I Need A Drink
Oct. 26th, 2016 06:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ustorycollectorTitle: Chapter 14: In Which Draco Feels Nothing And Harry Smells Good
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: 911
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 Thirteen
“So… how you doing?” Weasley leans on the barrier between their cubicles and grins down at Draco. Draco raises one eyebrow, ignoring the stabbing pain through his head and Weasley laughs. “Yeah, you look great.”
“I always look great,” Draco sniffs, his throat hurting. Apparently there is a limit to how much a hangover potion can cure you. Draco makes a mental note to try and create a stronger one without any side effects. Weasley is still grinning at him and Draco sighs, standing up and undoing his robes. His heart jumps slightly as he notices Harry’s eyes darken, skimming over Draco’s chest. He squashes the thought and points to the door. Harry nods, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. Not that Draco has noticed.
Weasley claps him on the shoulder and together they move out of the Auror’s office, heading for the Apparation point. Draco’s skin prickles as his hand brushes against Harry’s and he closes his eyes for a second, breathing deeply. It’s nothing. There is nothing between him and Harry. He is not attracted to Harry fucking Potter.
The three of them walk in silence through the halls of the Ministry, avoiding people as they bustle to leave at the end of the day, their shoes tapping too loudly on the tiles, their excited laughter making Draco’s head spin. They walk past a man selling the Prophet and Draco winces as he sees the date.
“It’s Tuesday…” he croaks and Weasley chuckles.
“Yup,” he grins and Draco runs his hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the fringe. He glances over and sees Harry watching him and his heart jumps. He ignores it.
“No one should be this hung over on a Tuesday…” Draco grumbles.
“Yeah, well… no one should be made to go to dinner with their parents on a Monday, but you are,” Weasley shrugs and steers them towards Apparation, “I’d be drunk every Monday too if I had to do that.”
“No you wouldn’t. Your parents are actually nice,” Draco mutters and Weasley nods once in agreement, pulling a face before stepping into Apparation and spinning on his heel, disappearing. Draco glances at Harry and Harry gives him an encouraging smile before doing the same. Draco sighs, shaking himself slightly, his head spinning and his stomach clenching before he turns on the spot.
He lands with a thud to find two strong hands wrapping around his arms and steadying him. He looks down into clear green eyes and his heart skips a beat. Because of the landing. Not because of the way that Harry smells, like soap and sun, or the warmth of his hands on Draco. Not because of that at all.
Harry gives him a small smile and he feels the blush rise in his cheeks. Fucking pale skin. He thinks about stepping back, about getting space form Harry and his fucking green eyes and amazing smell. Not that he smells amazing. He should step away from Harry. He takes a deep breath, to steel himself, not to get a last smell of Harry, and steps back away from his warmth.
“I can stand on my own,” he raises one eyebrow and smirks. Harry laughs slightly, running his hand through his hair, making it stand on end.
“Yeah… sorry… instinct…” Harry looks nervous and Draco wants to… no. He wants to nothing. He wants to step away and go into the pub and apologise to Hannah and forget that he got drunk there yesterday and that Harry had to come and pick him up and that he felt so good with Harry’s arms around him.
Not that he’s thinking about that.
“You Gryffindor’s… always trying to be the hero,” even to Draco his drawl sounds more like soft admiration. He winces as Harry chuckles, running his hand through his hair again.
“We try,” Harry nods. They stand in silence for a moment, Draco watching as Harry fidgets on the spot, clearly building up to saying something. How this man defeated the Dark Lord he’ll never know. Well… actually he does know. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and a fuck load of luck. Draco watches for a moment, his chest feeling tight as Harry shuffles from one foot to the other. Because it’s awkward to watch. Not because he finds Harry unbearably cute when he’s awkward.
“Harry, either say what you’re going to say, or turn around and walk into the pub. Do not just stand there shifting from one foot to another,” Draco says and Harry glances at him before nodding, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“I just… I just wanted to make sure you were ok. After last night,” Harry looks up at him through thick, dark eyelashes and Draco feels something stir in his groin. He ignores it.
“Yes. I’m fine,” Draco can’t help but smile at him, “horrendously hungover. But fine.”
“And… and if you wanted to talk about anything… well…” Harry looks uncomfortable and Draco places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, spinning him towards the door.
“Yes. Thank you Harry. If I need to talk to anyone, then I’ve always got you,” Draco leans forward to whisper in Harry’s ear, his pulse beating in his fingertips.
“Always,” Harry whispers and Draco gives his shoulder a squeeze before pushing open the door to the pub and ushering Harry inside, his heart racing, his head spinning, neither of which have anything to do with Harry fucking Potter.
