another drarry one-shot

Just Keep Talking

The Gryffindor common room glowed gold and red with firelight, the rest of the house slowly winding down for the night. It was one of those calm evenings where the castle felt like it was holding its breath in the lull between classes and curfews.

Harry sat cross-legged on the sofa, still in his school robes, talking animatedly.

"And then Ron knocked over the entire rack of ingredients, and Slughorn looked like he might cry. You'd think, after seven years of Potions, he'd have figured out how to hold a bottle."

"Mmm," Draco murmured, bent over his Transfiguration notes, quill scratching lightly as he worked beside Harry, their legs touching.

Harry didn't notice the distraction. "Anyway, then Hermione dragged him off to re-bottle everything, and I swear—oh, and we saw Peeves trying to get a squirrel into the library. McGonagall nearly hexed him. The squirrel, I mean, not Peeves."

Draco hummed again.

Harry kept going, voice soft and rambling now, like telling Draco about his day was the only thing keeping the room warm.

Until suddenly, he didn't.

Draco didn't notice at first. He was finishing a particularly long sentence about non-verbal spell structure. But a few seconds later, he realized the air had changed—like something had been unplugged.

He looked up.

Harry was still there, still in the exact same spot, except...

His shoulders were hunched. His gaze was on his hands. And he was chewing at the inside of his cheek like he did when he thought he'd done something wrong.

"Why'd you stop talking?" Draco asked.

Harry didn't look up. "You weren't really listening."

Draco blinked.

"I mean, I know you've got work to do," Harry said quickly, brushing at an invisible wrinkle in his sleeve. "I didn't want to annoy you."

There was a pause.

Then Draco closed his notebook.

Gently, he reached for Harry's arm and guided him to shift—until Harry was leaning back and Draco was settling himself fully, deliberately, in Harry's lap.

Harry blinked up at him, surprised.

Draco tucked his arms around Harry's neck and said softly, "Talk."

Harry stared. "But I thought—"

"You could talk about toothpaste, and I'd still want to hear it," Draco murmured. "You're not annoying. I like hearing your voice. I just... multitask terribly."

Harry blinked a few times, mouth open like he didn't know what to say.

So, Draco leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. "Please tell me more about the squirrel."

And Harry smiled.

A wide, slow, relieved smile.

"Well," he said, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, "it turns out the squirrel was haunted—"

Draco laughed into his shoulder, and the fire crackled a little brighter. 

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