realises that after spending so many months in this house he despises, or what remains of it, festering in the wake of the Dark Lord's putrid magic, he will actually miss it.He looks at every room one last time, making Potter huff and groan in exasperation as he bids farewell to childhood memories, to that place where he bumped his knee on his toy broom, to the nook where he used to hide to read forbidden novels from Uncle Cornelius’s collection.By the time they shut the front door, Draco is in tears, sobs shaking his bony chest, but Potter looks elsewhere, making Draco feel pathetic and stupid.Grimmauld Place is a surprise.Draco was expecting a luxurious home—Potter living with his loud friends, a crup and a girlfriend. But Potter is on his own in a dark and gloomy house; his friends are nowhere to be seen, and there's no trace of a lover.“I sleep on the third floor,” Potter announces. “You can choose any other room, except for my godfather’s. Ask Kreacher if you need help.”“Who’s Kr—” Draco starts, but Potter has already apparated with a loud crack.Draco picks the other room on the third floor, because the house scares him and he thinks that at least Potter should come and help him if something tries to murder him during the night.Those first few days Draco keeps to himself, studying Potter from behind a half-open door.Potter always comes home late, exhausted and grumpy. Sometimes he makes himself a toastie or a sandwich, but most of the time he either skips dinner or gets  take-away. His Auror uniform is always rumpled; a few buttons are missing, and the hem has come undone.His friends barely visit, but the first time Granger comes in and finds Draco on the sofa, she frowns at him and demands an explanation.“Why are you here?” she asks, without even a greeting.“Nice to see you too, Granger,” Draco replies, raising an eyebrow as he puts a bookmark on the page of the volume on advanced potions he was reading. “I gather Potter hasn’t told you about me living here.”“What?” Granger asks, then she sends her Patronus to Potter, asking him to come home straight away.The screaming that goes on afterwards leaves Draco staring at both of them alternatively, like a tinnis match – or whatever that boring Muggle sport is called.“This is so unprofessional, Harry!” Granger shouts. “You can’t have him living under your roof if you’re his probation officer. What did Robards say about it?”“He doesn’t give a sh@t about where Malfoy is,” Potter replies, pacing around the parlour and torturing his messy curls. “I didn’t tell him.”“Harry!” Granger screeches, and Draco thinks it’s time for him to escape to his bedroom, but Granger points her finger at him. “Don’t you dare move. I don’t know what kind of plan you have, but this is not over.”“He had nowhere to go!” Potter shouts, his magic flaring up and making Draco’s skin prickle. “Was I supposed to let him live on the streets? How was I going to find him to check on him?”Draco swallows loudly, his mouth suddenly dry.He knows Potter took him in only out of pity and convenience, but hearing it out loud makes him feel utterly worthless.He stands up, wanting to leave, to go away, even though the only place he’s allowed to go to for the next three months is his bedroom.“You can’t be his probation officer,” Granger repeats, and Potter throws his hands in the air in defeat.“Fine!” he shouts, and Draco closes his eyes, knowing that he’s going to get kicked out, that he will have to find another place to stay, to beg for someone’s mercy. “Ron can be Malfoy’s probation officer. Happy now? I have to go back to work.”Potter disappears with a crack, and Granger stares at him, still scowling.“What?” Draco asks. “I had no say in it, so don’t blame me.”Weasley is not too keen on the idea of checking on him once a week. On his first visit he spends a good ten minutes muttering how unfair it all is, until he finds Draco’s chess set. Weasley challenges him to a game and turns out to be rather good. His clipboard remains abandoned on Draco’s bed for the rest of the inspection.Potter doesn’t seem to care what Draco does whilst he’s at work, and his house elf is so decrepit that he barely comes out of his hole. So, Draco explores the house.It’s dirty and neglected, but Draco has spent nearly a year under house arrest on his own, looking after a huge Manor in the best possible way. He starts casting repairing spells on the broken furniture, then he