The story of Draco NOT being a disaster in the kitchen and how Harry fell in love with him for that
This turned out a lot longer than I thought but I’m actually really happy with it, so enjoy some Drarry with Draco&Hermione friendship!
I mean, come on, Draco was master at potions. You really think he would be a disaster in the kitchen??? Like ok, he might take a while to get used to the difference between the two, like how there’s no cauldron but that thing called an oven was kinda dope, but he would be a natural at it still. Especially the sweet kitchen. Baking and different desserts that require specific techniques would be right up his alley.
After the war when Draco was in house arrest (luckily not in Azkaban, thank you very much Scarhead) he had access to muggle books, and when he found a cookbook, he went a little overboard. So, for a whole year, he did nothing but baking and cooking and experimenting. And when his house arrest was up, he moved to muggle London for peace and quiet and opened a bakery. It was a success, and Draco was swamped with customers. See? He wasn’t a fucking disaster.
After a few years he had completely left the wizarding world. Why would he stay? Muggles were nice, the treated him well, unlike 99.999% of the magic people. So, time moved on and he finally opened a second bakery downtown because the first one was so successful. He still personally ran his small shop in the outskirt of London.
He hadn’t seen any wizards in years, except his mother, Pansy, Blaise and his therapist, which was exactly how he wanted it.
So, when a certain Hermione Granger popped in a Saturday morning with a toddler by the hand, he was torn. Granger seemed torn and confused, glancing back at the door as if considering to leave, but of course, she striked up a conversation about what a small world they lived in because she was Granger.
But Draco knew she was just doing it to be polite and fill the tense silence. He saw she was visibly uncomfortable, eyes scanning nervously around the room and the way she held her child just a little bit closer, but he understood and rolled his sleeve down when the young girl looked a little too close. He owed her that much.
(His therapist has told him to embrace the compliments from the muggles who just saw a tattoo, not a dark mark, so he had made a habit of rolling his sleeves up to his elbow even if he hated it at the beginning. Now, he only had them rolled down on bad days)
He saw Granger’s eyes linger on the movement, on his arm and her polite, uncomfortable smile disappeared. His own polite smile vanished as well. Draco was expecting her to pay quickly and leave, if not just storm out, but Granger shut down the polite small talk conversation and asked him how he was. Asked him how he ended up in muggle London, how he discovered his passion for baking. Asked him everything he didn’t think he would ever be asked again. Least of all by an old classmate.
Taken back, he told her. Told her how his dad, even though in Azkaban, disowned him when he moved to muggle London. Told her how he didn’t care and how his mum still supported him. Told her about his new best friend, a muggle girl who lived across from him called Laura and about his two cats called Lupin and Minerva, named after his favourite teachers at Hogwarts (her eyebrows almost left her head when he told her this and it felt nice to surprise). And even though he talked about things that really didn’t matter, she listened.
"How long have you been living here?" She asked, embarrassed. "You know, in muggle-"
"6 years." He smiled.
(More under the cut)
(Or read on ao3)
Granger went home with her kid with a promise to return because Draco's chocolate raspberry cupcakes were just that good.
Life moved on all the same, except Granger, who slowly became Hermione, visited every Saturday morning on her way to the Weekly Weasley Saturday Lunch. Apparently, his cakes and pastries were essential now.
But Draco knew she didn’t tell them where she bought them. And even though the thought stung a bit, he didn’t think that them knowing they ate sweets and cakes from a death eater every Saturday would do them any good.
That idea was then ruined when one day Granger (Hermione) brought her lovely husband along.
Draco was nervous. He knew that Ron knew that Hermione got that awful scar on her forearm on the floor in his childhood home. He hadn’t forgiven himself for that even though Hermione showed him the cover-up tattoo of sunflowers she got a few years back. She had recommended the place she went to, made him write it down even.
Ron eyed him up and down, jaw tense when Hermione dragged him into the shop. Draco ducked his head, greeting Hermione and Rose as usual and nodded his head short at Ron. He didn’t know if Ron would like it if he spoke to him.
Ron had Rose placed on his hip, frown still present on his face when he saw his young daughter call for Draco, laughing when the blonde asked her where she got her pretty dress from.
Draco could sense the tension coming from Ron and turned away from Rose to ask Hermione what he can do for her.
The small talk was the same as always. Hermione asked him how the shop was holding up and Draco asks about the problem at the Ministry that gave her sleepless nights.
It wasn’t until Draco reached over the counter to give Rose her usual free chocolate biscuit that Ron spoke.
He took a step back, pulling Rose away from Draco’s hand, which the toddler was already reaching for.
“No thank you.”
Draco flinched back and retreated his hand. Rose started crying.
“Ron,” Hermione snapped, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She had that look in her eyes that made Aunt Bellatrix look almost nice.
“No, you might trust him but I sure as hell don’t.” Ron snapped back and Rose cried louder.
“It’s okay, Hermione-”
“No, you’ve been nothing but nice to me and Rosie,” She said, louder this time and Draco’s eyes softens. “you're my friend," she said sharply at Draco, "and you are going to apologize and go wait outside." She turned to Ron this time.
Ron scowls and sighed but opened his mouth either way.
