A Walk In The Park (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Seven

   "Don't leave," he said breathlessly, drawing away and stroking Draco's cheek. "Come back to mine, let me cheer you up again."

Draco bit his lip, but he wasn't so masochistic to deny the fact that Harry was asking to spend more time with time, that he was interested in him for some reason. "Okay," he said quietly, letting himself be kissed once more.

Harry lived in a house-share about five minutes walk away, and Draco spent the journey quietly listening as Harry chatted on about his housemates, whom he'd become friends with on the uni football team. Harry was a striker, which lead Draco to think idly about him scoring goals and receiving the adulation of the crowd. He would have liked to see that, Harry, the sports hero.

Thinking about football as they wandered down a street full of houses much older than the new builds by the pub meant Draco didn't have to think too much about the fact he was going home with a guy. A guy who had his own bedroom, and no parents lurking disapprovingly. Just how far was Draco planning on letting this go?

He wasn't exactly innocent, but all of his experiences had happened behind the bike shed, figuratively speaking. Should he be nervous? What exactly was Harry expecting?

But Harry didn't make him nervous, in fact Harry had somehow made him feel calm again after the crushing humiliation at the pub. Harry was light and quick to laugh, still holding Draco's battered skateboard and waving it around to help illustrate his stories. Harry kept glancing at Draco, as if to check he was still there, that he was still interested in what Harry was saying, that he wasn't bored and changing his mind and going to leave again.

It made Draco feel anchored and safe, so as they turned and walked up the driveway past an overgrown lawn to a slightly shabby semi-detached house, he just felt curious and a tiny bit excited.

"Hello!" Harry cried as he opened the front door. There were shouts coming from a living room to the left as Draco wiped his feet on the mat out of habit, and the quiet roar of a crowd could be heard from a T.V. Harry grinned at Draco, beckoning him along as he darted into the lounge, so Draco followed.

Unsurprisingly, the three guys were watching footy, West Ham verses Arsenal by the looks of it, and were getting pretty feisty over it. "Fellas," Harry announced, even though none of them were tearing their eyes from the telly. "This is Draco. Draco, this is Dean, Seamus and Neville."

"Hey Dra-" started the black one of the three blokes, before bellowing like a deranged animal. "REF!" he yelled throwing his hands at the T.V. in disbelief. "Foul! Are you blind!"

Harry laughed and ushered Draco out of the room again, closing the door behind them. "Best leave them to it," he said fondly, heading to the back of the house into a long kitchen. "You want a drink?"

The kitchen was quite new, but the washing up piled on the sides and overflowing bin alluded to a more student lifestyle that the boys had obviously hung on to. Draco itched to do some tidying, but shoved his hands in his pockets instead. "Uh, yeah sure, what you got?"

"More cider?" Harry asked, opening the fridge and inspecting the contents. Draco nodded, touched he'd remembered what he'd been drinking, which was ridiculous as he'd bought him several rounds, but he knew plenty of people who would have forgotten as soon as they'd left the bar.

Harry took one for himself too, then lead the way back through the house and up two flights of stairs to an attic bedroom. Draco liked the layout very much, you had to climb another narrow flight of stairs beyond the door before emerging into the room, revealing a slanting ceiling and a single, large skylight. Harry flicked on a couple of lamps and watched as Draco inspected his paraphernalia.

It seemed Harry was somewhat stuck in the 80s, judging from the posters of David Bowie, Gremlins and Back to the Future. Mr T was pointing down at them, with the caption "I pity the fool!" and Freddie Mercury raised his fist to the sky, silhouetted by the crowd at Wembley Stadium. Manchester United featured heavily too on the walls, as well as a scarf hanging over the chair by the desk, figurines on the windowsill, even a signed photo of Ashley Young.

Draco was pleased to see Harry kept his room quite neat compared to the carnage in the kitchen. There was nothing that made him want to run around and straighten or sweep or alphabetise, helping him to relax even further.

"Not exactly embracing adulthood yet," Harry admitted sheepishly as he rested the skateboard against his wardrobe and cracked his can open with a hiss.

But Draco shook his head. "No," he insisted. "I like it. I feel like I've got a sneak peek into your life."

Harry came and stood closer, not quite touching but Draco could feel his presence like he was giving off static. "So what's the verdict?" he asked. There was actually a hint of apprehension to his tone, and the idea that he really cared what Draco thought of him warmed Draco's insides.