cleans the house, getting rid of a Boggart and several other creatures that decided to make their nests here and there.He polishes floors, rearranges sofas and portraits, replaces the wallpaper and the old curtains using the little money he has available.He mends Potter’s Auror robes, finding them in the laundry basket in his bedroom, which is eerily bare and impersonal.When Draco tires of refurbishing the home, he spends his days studying for his impending exams. When Harry comes home, Draco hides in his bedroom, spying on Potter from a slit in the door.After a month, Draco starts cooking for Potter.He learnt how to do basic things from his old house-elf, before Miffy was sent off to work at Hogwarts. Then he used the books in the library at the Manor to learn how to cook and bake more complex dishes.He observes what Potter eats, then asks Kreacher to buy the right ingredients, and he spends a ridiculous amount of time making dinner for both of them.He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s because it’s his birthday, and he feels like celebrating in some kind of way, even though Potter has no clue about it.He tells himself he feels indebted to Potter, but he knows there’s something else. He can’t help but notice how tired Potter always looks, how thin and worn out. How he never has friends over, how sometimes he stares into space, a grimace on his lovely face, his glasses askew.When Potter gets home and finds Draco in the kitchen, he frowns and sniffs.“What are you doing?” the Gryffindor asks, moving closer with caution, as if approaching a dangerous beast.“Dinner,” Draco replies, realising it’s the first proper conversation they’ve had in the month they’ve spent living under the same roof. “Why? Does the Saviour not eat?”“I didn’t know you could cook,” Potter says, and Draco raises an eyebrow.“Aren’t I full of surprises?” he asks, and then lays the table with a flick of his wand. “I’ve made too much. Feel free to take whatever you want.”Potter looks awkward, sitting down at the dinner table, still wearing his Auror uniform, which looks a million times better since Draco’s had his way with it. The buttons are polished and the ironing charm is still in place, in spite of having been secretly cast the previous day. Draco feels proud of his work.“Tastes a bit weird,” Potter says, trying the pasta, and Draco feels like hexing him and then throwing away all the food, but then Potter adds. “I’m not used to home-cooked food anymore. But it’s not bad.”Draco decides that he will take that as a compliment, because Potter clearly lacks basic manners.“How was your day?” Draco asks, because at least he wasn’t raised by wolves.Potter stares at him, the fork halfway to his mouth.“My day?” Potter replies, as if Draco had asked about complex Potion’s ingredients.“You went to work,” Draco explains, slowly, in case Potter has been hit in the head during a fight with a criminal or something. “How did it go?”“Er…” Potter replies. Always so eloquent. “I got hexed by a witch who wanted me to save her from an imaginary aggressor who turned out to be the neighbour’s cat.”“Such an adventurous life you lead, Potter,” Draco teases him, but little by little Potter starts telling him about his day. It feels a bit like prying the words out of him at the beginning, as if Potter weren’t used to talking about himself at all. But Draco’s been stuck on his own for so long that he’s desperate to chat, and to laugh, and to just listen to someone else talk, even if it’s Potter.He doesn’t realise it’s late until Potter looks at his Muggle pocket watch and grimaces.“I need to be up in six hours,” Potter declares, then sighs. “I never sleep much, but I’d better go to bed. Thanks for dinner, Malfoy.”“You’re welcome,” Draco replies stiffly.He doesn’t cook dinner for Potter the following day, but he makes something for himself and leaves the leftovers on a plate under Stasis on the kitchen table. He finds it empty the following morning.Draco decides to have breakfast with Potter, every other day, to see how it goes.Potter is even less talkative in the morning, but Draco enjoys a bit of quiet company too. He tells himself it’s better than being alone.He makes a cottage pie for dinner, and Potter blushes when he enters the kitchen.“I like the smell of what you’re making,” Potter says, taking his Auror robes off. “Can I please have some too?”