Draco and Harry lay in Harry's deceptively snug bed together the next morning. Harry's bed and bedroom, like the rest of Ma Potter's Place, had a homely look which almost physically assaulted Draco in the eye.
But, he supposed it was sort of comfy and inviting in its own kind of way. Sort of.
Thankfully, the Gryffindors had taken the fucking hint people! and left after Harry and Draco's terse words, popping Apparating-Game, and eventual disappearance into Harry's room soon after.
Of course, the bastards had eaten all of Draco's fine venison sausages and left nothing but charred grisly sausage crap for Harry and Draco's late night snack, food only fit for Hippogriff consumption. And maybe Ron Weasley.
Draco stretched out and snuggled closer into the chest of the newly anointed Harry fucking brilliant Potter.
Because, you know… the guy was alright, really. Not too bad on the eyes. Okay at kissing… he supposed. And, when it came to Harry's way with him in bed? He was definitely passable. Perhaps better than most. Maybe. Sure, there was a thing or two Draco could probably teach him, if Draco ever felt up to it. But, Harry was appropriately super eager, as all men in Draco Malfoy's company should appropriately be.
Draco grinned and sighed contentedly. He snuggled into Harry's side and enjoyed the feel of Harry's warmth, Harry's strong muscles, and Harry's soft skin.
And he enjoyed the feeling of knowing that, yep, Harry Potter HAD IT BAD FOR HIM.
Heh heh… Stupid Potter.
He raised his head and rested his chin on the chest of said stupid man, who was just now rousing. Draco gave a wicked, self-satisfied grin as a morning greeting to the dark-haired wizard beneath him.
"Hello," croaked Harry, managing to lift one eyelid.
"Welcome to the best morning of your life, Harry Potter. You have Draco Malfoy in your bed. Naked, no less."
Harry rubbed his eyes and smiled, stretching out his body and then wrapping his arms around the blonde who was lying on top of him. "Hhhmmm. So I see. And, I must agree." Harry opened his green sleepy eyes a little more and lifted his head forward, planting a kiss on Draco's nose. "I don't think I've ever had a morning as good as this…" Harry finished with a soft smile and then, shut his heavy-lidded eyes, before his head sank back onto the pillow with a thump!
Draco hid his (in no way beaming) face in the hollow between Harry's neck and shoulder.
So. It was true. The Boy Wonder did have it seriously bad for Draco. Honestly. What an utter sap. There was no denying how much Harry--
Harry's fingers had begun to play with Draco's hair.
Oh…oh that feels good.
Harry's fingers were swirling around in circles and sending warm tingles through Draco's body.
Oh… that's soo nice… Ahhh…
Draco made sure any misbehaving sighs that were escaping his mouth did not come paired with an audible sound.
"And who would have thought that such a good morning would follow on from the best night of my life too…" Harry said sleepily, twirling strands of blonde hair into long twists that, unbeknownst to Draco, stuck upright, straight out from Draco's head. "It's all very convenient, really."
Draco almost giggled delightfully like a girl at Harry's words, but managed – somehow – to keep that impulse way, way down inside. Way, way down. (We're talking through the earth's core and out to the other side to, say, Australia, people.)
Best night of his life...? Stupid SAPPY, Potter! Gees…
"In fact…" Harry smirked at Draco (who was blissfully unaware that Harry had just now twisted pigtails into either side of his head), "this morning is so incredibly amazing Mr. Malfoy… that I think we should stay in bed… all day." And then Harry gave him a 'good morning' kiss that was worth waking up at any time for.
"Oh, no," Draco said, eventually pulling back. "No way. You're going to cook me something with your ova-man."
"Yeah, that's what I said. Because I hear you love to get all filthy - all by yourself - without the use of magic or wand or house-elf… because you love it… you absolutely love it… and something else to do with potions… and screwing them up… and that… or something…"
Harry chuckled. "Draco! Apart from showing that you do not understand even remotely why I like to do things the long way and that you did not get my analogy with potions, at all - you just made me sound positively deviant just then! I mean, what?! 'Getting filthy all by myself'? God, with reference to wands too! Oh, and house-elves! That's just so wrong!"
"Yeah well, you're the one with the filth fascination problem--"
"Merlin! Now I'm just feeling positively dirty."
"Well, I'm feeling positively famished! After that imitation food last night, I need some serious nutrition, or I'll lose all my good looks and fade away into nothing!"
