We Open at the Close (Drarry)

The Bet

Harry hadn't heard from Draco in a few days and was becoming increasingly anxious. He was beginning to worry Draco had misread the situation horribly— finding Harry in his bed, even if he had been fully clothed, he had looked mortified. Harry tried to take his mind off of things by spending his free time researching the books on wandlore that Mr Ollivander had lent him, but he struggled to concentrate, his thoughts returning to Draco time and time again.

He lay curled up on the living room couch when the whoosh of flames altered him to a fire call. He looked over his book and saw Draco's head suspended in green flames with a serious expression.

"Draco," Harry placed the book on the coffee table. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," Draco replied flatly. "May I come over and speak to you?"

"Sure, come on over."

Harry tried to suppress his excitement and renewed anxiety. Draco didn't look happy. He ran his hand nervously through his hair and a moment later Draco appeared. Stepping out of the fireplace he brushed some soot off of his black shirt and suit trousers.

"You, uh, left these behind," said Draco meekly, holding out Harry's shoes.

"Oh." Harry took the shoes and set them on his lap. "Thanks."

There was an awkward silence.

"Uh, would you like a drink?" asked Harry.

"No, thank you. I have something to say and I'm going to spit it out before I lose the nerve to." Harry held his breath. Draco shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, staring at his feet. "I've been avoiding you these last few days because I'm embarrassed by my behaviour— in the field, and at the cottage. I just wanted to come here and apologise personally for how I behaved, and for anything I said or did that hurt your feelings or made you uncomfortable."

"Alright," said Harry.

Draco looked pained as he asked, "I don't remember very much after we got back to the cottage. We didn't...you know. Did we?"

Harry stared, then his eyes widened when he realised what Draco was asking. "Oh! No, no you went straight to sleep after we got home. I put you in bed and took off your shoes, you asked me to sit with you for a while and then you fell asleep. So did I, actually. I didn't mean to though. Sorry about that."

"Merlin, you're not the one who should be apologising," laughed Draco looking visibly relieved. Then he asked more seriously, "So we're...we're okay?"

Harry smiled. "We're fine, Draco. I was worried about you, but you were drunk and you were upset, we've all done it. I expect you'd do the same for me if I were in the same situation."

"Of course."

"Good," Harry smiled. "Now you owe me one next time I drink too much. Deal?"

Draco returned a small smile. "Deal." He glanced around the room with interest, "So this is the old Black house?"

"Yup," said Harry. "I haven't changed the décor too much."

"Evidently," muttered Draco while running a long, pale finger down a silver candelabra comprised of twisting snakes.

"It's more out of idleness than anything else," he admitted. "So, do you fancy that drink now? I was just about to put the kettle on."

"You don't have anything stronger, do you?" Draco chanced.

Harry and Draco spent the rest of the afternoon chatting about Harry's impromptu meeting with Ollivander and the opportunity to do a wandmaking apprenticeship with the old wizard. Draco was impressed.