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drarrily-we-row-along · 7 months

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October 1: "I've Got You"

Draco Malfoy had had more than his fair share of humiliating moments. There seemed to be no shortage of things in his memory that made him simply want to crawl out of his skin with embarrassment, but this had to be one of the most horrifically mortifying things to ever happen to him.

His bank card was being declined at the check out. Face and neck heating horribly, he looked at the items he had to try to decide what to put back; a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, a jar of apple sauce, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, and a container of yogurt. "Oh," he said, heart racing as he tried to get past his anxiety to make a decision.

"Here," the man in line behind him said, "I've got you."

He turned, ready to decline his help, but those words fell away in favor of a spluttered, "Potter?"

"Hey, Malfoy," the other man said, nudging him out of the way with his elbow to insert his own card into the machine.

"No-" he started, too late.

Potter looked over at him, then back at his card, "I've got it," he said softly. And somehow there was compassion and understanding in his voice without any pity.

"I-" he tried again, looking at the fresh fruits and vegetables, the rice and potatoes, meats, and other delicious foods that Potter had piled on the belt behind him.

"Don't worry about it," he said before Draco could get any other words out. "Seriously," he added, looking at Draco from under his fringe, looking like he was the one feeling embarrassed as he pulled his card out of the machine and a receipt was printed.

Draco took his bag from the cashier and all but fled the store.

He wasn't too far, though, when he heard a set of footsteps jogging to catch up with him. "Hey-"

"Thank you," he said politely, "I-"

"No," Potter said, shaking his head. "Don't thank me. I just-" he broke off and Draco stared, waiting for him to continue.

When no other words were forth coming, he said, "If you were wanting to make fun of me-"

"No," Potter said, shaking his head vigorously. "No. Shit," he ran his hand through his hair. "Look, come to my house for dinner."

He blinked, "Excuse me?"

"I'm just making up a stir fry," he rambled on, "Nothing fancy just some rice, peppers, snap peas, onions, broccoli, steak, and some teriyaki sauce-"

"I'm fine," Draco said, even as his stomach growled at the thought of eating some actual fresh vegetables.

"Please," Potter said, grabbing his wrist to prevent Draco from turning away.

"Why?" he asked and he wondered if Potter could hear all of the questions in his head why would you help me? What's in it for you? Why aren't you mocking me? Do you just want to mock me in your home? What will this cost me?

Potter swallowed and looked down at his feet, "I know what it's like to not have enough," he said softly. "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Just," he huffed, "Come on. Let me feed you dinner. Please."

"You have an insufferable martyr complex." he snapped but before he could go anywhere, Potter spoke up again.

"My aunt and uncle," he said, "they didn't feed me enough. I fucking hate peanut butter sandwiches. No one should eat them day in and out. Just," he shook his head, "let me make you some dinner. You don't have to stay to eat it, you don't have to talk to me, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"And that's it? You just want me to come to your house and eat your food?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah," Potter said, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm not going to drag you to my house or anything because that would be creepy," he said when Draco didn't reply, still weighing his options, "but I'd really like to do this for you."

"Alright," he whispered, still feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed but also a deep longing for vegetables.

Potter grinned at him, bright and charming, like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Brilliant. Come on then."

And that was the first time that Draco found himself having dinner with Harry Potter, but it certainly wasn't the last.

By the time he left that evening, with a full belly and a container of leftovers, he'd let himself be convinced to come back the following week. A weekly dinner on Wednesday became a Wednesday dinner and a Saturday dinner, which became dinner every other night. And then before he quite knew how it had happened, he was at his house every night for dinner, staying later and later like he never wanted to leave.

Because the truth was that he didn't want to leave. Harry listened to him talk about his dreams, about how hard he was working in the muggle nursing program he was enrolled in, about his shitty job that didn't pay enough. He loved Harry's cat, Milo. He loved looking at Harry's art and listening to him talk about the creative process of making it. He loved hearing about Harry's childhood and getting to talk about his own. He loved having someone to do the mundane things in life with like cooking, chatting, watching telly, even just having someone to sit on the other end of the couch while he studied.

