Chapter Text
Harry spent the rest of the day baffled. Draco was definitely avoiding him. He didn't turn up in the dining room for lunch. He wasn't around when Angelina organised a game of Exploding Snap. He did materialise at dinner, but he sat a few seats away from Harry and talked to Luna the whole time about Mermish colonies in the Irish Sea.
By the time Neville moved everyone into the drawing room for brandy, Harry had downshifted from baffled to glum. He'd given plenty of friendly blowjobs before without anyone acting weird about it. Draco had appeared to enjoy himself just fine. There was no reason for Draco to be dodging him.
"I think you're supposed to sip that," Charlie said, sitting down next to Harry on the sofa.
Harry finished chugging his brandy and smacked his lips. "Whoops."
"When did you start dating Malfoy?" Charlie asked.
Harry coughed and Charlie whacked him on the back. "Oh, a little while ago," Harry wheezed out, unable to come up with anything more convincing.
"It seems pretty serious, yeah?"
Harry nodded. He looked across the room to where Draco was playing with the wireless under Neville and Luna's supervision. Neville was explaining something, using his hands to gesture broadly while Draco nodded and fiddled with the knobs.
"Serious enough that you don't want to mess around, for old time's sake?" Charlie said, tilting his head.
Harry flushed. The wireless switched on and an old Beatles tune floated out. Draco smiled triumphantly at Neville.
"No," Harry said. "We shouldn't."
Charlie shrugged. "Suit yourself. I suppose Malfoy is kind of hot, if you're into that sort of thing."
Harry pictured Draco squirming naked on the bed, the smooth skin of his thighs soft against Harry's cheek. It was a nice picture. "Er, yeah," Harry said, wetting his lips, his mouth gone dry. "I—yeah."
Close to midnight, when everyone went outside for the fireworks, Draco joined Harry by the edge of the group.
"Hiya," Draco said, his breath puffing out in a frosty cloud. "Nippy out here, isn't it?" He took out a flask and helped himself, before offering it to Harry.
"Are you done being a twat now?" Harry asked grumpily, before taking a tentative sip from the flask. The firewhisky burned nicely in his chest.
Draco shrugged. "To you? Probably not," he said. He took the flask back and knocked back a longer slug, hissing at the burn.
"You're drunk," Harry observed, putting the back of his hand to Draco's flushed cheek. Harry had barely had anything since the finger of brandy after dinner.
"So? Isn't that the point of this whole weekend? Get arsed with the Gryffindors, be merry, et cetera?" Draco hip checked Harry. Harry wasn't expecting it and he stumbled sideways for a second before Draco reached out and steadied him with an arm around his waist.
"Wow, very smooth, Malfoy," Harry muttered. He meant to straighten up, but it was cold and he wound up leaning up against Draco instead.
"What's your New Year's resolution?" Draco asked, his fingers inching up under Harry's jacket.
Harry's stomach swooped and his skin burned hot where Draco had a proprietary grip on his hip. "Er, I don't usually make resolutions."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh right, I forgot you're perfect already."
The first of the fireworks went off and Harry jumped. Draco gripped him tighter while shimmering silver pinwheels rained overhead.
"And what's your resolution?" Harry asked, leaning up to put his mouth close to Draco's ear. "If you're all about self-improvement?"
"Maybe it's private," Draco said. His eyes were very bright in the dark. Another explosion overhead made red cascading waterfalls of light.
"We could, er, we could get out of here, and you could tell me," Harry said.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Draco stroked his thumb slowly against Harry's hipbone, making all the blood that was left in Harry's head rush towards his cock. He let Draco herd him away from the group until they were behind an old garden shed.
"You're very confusing, you know that?" Harry said as Draco pressed him up against the wall. "I spent all day thinking we wouldn't do this again."
"Do what?" Draco asked. He produced the flask again and took a quick sip, before motioning for Harry to tip his head back. Harry dutifully opened his mouth and let Draco pour liquor inside.
“You enjoyed it though, didn’t you?” Harry said, licking the corner of his mouth where some of the whisky had escaped.
Draco rolled his eyes and huffed. “Yes. Obviously.” He put the flask away, and then leaned up against Harry, his hand on the wall of the shed in a fist next to Harry’s face. Draco’s eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide. His gaze dropped a bit, towards Harry’s mouth.
"Come on, kiss me," Harry said in an embarrassingly husky voice.
Draco put his mouth on Harry’s neck, just below his ear. “I must be the biggest wanker alive.”
