Magnetic: Draco & Harry One-Shots

One Night to Change Everything

A letter slips in through the fireplace with a soft whoosh. I lift my left hand and coax the letter into my fingers while sipping on the glass of whiskey in my right hand. It's a heavy, high-quality parchment. It smells faintly of lavender and lemon.

He must be baking again.

I finally lift my eyes from the glowing screen on the kitchen table in front of me to look at the letter in my hand.

"Harry — Care to join me for drinks? I'd call, but I know you prefer my letters. Draco."

My heart flutters in my chest.

I set the letter down and pick up my phone, standing up from the table and moving into the living room to pace while I'm on the phone. I go to my recent calls and there he is...my most recent and most frequent contact.

Draco 💚

You could say I have a soft spot for him.

It's true.

He defected from Voldemort's army just hours before the final battle of the war. He fought bravely at my side, even facing off against both of his parents and incapacitating them both so they wouldn't suffer any further. That was when I knew he'd really meant everything he said when he came to me.

He protected Fred and George, took a direct hit for Hermione, tackled Ron to keep him from getting smacked with a curse, and then he gave me the cover I needed to kill Voldemort and stop the madness once and for all. I testified at his trial and we've become close friends. He's even friends with Ron and Hermione. Molly has also essentially adopted him, given the fact that both of his parents are in Azkaban for life.

I press the "call" icon and bring my phone to my ear.

He answers immediately, "Hey, Harry. You get my letter?"

"Hi, Draco," I say, unable to stop my smile. "I got your letter."

"Perfect," Draco. "Have you made up your mind yet?"

"Considering I'm at home," I tell him, "And I'm drinking alone...maybe going out isn't a bad idea."

"So, I should come to you, is what you're saying?" He asks, a clear smile in his voice.

Swoon.

"Unless my pajamas are suitable going-out attire, then 'yes'," I quip.

"Oh, gods, no," he sighs, feigning annoyance. "Give me ten seconds. I'll be right there."

He hangs up on me.

I sigh and shove my phone into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. Then I go back to the kitchen table, take a seat, and consider downing the whiskey left in my glass.

I've already had three shots, maybe four, total...okay, I've lost count. Half the fucking bottle's gone and I opened it barely an hour ago.

I look at the inside of my wrist, eyes focusing on the tattoo peeking out from under the leather band of my watch — the Draco constellation.

My heart skips a beat.

The dragon of my sky, always there for me.

I heave out a sigh.

Do I tell him?

Or do I just keep all of this to myself forever?

Fuck.

I drop my head onto the table in frustration.