harry shun

anonymous asked:

Have you been here all night?...(.) Prompt pretty please you're a goddess

(I haven’t really got time to do requests, but seeing as you asked so sweetly Anon…!  I really enjoyed writing this, and it turned out a bit longer than anticipated, but, ahh well! 2K words of fluff to brighten your day <3)

***

All Night

Harry swayed as he pushed his way through the throng in the nightclub.  His vision had been getting blurry for a while now, and he scowled as he took a swig from the bottle of champagne dangling from his fingers.  He was pretty sure he’d been aiming to feel better, but he had a sneaking suspicion that hadn’t turned out to be the case.  

Bright colours flashed in the darkness and the music pounded.  He hiccupped, and ran his free hand through his damp hair.  What the hell was he doing with his life?  

He knew the situation with Ginny had been heading for a fall for some time, and he could honestly say he didn’t blame her for ending things.  They had been two broken children, trying to make sense of the adult world, and it had been time to accept that some things just couldn’t be fixed.  

But it had been six months now, and he was tired of feeling empty.  But filling himself up with booze probably wasn’t answer.  He just didn’t know what else to do at this juncture.  

His body was slick with sweat, and what little clothing still remained clung to his person as he traversed the crowd.  He had come with a couple of his other single friends – Terry and Justin – but he’d lost them a while ago.  How long ago, he couldn’t tell.  Time had lost all meaning in the dark and crowded club.  It was the early hours of the morning though, of that he was sure.  

The thought of going back to his cold and lifeless house spurred him back to the bar.  He’d secured his wallet and wand to his hip, jutting out of his skin tight briefs where he could reach them, and fished out a tenner to get another…something.  Beer, bubbly, shots and shooters, he’d done them all in the space of a few hours, but now maybe he could do with something to sip.  His body ached, and he thought he might find a quiet corner to nurse some firewhiskey.  

The wizard behind the counter didn’t flinch as Harry reached the front of the small crowd waiting to purchase drinks.  Harry thought that was rather impressive, considering he was not only the bloody ‘Chosen One’, with his instantly recognisable lightning bolt scar, but he was also only sporting an open shirt over his underwear.  Jeans, shoes, socks, even his tie were all long gone, discarded along with his dignity.  

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but it wasn’t his voice that placed the order.  

“Two fingers of brandy,” came a familiar drawl.  “And a pint of water for my friend here.”

Harry blinked, frowned, then turned to face the owner of the voice.  “Malfoy?”  He instinctively pulled his shirt lapels closer together.  However, seeing as he had pinged most of the buttons off previously, there was only so much he was going to hide.  “What are you doing here?”

Malfoy gave him his customary smirk, and handed over the coins for their drinks.  “That’s a little rude, Potter.”  He picked up their tumblers of brandy with his long fingers, then pushed the water into Harry’s hands.  “Drink.”

He turned without saying anything further, but Harry understood the unspoken request to follow.  Even after all these years, and time spent working together, Draco Malfoy still managed to make Harry’s stomach twist.  He was impeccable as always, not a hair or crease out of place, and there Harry was, a dripping, stumbling mess.

He left the almost finished champagne bottle on the side, and weaved through the crowd.

Of course Malfoy had his own private booth, and once Harry had stepped over the threshold, he watched him wave his wand to muffle out the noise of the music to a whisper, and dim the club beyond to a shadow.

Harry suddenly felt very cold and exposed.  “Have you been here all night?” he mumbled, moving to sit on the velvet, semi-circular sofa, hoping the small table would hide some of his bare legs.  

Malfoy sat opposite him, leaning back and crossing his ankle to rest on his knee.  “Yes.” He took a sip of his brandy, watching Harry over the rim of his glass.  He’d left Harry’s tumbler on the table between them, but Harry shunned it in favour of his water, which seemed like an excellent idea right about now.  

He took a big gulp, and tried to pull his shirt over his chest again.  “Right,” he uttered into the glass, averting his eyes.

“I thought your stint on the stripper pole was most entertaining,” Malfoy said, a glint in his eye.  The lighting was low and cast deep shadows, but Harry was pretty certain he could still tell he was blushing.  

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said defensively. “No one was.  I just – look it’s not a crime to let off steam once in a while.”

“Did I say it was?”  Malfoy placed his glass down, then waved his wand again, conjuring a blanket from thin air. He scooted along the sofa, then draped it over Harry’s shoulders.  Harry froze, unsure what to make of such an act.  “You’re shivering,” Malfoy explained.  But he didn’t move away once Harry had it wrapped around him.  He just plucked his brandy back up, and regarded Harry’s face as he took another mouthful.

Harry gripped tightly to the blanket, grateful for its warmth.  He supposed he could have cast any old charm to heat himself up a bit, but he liked the comforting feel of the soft material against his skin.  

“Why are you here?” he asked again.  

Fuck Malfoy was beautiful.  Was that right?  Was he allowed to think that about another guy?  Well, he was, so sod it.  It was only in his head, if he wanted to think Malfoy was beautiful, no one else had to know.

Except…

“Beautiful?”  Malfoy raised an eyebrow.  

Harry spluttered into his water.  “What?”

But Malfoy just stared, a tentative smile curling on his lips. He leant forward, and brushed back one of Harry’s wayward curls.  “You look sad, Potter,” he murmured.  “That doesn’t seem right, that you should be sad.”  

Harry wanted to deny it, to argue he was perfectly fine, thank you very much.  But the words got caught in his throat.  Besides, the skin on his face where Malfoy had touched appeared to be burning up, and he couldn’t think straight.  Instead he downed the rest of his water, and swapped to the brandy to fortify him.  “What do you care?”

Malfoy studied him for a bit.  Harry squirmed and turned his gaze to his finger tracing along the rim of his glass, producing a faint ringing sound as he did.  

