“Is Bruce in here?” Tim figured he might be— Bruce spent a lot of time in the children’s wing of Wayne Enterprises. There were a dozen or so kids in daycare most weekdays, and Bruce liked to hang out.
Tim liked to hang out too. They had nice snacks, and he’d known most of the kids since they were toddlers. And sometimes naps were mandatory.
“Conference call,” Damian told him. (For someone who claimed to hate naps, snackfood, kids, and humanity in general, Damian also spent a lot of time in the children’s wing.) “I don’t know where.”
He went back to what he was doing, which was arranging a set of pewter soldiers into a complex model of a battlefield, presumably for the benefit of the preschooler sitting next to him.
“The Battle of Issus, 333 BC.”
“Right, obviously.” Tim decided he was curious, so he settled down on the mats to watch. Damian finished his model; he pulled a marker from the art table and used it as a pointer.
“Okay. This is the Macedonian army, outnumbered but in the better tactical position, south of the Pinarus River. Their leader is Alexander the Great. And this—” He pointed to his enemy line. “—is the Achaemenid Empire. They’re about to lose.”
Damian tapped his marker on the Macedonian right. “This is the companion calvary, Alexander’s elite force, and they—” he cut off when he noticed his pupil digging in the toy bin, clearly distracted. The kid came up with a battered Transformer, which he set behind Damian’s lines.
“Elliot. Alexander did not have robots.”
“But,” said Tim, rummaging through the box himself, “did he have wizards?” He pulled a bearded magician out of the tub and held it up for Damian to see.
“You know he didn’t.”
Tim passed the wizard to Elliot. “But what if he did?”
“How would that go?”
“Abracadabra, Alexander!” Elliot yelled, gleefully smashing through Damian’s entire left flank.
“Damn it, Drake.” Damian sighed in frustration— not quite the rise Tim was hoping for, but still something. He dropped Elliot’s discarded robot back into the box.
“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Tim told him. “Elliot’s four. He’s too young for— what is this— military history?”
“He was doing fine before you showed up.” Damian started to re-erect his soldiers, but he gave it up after Elliot came in for a second pass. “Which is typical, isn’t it?”
“Thank you.” Damian crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll bite. When is he supposed to learn this kind of thing?”
“High school? Maybe never.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Frequently.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a second opinion.”
Damian checked the room for potential allies. “Thomas?” he called over his shoulder, “You learned military strategy as a kid, right?”
Duke looked up from the book he was reading to a pair of kindergardeners. “Just you, man.”
“Told you.” Tim fished a bag of plastic ninja from the toy box and arranged them pointedly into a row. “How are you still surprised by this kind of thing?”
Damian glared at him. “Okay, first of all? I’m not a— hold on a second. Elliot!”
Elliot froze with a large, plastic dinosaur held aloft over the battlefield. He drew it sheepishly back to his chest. “Sorry.”
“Not in the calvary wing,” Damian told him. “You’ll scare the horses.”
“Here?” Elliot pointed to the front of the phalanx.
“Aim for his center.” Damian turned back to Tim. “Anyway. Why are you still talking to me? I thought we had an agreement about unnecessary contact.”
Draco was protective of what was his, so when he saw a certain Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley trying to force what was his to ask someone on a date, he wasn’t happy. Not only that, but when Harry actually got up just to comply with what the two were telling him to do, he was practically furious- the wink Harry had given him as he passed wasn’t helping the situation either.
Draco had watched as Harry had slid in to a chair next to a pretty average looking girl and had begin to ask her about herself, as she was happily babbling on however, Draco was quick to get up and stalk over until he was hovering behind Harry.
‘Potter, a word with you? Now.’ Harry’s shoulders had tensed ever so slightly before relaxing and he had let out a groan before climbing out of his chair and looking up to Draco. Unfortunately for him Draco had grown exponentially since after the war, and Harry had seemed to have shrunk in comparison.
Draco lets out a low predatory growl, and Harry knew he was absolutely in for it, so instead of saying anything he began to walk out of the great hall, knowing Draco would be close behind after grabbing his bag and explaining why he was leaving so early to the rest of his housemates.
As soon as Draco is out of the large wooden doors, he stalks up to Harry and in one fluid movement he has him against one of the walls, their bodies flushed together and breath mingling in a hot flurry of lips and tongue. All too soon however Draco is moving away, leaving Harry breathless and flushed.
‘Mine, remember that Harry. Mine.’ Just to punctuate his words he leans down, hands purchasing against Harrys thighs and hoisting him up, leaving Harry to squeak and wrap his legs around his waist. He leans in ever so slowly, and with another whisper of ‘Mine.’ against the shell of his ear, he leans down and leaves a purple hickey sticking out against Harry’s adams apple.
Suffice to say, the next day for quidditch practice despite the heat Harry could be found wearing a turtleneck jumper and a blush on his cheeks whenever someone would ask him why he was wearing such a ridiculous piece of clothing when it was mid summer, both Ron and Hermione were curious as to why he would be wearing it too, but just shared a glance and stayed quiet about it.
Only after Gryffindor won the first quidditch tournament of the year did Draco truly get furious about the people surrounding Harry all the time, and even watched with a glower as the girl he dragged Harry away from pulls Harry in and kisses him hard, almost as possessively as Draco gives Harry kisses, and that stirred something in Draco.
Draco waits though, waits until he knows that Gryffindor and more will be watching. He knew that there would be a celebration of Gryffindor winning, so that’s exactly where he heads- straight to the Gryffindor common room, and of course he can get in because he knows it from all those times he and Harry sneaked in and out.
When he enters the common room, the atmosphere is bubbly until everything drops silent as he stalks further in to the room, until he’s stood in front of the fire, facing Harry. In a matter of moments, Harry is being pulled up by the chin and is being kissed, hard.
Laughter and cheers echo around the common room, until the two familiar voices of Ron and Hermione can be heard saying in unison- ‘What the hell?!’