“Y-yes,” Draco replies, wondering how on earth Potter hasn’t realised that Draco was cooking it for him. “Lay the table, will you?”Potter tells him about his day, then he asks Draco what he’s been up to.“I studied for my N.E.W.T.s,” Draco replies matter-of-factly. “What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like I can leave the house.”“The house,” Potter says, repeating his last words. “It looks a million times better lately. Brighter.”“I did a bit of cleaning,” Draco confesses gruffly.“You didn't have to. I...” Potter starts, wiping his face with his hand. “That's not why I took you in. I don't want…”“Why did you take me in?” Draco asks, wondering if Potter had ulterior motives, or if it was all down to his hero complex.“I…I don’t know…I guess I felt pity for you.”“Oh,” Draco says, suddenly feeling ashamed. He stands up, sending his plate to the sink with a quick spell that makes it clink.“Malfoy!” Potter calls when Draco leaves the room and runs to his bedroom.He doesn’t make dinner the next day, nor the day after.He feels Potter’s eyes on him when they cross paths in the morning and on the weekend. He can practically sense those green eyes staring at him, roaming over his body. As if Potter had seen him for the first time. As if he were hungry for something that Draco can’t identify.He hears Potter moan in his bedroom on Saturday evening, a desperate sound that makes Draco open his eyes wide in the darkness, goosepimples on his pale skin.A sigh across the landing. A groan and then a tiny whimper.Potter’s door must be open.Draco lets his fingers wander under his pyjama top, southwards, lifting the elastic band of his underwear.Potter moans again, and Draco takes his hardening c@ck in his hand and starts stroking. He casts a lubricating spell and lets go, feeling his toes curl and foot arch as he listens to Potter let out the most debauched sounds. Draco touches himself quietly, letting Potter make all the indecent noises as Draco comes on a shuddered gasp.He can barely face the Gryffindor in the morning, but feels Potter’s gaze on him.That night Potter goes out for the first time, dressed in a t-shirt and faded jeans. Draco sits on the sofa, a book in his lap, wondering if he’s going out with his friends.Potter comes back two hours later with a bloke, blond hair and light blue eyes.Draco feels like dying. His stomach drops, and he feels a lump the size of a rock in his throat. The bloke smirks at him, while Potter avoids Draco’s gaze and leads the man up the stairs, to his bedroom.Draco wants to leave.He wants to go away, to disappear. To leave this blasted house and never return. He wants to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. Draco’s heart sinks as he shuts his eyes, trying not to cry.He calls himself an idiot. He calls himself pathetic a million times.What was he thinking, playing house with Potter?He heads upstairs, hoping that at least Potter has cast silencing charms, but then he hears it.“No, hang on,” Potter says, his voice small.“Wait until my friends find out that I shagged the Saviour,” the bloke says, and then Draco hears the soft sound of fabric against skin.“Wait...no...that's not…” Potter’s voice sounds insecure. Draco feels his blood boiling. “I’ve changed my mind.”“Are you sure? You looked so desperate earlier. Come here.”“I don’t want to…I made a mistake…”Draco barges in, without thinking, raising his wand against the stranger. The man is standing a few inches away from Potter, whose green eyes are huge.“Leave. Now,” Draco tells the man, his voice pure ice and barely suppressed rage. “Get the f@ck out of our house, or I’m going to hex your b@lls off.”The man looks at Draco’s wand, then at his face as he seems to recognise him.“You live with a Death Eater,” he says, sounding disgusted as he stares at Potter. “Wait until the Prophet finds out about it.”“Obliviate!” Potter casts, his voice cracking as tears start falling down his cheeks. The bloke’s gaze becomes murky, and Potter steps away from the wall, coming closer to Draco, hiding behind him. “Please leave my house.”The man looks confused, staring at Potter’s bedroom as if he has no idea how he got here in the first place. He shrugs and then leaves, his footsteps echoing down the stairs. Draco can hear Potter’s sobs behind his back, and he feels a million emotions swirling in his heart.Jealousy.Rage.Pity.But most of all, he wants Potter to stop crying and to feel safe in his own house. So he grabs a blanket from the bed and puts it around Potter’s shoulders. Then he takes his shaking hand and leads him downstairs.