Harry laughed. "Well, we can't have that. So what would Mr. Draco Malfoy like for breakfast. Pancakes?" He planted a kiss on Draco's temple. "French toast?" He kissed one eyelid. "Eggs Benedict?" He kissed the other eyelid. "Or maybe… venison sausages?"
Draco frowned. "Only if they're cooked the right way."
"In unsalted French butter?"
"And served with a red wine jus?"
"Exactly. But there are none left. Because your snivelling Gryffindor friends knew real food when they saw it and stole it for their own selfish little stomachs. Meanwhile, I am all but going to faint." He sighed wearily. "I'm only comforted by the knowledge that the Weasel cooked them and so they probably tasted like shit anyway." Draco laughed joyfully at that thought, throwing his head back delightfully.
Harry smirked, watching Draco's sudden, almost private moment of utter amusement, with his own brand of amusement. "Okaaay… fiiiine. So no venison sausages. What would you like instead?"
"When you said pancakes… what are we talking about?"
"Batter - that I pour into a pan - and then cook - until they make thin cake-like shapes."
"Yes, yes, I know that! I'm talking about, you know, ingredients… and accompaniments."
"Right. Well, how do you feel about flour?"
"I'm okay with flour."
"Good, good. That's a relief. Now eggs? Are eggs okay too?"
"Provided they're organic."
Harry stifled a chuckle. "Of course. Now, the final ingredient. Milk?"
Silence. "Can't you use buttermilk?
"Yeah – it makes them much better."
"Does it just?"
"Yes! They get much more fluffier and moist and not at all dry and it makes them taste more buttery and almost creamy and-"
"Okay! Buttermilk it is. I'll just pop over to Munroe's Store when I get up."
"Good, good." Draco sighed.
"Yes." He smiled contentedly. "No-wait!"
"Maple syrup. We need: Maple. Syrup."
Harry paused, biting back a grin. "Tell me what kind."
"One hundred percent pure maple syrup. From Canada. Make sure it's not that artificial flavoured rubbish."
Harry chuckled. "Okay. Got it."
"But we don't have to get up right now do we?" Harry looked at him with pleading green eyes, the kind that stupid fucking Potter devotees would have gone gah-gah for and done just about anything he asked. Stupid Harry Potter fans. Paaah-thetic.
Still… he supposed they could stay in bed for a little longer. He wasn't likely to faint just yet.
Draco sighed. "No. Alright. I guess we can sleep in a bit more."
Oh, for the love of--
More sex? Oh, wait – and more pleading puppy dog eyes?!
Draco groaned and shook his head. Those insistent green eyes had no effect on Draco Malfoy whatsoever, which was why Draco was going to look Mr. fucking Puppy Dog right back in the eyes and say, Sod the hell off--
"Okay," he pipped. And then suddenly got a hold of himself. "I mean - well… I suppose I will allow you to ravish me once more."
Suddenly Harry rolled Draco over and Draco found himself lying underneath a grinning Potter. "Harrrrry!" he laughed.
"What?! You just said! And if Auror training has taught me anything, it's this: there's the quick and the dead." Harry dipped his head and ran his warm lips against Draco's neck. Draco let out a gasp. "And I for one do not want to give you a chance to change your mind," he murmured in Draco's ear.
"Particularly now that your back is miraculously healed?" Draco asked, raising a brow as he did so.
"Especially because of that. Who knows when it will suddenly – without any kind of warning - go crook again? Perhaps, once more, at a time that is most convenient and beneficial to me?"
Fifteen minutes later and Harry Potter's back had demonstrated the ability to withstand all kinds of physical activity. Strangely, no sudden, unexpected back pain arose at all. And Draco's weakened, quality/fine-food starved-body managed to hold up quite well too, with only late-night fatty meat by-products and mushy new potatoes to thank for the privilege.
Draco listened to Harry's slowing heart beat while his chest rose and fell under Draco's cheek. Things had changed quite dramatically since this time yesterday. With a slight sinking feeling, Draco wondered what that meant. And what he should expect twenty-four hours from now.
Draco then suddenly decided to take charge and ensure there was a real man in this relationship. One who was willing to say 'what was what' and 'how it was going to be'. And that person would be Draco. And the time had now come.
He traced slow circles on Harry's chest and a suddenly shy expression fell across his face. "So…" His voice wobbled a little. He cleared his throat. "What … er… are we now Harry?"
