Drarry - It Was All Just a Game (REWRITE - MATURE VERSION)

CHAPTER 23 - OCCLUMENCY

The next Monday, Harry ate breakfast with a consciousness that Draco was probably watching him do it. And he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Having someone know your darkest secret was a scary thing, regardless of who it was.

But then, as Harry got himself in a thought spiral of how weird that was, the owls came for the morning post. Out of the usual, Hedwig dropped a large-sized box.

Harry undid the fancy bow and lifted the heavy black lid. It was packed to the top. The first item was a folded sweater, and he pulled it out, revealing another one beneath it in a different color.

The sweater was thick, a nicer material than Harry had ever felt. Soft but sleek, as if there was silk woven in between the threads.

"Been shopping, have you," Ron joked.

"Er... no. They're not mine. It must be a mistake," Harry said. But the label read Harry Potter, and then he realized who they were from and it took everything in him not to look at Draco.

Hermione looked at the tag on the second sweater. "Bruno Romano is the muggle Versace."

"Who?"

"Gucci? Coach? Louis Vuitton?"

"Sounds fancy." Too bloody fancy. Harry thought back to the pair of gloves he got Draco. He didn't even look at the price tag because he just wanted to make Draco happy.

"Whoever gifted you this must really like you. This sweater alone is nine hundred galleons."

"What?" Harry dug in the box. There were six of them, all different royal colors, and below it looked like there were trousers, too. His throat stung. "I'm gonna go."

He grabbed his present and left the hall, hot and nervous but also grateful. Like someone had taken a needle and poked through the cages of his heart. He stopped around the corner and set down the box, searching through it. It had an extendable charm. Six sweaters, four pairs of black trousers, three pairs of jeans. Even underwear and socks.

"Do you like them?" Draco stood behind him with his arms crossed, leaning against the castle wall.

Harry whipped around. "Why did you..."

"You know why. You needed clothes."

"No. I didn't tell you that so you'd do this."

"I didn't do it because I felt sorry for you. Don't feel guilty. It's just clothes."

"How can I not feel guilty? Draco, I'm not worth this."

"You're worth more than the entire store. You deserve them."

Harry looked through all the tags. "Thirty-six thousand galleons. Who's worth that much?"

"Me. And you. They're adaptive. They change with your body's measurements so regardless of your size, they're tailored to you and always look good."

"Take them back." Harry's face had a hot blush on it.

"No, you needed clothes that fit you. It's not fair you've never had them. They're a special threaded magic so you always feel comfortable."

Harry then hugged him tightly, speechless for several moments as tears welled in his eyes, though he wouldn't let them fall. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah, but now you can keep them for life. They'll hold up and fit you no matter what. You deserve to have clothes that fit. It's a right."

Still, he shook his head. "This isn't just a t-shirt or a jumper. Thirty-six thousand galleons is an enormous deal."