“Sit here,” he tells Potter after making sure he’s comfortable on the sofa. “I’ll get you something to drink.”“Draco?” Potter asks, his cheeks still wet. “Are you coming back?”“Of course, I’m coming back,” Draco replies, realising it’s the first time Potter’s called him by his given name. “I live here.”“That’s not what I meant.”Draco is not sure what Potter meant, but he apparates to the kitchen, grabbing a tin of chocolate biscuits he baked whilst Potter was away, to do something with his hands while he waited for his return.He pours some milk into a mug and warms it up with a quick spell, then apparates back to the parlour. Potter looks small under the blankets, his face pale and dark circles under his eyes.“Here, have some of these,” Draco says awkwardly, offering him the biscuits, then he sits on the sofa next to Potter, trying not to touch him.“Did you make them?” Potter asks, and Draco nods. “They're really nice.”Draco just shrugs, but he feels his cheeks colouring as Potter empties the whole tin and drinks the milk. Then Potter lies on the sofa, his feet resting on Draco’s thighs. The Gryffindor accios a pillow and closes his eyes.“I should leave,” Draco says, placing a hand on Potter’s bony ankles, marvelling at how warm his skin is, but Potter opens his breath-takingly green eyes and stares at him.“Please, stay,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “A little longer.”“Sure,” Draco replies, leaving his hand there, sneaking under the hem of Potter’s jeans, feeling the ankle bone under his fingertips, the coarse hair of his legs, the warm smooth skin of his foot.Draco stays until Potter falls asleep, watching his chest rise and fall, his dark eyelashes fluttering in the midst of a dream. He lets himself stay for longer than necessary, stroking Potter’s skin, watching over him, until it’s late. Then Draco makes his way to his own bedroom, leaving the door open.He wakes up in the middle of the night, hearing Potter’s screams downstairs. Draco’s used to it now. It happens almost every night, but this time, after the familiar tense silence and Potter’s heavy breathing, he hears it."Draco?"Potter’s voice, vulnerable and insecure in the darkness.Draco sits up in bed, then hears Potter move, footsteps making their way up the stairs. Potter’s face appears in the doorway, his face tired and sad.“Are you okay?” Draco asks, and Potter nods—a lie—before heading for his own bedroom, leaving his door ajar across the landing.Draco decides to make breakfast for Potter every morning, to make him the usual cup of chai tea with plenty of milk and two teaspoons of sugar that Draco has seen the Gryffindor prepare every morning. He makes him scrambled eggs, sometimes toast, and a full English at the weekend. He makes him dinner too, and Potter starts coming home earlier, changing into Muggle clothes and joining him in the kitchen to have a chat whilst Draco cooks.Potter doesn’t go out in the evening anymore. He doesn’t bring anyone home.Instead, he starts telling Draco about his day, about how grim Auror training is, about the cases that keep him up at night. About being unable to save everyone and feeling too guilty to sleep.About struggling to get out of bed in the morning.About feeling lonely and useless.Draco feels his heart shattering a little bit, because there’s something profoundly wrong with the world if Harry Potter, who gave his life to save them all, is now feeling so bl@@dy broken, and no one seems to be doing anything about it.“Is Potter seeing a Mind-Healer?” Draco asks Weasley as they’re playing chess in his bedroom.“Hm?” Weasley replies, his freckled face scrunched up in concentration as he stares at the chess pieces. “What for?”“He’s clearly depressed,” Draco says, watching Weasley frown and then give him a confused look. “He probably has PTSD.”“What’s that?” Weasley asks, then his face comes alight, and he moves his queen on the board.It turns out that Potter doesn’t have a Mind-Healer, and his friends seem completely unaware of his struggles. Draco wants to do something, at least to repay Potter’s kindness for taking him in, but he’s stuck at home and his exams are in a few days.“Have you considered talking to a Mind-Healer?” he asks Potter one evening as they’re sitting on the sofa, and Potter is testing him on defensive spells.