A Royal Arrangement (Drarry) ✓

Chapter 6

Harry woke up with a mild headache. Nothing too serious, since it went away after a few minutes of lying in bed- Harry was rather used to alcohol. He blinked a few times to get his vision to focus, feeling something welcomingly warm on his chest. To his horror, it wasn't so much of a what, but a who.

Draco's lips were slightly parted, his white blonde hair glistening in the sunlight. Harry had one hand pulling him close to his body, the other draped across his thighs, any higher and it would've been indecent. A sudden recollection of last night's events flashed through his mind.

It wasn't a few seconds until Harry started to feel his head hurting again. No doubt he could give himself some leeway with alcohol involved, but last night was a mistake an there was no hiding it. Last night, should've known better. Last night shouldn't have happened. Last night was so profoundly stupid.

While he was mentally cursing himself, the boy in his arms started to stir. "Harry..." Draco uttered in his sleep, snuggling deeper into his chest with a faint smile. Carefully, he cupped a hand under Draco's head, shifting it over to the pillow. He unwrapped his arms around Draco, taking a bit more time with the more complicated leg situation. Finally, when Harry was free, he set the blankets snugly around Draco, making sure he was comfortable.

"I'm sorry." He said, as if Draco could hear him. He pushed a lock of hair out of Draco's eyes, partially because Harry found it very enjoyable. Ever since he had accidentally brushed over the silky strands, it took much if his willpower to contain himself from running a hand through his hair and tugging at the ends.

No, no, stupid thoughts. Harry chided himself, realising what he probably needed was a good, cold shower to ease his mind.

***

"Prince Draco!" A voice called from behind him. A boy came jogging up towards him, probably only a few years older. He wore exquisite robes and a bright smile. He came from a wealthy family, then, and very handsome too.

"Prince Cedric." Parvati and Oliver greeted, bowing. He dismisses them with a casual wave. A prince. Draco thought. Surely not to ask me over for a meeting?

"I truly apologise for my nobleman's behaviour." He said. "What he received was just."

"I don't understand what you mean." Draco replied, confused.

"Your husband," Parvati stated with bated breath, "got into a fight with Terry from the Noble house of Boot yesterday. Some... unpleasantries were exchanged."

"Yes, yes... Harry did say some things last night. Terry is in the hospital, in stable condition. Harry isn't injured, I assure you, aside from his hands." Cedric added. "However, it seems as if he had those healed today. He must've found a loophole since his father banned medical services for him as punishment." Draco would've thought last night was a dream, if not for his clothes catching onto the scent of liquor and the marks on his neck. Of course, he had been smart enough to use the remainder of the potion to heal those bruises.

He blushed, causing Parvati to smile and Oliver to raise his eyebrows. Cedric nodded in understanding. "My wife thought so as well." He commented offhandedly with a proud smile. "Well, if you need anything else, feel free to ask. I need to get going now."

Parvati and Oliver bowed as per protocol. Staring at Cedric's slowly diminishing shadow, Draco can't help but smile again.

"Someone is impossibly cheery today." She grinned. "Any redder and you may outshine Ron's hair, sweetheart. So what went down last night?"

"Nothing." He mumbled.

"Oh, I'm sure."

***

Harry was frustrated for the next 3 days. He and Draco hadn't spoken since the drunk night, and it was killing him. He didn't go back the day after that night- hypocritical- forcing Ron to share the bed with him. The subsequent 2 nights were spent in agony, where Harry woke up hours earlier due to his disturbing desires, and was forced to lay still in bed thinking about dead puppies and wilting flowers to overcome his situation.

After that night, of course, the two had somehow reached an unsaid consensus to not cross the 'invisible line', only made visible with a precisely positioned pillow between them, sectioning the bed in perfect halves. Both parties have been very respectful towards the rule, needless to say. Sometimes Harry wished Draco was slightly more of a rule-breaker.

Harry wished Draco would stop tossing and turning around as if he couldn't find a comfortable position to rest his head, but he couldn't deny that it kept his fantasy and imagination running wild. Oh how he wished to see this boy, his husband, writhing on the sheets naked under him, for him. How he wished he was given another chance, even if just for a second, to exploit his sweet pliant mouth and milky skin.

Of course, he couldn't say anything about it, so his outlet was writing. He journaled his thoughts, pouring out emotion on paper. Yet, the third day came and he started to feel no release despite scribbling on for a dozen pages, the restless feeling sitting stubbornly on his chest. He wished the weight was from something else.

Fourth day came, and Harry was back early. Seeing that Draco was reading on his side of the bed, he took a seat at the study table. Writing wasn't an option anymore, so he just glossed through 'The Art of War, Volume 7' for leisure, trying to organise his thoughts in the process.

Draco shifts slightly to get more comfortable, Harry noted based on the ruffling of bedsheets. It wasn't long before he withdrew a bit of self-restraint to take sideward glances at Draco through a vanity mirror- a weird choice of accessory for a room that housed 2 males, even though Draco uses it every morning to style his hair.

Harry wasn't exactly interested in reading anymore, rather flipping a page when Draco did so it would seem less suspicious. The way he tapped his finger against the pages was considerably distracting, even though it made no sound. Based on the title, Harry knows he's reading some sort of medical thing, a field he had zero interest in himself. Maybe that's why Draco got along so well with Hermione, they must have discussions behind my back about some insignificant detail in some potion brewing process.

Subconsciously, Harry stared down at his healed knuckles, knowing it was Draco's doing. He felt partially grateful and partially embarrassed- needless to say he was questioned relentlessly by a very pissed off James Potter, followed by an inquisitive Hermione who demanded to know every detail and self-proclaimed love expert Dean who brought up suggestive comments every 2 seconds.

Somewhere between his thoughts, he glanced over to Draco again, only to realise he fell asleep reading. Harry looks at his watch, it was almost 3 in the morning. How did time pass so fast? Was Draco waiting for him to get to bed?

Draco had a finger lodged between the pages. Harry reckoned he wasn't the kind who would fold the book pages, neither did Harry trust him to have the energy to remember page numbers. Squashing his tie between his own books, he took out his own bookmark for Draco's book, setting it next to the nightstand.

Very carefully, he slid his arms around Draco's waist and under his neck, helping him lie down. Harry slipped a pillow under Draco's head, then pulled the blankets around him as per usual. After confirming again that he was indeed comfortable, Harry didn't forget to brush the blonde strands out of his eyes, this time adding a gentle stroke to his cheek.

After several minutes of serious contemplating, he went to Neville's room. He was the most sensible one who wouldn't nag, which sounded like a great choice. Harry was happy to realise that most of his best friends were wide awake, crowded over 2 beds.

"We were just talking about you." Dean waved him over, Seamus scooting into his lap so there was space for Harry. "Thought you two were busy..." He makes an obscene action with his hands, followed by a series of weird noises.

"Dean, seriously. And Seamus, stop trying to rub your ass against his crotch, we can all see that." Hermione rolled her eyes, still huddled up against Ron. "So, did it go badly?"

"Oh, did you hurt him? Because first times hurt." Seamus gasped suddenly. "Did you forget the lube? Merlin's balls, did he bleed?"

"No!" Harry yelled defensively, before realising how late it was. "No." He mumbled in a slightly softer tone. "We didn't have any sex."

"I told you guys." Neville yawned, sprawled over his pillow. Harry muttered a 'thanks'.

"I'm here because I think... I fucked up." He gathered up his courage to say. "I fucked up bad."

"Alright, here we go again, boys. Notebooks out." Hermione was suddenly perked up, already tapping her self-inking quill against the bedside. "Go on, Harry."