Your Fortnightly Drarry Story (Back by Popular Demand)

10. A Deadly Bludgeoning over the Head

Harry wasn't quite sure what to think about the situation with Draco apart from he knew he liked being in the other man's company and he felt rather protective towards him and maybe... just maybe... there were some deeper feelings hidden away in there. He wondered if he ought to revisit his one-off thing with Charlie (mentally) and ask himself some hard-hitting questions about his own sexuality and his feelings towards Draco, but he wasn't entirely convinced about the liking men bit. He knew he'd enjoyed his time with Charlie but it was all a bit drunken and inquisitive and convenient (well, the first night was). He'd just kind of shrugged about it all at the time and enjoyed the sex but then Charlie had been very attentive and he was on the rebound after Ginny so that kind of thing was hard to not enjoy.

He wondered if all this rumination was supposed to be an Epiphany™ about his feelings for Draco, in which case, he was decidedly nonplussed because he really didn't know what he was feeling other than utterly confused by it all. He would have preferred a full-blown dramatic Gay Crisis™ at a Weasleys' family Sunday lunch (or something) because then, at least, he would have known for certain whether he was crushing on Draco or whether he was just enjoying their friendship and it was just everything was confused by the Fortnightly Drarry Fiction (back by popular demand) that he still insisted on reading.

His relationship with Draco definitely changed from the moment they actually began to talk to each other (even though it wasn't always perfectly civil). It was still particularly awkward when others were around, partly because Harry felt like they were being watched and he could do without Ron unsubtly making comments... maybe Ron was the writer of The Stories™? Hmmm... it seemed unlikely, considering Ron's hatred of writing anything down and he'd have to get Mione to proofread it and she definitely wouldn't approve... No, there was about as much chance of Ron becoming an author of anything as there was of Williamson being related to a Bowtruckle.

The other thing Harry didn't fail to notice was that he was paired with Draco so often these days when they were on a mission that everyone now automatically took it that they were set Auror partners (including himself). Harry also noticed that it was when they were on the night stakeouts that they actually talked the most, as if the darkness softened their need for conflict and defensiveness. However, Harry often felt it was a case of one step forwards and two steps back.

'Have you got anything planned for your birthday?' Harry found himself asking as they watched an empty flat above a deserted shop because Robards had heard that from some unreliable mole that Rowle was using it as a base (he clearly wasn't). House... in Bristol... uttered Harry for the thousandth time.

Draco raised an eyebrow and slumped back on the bed in the small bedroom room they were using for the stakeout. They were camped out in the spare bedroom of some little old lady across the street. Harry found the whole room overbearing with its ghastly flower patterns and frills and fringes everywhere. And its horrible dusty odour of stale rose-petal potpourri. It was Harry's turn to watch through the binoculars.

'Nothing in particular, why?'

'Well, we're both twenty-five this year. Isn't it a big deal in the Wizarding World? Don't people like you inherit titles or something?' Harry was distracted by the story he'd just read about Draco turning twenty-five and his father holding a party that was more like a Hollywood Gala Ball and Harry pulling up on a big black motorbike looking all rebellious and acting very confident in his seduction techniques (he wished he held that confidence in real life). He tried to imagine striding over to Draco and getting into his personal space before running the back of his finger softly down Draco's smooth cheek. He decided he'd probably be hexed if he tried any of that nonsense.

'People like me?' Draco drawled sarcastically.

'Yeah, all posh and with big houses to hold your fancy parties in...' Harry's voice faded. 'Sorry, that was an idiotic thing to say.'