Muggles ✧ Drarry

᥊᥊𝓲᥊

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.3ᴋ
ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ: ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21sᴛ, 2022
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The sun was bright against Draco's eyelids as it weaved its tendrils of light through the sheer curtains that hugged the windows. To combat its taunting stare, he buried his face into the soft pillow below his head, inhaling the sweet scent of linen and citrus.

Then, he sat up with a start, realising that he did not, in fact, have citrus-scented pillows. His eyes, wild and open, stared around the room. Oh no. It was Potter's.

Immediately, he looked to his left, expecting to see a smirking Potter lying next to him with a bare chest and a low-hanging sheet clinging to his hips. Instead, he was met with nothing. Draco tried to stifle his disappointment with the memory of the weird not-kiss at the hospital, which had led him to try and avoid this very situation.

However, he now found himself faced with two problems.

The first was that he had, in fact, had sex with Harry Potter.

Again.

And the second, and more pressing of the two issues, was the fact that, in the face of his difficulties, Potter had fled, leaving Draco alone in the saviour's home.

Merlin help Draco as he tried to escape this prison that held the memories of sensual experiences as its inmates. Merlin help Draco as he tried to will Potter's presence away should the man still be in the house.

He threw off the blankets, which smelled exceedingly good considering their condition and their location. The citrus scent grew stronger when he flipped the sheets through the air, leaving the scent and a small breeze created by the force of it wafting through the towards his nose. He swatted at it, trying to avoid letting the comforting smell land on his skin, though he knew that it was too late.

He had slept in Harry Potter's bed. This was not good news, not good at all. He had to get out of there.

Draco ran as fast as he could around the room, searching for items of clothing that had been discarded around. He, however, found none, and became worried that he would have to live the next moments of his life in the nude.

Draco nearly tripped on those damned sheets as he ran around the bed, eyes trained on the floor. They had to be here somewhere. He allowed his mind to drift back to the memory of last night, only for a second, and was met with the image of Potter ripping his poor clothes to shreds the instant the two had stumbled through the doorway.

Pansy was going to murder him. Draco let his head fall in his hands, which felt criminal, considering what those hands had been doing the night before. His knees betrayed him, and Draco fell to the floor in a dramatic heap. He was trapped in Harry fucking Potter's house.

After a moment of frustrated sitting on the ground, his hands moved from his eyes. There, in front of his face, was a pile of neatly-folded and intact clothing from the wedding. They must have fallen off of the bed when he had unclothed the mattress so aggressively. A sigh of relief flooded its way out of Draco's body. He nodded in approval at Potter's handiwork, and immediately started pulling the clothes on.

The snake seemed to be alive, which meant that Draco would hopefully remain that way too.

After he had pulled himself together, the Healer ventured down the stairs towards the kitchen, which he planned to breeze through, expecting Potter to be out of the house. Once he passed the counter, however, he stopped his brisk pace and halted. There was a breakfast sitting there, consisting of eggs, pancakes, and a few sausages. Next to it was a glass of what Draco assumed was orange juice, and next to that was a note.