Sorry this took so long!! I was trying to finish an older, longer prompt before tackling this one… but I haven’t yet, and I felt a need to finish this one :) Hope you like!
(Also, if anyone has a prompt request and doesn’t mind how long it takes me to get to them rn, add whether or not you want smut or no smut… otherwise I’m unsure what direction to take things in)
“Mate, we’re not making you feel left out, are we?” Ron asked, his eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. “‘Cause you know we don’t mean to, right?”
Harry made a noncommittal noise and dismissed Ron’s concern with a wave of his hand. “Course I know that,” he said, forcing a grin. “I’m fine. I don’t feel left out at all.”
He turned back to his homework - two feet on the nuances of the use of bergamot in antidote potions - and hoped Ron would drop the subject. Both Ron and Hermione had been trying to suss his mood for days, and not even the noisy eighth year common room seemed to have dissuaded them - or not Ron at least, much to Harry’s disgust. How was he meant to productively discuss how he felt when he didn’t even know what he wanted?
Ron beamed, his freckled face instantly transforming from woebegone puppy to its usual enthusiastic grin. “Brilliant!” He stood up suddenly, nearly pushing his chair over in his excitement. “Well, I’m meeting ‘Mione in the library now, so I’ll see you round, yeah, Harry?”
Harry lifted his hand to wave, but Ron was already gone.
“Bye,” Harry muttered to himself, surprised to hear the venom in his own voice.
“Trouble in paradise, Potty?” Malfoy smirked at him, deliberately kicking Harry’s chair as he went past.
“Having fun with all your friends, are you, Malfoy?” Harry shot back, staring pointedly at the empty space around Malfoy.
It was still strange to see him without any minions shadowing him, or Pansy following along behind him, doe-eyed and ignored. Mostly, Malfoy kept to himself these days. The only person he really seemed to interact with beyond quiet requests like “hand me that jar of shrivelled figs” was Harry, if you could call increasingly personalised insults ‘interaction’.
Malfoy glared. “I see your girlfriend’s distraught without you.” His eyes flashed cruelly as he jerked his head in Ginny’s direction, where she was currently inspecting Dean’s tonsils with her tongue. “How long did it take her to get over you? Two hours? Maybe three?”
Harry turned unwillingly towards Ginny. Unsurprisingly, he felt the familiar disinterest and boredom he always felt when he tried to stir up the sensations of guilt and jealousy he knew he should feel about her, but simply didn’t. He grinned wryly despite himself, and began laughing at the look of confusion on Malfoy’s face.
“Yeah,” Harry said lightly, still grinning. “Something like that.”
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Harry took pity on Malfoy’s incredulity.
“I’m not really the get-a-girlfriend-and-settle-down type, Malfoy,” he explained with a smirk, packing up his things and shoving them into his bag as he stood up.
It hadn’t taken him long after the Battle to realise the truth of that statement. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he knew how to settle down, even if he wanted to. He knew, intellectually, that his parents had loved each other very much, but he had never seen it. And Vernon and Petunia’s marriage could hardly be called healthy, and as much as he loved Molly and Arthur, he just couldn’t see himself in a relationship with that kind of dynamic. It was times like this that he wished Sirius was still around; he had a feeling that his godfather would understand the dilemma of his situation in a way no one else did.
But he wasn’t, and Harry wasn’t particularly bothered by it, at any rate. It was only when he had to deal with Ron and Hermione practically listing baby names, and Ginny telling him he was “dysfunctional at best”, that he began to question his own lack of commitment.
Malfoy sneered. “The Golden Boy doesn’t want to marry the she-weasel and have eight screaming brats?” he spat, following Harry as he walked out of the common room. “Come off it. You’d have the perfect, little marriage, and the whole wizarding world could follow every article that delved into your perfect, little life.”
Malfoy sounded so disgusted, Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Believe it or not, Malfoy, I really don’t want that.” To his surprise, Malfoy was still following him down the corridor, his expression thoughtful.
Harry turned back to the front, frowning slightly. He and Malfoy seemed to be having an actual conversation.
“What do you want, then?”
