Drarry Oneshots 2

Colloquy

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: Harry's not gay, Malfoy just smells good.

Author: dracoladon, lazywonderland (on ao3)

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The Astronomy Tower, 2:30 AM

- Saturday, 03 October, 1998 -

When he walks out onto the Astronomy Tower and sees Malfoy standing near one of the balustrades, Harry swears under his breath. It's half two in the morning and he'd been absolutely sure he was going to have an hour to himself up here.

No such luck.

Really, it could have been worse, though. They haven't even acknowledged each other yet in the month they've been back, and frankly it's been kind of weird.

"Think we could've gone the whole year without speaking?" Harry says, putting his hands on the balustrade next him. He glances out at the grounds and then at Malfoy — the same blond hair, the same pointy nose, yet different for all of that. "If I hadn't ruined it just now, I mean."

*

Draco looks only at Harry's hands as he settles them over the thick guardrail, worn bronze under its dark coating. His wrists are spare and bony like Draco's own, but the palms are more square; fingers just as long, but knobbly, and nails bit down to the quick. They look like a boy's hands, with knuckles that have been popped and rough thumb pads. Draco's never liked his hands. They're very feminine. Long, thin fingers and so pale they look almost blue next to Harry's.

Draco says, "I suppose you couldn't help yourself."

*

Harry laughs quietly through his nose, shrugging then and leaning over the rail on his elbows. There's a joint (courtesy of Seamus) in his pocket that he decides not to take out quite yet.

"Yeah, s'pose not," he agrees. "My life's become too easy lately, I thought I'd goad you into a fight or something."

*

"I don't want to fight you," says Draco. Not fight, but perhaps goad with pithy remarks until he fucks off. The Astronomy Tower, petulant as it sounds (though Draco's never had an issue with petulance) is his place.

It's ironic, because after sixth year, he'd decided that the tower, along with Myrtle's bathroom, was to be avoided with utmost dedication. However, it's been brought to his attention since then (rather unceremoniously, and on multiple occasions) that he's somewhat of a coward. Of course, it's nothing Draco hasn't thought of himself before, but he also thinks his skin tone makes him look like a sickly medieval twink, and according to Pansy (who is brutally honest) it doesn't. So, there's that.

Thus began his confrontation of the tower, and this itself began with nightly visits, each time a step further into the curved parapet. The first few times he'd stood at the balustrade, Draco had seen shadows of silvery robes collapsed at the tower's foot, and had bile rise in his throat. That was about two weeks ago.

*

Harry says, "You're pretty boring these days, aren't you?"

*

Draco sniffs. "I've always been boring." It's not true, but Potter already knows that. "You've always been interested," he adds.

*

"Interested?" Harry echoes with a laugh. His brow furrows and he looks at Malfoy searchingly, trying to find something in his expression that'll give meaning to that statement. He thinks of sixth year, of ordering Kreacher and Dobby to tail him, and grins to himself. Interested isn't the word he'd have used. "In what, exactly? Making sure you're not handing out cursed necklaces and poisoned mead?"