Still it took him by surprise one evening when they were making waffles and bacon for dinner, Harry was at the stove and Draco was cutting up strawberries, when the other man said, "Hey, Draco?"

"Mmhmm?" he hummed around the strawberry that he'd popped in his mouth.

"You know how your job is shit?"

He laughed, "I do. Thanks for reminding me."

"Right," he said, glancing over his shoulder at him, "But what if you didn't have to pay rent, would that make things easier?"

"It would," he said slowly, not allowing his heart to rise, not allowing himself to hope.

Harry nodded, "Do you think you might ever consider moving in with me?" he asked. "No pressure or anything, but I have an extra room," he continued, "well, five, actually. And Sirius gave me the house, so I own it, and-"

"Harry," he said softly, fingers lighting on the other man's bicep to get him to slow down. "I would love to, but I can't take advantage of your generosity."

"You wouldn't have to," he said earnestly. "If you're not paying for rent, you could maybe help with the cost of groceries, if you feel like you need to. But I don't have a ton of expenses, and I have a stupid amount of money, and a ridiculously large house for one person," he babbled. "And I just really like you," he blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Draco blinked at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "You like me?"

Harry nodded, hand still firmly in place over his mouth.

"I like you too," he said softly. "But I don't want you to feel like I only like you because of what you can give me."

He dropped his hand, a tiny smile blossoming on his face, "I hoped you might." Harry reached over and took Draco's hand, "I don't think that you only like me for what I can give you. You see me and hear my words, you know me. I'd really like it if you stayed."

And really, who was Draco to deny Harry Potter anything that he wanted? So he stayed.

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#flufftober 2023 #fluff #down and out draco #drarry #falling in love #soft #trigger warning for poverty #trigger warning for mentions of canon typical child neglect #moving in together #short and sweet

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weeklydrarryficrecs · 10 months

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The Arc of the Pendulum by brummell (actualite)

Summary:

After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 30,189 Link to Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716731/

My Thoughts: Oh oh oh what a lovely fic!!!!! Harry and Draco living and falling in love together felt so natural. I fell in love with their relationship as the story progressed, and the pacing created such a delicious (and sob-inducing) tension in the end. Beautiful!!!

Painting: A moonlit manor across the river by O. W. Marshall

#hpmd #drarry #drarry recs #post war #down and out draco #werewolf harry potter #living together #beauty and the beast retelling #2023 #week 25

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tackytigerfic · 10 months

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Might you have a new or old excerpt to share with us in this ao3 draught?

Hi Anon, I like your thinking! Feeling very sorry for the AO3 bods who are working so hard to get things under control again.

I am only working on one fic atm and I haven't got anything new at the moment. I have shared all excerpts from my long WIP under this tag: tacky's fth. As usual with tumblr's search function i can't find loads of them though.

I also have a few short fics posted in full on tumblr; you can find links to some tumblr posts here and here, and there's also this, this, this, and this!

I do have a few WIPs that I haven't touched in years so here's the opener to one of them. I've popped it under a cut as it has some mild references to sex and bodies so is probably a soft M rating. The start of this fic takes place soon after 8th year and features down-and-out Draco who has lost all his family money and is working two jobs. He's also seeing Harry who is still quite fucked up. Later in the fic, Draco leaves and goes to work at a caravan park in France. And then Harry follows him out there and they get back together. But this part of the fic is before all that. CW for drinking, drunkenness, financial hardship, a bit of angst, mild refs to smut.

Read it below the cut!

“I don’t really do a lot outside of work,” Draco said, but he could see Harry didn’t believe him, though he wasn’t sure it mattered very much. Harry was lying on his back, so Draco could really look at him, and the light was perfect for it—London summer evening light, a vivid wash of sun filtering through the horrible net curtains at the flat window, rosy gold and brimming with the potential of the stretched out, elastic length of day. It could have been any time from noon to dinnertime, except that Draco knew the direction the window faced and how the sun moved. Being this high up meant cheap rent and nothing to see through the window but a rectangle of blue like a corridor of sky.