“Would it be so bad if I did?”

Harry looked back up at him.  “Did what?”

“Care.”

Harry’s eyes shifted downwards again, and he bit his lip. Everybody thought they cared about him. His friends, his colleagues, strangers he met on the street.  But most of the time, they only cared that he was alright.  They wanted him to be their hero still, they didn’t want to see him broken, or if they did, they wanted him to be fixed quickly.  He couldn’t afford to disappoint them.  “No,” he admitted.  “It wouldn’t be that bad.”  

Malfoy wasn’t like the others.  He never pretended.  He always gave it to Harry straight, even if he was being a complete prick about it. They had come a long way since their school days, had even worked together several times as Aurors, and Harry had learnt to trust him.  Even if it was begrudgingly at times.   So if Malfoy said he cared…that he wanted to care…

“Can I call you Draco?”  He wasn’t sure where the question had bubbled up from, but he swallowed as he nervously waited for the answer.  

Malfoy – Draco – licked his lips.  “Sure,” he said softly.  He raised his hand, and carefully stroked Harry’s hair back again. This time however, he left his fingers amongst his curls, rubbing little circles against the scalp.  Harry couldn’t help but utter a soft moan, closing his eyes as he leant into the touch.  “If I can call you Harry.”  

“That’s my name,” Harry mumbled, his eyes still closed.  He heard Malfoy chuckle.  

They stayed like that for a few moments, and Harry slumped down against the sofa, his shoulder meeting Draco’s.  How long had it been since someone had touched him like this? With a caress?  

It was like something a lover would do.  

“Harry?”  

He hummed.  “Yeah?”

There was a pause.  “Keep your eyes closed for me, okay?”

Harry felt his lips quirk in amusement, but he didn’t really think about the request much.  It was nice to not have to think, to just trust in someone else for a change.  “Sure,” he said with a sigh.  

He lost himself in Draco’s ministrations, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad if he just fell asleep, all wrapped up and warm, in someone else’s arms.  

The kiss was so light, he almost didn’t register it at first.

He noticed its absence before he worked out what had happened. Then he couldn’t help but blink his eyes open, gazing into Draco’s, his face only an inch or two away.  “Huh,” he said, reaching up to trace his fingertips along the side of Draco’s temple.  “Your eyes are grey.”  He’d never known that before.  

Draco smiled.  “Yes they are.”

Harry licked his lips, a little frown creasing his brow.  “You kissed me?”  

“Yes,” Draco agreed.  The smile faded from his face.  Harry didn’t like that.  He dropped his hand, and ran a thumb over his lower lip.  Draco’s breath hitched.  

“Now you’re sad,” he said, mirroring Draco’s comment from before. “Why?”

He cupped the side of his face to his palm, and gazed into those grey eyes.  They were like pools of liquid metal in the dim light.  “You can forget about the kiss Harry,” he said, still sad.  

“But-”  Harry shook his head, confused.  “I don’t want to.  It was nice.”

Draco narrowed his eyes.  “You don’t mean that.”  Harry may have been drunk, but he could hear the hope in his voice.  “You’ll regret it in the morning.”  

Harry didn’t think that sounded right.  So he thought he’d try an experiment.  

He leant forwards, and pressed his lips to Draco’s again. It didn’t last long, but just enough that they could both move their mouths a little, a touch of tongue slipping through to connect them.  Harry pulled back, and Draco stared at him, panting almost imperceptibly.  

“There,” he said, rather pleased with himself.  “Now we both kissed each other.  How about we see how we feel about that in the morning?”

Draco stared for another moment, then barked out a laugh, mirth lighting up his eyes.  It was infectious, and Harry grinned too.  “Alright,” he said.  “But I mean it, you can just forget all about it.”

Harry hummed, contented, and snuggled against his side. “Doubt it,” he mumbled.  “Can I sleep now?”

“Here?” Draco sounded dubious.  “I could take you home you know?”  

That sounded an awful lot of bother to Harry.  He shook his head, and threw some of the blanket around Draco’s body.  “Stay here,” he grumbled.  

Draco chuckled again, and brushed his fingers against Harry’s shoulder.  “You’re cute when you pout,” he told him.  

“Shh,” Harry chastised.  “Sleep now.”  

He felt Draco’s sigh through his chest.  Harry smiled victoriously to himself as he listened to Draco send a message to the management, informing them they would be commandeering the booth until the morning.  Then he enlarged the sofa to more of a bed size, and transfigured their brandy glasses into soft, fluffy pillows.  “Come here, you big lump.”

Harry allowed himself to be lowered down, and cuddled against Draco’s chest.  He’d never been the little spoon before.  It was nice.

The blanket covered them both easily, and with Draco’s arms wrapped around him, he could soon feel himself drifting off.  “Goodnight,” Draco whispered, placing a sweet kiss on his neck, just below his ear.  

Harry was so content, he knew it would be no trouble to stay like that all night.  

And that’s exactly what he did.  

End

(I blame Yuri On Ice for most of that scenario lol)

9

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Okay but cc’s descriptions of magnus’ clothes makes me cringe so much like I gotta skip over whole paragraphs of her describing him wearing red alligator capes or leather rainbow waistcoats with no shirt or some shit like that and use my own imagination before whatever ridiculous concoction of leather and glitter and sequins she’s thrown together gets burned into my brain and I can’t unsee it

It really bothers me that people who have never read Harry Potter shun it for promoting witchcraft. I don’t believe witchcraft is ever good, but, in my opinion, the magic in the series is fantastical. And it’s only a small part of what makes the series amazing. Rowling is an excellent storyteller, and I enjoyed reading the incredible story she had to tell. Harry Potter has nothing to do with cryptic seances and devil worship, but everything to do with how we live our day-to-day lives.