Favoring The Brave {Drarry}

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Draco was pulling Harry towards the dressing room so that he could change back into his muggle style dressing robes, then show him to their seats, when his phone went off. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his suspender straps were dangling from his hips in a way Harry would have never thought sexy before then, as Draco bent over to search his jacket for his phone before putting it on speaker and walking into the connected washroom with a rag to wipe down after his performance.

"Blaise," he said as an answer.

"Pansy said she canceled on you, but you called Potter," the darker man responded through the phone.

"Was I supposed to not come to my own show?"

"No, you were supposed to call before you made any questionable decisions."

"Touché," he said, giving up, before motioning to Harry even though Blaise couldn't see him. "Potter didn't mind."

"Of course he didn't; it's Potter."

"Nice to hear you're doing well, Zabini," said Harry a bit put out.

"Always a pleasure, Potter," he responded, unfazed. "Draco I'm glad you're learning to accept things or whatever this is, but if Potter tells you he loves you and you run away again, my floo will not be open. Just tell him the bloody truth."

Without waiting for a response, Blaise hung up and Draco stomped angrily towards his phone and shoved it in his pocket then finished buttoning up his shirt.

"Tell me what?" Harry looked curiously as the pale blond in front of him looked away, trying to hide the blush crept up his neck.

"We can talk about it after the show," Draco said confidently, now completely dressed. "Let's go find our seats, yes?"

"Yeah, sure," said the ravenette confused and off-kilter as they walked off into the direction of the audience to take their front row seats.

--:--

When the screen finally went black, Draco made it a point to not look at Harry. They both had tears in their eyes, but he wasn't sure if they are ready to acknowledge it. The lights became brighter slowly and Draco reached over to his right, to shake hands and congratulate some of the actors before standing and pulling others into a hug.

Harry was still stuck in his seat, eyes glued to the blank screen. The story had hit home. It was called "The Jungle" and it was about immigrants in a way that was so raw, he felt it in every part of his being. He had never really been sure of where he came from. The Dursley's story was always that he was a mix from either Jamaica or Bangladesh, because no one really knew or cared. It was like one day the Potter's didn't exist in England and the next they did. They were wizards, leaving their marks on everything because they were purebloods, had been for ages and some of them even knew how to control their magic without wands. Much like him, they were fairy tales, Harry looked down at his hands, war stories.

"How'd you like it?" asked a strong voice to his left.

"It was- wow." When Harry looked up he was staring into the eyes of one of the actors and took it upon himself to sop his tears up. "You...uh, you played Norullah, right? You were great. Sorry I'm such a mess right now."

The guy shakes his head and smiles at him while he sits down somewhat cautiously in the seat next to him.

"This is one of the most tame reactions I've ever seen. Promise," the guy adds when Harry looks at him skeptically. "So...are you here with someone? Or were you a friend of a friend of a friend of a cast member that got invited and subsequently dragged along?"