#boys who like boys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warmerthanhotcoco · 1 year

Text

to live for

Draco apparates to “Where Dobby is”, only to find said elf’s grave. At least Aunt Trixie’s knife didn’t hit Potter… Who turns up right when he’s about to leave. So he decides to stay a while longer with this… newfound friend/secret lover.

Tags: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Golden Trio, Post-Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, RIP Dobby, mild angst with comfort, gay wizard fluff, ✨Their First Kiss✨, just a lakeside Drarry date

A/N: To all this beautiful gayness in the world. Lol- And to my gay bestie. Faun, you'll always be the most casually beautiful, Pinterest-worthy girl in the world ✨ Have a lily from Drarry xx 💐

It was late at night, he could tell that much from the cold breeze humming from the lakeside. The Golden Trio had just returned from their first and probably last visit to Malfoy Manor. Harry Potter had just climbed into bed after a most tragic burial, and lay there staring up at the canvas roof of the tent.

Merlin’s pants, it had been one mad rollercoaster ride. From being nearly caught by Greyback’s searchers… to Hermione’s hex-disguise on him… to Malfoy lying to save him… to Pettigrew meeting his long overdue end… to Dobby's sacrifice...

Harry hardly had tears left tonight.

The grief and exhaustion was too much. It was so bad for his friends that both had fallen asleep fast. Somehow, he was the only one up.

Nothing new there, I suppose.

The after-effects of Bellatrix Black's torture had been enough to make Hermione pass out onto Ron's lap over dinner. He'd left them both to their own side of the tent, a tinge of satisfaction at the whole ordeal bringing the two closer.

But he couldn't ignore how it only made him feel lonelier.

He shook his head and sat up, giving himself a slow moment of silence to see if he might just feel drowsy. Sleep never came.

He slipped out of the sheets, dragged his feet outside. They had run out of whatever sleeping potion Hermione had, and the muggle sleeping pills were left at their last hideout.

Hands in his pockets, feet buried in the gravel (he ditched his shoes, too much noise), he took in a deep breath of the moist lakeside air and looked up at the sky. The crescent moon hung low overhead, lighting up the blanket of dark grey clouds. The sky wasn’t half as gloomy here as it was back in England. It felt nice. The warmth and brilliance of the moon was sort of a reassurance that he was safe here. That his friends were safe here.

All at once, he was aware of a presence that radiated a feeling of security: a strong feeling of “I’m safe now” washed through him.

Which was new given all he ever thought about was his friends’ safety. Others’. Most of whom he lost.

Ugh, quit brooding, Harry. Let’s just… take a breather, he chided himself, walking across the banks to the little elf's grave. He could feel the warm presence still though he convinced himself it was merely the moon. His fingers wrapped tight around the wand just in case the presence was... deceiving. Another lie.

Nothing had happened by the time he subconsciously stopped beside Dobby's grave. "Hello, Dobby."

The clouds cleared up a bit to shed more moonlight along the lake banks, and that was when he saw. Strings of elegant, shimmering flowers were strung around the headstone, wrapping up the rock firmly and yet tenderly. They were creepers of the finest, sparkliest lilies. The green of their stems and leaves, however, were an oddly familiar shade of dark green... and the flowers themselves had a magical glow to their even more familiar pristine, platinum white.

Years of duelling and fighting took action and made Harry grip his wand ever so tight ––

But one day of seeing the hidden truth kept him from attacking.

So this was the “comforting presence” lurking in the dark… he lowered his wand.

Harry heard a soft exhale. “You're not going to Sectumsempra me?”

“...you saved my life.”

“Hm. Pity.”

“What are you doing here?" The burning question spilt out of his chapped lips. What abominable reason could possibly bring... HIM... of all people... to this place, at this hour?

Draco Malfoy scoffed. “He was my elf before yours.”

Well, he had a point. Harry waited for any other remarks, any of the usual snarky comments... but none came. So he nodded, sat cross-legged on the sand, subtly shifting to the side. Draco walked into the light at last and Harry caught a glimpse of green turtleneck sweater and black coat. Draco pondered for a minute before sitting right beside the Gryffindor.

Silence.

Both wizards sat there on the sand, staring at the white lilies glowing in the moonlight. Both are nothing but young boys being shoved into a war, left without a choice because of their parents. Both are young adults that were once merely children playing with Dobby secretly, in Malfoy Manor or Privet Drive: because neither family would have allowed it.

Perhaps they both saw this at last. Perhaps they finally grew up. Perhaps that was why Harry waved his hand for a quiet wandless Accio charm.

"Show-off," Draco mumbled when a Firewhiskey bottle flew somewhere out of Ron's secret stash and into Harry's grip. Harry held it out to his once arch-nemesis. The latter hesitated, staring silently at the dark, calloused hand before him.

Harry placed the bottle down, rolling up his sleeves.

“Those flowers—“

“They’re called lilies, scarhead.”

“Right. They’re… nice.”

“If that’s your best attempt at complimenting my magic then no thank you.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head and taking another sip. He HAD to be drunk to be doing any of this. “They’re beautiful. Very.”

“…Thanks.”

“But honestly, what’s with the green sweater?” Harry grinned. “Your mania over your house is far from just pride at this point—“

“It’s my favourite colour. For other reasons. Got a problem?”

“What reasons to make the lilies look that greenish?”