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: 911
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 Thirteen
“So… how you doing?” Weasley leans on the barrier between their cubicles and grins down at Draco. Draco raises one eyebrow, ignoring the stabbing pain through his head and Weasley laughs. “Yeah, you look great.”
“I always look great,” Draco sniffs, his throat hurting. Apparently there is a limit to how much a hangover potion can cure you. Draco makes a mental note to try and create a stronger one without any side effects. Weasley is still grinning at him and Draco sighs, standing up and undoing his robes. His heart jumps slightly as he notices Harry’s eyes darken, skimming over Draco’s chest. He squashes the thought and points to the door. Harry nods, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. Not that Draco has noticed.
Weasley claps him on the shoulder and together they move out of the Auror’s office, heading for the Apparation point. Draco’s skin prickles as his hand brushes against Harry’s and he closes his eyes for a second, breathing deeply. It’s nothing. There is nothing between him and Harry. He is not attracted to Harry fucking Potter.
The three of them walk in silence through the halls of the Ministry, avoiding people as they bustle to leave at the end of the day, their shoes tapping too loudly on the tiles, their excited laughter making Draco’s head spin. They walk past a man selling the Prophet and Draco winces as he sees the date.
“It’s Tuesday…” he croaks and Weasley chuckles.
“Yup,” he grins and Draco runs his hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the fringe. He glances over and sees Harry watching him and his heart jumps. He ignores it.
“No one should be this hung over on a Tuesday…” Draco grumbles.
“Yeah, well… no one should be made to go to dinner with their parents on a Monday, but you are,” Weasley shrugs and steers them towards Apparation, “I’d be drunk every Monday too if I had to do that.”
“No you wouldn’t. Your parents are actually nice,” Draco mutters and Weasley nods once in agreement, pulling a face before stepping into Apparation and spinning on his heel, disappearing. Draco glances at Harry and Harry gives him an encouraging smile before doing the same. Draco sighs, shaking himself slightly, his head spinning and his stomach clenching before he turns on the spot.
He lands with a thud to find two strong hands wrapping around his arms and steadying him. He looks down into clear green eyes and his heart skips a beat. Because of the landing. Not because of the way that Harry smells, like soap and sun, or the warmth of his hands on Draco. Not because of that at all.
Harry gives him a small smile and he feels the blush rise in his cheeks. Fucking pale skin. He thinks about stepping back, about getting space form Harry and his fucking green eyes and amazing smell. Not that he smells amazing. He should step away from Harry. He takes a deep breath, to steel himself, not to get a last smell of Harry, and steps back away from his warmth.
“I can stand on my own,” he raises one eyebrow and smirks. Harry laughs slightly, running his hand through his hair, making it stand on end.
“Yeah… sorry… instinct…” Harry looks nervous and Draco wants to… no. He wants to nothing. He wants to step away and go into the pub and apologise to Hannah and forget that he got drunk there yesterday and that Harry had to come and pick him up and that he felt so good with Harry’s arms around him.
Not that he’s thinking about that.
“You Gryffindor’s… always trying to be the hero,” even to Draco his drawl sounds more like soft admiration. He winces as Harry chuckles, running his hand through his hair again.
“We try,” Harry nods. They stand in silence for a moment, Draco watching as Harry fidgets on the spot, clearly building up to saying something. How this man defeated the Dark Lord he’ll never know. Well… actually he does know. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and a fuck load of luck. Draco watches for a moment, his chest feeling tight as Harry shuffles from one foot to the other. Because it’s awkward to watch. Not because he finds Harry unbearably cute when he’s awkward.
“Harry, either say what you’re going to say, or turn around and walk into the pub. Do not just stand there shifting from one foot to another,” Draco says and Harry glances at him before nodding, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“I just… I just wanted to make sure you were ok. After last night,” Harry looks up at him through thick, dark eyelashes and Draco feels something stir in his groin. He ignores it.
“Yes. I’m fine,” Draco can’t help but smile at him, “horrendously hungover. But fine.”
“And… and if you wanted to talk about anything… well…” Harry looks uncomfortable and Draco places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, spinning him towards the door.
“Yes. Thank you Harry. If I need to talk to anyone, then I’ve always got you,” Draco leans forward to whisper in Harry’s ear, his pulse beating in his fingertips.
“Always,” Harry whispers and Draco gives his shoulder a squeeze before pushing open the door to the pub and ushering Harry inside, his heart racing, his head spinning, neither of which have anything to do with Harry fucking Potter.