Harry stopped and turned back, eying Malfoy curiously. “Don’t know,” he said, his voice calm while inwardly his thoughts were racing. “Someone who won’t tie me down? Someone who doesn’t look at me like the sun shines out of my arse?”
Malfoy snickered. Harry studied him, surprised at the apparent sincerity. There had to be an ulterior motive; Malfoy was Slytherin, through and through.
Emboldened for reasons he didn’t want to look at too closely, he said the words he hadn’t said to anyone else. “Someone who knows Voldemort fucked me up beyond belief, and who won’t try to make me normal.”
Malfoy stilled, and Harry could feel the way the moment changed between them. Suddenly, it was as if the castle was listening in, holding itself in anticipation.
“What do you want?” he heard himself asking.
“Someone who isn’t afraid of me,” Malfoy said quietly, wetting his lips as though suddenly afraid himself. “Someone who hates the word ‘normal’ as much as I do.”
“Who could possibly be afraid of you?” Harry said, trying and failing to inject the usual barb into the attack.
Malfoy’s lips twitched into a small sneer, his eyes still holding Harry captive. “What’s so great about you, scarhead?”
“I did defeat Voldemort that one time.” Harry’s voice was soft, distracted. His mind was was racing - was he really about to do what he was thinking?
It was one thing to notice how fit Malfoy was, in a passing, begrudgingly appreciative sort of way. It was quite another to…
Malfoy moved first, and when he shoved Harry back against the wall and held him there, their bodies pressed together, Harry forgot every possible reason for why this was a terrible idea, grabbed Malfoy by the collar, and kissed him.
“Fuck,” Malfoy breathed against Harry’s mouth. “Don’t say a word, Potter.”
“You’re the one talking,” Harry protested, huffing a laugh as Malfoy’s hands wrestled desperately with his robes, slipping inside to caress his chest and hips.
“What did I just say?” Malfoy murmured fiercely, pinching Harry’s nipple sharply.
Harry yelped, and Malfoy quickly covered his mouth again, biting Harry’s lip gently before laving it with his tongue until Harry was moaning weakly against him.
“This means nothing, Potter,” Malfoy insisted between breathless kisses, their tongues tangling furiously. “You said it yourself - you’re not looking to settle down.”
“Said it myself,” Harry repeated agreeably, grabbing Malfoy by the back of his neck and pulling him closer. “Man of my word.”
He pulled back just enough to set his lips on Malfoy’s neck and begin to suck. The noises Malfoy made had him biting his lip to try and regain some control, but it was a losing battle.
“Do you think maybe we should-”
Malfoy and Harry leapt apart in horror.
Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Harry, and for several long minutes she seemed incapable of speech, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the two of them.
Suddenly she turned around and addressed the wall behind her. “If I see any students acting without decorum in this corridor, they shall each receive detention and lose fifty house points for their respective houses.”
Harry and Malfoy began to back away slowly.
“This wall will captivate my attention for twenty more seconds,” she continued, her voice slightly more shrill than it was before, “after which time I will severely punish any students who risk the health of my heart with their frankly ludicrous displays of interhouse bonding.”
Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hand and they bolted, not stopping until they reached an empty classroom several corridors away. They ducked inside, slamming the door and falling against it breathlessly before sliding down and resting on the floor.
After several moments, they glanced at each other. Malfoy was barely feet away, but Harry noticed he was holding his hands just as carefully still as Harry’s own, and his eyes seemed determined not to stray to Harry’s lips.
McGonagall had seen them before they’d even had the chance to draw the lines for what this was. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that, how it might affect people’s expectations of him; there were so many ways that people wanted to tie him down. He didn’t want anyone putting labels on him anymore.
“Oh, who cares?” Harry muttered furiously, reaching for Malfoy at the same time that Malfoy snarled and grabbed him by the front of his robes, drawing him close.
“You know how you don’t want to be tied down?” Malfoy asked, drawing his hands back from Harry’s robes.
“Did you mean that literally, as well?” Malfoy grinned wickedly as his hands moved to his tie, delicate fingers looping under the knot and pulling it loose.
Harry let out a sigh of relief and returned Malfoy’s look wordlessly.
He’d worry about that another day. For now, this was what he wanted.