“I don’t need one,” Potter replies, fingers nervously tugging at his curls. “List two spells that could protect you from a Stinging Hex.”“Potter, this is serious,” Draco says, pausing and waiting for green eyes to meet his. “You’re allowed to feel unwell, and to ask for help.”“I’m fine,” Potter lies, and Draco sighs.Draco is a bundle of nerves the day of his first exam, but Potter keeps on telling him that he will be fine, that he’s spent months studying and he’s brilliant. And Draco stares at him, wondering when things changed between them.How did they go from being enemies to this in barely three months of living together?The exams seem to go well, or at least Draco thinks they do. When he’s done, he feels a wave of relief, and then Potter’s telling him they should celebrate, a tired smile on his face.Draco bakes a cake, and they get a bit tipsy on some dodgy wine Kreacher finds in the cellar. When Draco goes to bed, he leaves his door ajar. He hears Potter straight away, a series of rustling sounds, then a wet noise and a low moan. Draco pulls his trousers down and starts touching himself, his bottom lip between his teeth as he groans. He lets his fingers stroke faster, imagining it’s Potter touching him, rubbing his thumb over the slit.“Draco…” A whimper from Potter’s bedroom. “Draco, please…”And Draco wants to stand up and go there, climb into Potter’s bed and kiss him hard and messy, but it’s all too much. Potter is moaning across the landing, calling Draco’s name, only a few feet away, begging with Draco’s name on his lips. And soon Draco is coming, coming, coming. A loud gasp escapes his parted lips as he paints his own belly with white streaks of come.“Harry…” he calls out, saying his name for the first time.A moan, then a groan, and Potter’s coming too.They don’t talk about it in the morning.It happens again, and again, but they pretend it doesn’t.They get on with their lives instead. Draco looks for a job, sending a million owls that always come back without a reply. Potter continues going to work, even though his job is slowly breaking him to pieces.“Your sentence ends in a week,” Weasley says to Draco on a Friday afternoon, eyes glued to the chessboard. “Have you managed to find a job and a place to stay?”“No,” Draco replies, his eyebrows knitted in concern. He hasn’t found the courage to ask Potter if he’s going to kick him out once his house arrest ends, but he knows the Gryffindor will never do something so hurtful. Still, Draco is worried. He has no job and no place to call home.“I found you one, then,” Weasley says with a lazy smile. “My brother George needs help creating new Wheezes for the shop. He’s sh@t at potions, and it turns out that Fred was actually the one who was mixing up the ingredients. But you’re good at brewing potions, and George says you can move to the flat above the shop, if you want, since he’s living with Angelina.”“Oh,” Draco says, his mouth hanging open as he stares at Weasley. “That’s…really kind of you. Thank you.”“You’re a fine bloke,” Weasley says with a shrug. “And the only person who has ever managed to beat me at chess, so I’d like to keep you around. Plus, Harry seems to like you. He’s always talking about you.”Draco tells Potter at dinner, and the Gryffindor is speechless at first, then he says it’s excellent news, and that he’s happy for Draco, but his eyes look desperately sad.Draco doesn’t want to leave.He doesn’t want to move out, and leave Potter alone in his gloomy house.“You don’t have to move out straight away,” Potter murmurs before heading upstairs to pretend to sleep, his face half-hidden in the darkness of the stairway. “You could…my house is too big for me, anyway.”“Okay,” Draco says, too fast, making Potter freeze. “I can move out once I’ve got enough money to pay for rent somewhere. I don’t fancy living above the shop.”