“Are you?” Harry said. His eyes slipped shut. “I mean, yeah, I know you’re a wanker, but why do you think you’re a wanker?”
“Because,” Draco said, biting the soft part of Harry’s earlobe hard and then sucking it into his mouth. “I never learn.” He reached for the button of Harry’s jeans. Harry moaned and tilted his hips forward, trying to make it easier.
"This makes us even, doesn't it?" Draco said as he got a hand around Harry's cock.
"I dunno, I gave you head," Harry whinged. He thrust into the tight circle of Draco's fist.
Draco bit him on the neck. "The ground is cold. And I don't want to ruin my trousers."
"You're so, ah, prissy," Harry said. He slid a hand into Draco's hair so he could press their lips together. Draco slipped his tongue into Harry's mouth and Harry made a whimpering noise in his throat. Draco's weight pressed him up against the shed while he stroked Harry's cock fast and tight. Harry felt shivery and taken, close already from a shitty hand job.
Draco seemed to sense this, and he just kept kissing Harry, kept stripping his cock, rubbing his thumb in the wetness at the tip, until Harry's orgasm shuddered through him, making him weak at the knees.
"Ah, fuck," Harry said, slurring a bit. "That was nice." He slumped against the wall. "I take back what I said earlier about you being a twat. You're an excellent fake boyfriend. Best one I've ever had."
Draco wiped his wet hand on Harry's pants. "Thanks." Above them the fireworks display was still going on. Plumes of smoke drifted beneath the sparkling light. Draco inclined his head over towards where everyone else was standing with their eyes trained skyward. "Should we go back?"
"Don't you want me to—" Harry reached out and gripped Draco's erection through his trousers.
"Later," Draco said, even as his cock grew harder in Harry’s grasp. "I want to see the grand finale."
George had timed the fireworks to a dazzling finish at the stroke of midnight. Harry hadn't ever seen anything like it. Around them, his dearest friends whooped and cheered into the crisp night air. Ron placed a smacking kiss on Hermione. Harry leaned up to kiss Draco swiftly on the mouth before he could object.
Harry slept like a baby. He had thought he and Draco might go again, but after the fireworks, there was champagne and the party went on until Harry was too tired to do anything except collapse when he finally made his way upstairs.
In the morning, they all packed up and left. Neville shook Draco's hand and gave Harry a hug in the foyer while they waited for the Portkey to activate.
"Thanks for letting me tag along," Draco said, a bit too heartily.
"Right, yeah," Neville said in a gruff voice. "Of course."
The Portkey took them to Harry's flat and then Draco Apparated straight home.
"I haven't forgotten about my dragon, you know," Harry called out, as Draco de-materialised in front of him.
Draco, it turned out, hadn't forgotten either. Harry only had to wait a day before he received a note telling him to come to Draco's flat after work, but not by Floo because the fireplace was in use.
"Smells like a Potions lab in here," Harry said, crossing the threshold into Draco's flat.
"Must be the giant bubbling cauldron in the living room, you numpty," Draco called back. He was wearing an old robe with a cooking apron on overtop.
"Cute outfit," Harry said, tugging at the string of the apron.
Draco batted his hands away. "Come on, I've nearly finished." He put on a pair of thick safety goggles and went over to the cauldron that hung in his fireplace to peer inside.
"Who taught you how to make a potion at home like this?" Harry asked.
Draco blinked at him through thick lenses. "I looked it up."
"What? For this?" Harry hadn't made a proper potion in a cauldron since the end of sixth year. He probably couldn't have made the bubbling concoction back then, let alone now.
"It's called a reference book," Draco said dismissively. He stirred three precise rotations and then sprinkled the contents of a small paper sachet inside. Yellow smoke rose out of the cauldron.
"Hah!" Draco shouted, pointing at the smoke and ripping off the goggles.
"Is that good?" Harry asked.
"It confirms that our dragon in Kew is a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Now we can set a tracking charm using the rest of the scale residue."
"How long will that take?" Harry asked.
"Not too long. Maybe a week or two. Depends how nearby she is," Draco said. He took off the apron and folded it. "Anyway, you and I have other things to discuss now."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do we?" He wanted to reach out and touch Draco.
"Yes, I think it's probably time for us to, you know—" Draco smirked and made an inscrutable gesture. "How do you want to do it?"
"Oh well, normally I would bot—"
"Maybe we should stage a big fight. No one is expecting us to stay together anyway." Draco kept talking over Harry, tapping his chin with one finger. He stopped and said, "What did you say?"