“That was for you, you blasted idiot.”

Green to signify Harry being Dobby’s closest friend? Or green lilies to comfort him? The way this is going, I’ll never know, the green-eyed son of Lily thought to himself, gulping down another two sips of Firewhiskey to calm his spinning head.

Back to the silence.

A slow breeze washed over them, splashing the string of lilies with a bit of moisture, sweeping over the grave. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin watched the draught glitter gold with sand; waltzing across the lake, away from them, over to the hillside. The lakewater splashed against the rocks, tide rising a little with the wind current. The gust of wind took away a lot more than just a pile of sand. Hatred… Coldness...

He downed some more alcohol to hide the sudden smile. Silence was exactly what worked with the both of them, he concluded. They’d probably never be able to talk like normal humans.

“What are you, daydreaming?”

Yep. This is exactly what I meant. “No, I realised we can’t ever talk without sounding like we’re duelling.”

“‘Duelling’. A decent way to phrase it. I’d vote for ‘murdering each other’.”

“Well what do you want me to do, apologise? You started it!”

“You’re the idiot who decided to go against all Slytherins just because of whatever we did as eleven-year-olds on the first day of school!”

“Well I’m sorry but you were being ridiculously rude—“

“I just wanted to befriend you, but all you did was scowl at me, what—“

“Draco.”

“… stop that,” the blond looked away, tossing a handful of grass at him.

Harry blinked in confusion, seeing the tips of the other’s ears gleaming red. “I’m sick of calling you your father’s name, it’s stupid,” he shook his head, delighted he really was drunk. “You’re nothing like him.”

“He reminds me of that everyday, thank you very much.”

“Ugh, I meant you’re more…” Better? Understanding? Handso— What— Harry, get yourself together. “Humane. Than him. You’re better.”

The red crept a little down his neck. “Whatever. Don’t expect me to call you Harry.”

“That would need a miracle,” Harry laughed. “But Draco, I did want to be a friend, you know. I was new to the world, and you were the first I saw at Diagon Alley. When I saw you again at Hogwarts, I was happy, actually.” He scoffed sourly. “Until you decided to ridicule my first friend, that is…”

Draco remained silent, drawing doodles on the sand, having plucked off all the grass nearby.

“You know, your sticky glossy hair never helped your impression, I hated the sleek look.”

That won a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Looks much better now though.”

Draco laughed again, nervously ruffling the back of his head. “You’re drunk bad, aren’t you?”

Harry shrugged and offered the bottle to him.

“I don’t want Firewhiskey.”

“Then what do you want?”

The sparkling platinum head snapped up in surprise, eyeing him to see if he was joking around or if the tone really did mean anything this time. Draco found the eyes a bit too intoxicating, more so than the whiskey bottle below, so he diverted his gaze away from their sharp green and down to the pink, injured lips.

…Bad idea.

“Eyes up here, Draco,” Harry smirked.

“You’re seriously more drunk than I am,” Draco shook his mane. “If you’re such a bloody Gryffindor and you know what I want then I dare you to—“

His slurring words cut off as a pair of hands cupped his face, pulling him closer. Soft, chapstick-covered lips crashed against chapped, dry ones. On reflex, Draco punched his shoulder and grabbed him by the collar, but when Harry didn’t relent — or rather kissed him a little harder — he let go. Let go of the eight years of tension and sat there, eyes shut, drinking it in. He couldn’t help but smirk: Harry seemed to be enjoying himself.

“What are you grinning for? Am I that bad at it?” Harry whispered, pulling away panting.

“Hm, fairly tolerable.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Means you need more practice,” the Slytherin laughed. Wrapping one protective hand around the back of his head and the other cupping his chin, he pushed him onto the sand. Lips felt each other at first, before their tongues danced in a frenzy, like the draught of wind with its pile of sand. Harry found himself straddled and locked in place by a pair of perfect pearl-white arms.

Not that he wanted to move away from this anyway.

Draco didn’t stop either, not until Harry tapped his back to come up for air. The blond rolled off the body underneath him and sat on the sand. Harry sat up to find him deep in thought, head hanging, skin aglow from the rising sun. “Draco?”

“I have to go.”

Harry felt his throat constrict, but nodded his agreement nonetheless. “You can’t stay? You’re not really with them… right?”

Draco shook his head, openly denying it for the first time in his life. “I have no choice, just like you. Mum…” he bit his tongue.

As it finally dawned on Harry why Draco was doing all this, he sighed. “I see. She’d be looking for you then,” he pointed to the specks of sunlight dotting the horizon.

Draco nodded. “I…” He didn’t know what to say, or rather how to. So he rose to his feet, dusted off the sand.

Harry stood too. “Erm,” he held Draco’s shoulders still to leave a light peck on his cheek. The Slytherin blushed hard, punching him lightly in the stomach while the other laughed. “I’ll see you around, Potter.”

“Someday,” Harry nodded back.

And just like the wind, he disappeared.

“Thank you, Dobby,” he whispered, patting the grave. Because had it not been for Dobby, the Gryffindor hero who lost almost everyone, had just found another person to love, to live for.

#drarry #harry x draco #draco x harry #hogwarts #comfort fluff #first kiss #boys who like boys #gay Hogwarts fluff #lakeside dates with Drarry #mild angst with comfort #harry potter #Draco malfoy

20 notes · View notes