Harry was sweating.

“I got the water last time,” he said in a wheedling tone, and turned abruptly onto his side so he could be closer to Draco, tucking a hand under his cheek. He never seemed to mind Draco knowing he was watching him, and his eyes were amused and knowing and very green against the white pillowcase. “And my throat…”

He coughed pathetically, and then followed the line of Draco’s rising flush with his finger, all the way from his chest, along his neck, until he was tracing Draco’s cheekbone. Draco could feel the memory of Harry eager and pliant in the heat, on his knees in front of the big window, and his mouth, Draco bracing his hands against the glass at the momentary, muscular constriction of Harry’s throat around his cock, his own unthinking thrust and all that heat. Harry’s curls had been dark and flat with sweat at his hairline as Draco scrabbled to touch, and then pulled Harry to standing with a gentle tug, suddenly, horribly fearing that it would all be over too soon, before they even got to the bed.

“Fine, I’ll get you a drink,” he told Harry, who only smiled a little and wriggled further down in the bed, shutting his eyes, though Draco knew he was watching when Draco stretched at the side of the bed and walked through to the little kitchenette. Aguamenti water never tasted quite right.

Through the squeak and splutter of the tap running, he heard Harry’s voice, and waited until he turned the tap off and the pipe had stopped thumping before shouting, “What?” back into the bedroom. He popped some bread into the toaster.

“I said”—his voice really was ragged and used-sounding, Draco thought, swallowing at the memory—“are you going to Hannah’s thing on Saturday?”

“What’s Hannah’s thing?” Draco called back, intercepting the pop of the toaster. The butter was liquid at the edges in the heavy old butter dish, the golden mound of it collapsing when he stuck the knife in, running in a translucent slick down the blade. The kitchen smelled ripe and over-sweet in the heat.

“Hannah’s thing for the new beer garden.” Harry appeared in the doorway, curls in his eyes, face flushed, mouth reddened, the soft hang of his cock still wet at the tip. He looked so happy. Sometimes, Draco still hated him a little bit.

“I’m working,” Draco told him flatly. Draco was always working, either at his weird day job where he showed tourists around a big National Trust house while being impossibly posh about it, or picking up shifts in the pub on the corner where they charged four quid a pint, and sold flabby cheese toasties that they called Croques Monsieur, and where people liked Draco more the ruder he was to them, when he served them mint juleps in jam jars and messed up the head of their pints of mediocre Guinness just because he could.

“Oh right,” Harry said blankly, “I forgot. Course you’re working, sorry.” He scratched his stomach absent-mindedly, opening the fridge to look inside, as though something might have magically appeared in there since the night before when he had staggered out of Draco’s bed with a red handprint on one arse cheek, and a darkening bruise just under his jawline, claiming starvation. He’d ordered takeaway, of course, something extravagant and delicious-smelling from a curry house Draco had never heard of. “I could come over after, if you like. Or you could come to mine, I suppose, I think Nev’s going to have a bit of a do there for Hannah to celebrate.”

Harry lived in the old Black house with a vaguely threatening-sounding number of Gryffindors. “The place has ten bedrooms,” Harry had shrugged when he first told Draco about it. “It’s great because I never feel alone there. But privacy… yeah, that’s the problem.”

They had nothing but privacy in Draco’s place: —the ground floor flat was vacant, a 'To Let' sign faded and curling-edged in the window, and Maureen just downstairs from Draco was hard of hearing and spent most of the day and night with the telly blaring. It covered up all the noises Draco and Harry made, because Draco kept odd hours and Harry didn’t really have a proper job so they could often snatch some time together here and there in the middle of the day, when the light was cleanest and the day felt suspended between start and end. Harry loved Draco’s flat, he said it reminded him of Eighth Year, and the small single bedrooms in the North Tower, the rolling green of the Quidditch pitch spreading out below them. Draco didn't care about the flat either way; all he could see was, not the Manor, not home, just function. It was clean and he had enough room even when Harry was staying over, his sleeping body like a hot stone lodged on Draco’s sternum, the slow drifting off and the lazy waking all muddled up with Harry’s skin and Harry’s scent on the pillow and Harry turning sideways in the shower to allow Draco to stand under the hot spray. It didn’t often feel like too much.

