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Title: Chapter 13: In Which Harry Collects A Very Drunk Draco
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-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 1,131
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 AO3 Enjoy!

Chapter One
Chapter Twelve

“I’m sorry Harry,” Hannah grimaces from behind the bar and Harry shakes his head, moving over to where Malfoy is slumped on the bar, an empty glass next to him.

“What happened?” Harry asks and Malfoy lets out a low groan.

“I don’t know,” Hannah shrugs, collecting the last glasses on the bar and lowering the light in the room with a flick of her wand, “he came in here looking completely white… I mean, whiter than normal, and so I gave him a firewhiskey. When that didn’t seem to do anything I gave him another one and he dumped a handful of galleons on the bar and told me to leave him the bottle. By the time the pub was quiet enough for me to check on him he was like this…” Hannah points at him and Harry nods.

“Ok… thanks Hannah,” Harry smiles at her and drags the stool next to Malfoy away so that he can perch next to him.

“Don’t be silly! I’d take him home myself, but I have to lock up here and Neville is expecting me back…” she looks worried and Harry waves a hand at her. She shuts her mouth and nods, moving to finish clearing everything up. Harry leans over, putting his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Hey… Malfoy, mate. You ok?” Harry asks, shaking him slightly and Malfoy sits up, his grey eyes unfocused and his hair a complete mess.

“Harry!” Malfoy shouts and Harry stills for a moment. Malfoy has never called him Harry before. He quite likes how it sounds. “It’s your fault, you know…” Malfoy frowns at him and Harry thinks about a Sobriety charm. Except those are tricky when you know how much someone has drunk, and Harry isn’t sure, and if it goes wrong Malfoy could end up very, very annoyed, and Harry can’t be bothered to deal with that right now.

“I’m sure it is… how about you tell me all about it at home?” Harry asks, trying to keep his voice soft and Malfoy stares at him for a moment before nodding. He stands, wobbling slightly and Harry moves before he can think, his arm wrapping around Malfoy’s waist. Malfoy stills and then leans forward slightly, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Harry closes his eyes for a second, the hard planes of Malfoy’s body pressed against his, his hip bone curved into the side of Harry’s stomach, the smell of expensive cologne and firewhiskey and Malfoy filling Harry’s brain.

“Are we home?” Malfoy mutters into Harry’s shoulder and Harry is shocked out of his stupor. He gives a small wave to Hannah, who smiles at him sympathetically, and then spins on his heel Apparating them to Malfoy’s spacious flat. He lands in the middle of the living room, hitting the back of his leg against the coffee table as he tries to untangle himself from Malfoy.

“Hey, Malfoy, mate… you need to let go,” Harry tries to sound forceful and Malfoy sways, his long arms wrapped around Harry’s neck, and holds on tighter.

“It’s all your fault, y’know…” Malfoy mumbles into Harry’s ear and Harry tries to ignore the soft tickle of Malfoy’s breath against his skin. All he needs now to make this situation worse is an erection.

“Yeah, you said. But I really don’t see how you getting this drunk is my fault,” Harry manages to wiggle out of Malfoy’s arms and slip behind him so that he can manoeuvre him to his bed. Although in retrospect maybe he should have done that from the front. Malfoy really does have a very nice bum.

“No! Not the drinking… telling my parents.” Malfoy cries and Harry nods to himself, not really concentrating on Malfoy’s words. Harry gives him a little nudge and together they start to walk down the corridor to Malfoy’s bedroom. Malfoy stops in the hall and looks at a photo of him and his parents. Harry looks at it for a moment, Lucius looking angry and arrogant and Narcissa looking elegant and bored. But not in the same way Malfoy does. In an unapproachable way.

Malfoy growls and picks the photo up, throwing it down the hall. Harry hears the smash of glass and his heart jumps. Shit. Maybe he should just keep Malfoy moving. He places his hands firmly on Malfoy’s shoulders and continues pushing.

“What did you tell your parents?” Harry asks, not really focusing. Keeping Malfoy talking was proving to be helpful in the keeping Malfoy moving plan.

“That I’m gay!” Malfoy shouts and Harry freezes, his mind whirring, heat flooding over his body. Malfoy is gay. Well… shit. “And it’s all your fault!” Harry can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the pulse running up his neck, and his mind whirring. He steers Malfoy into his bedroom, his cock twitching slightly at the huge four poster bed that takes up a large amount of the room.

“Wanna explain to me how this is my fault?” Harry mutters, pushing Malfoy towards the bed. Maybe he should take his robe off of him. It can’t be comfortable sleeping in it. Harry goes to pull the robe off and Malfoy bats his hand away, his long fingers fiddling with the buttons, dainty and beautiful. Oh, what Harry could do with fingers like those.

“Because! It was so easy for you…” Malfoy groans, sliding the robe off and leaving it in a pile on the floor. He has a very smart shirt on, and trousers that are sinfully tight and for a moment Harry forgets to breathe. “You just… told everyone. And they were ok. They were fine. They were HAPPY.” Malfoy scowls at him and starts to sway and Harry moves, holding onto Malfoy’s arms, feeling the muscles ripple under his shirt as he rocks.

“I’m sorry your parents weren’t,” Harry whispers and Malfoy looks at him, his grey eyes stormy, his lips pink and full and glistening slightly.

“Harry…” Malfoy breathes back and Harry thinks about leaning forward. It’s possibly the first time in his life he’s thought about something before doing it, and Harry feels oddly proud of himself. Especially as Malfoy chooses that exact moment to lurch forward and throw up.

The splatter makes Harry’s stomach turn and he lets go of Malfoy’s arm to reach for his wand, quickly casting a cleaning spell over the floor and Malfoy and his shoes. Malfoy wobbles slightly and Harry gently urges him onto the bed. Malfoy collapses in a very un-Malfoy way, his eyelids fluttering closed, and curls up, his nose nuzzling into his hands. Harry’s fingers twitch, and before he can think not to he slides his fingers through the silkiness of Malfoy’s hair, brushing it off his face.

“Night Draco,” he whispers before Apparating away.
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