“Yes,” Potter says, moving so that Draco can see the smile on his face. “Yes, take your time. As long as you want.”Draco’s new job turns out to be alright, and George Weasley is surprisingly kind, quite different from the way Draco remembered him from their school days. But then Draco thinks that’s what war does to people. He is not the same either. He feels a million years old.A couple of weeks go by and Draco receives his first wage, but he never mentions moving out. Potter is always asking him what he’s going to cook for dinner the next day so Draco has a reason to stay. It sounds silly in his head, but he wants to make sure Potter eats a decent meal.The day before Potter’s birthday, Draco gets anxious. He has enough money to buy him a present, but he has no idea what to get. Potter doesn’t seem to be interested in anything material, but Draco has noticed that his clothes are old and baggy, that he never seems to buy anything new for himself. Molly Weasley seems to have an endless quantity of hand-me-down clothes from one of her sons, and Potter accepts them with a kind word and a veil of sadness in his eyes.Draco buys him a green t-shirt in Muggle London, then a dark blue jumper, so soft that it feels like a cloud. Draco wonders how lovely it would be to hug Potter when he’s wearing it. Not that he’ll ever find out. He gets him a pair of jeans, and a new pair of trainers. He spends most of his wage, but he has nothing else to buy for himself anyway. He carefully wraps everything in cheerful paper with unicorns that fart out rainbows, thinking that might bring a smile to Potter’s face, and then he hides the presents under his bed.“Will you come to my birthday party tomorrow?” Potter asks at dinner, and Draco freezes.“What?”“At the Burrow. I’m sure I told you about it,” Potter says, licking what’s left of his chocolate mousse off his spoon. He eyes Draco’s pot hungrily, and Draco hands it to him. “Are you sure you don’t want it? It’s delicious.”“You can have it,” Draco says. “You told me the Weasleys were organising a party, not that I was invited.”“Of course, you are,” Potter replies matter-of-factly. “Draco, I want you to come.”“Oh,” Draco replies, unsure what to say.“Please,” Potter begs, and Draco thinks of the times he’s heard the same word whispered in the darkness, his name followed by a moan, a desperate plea to be touched.“Okay,” Draco says, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “Sure, I’ll be there.”The party is a mess. There are Weasleys everywhere. Draco didn’t know there were so many. He spots his aunt Andromeda with a toddler in her arms. Cousin Edward.Draco hides in a corner in the garden, hoping no one will notice him. A few people glare at him, but they mostly seem to ignore him. Fleur Delacour tries to speak French to him, and Draco feels so rusty that he struggles to follow her fast discussion, but soon Molly Weasley distracts everyone with a giant cake topped with fireworks.Draco is left on his own, biting on the soft skin around his nails, wishing to be at home.“Make a wish!” someone says as Potter prepares to blow out the candles.Their eyes meet.Potter blows, and then looks at Draco again.Draco’s stomach does a backflip, and Potter’s lips curl up in a tentative smile.“Draco?” Aunt Andromeda is suddenly standing next to him, a polite smile on her face. “It’s about time you and I met, my dear.”“How do you do, Aunt Andromeda,” Draco manages to say, feeling like he needs his mother there with him right now, craving her presence like a missing limb now that her sister is taking his hand. She looks so much like Narcissa that it hurts.Andromeda sits next to him, and they talk for a bit. About Mother, about Father and the people his aunt lost in the war. She talks about Teddy, saying that she would like Draco to be a part of his life. Draco feels overwhelmed, but somehow relieved that she doesn’t hate him as he assumed.And then there are cheers, and Potter’s about to open the presents. Draco suddenly panics, thinking that everyone will see his gift and realise what it is.A love confession.Who gives clothes to a housemate? To their former enemy?Draco apparates to Grimmauld Place without saying goodbye to anyone. He paces around the house, wondering what Potter will think when he realises Draco is gone, when he sees his present.Draco takes his clothes off and takes a shower to calm his nerves. He doesn’t hear the floo, nor the noise of the apparition, but when he gets out of the bathroom with just a white towel wrapped around his waist, Potter is standing there.Green eyes lock with his own before they wander down, slowly. They follow the curve of Draco’s shoulders, roaming over the wet skin of his chest, then they slide further, pausing where Draco’s c@ck is reacting to Potter’s gaze.“Why did you leave?” Potter asks, taking a step closer. “You didn’t even eat the cake.”“I…” Draco mumbles, unable to find the words to explain.