“I could pop over for a while.” Draco buttered the toast busily, thought tiredly about the week ahead. He needed a calendar, something for the wall maybe, so he could write it all down. Maybe a little notebook with one of those planner things in it. “Depends on how late I have to stay at Wonder and Egg. I think Beatriz has to leave early that night.”

Harry already had the kettle on, steam unfurling languidly to hang in the still air of the kitchen. The smell of toast was making Draco ravenous all of a sudden. He wondered if he had time to make a second round before he had to shower. He wanted to make sure he’d be able to take his time in there, with Harry docile and pliable under the tepid stream.

“Why don’t you tell Beatriz we have something on?” Harry nabbed a slice from the plate, tongue lapping at the slide of butter. Beatriz loved him, said he reminded her of her dad, but that was just weird because Harry was younger than her and charmingly gallant towards Draco whenever she was around, in a way that Draco wished he’d quit. Whenever Harry met Draco from work and did his thing—opening doors, helping Draco with his coat, skimming a kiss off the edge of Draco’s knuckles like it was some sort of inside joke—Beatriz would watch with bright eyes. He’s good for you, that boy, she’d told Draco a hundred times. Takes care of you. Draco never said anything to that, because Harry was kind, and he did try to do nice things for Draco. But Harry could barely take care of himself, not in any productive way anyway, and not that he seemed to care. Draco couldn’t resent him for it; Draco had been the same once. He wasn’t anymore—didn’t have time for that luxury, not when he was crawling into bed after another closing shift to try to make up the rest of his rent with tip money, or when he felt like he might scream if he had to smile at the same fucking joke yet again when he was doing his tour guide act. “Do you come with the house?” as though he’d be doing his languid and unimpressed act five tours a day if he came with a four-hundred-year-old Grade 1 listed building on the bank of the Thames. Draco took care of everything himself, these days.

“I can’t skip work this week,” he told Harry shortly, and took his toast through to the front room so he didn’t have to see the sympathetic shift of Harry’s face when it finally occurred to him that it was nearly the start of the month, which meant rent day. Harry never talked money with him—he probably thought Draco was too proud, but that had all been buried along with Narcissa when they released her body from Azkaban. Draco had known she wouldn’t make it, known it like he knew she knew it the day they let him say goodbye before they sentenced her, but the day the Owl came from the governor Draco had to call in sick to work. He had lain on the floor of his flat, looking up at the Lincrusta ceiling and wondering if his legs would hold him up again. They did of course, they held him when he took the boat to Azkaban to collect his mother’s effects, and through the funeral, where it was just him and Theo and a pale-faced Andromeda, and no one cried. Draco was sure if he started he wouldn’t stop.

Draco was on his own from then on, the shock of it almost too much but never quite. Motherless. He was fatherless too, of course, but with a father like his that didn’t seem so bad.

“I don’t care about the party,” Harry said, voice contrite, pushing against Draco from behind, teeth grazing against his shoulder as they looked out the open window. “I’ll just come straight here from the pub. I can stay the night, if you like.”

It was horrible, being lonely, but Draco knew that even if he wasn’t, he would still want Harry Potter in his bed when he crawled in at the end of a long night, and sometimes that was the worst feeling of all.

“Fine,” he said, and shoved the crust of the toast into his mouth before Harry could steal it. “But don’t skip out on my account, not if the party’s any good. And don’t wake me up if I’m already asleep.”

“I’m sick of parties,” Harry said tiredly. “We haven’t even cleared the drawing room after the last one, the place is a state.” He turned Draco around to face him, slipped his hot bare arms around Draco’s waist. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

Was there a word, Draco wondered, for the feeling of wanting to fix things for someone so badly that you’d drive yourself nearly crazy with it? Harry’s arms tightened around him at his sigh.

