another drarry one-shot

Side Effects May Include...

Draco came home on a Tuesday.

This wasn't unusual. He lived there, after all. But something about the way he burst through the door, threw down his briefcase, and immediately latched himself onto Harry like a particularly elegant barnacle—that was new.

"Hi," Draco said, wrapping both arms around Harry's waist from behind as Harry stirred pasta at the stove.

"Hi..." Harry glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. "Everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Draco said, his voice suspiciously bright as he pressed his face between Harry's shoulder blades.

"Because you're... clinging."

"I'm hugging."

"You're attached. You've been back for two minutes and haven't let go of me once."

"I missed you."

"You saw me this morning."

"I missed you harder."

Harry blinked. "Draco, did something happen at work?"

"No."

"Did you have a fight with your coworkers again?"

"Nope."

"Did you get cursed?"

"Absolutely not."

"...Draco."

Draco detached himself just long enough to look Harry dead in the eye and say, "There is no need for concern," before immediately tucking himself back under Harry's arm.

Which was definitely suspicious.

Over the next few hours, Harry noticed more odd behavior.

Draco insisted on sitting next to Harry on the couch—so close that Newton, their cat, gave up trying to wedge between them.

He followed Harry into the kitchen for water. Then into the loo to "check the soap levels." Then into the laundry room, where he stood stiffly, hands in his pockets, watching Harry fold towels.

And when Harry finally turned to him, folding half-forgotten, he found Draco looking almost... sheepish.

"I'm fine," Draco insisted.

"You're glued to me."

"I'm just being affectionate."

"You're being weirdly affectionate. You hate folding towels. You once hexed a tea towel for touching your wand."

"That was different."

"Draco—what happened?"

Draco paused. Chewed his lip. Then said, very quickly, "I might have spilled something."

Harry blinked. "Something?"

"A potion."

"...Draco."

"We don't know what it was."

"Oh my god."

"It was an experimental combination I was testing for a mild energy tonic, but the label got smudged and I may have leaned over it and accidentally knocked it over and—fine—I may have absorbed some through my skin."

"Have you told anyone at work?"

"I told Theo. He laughed for a solid four minutes and then told me to write down everything I felt and rate it on a scale of 'mild inconvenience' to 'wild magical side effect.' I put down 'mild affection.'"

"You're cuddling me while I brush my teeth."

"Mild."

Harry grinned around his toothbrush. "So this clinginess, it's potion-induced?"

Draco frowned. "I'm always affectionate."

"You called kissing 'inefficient' last week."

"I meant during board meetings, not in general."

Harry spit out his toothpaste, then reached for Draco's hand. "You're adorable like this."

"I am not."

"You are. Completely out of your element and pretending it's normal. Clingier than our cat."

Newton meowed from the hallway as if in protest.

"Don't get used to it," Draco warned, though he didn't move away.

"I already have," Harry whispered, pulling him closer.

By Friday, the effects had mostly worn off.

Draco was back to his usual composed self, trading snarky commentary with sharp glances and polite touches.

But when Harry opened his wardrobe that evening to find Draco's jumper folded next to his own, and a note that simply read "In case you miss me. Idiot.", he smiled.

Potion or not, Draco Malfoy was still just a little bit soft.

And Harry wouldn't have him any other way. 

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words: 583