“Do you want to know what I wished for?” Potter whispers, and Draco nods, stupid with want. “You. I wished for you.”Draco takes a step closer, thumbs hooking under the towel, making it slide down his hips. It hits the floor with a soft thud. Potter’s breath hitches in his throat, and his fingers tremble as they hover inches away from Draco’s naked skin.Draco drops to his knees, looking up, asking for permission, silently begging for it.Potter nods, then lets out a low, needy sound.Draco unfastens his belt, then his trousers. The zip is so loud, when the only sound in the room is Potter’s laboured breathing. He’s so hard, and Draco places his mouth against the soft fabric of Potter’s underwear, breathing him in.“Draco, please…”That’s all Draco needs to lower the boxers and run his tongue on the hard c@ck in front of him, to moan as he sucks on the tip and then swallows him whole in one smooth movement that leaves Potter breathless.“Hmmm,” Draco moans as he bobs his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks as Potter’s fingers slide through his hair, tugging gently at Draco’s white-blond strands. He smells so lovely, tastes divine. Draco thinks he will never have enough of him.Draco has only ever done this a couple of times, and never with someone he actually cared about, but he wants to make it good for Potter. For Harry.“F@ck, Draco, you’re amazing…” Harry moans, eyes glued to him. Draco thought he would just shut them to enjoy the feeling of having his c@ck sucked, but Harry won’t stop looking at him. “Touch yourself, please. I want to see you.”Draco groans, desperate for some release, and he moans around Harry’s c@ck as he takes his own d@ck in his hand and starts stroking. Harry casts a lubricating spell on Draco’s hand, always the gentleman, and Draco gets lost in the blissful feeling of Harry’s c@ck in his mouth, his fingers secured in Draco’s hair, a slick palm flying over his d@ck. He comes with a low groan, mouth suddenly going slack as he shudders through the mind-blowing waves of pleasure. Then Harry comes too, covering Draco’s lips and chin with his warm sticky come.“F@ck,” Harry gasps, his @rg@sm seeming endless. “I’m sorry, I should have…oh, Merlin, f@ck…Draco…”Draco tries to catch his breath, then licks his lips, making Harry moan a desperate sound as he sinks to his knees and starts kissing him, messy and deep, hands all over Draco’s body, grabbing and holding, taking.“I didn’t open your present,” Harry confesses much later, when they’re lying naked in his bed. “I figured you didn’t want me to do it in front of everyone.”“No,” Draco admits, unsure what to say, rendered speechless by Harry’s warm hands over his back, tracing lazy patterns on his pale skin.Harry accios his gift, still hidden in the massive paper bag where Draco’s put it. He takes the different parcels out, and notices the wrapping paper with the rainbows coming out of the unicorns’ @rs@s. He starts laughing, and Draco stares at him, mouth agape, a storm of butterflies in his stomach. Once he hears it, he realises that there's no coming back. That's it, he's screwed.He’s in love with Harry Potter.He is going to spend the rest of his days hoping to hear that marvellous sound again, trying to make Harry laugh.“Draco, these are…” Harry murmurs, his fingers holding the clothes and the shoes. Draco feels silly, tries to stand up to leave, but Harry’s hands hold him down, bringing him closer. “Thank you.”“You never get anything new for yourself,” Draco explains, thinking he needs to find an excuse for his gift, but Harry captures his lips in another kiss, and then all his words get lost, like a jumble of pointless letters and sounds when all that matters is Harry’s mouth on his own.When Harry falls asleep, Draco thinks that he should leave, because this is not his bed. He gingerly stands up, but Harry’s needy voice calls him from the pillow.“Draco?”“I’m just popping to the loo,” Draco says, then Harry’s hand finds his. A squeeze, warm fingers sliding along his wrist. Draco goes to the bathroom, but then comes back to Harry’s bed.When he’s awoken by the usual screams, Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s body, holding him tight, waiting for him to calm down.“Sometimes,” Harry mumbles in the darkness, trying to catch his breath. “Sometimes I want to just exist for one day. Without worrying about what people expect from me. Without thinking of all the people I couldn’t save. Of the ones I’ve lost. I just want to breathe and forget about everything else. To just exist, with you by my side.”