“I know you will,” Draco told him, low and quiet in his ear even though there was no one around to hear. “You’re so good, aren’t you? So good for me.” From outside, the flat blare of an ambulance almost drowned out the small hitching noise Harry made in his throat.

They pushed the bathroom window up as far as it would go while they showered. That high up, there was nothing to see but sky.

#drarry #wip snip #rowing and writing #down and out draco #and just after 8th year #and draco pov #all of those things are way out of my comfort zone #this is all unedited too btw #sorry abt that but am poorly today #mustn't spend too long looking at a screen!#of course i post this just as ao3 returns lmao #hurrah!

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drarryficrecs · 2 years

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Hi!! Can you rec some really down and out Draco fics. Like he has no more fight in me, death knocking on his door?

Really just Draco has given up with life. Like apathetic and depressed with a happy ending. Thank you!

Just recently did a couple of lists for this which you can find here and here!

#drarry #drarryficrecs #down and out draco #angst #major angst #angst with a happy ending

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facewithoutheart · 2 years

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This is my new Draco fancast and none of y’all can stop me.

#down and out Draco #Draco Malfoy #fancast #drarry #harry is watching this with his jaw dropped #peak Slytherin excess

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tantanart · 2 months

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draco malfoy

#artist on tumblr #digital art #commisions open #artists on tumblr #draco malfoy #i want u to listen to mitcki moooom am i still young can i dream for a few months more #drawing malfoy and pika shaging is only a matter of time #what do i even want to prove with that #i guess i finnaly understood how to write hashtags got the vibe #down and out draco malfoy #harry potter #hp

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kk1smet · 4 months

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Meeting each other for the first time in St. Mungo’s, years after the bloody war.

“Fucking hell.” Harry tries, and then fails, not to stare at Malfoy’s ass as he heads out of the ward. The robe is just so flattering. “What is Malfoy doing in med school?”

“I can’t do this with you again,” Ron says. “I won’t. I refuse, on moral grounds.” - No Harm by @tessacrowley

Read here.

Starting the year with an art inspired by a fic I feel not so normal about. It’s on its second chapter, and it has me on a perpetual chokehold since the first. The pacing, setting, and their voices completely took my breath away. It started strong, and only gets stronger, like the world just pulls you in and you can’t help but to immerse yourself in it. Tessa has done it again. My heart.

xo, kismet

#drarry #Never will they ever be normal about each other #kismet draws #art inspired by fic #No Harm by tessacrowley #drarry art #artists on tumblr #harry james potter #draco malfoy #I am so down for down and out Draco #Healer!Draco #Auror!Harry #someone help the bloke #he cannot talk normally to his crush #also ron is just so done

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basiatlu · 8 months

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Supernova ✨

Based off the fic Red Wine Supernova by @mono-chromia which in turn is inspired by the song (same title) “Red Wine Supernova” by Chappel Roan - a banger you need to listen to at least once.

#fell in love with the thought of you #now I’m choked up face down burnt out #red wine supernova #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #she’s gorg darling #harry potter art #muggle au #boshspice #fishnets #art #drawing #illustration #sketch #artists on tumblr #doodle #boshdraws

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tinyq · 1 year

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Waking up by the lake.

#dramione #dramione fanart #dramione art #dhr #dhr art #draco/hermione #light experiment #i saw a pic and had to draw it #i like how her hair turned out #procreate #tiny q #digital art #one wip down #only a couple dozen to go...#I just want to sleep #but it's time to make slides #do you think this would be comfortable?#I feel like Draco would be heavy...

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oflights · 9 months

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wip snip 4.2

thank you for the tag, @elskanellis! your snip is so intriguing 👀

in return, have some more of time travel fic: extremely gooey and tender and basically what the next 10k or so words are going to be (the fic is currently 20k lmao) before things get Bad again. still heartbreaking in its tenderness, though, because baby harry is heartbreaking (a contextual reminder that he is 7 in this snip!!! adult harry is henceforth "potter" from draco's pov).