Harry’s face heated. "Nothing!" He said it too loud. "What were you saying?"
"Our breakup," Draco said slowly. "I ran into Neville this morning in Diagon at Slug and Jiggers. He invited me to sit in his box at the next Puddlemere game. Mission accomplished. You’re free."
"Mission accomplished," Harry repeated.
"You can go back to sucking off strange twinks in alleyways," Draco said, smirking.
"I've never done that."
"Well, you used to hook up with random Muggles all the time. Everyone knows that."
“Were you watching me or something?" Harry asked, crossing his arms. The situation seemed to be freewheeling out of his control. He didn’t understand why they were arguing.
Draco’s cheeks reddened. "It’s pretty obvious what you’re up to when you disappear from everyone before the end of the night."
Harry frowned. "I guess Neville never does that."
"How would I know? Neville and I don't hang out.”
"Right," Harry said, speaking around a lump in his throat. "But now you will."
“I hope so,” Draco said. “Otherwise, what was the point of all of this?” He gestured limply between himself and Harry.
A ringing sound rose in between Harry’s ears. Draco stood by the cauldron, waiting for something clearly, but Harry couldn’t think what. When Harry didn’t say anything, Draco raised his eyebrows and nodded, his lips downturned. “You said it yourself. It was crazy that anyone even believed we were together.”
Harry had definitely said that. He had meant it. The whole thing was ludicrous, up to and including the part where Draco was going to date Neville next.
“Yeah, well, good luck, mate,” Harry said, uncrossing his arms so he could shove his hands in his pockets.
“Are we mates?” Draco wrinkled his nose.
A surge of annoyance swept through Harry. "You're a prick, you know that?" he said, surprising himself. "I'm going to go. We don't need to stage anything. It's fine. We're done here."
“Are you doing okay?” Hermione asked. “Since, you know, the break-up?”
It wasn’t real, Harry wanted to say. “I’m fine,” he said instead. They were having dinner. Harry was still in his work robes, sporting a big coffee stain on the front from the morning. He was tired. He hadn't heard anything from Draco in over a week.
“I’m surprised you two broke up, if I’m honest,” Ron said.
“Oh you thought Draco Malfoy and I were destined to go the distance?” Harry said sarcastically. He shoved a forkful of potatoes in his mouth. “We could hardly stand each other.”
Hermione twisted her mouth in a thoughtful way. “I don’t know, he used to ask about you all the time. Before you were dating, I mean. If you were coming to the pub, if I’d invited you to the cinema. It always seemed pretty obvious that he fancied you.”
“Pretty obvious that he fancied me?” Harry repeated stupidly. “You must mean Neville.”
“Our Neville? Neville Longbottom?” Ron said, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, I think he was just er, using me to make Neville jealous,” Harry said, muttering at the end.
“Well, I certainly never got that sense,” Hermione said. “I was always having to hear about Potter this and Potter that. Endless. Lately, it was all about your silly Datchet file project."
Harry’s chest tightened. “Well, I don’t think he’s talking about me that way anymore. He's too busy hanging out with Neville.” He put his fork down with a clatter. He had not ever had Draco. It was insane to feel like he wanted Draco back. "Can we talk about something else?"
Ron and Hermione were nice enough to change the subject. They were nice enough not to invite Draco to the next pub night. They were nice enough not to let Harry know if they were seeing him and Neville without Harry. All of this was unnecessary of course, because Harry and Draco had not actually been dating, but it was good to feel cared for anyway.
When the note eventually came from Draco that he had found the Gringotts Dragon, Harry had started to let himself believe it might not happen anymore. They met at the southern edge of the Forest of Dean.
"Ironic that we would find her here," Harry said, trying his best not to kick up too many leaves as they picked their way along a trail.
"Why's that?"
"I spent most of seventh year hiding out here, camping with Ron and Hermione," Harry said. "And the Snatchers. They were camping here too, turned out."
"That's—look, we can call this off," Draco said. "We don't have to go any further."
"No!" Harry said. "God, Malfoy, that's just like you. Going back on your word—"
"Shut up!" Draco hissed. He grabbed Harry's forearm. Harry jerked his arm away and before he could protest, Draco put a finger to his lips and pointed upward. There was the dragon, flying in lazy circles just above the crown of the trees. The flapping of her wings made a breeze strong enough to make Harry's eyes water and lift his fringe off of his forehead.
They both stood very still. The dragon landed about a hundred feet away, in a clearing ringed by stumps and downed trees. In unison, they tentatively moved closer.