Harry gave him a slow burning smile. "Incredibly satisfied. Until my energy, for one, renews itself - at which point, I may be looking to regain some more of that same satisfaction."
Draco clocked him with a pillow.
Harry laughed. "Okay, okay!" he replied, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "I'm just kidding." Then he gave Draco a shouldn't-be-legal boyish grin and said, "Well, I'd really like it if we didn't end this here. And I'd rather not share you with anyone. So, I'm kind of hoping you'll be… my boyfriend now."
"Really," Draco said, with a devilish glint in his eye. He suspected as much. Stupid sappy fool Potter.
"Yes. Really. If you'll have me."
"Well… I suppose you have good taste in men… and…? You know a good mocha drink when you find one. Alright. I'll allow it."
"Thank you, kind sir. You've made my day."
"You're welcome. But just so you know, I'm not one for all that lovey dovey shit."
"Okay." Harry smirked.
"And I'm serious!" Draco retorted.
"Yes, sir!" Harry saluted him. "I will endeavour to leave all kinds of lovey dovey shit out of this relationship. I will be nothing but the picture of restraint."
"So, just so I'm certain I'm on the right track here, I am guessing that I should not serve you those pancakes I was about to make for you in bed. Is that right?"
Draco froze. "Well… if you really want to, I suppose I could handle that. But, you know, I'm talking about actual sappy stuff. You know. Girly shit. Not highly practical, send me good food while I'm still resting amongst the sheets sort of thing."
"Okay, so serving you breakfast in bed is fine. Just no other... non-practical... sappy stuff."
"So no whisking you away to good restaurants or surprising you with gifts. All that sort of thing. Got it."
"Okay. Some of that might be okay."
Harry nodded. "Okay. This could get confusing…"
"Perhaps it's just best if you check with me along the way."
Harry grinned. "Alright. That sounds like a plan."
"Harry…?" he asked meekly. "I know you asked me to come play Quidditch with you guys because you had the serious hots for me. But why did you decide to not to fly against me? I mean… I'm sure Weasel Junior would have let you play a game or two."
Harry sighed. "Because…if we played…and you beat me? You'd never come back again. And..." he stroked the side of Draco's arm with his finger tips, "I didn't want to take that chance. I mean… I hadn't seen you in years. Who knew when I'd next see you…?"
Draco bit a sigh from escaping out of his lip. "Okay. Very likely that I'd beat you to the Snitch, yes. But when that happened, why wouldn't I come back?"
Harry tried to hide a smug smile.
"Harry. Come on. Spit it out."
"Because you'd never want to run the risk of destroying that one glorious moment. You'd want the record to stand. And, before you say that's not true? It is."
Harry played with some more tufts of Draco's hair.
"It worked out brilliantly for me though. Turns out I love watching you fly."
Draco suddenly had that very faint and gnawing feeling of someone knowing him well, far too well. From the taunting to get him to say yes to Quidditch, to the continued insults over who'd get to the Snitch first to ensure Draco would keep coming back, to the fucking compliments thing… to the latest additions: the addictive warmth, genuine smiles, sappy looks and constant kissing Harry was giving him, which Draco had only just realised that he kind of sort of maybe liked.
Alright. It was official. Harry fucking Potter had learnt a lot about him over the years, and now a bit more over these past few weeks.
Normally, someone knowing his weaknesses like this would be a red alert warning sign for Draco - or any Malfoy, for that matter.
But Draco Malfoy, suddenly and surprisingly, did not give a toss. If Potter was so taken by him that he wanted to compliment him and smother him in kisses and lavish him with attention, just to be on his good side and keep him around?
Fucking well good.
The more the better really.
Especially the compliments…
And then, one hour later, Draco Malfoy got up from bed, full of buttermilk pancakes and maple syrup, and went into the bathroom. And, with a look of horror, he saw that he had pigtail twists in his hair…
I've already posted a little one shot sequel to this if you're interested. It's called, "The pigtails maketh the man" and I'm sure you have no idea what that's about!
There are also a few more stories I'm mid way through writing for "The Things You Learn" universe, including a more full-length sequel and a few other shorter ones.
Thanks for reading and reviewing - honestly, you have no idea how much a nice little review brightens up my day! (author skips along staring up at the sun and trips over her own feet). Either way, keep those reviews coming people! (hint hint)