“This is for me?” Harry asks, doing another turn, clutching at the still unnamed dragon in his hands. “All of this, the bed and—I can—”

“Harry,” Draco says softly, coming closer and dropping to crouch again, ignoring his protesting thighs starting to truly feel all the activity of the day. “Yes, all of this. You can sleep in the bed, you can name your toy—it’s all yours. This is what looking after you means; everything that I can offer is yours now. I promise.”

“Do I have to—” Harry starts, and Draco simply doesn’t want to hear where that’s going.

“No. You don’t have to do a single thing. It’s just yours. Because—because you’re a guest, and a kid, and kids deserve these sorts of things no matter what.”

“Oh,” Harry says, sounding genuinely startled in a way that makes Draco want to punch—someone. Perhaps Vernon or Petunia Dursley, or perhaps Albus Dumbledore. He did not ever imagine he would one day find new and more infuriating reasons to resent Dumbledore this long after his death, but he supposes life is surprising that way.

Harry breaks up his surprised, revelatory stance with another yawn, and this time Draco makes sure his tone brooks no argument when he directs him to the bathroom with the pajamas. To keep busy and shove down the punching urge, he resizes another set of clothes from the wardrobe for the morning, startling himself when he leans too far in and his hand disappears through the back wall.

“Oh, right, I should warn you,” Draco says when Harry returns, changed and padding gingerly towards the bed. “The wardrobe is a portal to the treehouse, so be careful if you go too far into it.”

“You have a treehouse?” Harry asks with a gasp, and Draco smiles at him, striding over and pulling the quilt back for Harry to settle in.

“You have a treehouse. I’ll show you tomorrow, if you’d like.”

He waits as Harry clambers onto the bed and settles against the mound of pillows, smoothing the quilt over him and then making sure the dragon is tucked in, too. “Any ideas on a name?” Draco asks softly, tweaking the dragon’s snout. “Do you want to sleep on it?”

“Can I name him after a—a con—a constellation? Like you?” Harry asks, frowning in concentration.

“Yes, of course you can. Which do you fancy?” Draco sits on the bed near Harry’s feet and leans back on his hands, gazing up at the ceiling as it cycles over them. “There’s Cygnus, the swan I was telling you about—he was my grandfather, you know, and right by Draco, so that’s convenient. There’s Pegasus, too, a type of flying horse, and Cepheus, he was a king in Ancient Greece—well, he chained his daughter up to a rock, so maybe not the best role model, but a cool name nonetheless. Just stop me if anything grabs you, really.”

“What’s that one?” Harry asks, squinting up and pointing; Draco makes a mental note to solve the glasses issue as soon as possible. He looks where Harry’s pointing, southwest of the quadrant he’d been explaining, and spots the most recognizable constellation there is.

“Ah, that’s Orion. The hunter. He was a Giant, you know, and he got pretty boastful, so Gaia—super powerful Earth mum, you did not want to get on her bad side—sent a great big scorpion after him. They fought, so you’ll never see Orion and Scorpius—that constellation all the way over there—in the sky at the same time. But Ophiuchus—he was a Healer, that one over there, see how he’s sort of between Orion and Scorpius? He gave Orion some medicine and saved him from Scorpius.”

Harry’s eyes are drooping closed, but he still murmurs, “Really? Is that all true?”

“Well, sort of. They’re stories, myths; all the stars have stories. There are different versions and they change depending on who you talk to, but I have my favorite versions because they’re the ones my mum told me.”

Draco checks in to see that Harry’s eyes are almost completely closed, and keeps talking hoping they’ll close further; how many times had his mother talked him to sleep?

“If you’re in the sky, it means you’re pretty important, right? So that means lots of stories. I’ll tell you all of them, if you’d like. I think you’ll enjoy this room, and you’ll be happy here. I hope so.”

That’s all verging on a ramble, but he thinks it doesn’t matter because Harry is asleep. So Draco gets up gently, patting Harry’s foot over the quilt, shoots the still unnamed dragon a grin, and starts to leave the room.

He stops only when he hears Harry mumble, “Orion. That’s his name,” and curl around the dragon, breathing going smooth and even, arms clutching it tight against his small frame.

