Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

You, This, Us...

"You skipped dinner again."

Draco looked up from his cozy spot by the fireplace. He was nestled in one of the armchairs, his legs tucked underneath him, a book cradled in his lap. He took in the sight of Harry oh-so-casually leaning against the door jamb, a disgruntled frown marring his arresting features.

"I wasn't hungry." Draco arched a flawless eyebrow, before lowering his head back to his book.

Harry sighed, pushing himself away from the wall, a distracted wave of his hand closing the door and Draco could distinctly feel the pulsing wave of Harry's Magic as their Privacy Wards went up.

Draco bit his lip, his cock throbbing, already half-hard with arousal. But he still stubbornly kept his attention focused on his book. Harry knew it drove Draco wild whenever he used Wandless Magic.

Harry dropped inelegantly down onto the opposite armchair and quietly watched Draco. The latter waited, knowing that the same bloody question Harry had been asking him for the past week was just hanging on the tip of the Gryffindor's tongue.

"What are you reading?" Harry mused, toeing off his red trainers --- Chuck Taylor's he called them.

An amused smirk curled at the edges of Draco's mouth, easily picking up on Harry's change in tactic. The latter had become so attuned to Draco's mercurial moods that he'd easily noticed that there was something bothering Draco. Over the past week, Harry had been constantly trying to get him to talk about it but Draco had remained stubbornly reticent.

The week had been stressful, to say the least. On top of their NEWTs, Astoria had begun accosting Draco whenever she could, which had resulted in him spending far too much of his free time holed up in the dormitory, trying to avoid her. He'd taken to skipping meals, offering vague excuses to his friends and Harry.

From the knowing smirks Pansy had been giving him, he knew it was pointless hiding anything from her. Harry had been a pain in the arse, constantly pestering Draco to leave the safety of the Dorms. On the few occasions he'd actually managed to drag Draco to the Great Hall, he'd forced the blond to sit beside him, making Draco finish a plateful of all his favorite foods, much to Draco's pleasant surprise that Harry even knew those things about him. The infuriating Gryffindor even knew how he liked his tea. If dragging Draco to meals failed, Harry had instead opted to cajoling the blond to at least walk down to the kitchens, where Harry sat with him as they ate the warm meals the house-elves happily prepared for them.

Draco didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed by the fact that Harry didn't seem at all bothered by Astoria chasing Draco all over Hogwarts. Or perhaps, Harry just simply didn't care. Draco supposed that for Harry, who was constantly being hounded by a gaggle of girls, Draco's Astoria problem was a rather normal occurrence. As such, despite Pansy's constant reminders, Draco chose not to explain the circumstances between himself and Astoria.

Draco had begun writing Narcissa more frequently but he never asked about the engagement. And in the number of letters they'd exchanged since his conversation with Astoria, his Mother had never mentioned it either, not even a hint of it, leaving Draco confused and on tenterhooks. He'd even begun to hope that it had all been a terrible mistake on Astoria's part.

Draco quietly studied Harry's deceptively neutral expression. After a moment, a hint of a smile quirked at the corners of Harry's lips as he shrugged, "You won't talk about it no matter how many times I ask. So, I decided to leave well alone until you're ready to speak of it. You don't have to look at me like I'm about to shove Veritaserum down your throat."

Inadvertently imagining what other things Harry could be shoving into his mouth, Draco breath hitched, flushing pink as his prick gave an all too eager throb inside his silk pyjamas, thankfully hidden by the book still resting on his lap.