Let Me Stumble Into Your Arms

Prologue

In this fic, Harry Potter's name is 'Hari Potter'. I am not of Indian descent but have done my best to make this as authentic as possible. This is a request with which I made every effort to be specific to. This is written with utmost respect to the culture and history, and to the trope of Harry Potter being Indian.

2 Years Ago.

Hari stares at himself in the mirror. His hair is bouncy and shows off his scar - he doesn't like the look but others seem to. They call his scar 'rugged'. It just looks like a scar, he doesn't understand. He checks in the mirror to make sure he looks enthusiastic enough, there's no trace of his real feelings. "Right, I can do this," he assures his reflection with a smile so awkwardly fake. Throwing on a coat reminiscent of his student career in Hogwarts, Hari sets off for the little bar on the corner of the street.

Having a bar a 2 minute walk from his house is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he's a regular and gets discounts, and the bartender he's grown friendly with. On the other, going to a bar as an asexual, and even moreso the kind of bar that is means Hari is often subject to flirtation, innuendo and sometimes outright sexual harassment from others. He takes it. Why? Because he's lonely of course. He's looking for a little but there are few adult asexual littles out there and any chance he gets to feel close to someone, he's sure taking it.

So he hooks up with people. Just casually, just once or twice and maybe they'll become friends or go their separate ways. The Indian Wizard reaches the doorway of this little hovel in Diagon Alley and walks in.

He's hit in the face by the smell of smoke from old men at tables sucking long pipes. Finding an open stool he spins around to face the bartender. "Uh, scotch on the rocks please," he asks with a smile, this one a little less fake. As he waits someone sits on the stool next to him. Hari awaits the usual flirts and pick-up lines that'd make even Muggles cringe but they don't come. Curiously, he looks at the man on the stool beside him. He's on his laptop filling out spreadsheets with numbers that mean nothing to Hari.

That flash of white hair, nobody could miss it. So recognisable, similar to Hari's own style and flopping over his forehead and around his ears, a little longer than he remembers. "Draco Malfoy..." he gulps quietly, not having seen the man since the end of Hogwarts. Slowly the luminous blonde head turns towards him with a surprised pout.

"O-Oh, Harry," Draco fidgets in his chair. The last time they saw each other things had not gone well. Ten years ago at the battle of Hogwarts he'd slithered into the depths along with his family. Who'd have known he'd find them so hard to live with he'd run away in less than 2 months? They were bitter people. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

"I live on the Alley now," Hari kicks back the scotch. It makes his jaw clench a little less but he's more than uneasy around the Malfoy. "What about you?" he's being begrudgingly civil.

"I got a new job here so I'm relocating. I'm a little and Diagon is in the city so it's a lot more accepting than..." than where he'd lived. Not that anywhere is very 'accepting'.

Hari blinks. Draco Malfoy, a little? Someone so arrogant? The more he looks back the more he realises that yeah, that works. Draco was always a faux-leader and week minded compared to other Slytherins. He put on a mask, like Hari does now. "What's your headspace age?" he asks curiously. "If you don't walk to talk about it-"

"Not, it's fine," Draco smiles, Hari doesn't think he's seen Draco smile properly. It's radiant or maybe that's just his hair. "My age is 1-2,"

1 -2. That's adorable. Hari smiles, young littles are so cute and innocent, that's a great age to care for. "Can I ask if you have a caregiver?"

"Oh..." Draco looks away, staring at the woodgrain in the bar. This conversation makes him wishes he drank, instead he feels himself tearing up. "N-No I don't," he admits with a small squeak, failing to cover up a sob. '

Hari notices immediately. Draco isn't in headspace but his Daddy instincts kick in immediately, leaning in and hugging Draco around his shoulders. "It's okay, if you need to cry you can cry," e ask himself why he's being so nice to the person who bullied him throughout Hogwarts. Who was nothing more than an arrogant Pureblood supremacist and a bully. Draco looks up at him and one instant reveals that this man is nothing like that immature boy from Hogwarts. He's a completely reformed person.

Looking around Hari notices the stares from other patrons. Some whisper amongst themselves. "Ah you're too drunk!" Hari pretends to chide Draco, closing the laptop and putting it under his arm. "Come on, it's kay. We can go somewhere safe to talk. Play along," he whispers to Draco.

Draco keeps his head buried in Hari's shoulder as they leave the bar, headed for Hari's apartment.

Arriving, Hari lets Draco sit on the couch while he makes some coffee to sober himself up. He only had one drink but it was a strong one. When he returns he sees Draco's stopped crying. His excitement has taken over him and his eyes scan the apartment in wonder. He's fixated on every little trinket, he's slipping into his headspace. It's endearing and Hari sits beside him, snapping him out of it. "You like my decor?"

"It's really pretty," Draco stares down at the rug, red and golden hand-woven Hari ordered specially from India. "You like Indian decorations?"

"About that," Hari chuckles a little, sounding sad now. "Back then, living under the Dursleys a lot of things were kept secret from me. I actually am half-Indian,"

"Really?" Draco gasps.

"Yeah, I didn't even know. I only found out once I met Remus and Sirius, the members of the Order. They told me all about my father and my heritage. I learned Hindi, it took a long time and I still haven't grasped it fluently. And I got really absorbed in the culture!"

"That's amazing! It's so great you can be yourself like this now!" Draco smiles widely, slipping further and further. Hari realises it's only a matter of time until he's 1-2. He mirror's Draco's jubilance, this is a better reaction than he could ever hope for! Better than even his friends when he told them.

"On that subject, my name is actually Hari Potter, H-A-R-I. It's okay if it takes you a while to get it, even I had to adjust once I found my birth certificate and realised that's how it's spelled,"

"You didn't even know that?!" Draco pouts. "That's really sad,"

"Awe, it's okay Shona," Hari can't help slip into Daddy space, lean forward and kiss Draco's forehead. As 'sad' as the topic actually is, he can't bare to see this sweet little boy upset.

"T-anks," Draco squeaks, nomming at his fingers anxiously.

"Don't you have a pacci?"

Draco shakes his head, of course he doesn't. He's dressed in work clothes and was at a bar. Hari thinks he may have some somewhere, always prepared in case he found his future little. And he thinks he may have. "I'll be right back Shona," he tells Draco, making sure he's sitting secured on the couch before rushing through the house to find his caregiver things.