Draco smiles at them both. “Goodnight, Harry and Orion.”

tagging @teledild0nix @phoebe-delia and @thehoneybeet, fully randomly chosen so absolutely no pressure!!

#wip snip #drarry #drarry wip #drarry fic #time travel fic #so the working title of this (subject to change ofc though i like to have titles set early) is the star splitter #which is about a guy who burns his pastoral farmer life down to get a telescope to figure out his 'place among the infinities'#it's probably my second favorite frost poem tbh #draco burning his life down to rethread the universe for young harry seems very appropriate to me #anyway #i'm going to have to pause this fic somewhat soon to work on a fest fic #trying to get as much done as i possibly can because i love it so much already !!!

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drarrily-we-row-along · 2 years

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July 1: Fairytale (Also going to use it for Day 187: Fairy Godmother of my 100 drabbles in 100 days prompts)

Draco had given up on his life being perfect. Hell, he’d given up on his life being tolerable. But today, today his life felt like a fairytale.

Blaise had shown up at his tiny, ugly flat, like a fairy godmother who wore muggle suits from Saville Row, and invited Draco to a ‘cruise on the river’ assuring him that it was mostly just some muggle friends of his. He’d handed him a box with a pair of coral shorts, a white polo, and a pair of designer boat shoes that probably cost more than Draco made in a month, and handed him an address. “It’s a river boat,” he said, “you’ll love it. And maybe we’ll connect you with someone who can get you a better job.”

He hadn’t been too hopeful on that front, but he was very much looking forward to an evening of drinking and eating without worrying about how expensive food was. After using the wifi at the library to connect his phone (the only luxury he allowed himself) to the internet and figure out which bus line would get him closest to the address Blaise had handed him, he went off to work and tried to keep that at the front of his mind while he was being shouted at by customers.

By some miracle, everything went right; the bus was on time, it was sunny out so he didn’t get soaked by the rain, it wasn’t too hot so he didn’t sweat on his walk from the bus station to the dock, and Draco couldn’t have been more pleased. Blaise handed him a beer as soon as he stepped on board and started introducing him to people. Honestly, though, Draco was less interested in them than he was in the massive buffet just across the deck.

It wasn’t too long before Blaise was disappearing to get the trip underway and Draco was free to ponder which food to eat first. He’d just finished picking out a selection of what he figured was most calorically dense, without making it look like he was gorging himself, when a voice he’d recognize anywhere said, “I wouldn’t recommend the crab cakes.”

He spun around, “Potter?” he asked incredulously.

The other man gave a little wave and Draco stood frozen to the spot. While his voice may have been the same, nothing else was.

Potter seemed to have grown significantly more handsome since the last time he’d seen him. Gone was the scrawny, messy, boy he’d known. In his place stood an Adonis of a man, long curly hair pulled up into a bun, a well kept beard covering his strong jaw, and prescription sunglasses in place of the broken spectacles he used to own. He was wearing a white button down with three too many buttons undone, revealing far too much of his bronze, muscular chest. His shirt was tucked carelessly into a pair of navy shorts that rode low on his narrow hips. And his feet were stuffed into a pair of well loved Birkenstock’s.

He looked like a fantasy and Draco’s mouth couldn’t find any words.

“How’ve you been Draco?” Potter asked, like this was something that they did; like they called each other by their first names and caught up over lobster and drinks.

“Sorry?”

Potter smiled at him, his dimple showing itself, and Draco had never imagined that such a smile would be directed at him. “Can I be honest?”

“Uhh,” he managed ineloquently. “Sure.”

“I’m pants at these things.”

Draco stared at him, “What things?”

“Marketing,” he said, gesturing to the party around him, “networking and making connections,” he shrugged. “Blaise thought it would be good PR.”

“For what?”

Potter quirked an amused grin at him, like he thought Draco was making a joke. “I make beer,” he said, nodding to the bottle in Draco’s hand.

“You,” he looked down at the beer he’d been enjoying, “you made this?”

He nodded, “maybe I should have gotten your opinion first.”

“It’s good.” Draco looked down at it again, “surprisingly.”

Potter laughed, “Can I join you?”