"We should have brought protective gear," Draco whispered. "I'm not sure how much closer we should go."
"Don't be a pussy," Harry whispered back, just to watch the expression of indignation spread across Draco's face. They crept close enough to feel the heat of her breath. She blinked in their direction.
"Well, is it her?" Draco asked. "Is it the dragon who saved your life?"
Harry nodded. It had to be. Her scales were still scarred where Gringotts had kept her in chains. Her chest rose and fell like a bellows. She seemed very old.
"What now?" Draco said.
Harry considered the question and found that he didn't know. He sort of wanted to cry. It was horrible to get something you had wanted for so long and still be left feeling empty.
Draco seemed equally unhappy. On the way to the forest, Harry had thought that Draco would want to lord the whole thing over him. Harry had even been looking forward to that a bit. He had thought about playing his part, moaning about how Draco approached everything with the most insufferable manner possible, that Harry had done so much more for Draco in their bargain. But it was impossible to do that when Draco was hardly looking at him.
"Are you afraid of her?" Draco asked.
"No," Harry replied. "Are you?"
"Your hands are shaking," Draco said.
Harry looked down at his hands and shrugged. He was actually shaking all over, but he wasn't going to point that out.
"Maybe we should go get something in the village to warm up," Draco said. The dragon closed her eyes and her breathing slowed. "I don't think she's going anywhere. You can always come back."
They re-traced their steps out of the forest and then walked to the nearest village, which thankfully had a pub. Draco looked exhausted in the warm light, dark circles under his eyes, his mouth pinched.
"How's Neville?" Harry asked, picking at a crumb that was stuck to the table. "He making you happy?"
"What?" Draco asked. He sat up straighter. "I mean we had a lovely time at the Puddlemere match a few weeks ago, but I haven't seen him since."
"Hm, that's too bad." Harry said, studying the crumb very closely. "Maybe you and I were too quick to break up. I should have spent more time talking you up to him. I thought he would be all over you."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Potter," he said slowly. "What are you talking about?"
"I just mean, I'm sorry Neville hasn't signed up to be your boyfriend like you were hoping." Harry grimaced. "Maybe he's just giving you time to get over me. He's sweet that way."
"I never wanted to date Neville!" Draco exclaimed, far too loud for the quiet pub. "Is that what you thought?"
Harry's mouth dropped open. "You literally told me that you wanted me to pretend to date you because you wanted to be with him."
"I never said that," Draco said. "You might have thought that that was what I said, but I never said that. I just wanted—" He stopped and sniffled, biting his lip. "Look, you were never going to want to date me, Neville was never going to forgive me, and I was going to die alone. I had to do something."
"That's a bit dramatic," Harry said dumbly. "We're only thirty."
“When my mum was thirty, I was nearly Hogwarts-age,” Draco said.
“I don't understand," Harry said. "You wanted to take Neville to Kew. You were desperate for an invite to his Christmas party. You were so into it when I said all those things about him, er—" He dropped his voice to a whisper. The barman was definitely staring at them, trying to eavesdrop. "In bed."
"Because you were the one saying them," Draco whisper-shouted back, his face bright red.
"So you don't think Neville is sexy?" Harry asked. A strange lightness filled his chest.
"Well, I didn't say that," Draco objected. He moaned and put his head in his hands.
"So you do think Neville is sexy. Which," Harry said with a shrug. "Fair play. But you weren't thinking about him when we…"
"No," Draco said, his voice muffled. "I was thinking about you, you idiot."
"Because—you think I'm sexy," Harry said, enjoying himself.
"I think you're an idiot."
"And sexy."
Draco lifted his head to glare at Harry. "And sexy."
"You're crazy," Harry said. He was smiling. "You're lucky I like you."
"You like me?" Draco pursed his lips. "You have a funny way of showing it."
"I've been moping for weeks. I was so mad when you dumped me," Harry said happily. He came out of his side of the booth to go sit with Draco, taking his hand. "I think we should date. For real."
Draco gaped at him. Harry squeezed his hand. Draco squeezed back.
In the end, it was all Hermione's fault. Harry made sure she knew this. He told her often that he never would have considered dating Draco if she hadn't forced them to hang out all the time. He told her that Draco was insane really, and it was only her good recommendation that made Harry willing to give him a second chance. He credited her with helping them find the Gringotts Dragon, even indirectly, which she liked and said she could have done herself if it had been a project worth her time. Harry didn't tell her about their initial arrangement because she never would have let them live down how stupid they both had been. He usually remembered to say thank you.