“Your job,” Draco replies, his hands on Harry’s hips, chest pressed against Harry’s back. “It’s destroying you. I know you feel like you have to do it, but you don’t owe anything to anyone. You don’t need to be an Auror.”“Hmm,” Harry mumbles, cupping Draco’s cheek with his hand. “I wish I could believe you.”“What is it that you want to do?” Draco asks in the darkness, and Harry turns to look at him, his eyes shining in the low light cast by the moon. “What is it that you want?”Harry doesn’t answer, but he kisses him on the lips. And Draco wishes he could read his mind.When he wakes up in the morning, Harry is gone.Draco makes breakfast, then goes to work. He prepares a batch of potions for new products, then he takes a break and makes himself a cup of Empress Grey tea. He receives an owl from Aunt Andromeda, inviting him for tea with Teddy. He goes back to work, making mistakes as the only things on his mind are green eyes, the freckles on Harry’s shoulders, Harry’s hands in Draco’s hair, the hollow dip of Harry’s hipbone.Harry, Harry, Harry.Draco goes home early and finds him there, a smile on his lips.“I quit my job,” Harry announces, his face looking younger as he grins and pulls Draco closer. “I handed in my resignation letter, and then I went to see Luna. She’s creating an orphanage for the children who have lost their parents in the war, and I’m going to help her.”“Harry,” Draco says. “It’s brilliant. I’m really happy for you.”“I also booked an appointment with a Mind-Healer,” Harry adds, his cheeks flushed. “I think I need some help.”“Harry, I’m so proud of you.”“I…” Harry says, eyes locking with his. “I spoke to Andromeda. She says she wants to ask you to move in with her and Teddy.”“Oh,” Draco replies, shocked by the news.“I know…” Harry swallows, looking down at his feet, then back into Draco’s eyes. “I know she’s family to you, and I’m nothing, but…”“How could you think that?” Draco replies, frowning. “Harry, you are everything to me.”“Draco, I need you,” Harry says, pulling him closer and sinking his face in Draco’s neck, holding him tight.“You can have me,” Draco whispers against his hair, rocking to imaginary music. “What do you want to do to celebrate you leaving your job?” Draco asks, stroking Harry’s messy curls. “I can take you out to dinner, or to the Muggle theatre. We could go to that Indian restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for ages.”Harry grabs his hand and takes him to bed.He undresses Draco slowly, as if he were a present to carefully unwrap, running his fingers tenderly on pale skin, kissing and sucking on every sensitive spot that he can find.“I’ve never done this with a man before,” Harry confesses, and Draco replies that he has never had s@x with anyone, but he’s read plenty of books, so he knows what to do. He guides Harry with whispered words, making him use his hands and his mouth, to open him up with trembling fingers. Draco kneels on all fours, and Harry sinks into him with a desperate moan, inch by inch, until they’re both falling apart, calling each other’s name.Harry comes inside him, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Draco’s waist as he fills him with his release. And Draco follows soon after, Harry’s name on his lips as he paints the bedsheets with his come.When they lie in a tangle of limbs afterwards, fingertips featherlight on each other’s skin, Draco wonders if he should sleep in his bed, if he should ask what Harry wants, but then green eyes lock with his.“Stay,” Harry whispers.“In your bedroom, you mean?” Draco asks, wanting to be sure.“In my bed,” Harry replies, a fond look in his eyes, a besotted grin on his beautiful face. “In this house. In my life. Please, stay with me. Don’t ever leave me.”“Yes,” Draco replies, kissing him to seal his promise. “I’ll stay. Until you get fed up with me, then you can ask me to leave.”“That’s never going to happen,” Harry says, holding him closer, cupping his cheeks with warm hands. “Stay with me, Draco. Until we get tired of living here, then we can find a new house. Somewhere with a nice bright kitchen, where you can make dinner. Somewhere with a lovely garden, where we can sit in the sun. Stay with me until we get old together. Please, stay.”“Yes,” Draco replies, a smile on his lips, finally feeling home. “I’ll stay.”'
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