“Haven’t you already?” he asked, wondering at how easy it was to banter with the other man, to tease him.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to over stay my welcome.”

He hummed, “Can I be honest?”

“I wish you would,” Potter said, taking a step closer.

“I’m not even sure why Blaise invited me. I think he’s trying to set me up with a new job,” he said. “Or a sugar daddy.”

Potter promptly choked on the beer he’d been sipping as Draco talked, coughing and spluttering and Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that something you’re interested in?”

“Why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Potter, “are you offering?”

“What? No!” he spluttered, trying to backpedal.

Draco laughed, “you’re still just as easy to wind up as you always were.”

Potter huffed, but the corner of his mouth was ticking up into a crooked little grin. “Tell me about your life since Hogwarts.”

“Tell me about yours,” he countered.

“Must you be so difficult?” Potter asked, but he was still smiling.

Draco hummed through a bite of kebab, enjoying the tender steak on the end of the stick. “It’s part of the charm.”

“I can see that,” Potter said, but his voice sounded more sincere than should be possible. “A trade,” he proposed. “I’ll tell you something, then you tell me something about you.”

“That is how conversation often works,” Draco replied.

Potter laughed, “You should tell that to the blokes I go on dates with.”

He processed that little tidbit before pushing it away, it didn’t matter, he and Potter lived in completely different worlds. “Tell me where you went when you left the wizarding world.”

“Wisconsin,” Potter replied, sucking Draco into an entirely captivating story about how he learned to make beer.

———————

“You’ve let me talk too much,” Harry accused when the boat was docking for the night.

He couldn’t help the little smile that tipped up the corner of his mouth, that had been the goal. “Maybe I like listening to you talk.”

Harry bumped him with his shoulder as they slowly meandered toward the ramp. “I really enjoyed this.”

“Me too.”

The other man paused and took Draco’s hand in his, tugging him to the side as the other passengers walked past. “Could we do this again sometime?”

And as much as Draco wanted to say yes, he shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Harry said, sounding crestfallen. “That’s oka-”

“Not because I don’t want to,” he said, “but we just don’t make sense together. You’re growing this great business and you’ve got so much going for you. But I-” he broke off. “I’m nobody.”

Harry’s hand cupped his face, tilting it up so they were looking at each other, “that is the furthest possible thing from the truth.”

“It’s not, though,” he confessed. “I work at a coffee shop and I spend my day getting yelled at by customers and mopping floors. I live in a tiny flat and I can barely cover my rent,” he shrugged. “I only came here tonight because I wanted a free meal,” he finished, voice low and eyes closed so he didn’t have to see the disgust on the other man’s face.

“You’re really brave.”

He blinked his eyes open to stare at the other man, “what?”

“You’re really brave,” he repeated. “And I really like you.”

He huffed, “you don’t know me.”

“Yeah, I do.” Harry took a breath, “Come work with me.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “I don’t need your pity, Potter.”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s not pity. I looked you up on social media while you were in the loo. Everyone’s been hounding me to get someone to do our social and you’re really good at it. I like your aesthetic. I think you could really help us grow.”

He stared at him, not sure what to say.

“We’ll give you benefits,” he said, “retirement, sick time, vacation time, the works.”

“Why?”

Harry scratched his beard, “because that’s how working full time works? It’s the law-”

“No. Why me?”

He hummed, “why not?” He took Draco’s hand in his again, “say yes.” Harry squeezed his fingers, “what have you got to lose?”

That was the question. And if Draco was being honest he couldn’t think of anything. “Alright.”

Harry grinned, “and maybe say yes to a date?”

He tilted his head, “isn’t it against company policy to date your boss?”

The other man waved him off, “I’m not your boss. I’m the guy who brews the beer. I technically own the company but I play no real part in running it.”

Draco laughed, “fine. I suppose I could be persuaded.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, voice soft and eyes bright.

He nodded.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asked, like it hadn’t only been one night spent together.

But how could Draco refuse? After all, what kind of fairytale didn’t end with true love’s kiss.

-----------------------

July 2: Garden Hose