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Title: Chapter 7: In Which Harry Complains And Ron Had Enough
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling and associates are the legal owners of these characters and settings. I am writing for pleasure not profit
Warnings: None for this chapter
Rating: PG - again for this chapter (there is swearing all the way through... maybe PG-13?)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 975
Summary: Harry and Draco are colleagues, who become friends who become... A simple love story about two not so simple boys.
Author's Notes: This is my first Drarry fic, and also my first Drarry series... obviously! I hope I'm doing it right. This fic is also available on tumblr and AO3 where you can find more of the story that I will be posting here. Enjoy!

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six

Harry thumps his head down on the table, the sudden shock of pain running down his spine. But that’s fine. Pain is fine. Harry is used to pain. If he thinks about it, which he has been, he’s used to being completely confused about Malfoy as well. That doesn’t make this situation any more annoying.

“He’s so fucking hard to read…” Harry groans and he feels Ron slap his hand on his back, before a loud plonk on the table. He tilts his head to see a bottle of butterbeer. Good. Ron clearly understands what sort of night this is going to be.

“Mate, your whole job is to be able to read situations… and Malfoy ain’t that hard to read.” Ron takes a large swig of his bottle and Harry sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his forehead, feeling the soft ridge of his scar against his fingertips. It’s been a while since he’s noticed it.

“But I can’t read him,” Harry sighs, taking a gulp of his drink. It wasn’t fair to be moaning to Ron. He knew it wasn’t fair. He’d spent the last few… well, months moaning to Ron about Malfoy. Ron probably deserved some sort of break. Harry sighs again and takes another sip of butterbeer. A loud bang at the front door makes Harry jump.

“Hello?” A voice calls from the front of Grimmauld Place. Harry smiles to himself as he hears Hermione take off her shoes and move through the house, a heavy thud of a bag filled with books landing by the stairs. He can’t imagine not hearing those sounds in the house. He could never live alone.

“We’re in here sweetheart,” Ron calls and Hermione walks through the house, whispering slightly as Crookshanks meows at her feet. She comes into the kitchen and Ron slides a mug of tea he’s had under a Statis charm over to her. She takes a sip and then presses a soft kiss to his forehead and Harry feels a familiar twist in his stomach. It’s ridiculous to feel jealous of them. But sometimes that’s all he wants. Someone to kiss him on the forehead just for making tea.

“Oh,” Hermione sighs, relaxing back into her chair and looking over at Harry, “it’s one of those nights.” Harry grimaces at her and takes another swig. The bubbles tickle the back of his throat pleasantly, and he lets himself relax. Except the gnawing feeling in his chest is back and he’s thinking of Malfoy and, oh fuck.

“Harry is having difficulty reading Malfoy, even though he’s spent a ridiculous amount of his life staring at the man,” Ron fills Hermione in and she nods, looking at Harry with soft eyes.

“What are you having problems with?” She asks, ever pragmatic and Harry shrugs.

“I dunno… everything?” he starts to pick at the label on his bottle. He glances back at the pair, knowing that they won’t be satisfied with that answer. Because it wasn’t really an answer and because Hermione likes talking about things and because she’s started to rub off on Ron in a horrible way. “I don’t know if he’s interested,” Harry sighs, leaning back in his chair, “I don’t even know if he’s interested in men! We’ve spent weeks hanging out with him, and sometimes I think he’s up for it. He does this cute blushing thing sometimes, and I swear I’ve seen him staring at my cock a few times after we play Quidditch…”

“Yeah, we don’t need details,” Ron interjects and Hermione scowls at him. He shrugs, finishing his bottle and moving to the fridge to get another.

“But then he doesn’t respond if I flirt with him, and he went on that date the other week with Daphne Greengrass’ sister…” Harry moans, ignoring Ron, and thumps his head back on the table, not noticing the look Hermione and Ron share. He thinks about the times that he's caught those slate grey eyes wondering over his body, the flush of pleasure making his cock twitch slightly. He was so sure Malfoy would have made his move at one of those points, when they were naked and alone and wet after Quidditch. Harry had been having longer showers just so he could be alone with Malfoy for a little bit longer, but nothing! Not even a suggestion!

“Oh Harry…” Hermione mutters, leaning over and rubbing small circles into his shoulder. It feels nice and Harry leans into it. It’s been a while since he’s been with anyone. Harry finds the thought sobering. Maybe he needs a fuck.

“To be honest mate, I don’t think he really enjoyed that date…” Ron mutters, sliding another bottle across to Harry and sitting back next to Hermione, his arm slung around her waist, “I mean he clearly-“

“I think the point is, Harry,” Hermione interrupts and Harry sits up to see Ron scowling at her. If he was less worried about his situation then Harry might try to think about why that is, but he can’t be bothered. “You haven’t actually talked to Draco about this. He might surprise you.” Harry groans and downs half his new butterbeer.

“But what if he doesn’t like me… what if I’m imagining things?” Harry can hear that he’s whining, and he takes a deep breath, trying to make his heart stop pounding.

“Then it’s awkward for a bit and we all move on,” Ron says, his voice forceful, “But you won’t know until you try to shag him, and at least then you won’t be sitting here bitching about it!” Harry glares at him and Ron laughs.

“Wanker,” Harry scoffs, a smile playing on his lips as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, yeah… love you too you bell-end,” Ron grins and Hermione groans, standing up and leaving Harry and Ron laughing in the kitchen.
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