But Draco was faster.
"It's okay, Weasley, I understand."
"No, it's not okay, Draco-"
"Please Hermione, it really is, I understand and it's no problem." He looked at Ron, who tightened his jaw once again, nodded and turned around to leave, Rose still crying silently on his hip. She didn’t get her biscuit.
Hermione was left staring at him with angry eyes. Draco sighed and stared back.
"I'll talk to him."
"No, you won't. He didn't do anything wrong."
Hermione huffed, walking around the counter to stand across from him. She had been behind the counter a number of 4 times now. "Didn't do anything wrong?! Draco, you shouldn't-"
Draco held up a hand. "My family hurt his family."
Hermione went silent, turning her frustrated gaze downward.
"I hurt his family." Draco brushed a lock of bushy dark hair behind her ear and frowned. "I hurt you, didn't I?" Hermione reached out and took his hand. "It's perfectly understandable that he didn’t like or trust me. Let alone to give free treats to his child."
When Hermione looked up, she had glistening eyes. "But you apologized and you've changed. You don't deserve this." She sniffled and Draco pulled her in for a hug.
They stood there for a long time until Hermione pulled away and said; "Come to my baby shower, please?"
"Baby shower?"
"It’s a muggle thing you host when you’re pregnant."
“Yes, I know what it is, it’s just-” Draco cut himself off and smiled, pulling her in for a hug once more. "Darling, that's amazing! Congratulations," Hermione laughed wetly.
"So, you'll come?" She said, looking up at him. “I want you to be there.”
Draco sighed, glancing outside at Ron who seemed to be rocking Rose back and forth still. He turned back to Hermione. "I don't think that's a good idea," the smile on her lips disappeared. "But I'll make you a cake, your favourite." He said instead and she sighed but nodded at him.
"It's a boy." She said.
"I'll make it blue then."
"No, make it yellow, it's more neutral.”
“Of course, you can stop by anytime and we’ll have dinner to celebrate okay?”
Hermione smiled. “Okay, Draco.”
And then life went on. And Hermione got more and more pregnant. She still stopped by in the shop and by now also showing up unannounced on his doorstep when she needed a break from the world or when Ron got in that “protective husband/father mode that’s kinda sexist but not really because he means well” as Hermione called it. Draco knew she felt bad after she said stuff like that because Ron was the most perfect husband and father she could ask for.
It wasn’t until she was about 8 months along that the routine broke again.
It was a Sunday morning and Draco was up early to finish a fresh load of blueberry tarts. It was 07:35 am and he was not opening for another hour or so, but then there was a knock at the door.
He considered ignoring it, but as it continued he realized he probably couldn’t.
So he walked to the front, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder and apron tied around his waist. He had flour all over him and his semi-long hair, which normally rested just above his shoulders, was tied into a bun. He didn’t really desire any human interaction right now but he didn’t seem to have a choice.
He regretted his decision not to ignore the knocking as soon as he saw who was standing on the other side of the see-through glass door.
Harry Potter, looking 7 years older since Draco last saw him, was standing outside his bakery, hands stuffed into his pockets and shoulders high. He looked cold.
What did he want? How did he know Draco was here? Had Hermione told him?
Last night was one of the bad ones (the ones where he lies awake because he keeps reliving everything he didn’t want to remember every time he closes his eyes, so instead he tabs his fingers on the walls or cleans or cries into the fur of his cats. It’s the nights where he only manages to dose off in the bathtub, despite the risk of becoming sick again because no warming spell can heat up water for a whole night. It’s also the nights he came up with his greatest recipes because baking was the only thing not reminding him of everything he used to be. But most of all, it’s the nights where he covers his mirrors with sheets and hides his wand in the back of his closet) and he couldn’t handle being yelled at or told off right now.
So, he straightened himself, dusted his hands off and walked over to open the door. Only cracking it open for his head to poke out.
“How can I help you?” He said, like it isn’t The Boy Who Lived Twice standing outside his shop.
Potter snapped his head up in surprise. His hair was still a mess and his glasses look the same, only these ones had a golden frame instead of the familiar silver. Somehow over the last 7 years, his eyes had become greener. Maybe it was the gold.
“Malfoy,” He breathed, and his cheeks are pink. “Hi.”
“I’m not open yet,” Draco said because he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to talk to Potter.
Potter looked down at his boots. “Er- yes I know, but uhm-” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of parchment. He skimmed it and looked up again. “Well, ‘Mione isn’t feeling all that well, you know, with the pregnancy and all, morning sickness I think, though I’m not really sure-”
“She sent you?” Draco interrupted Potter’s rambling, confused and concerned at the same time.
Potter still looked stunned. “Yes, she did.”
Draco’s frown deepened. “Is she alright? She could’ve called me.”
Potter tilted his head. “Called? You have a- ?” He shook his head, cutting himself off. “Nevermind. Yes, she was alright, she was just really tired and can’t really get up or put her shoes on anymore, so she sent me since Ron was on a mission right now-”
“Yes, I know, he should be back next Friday.”
Surprise spread on Potter’s face. “...Yes exactly.” He said, glancing between Draco’s face and his apron. Draco just wanted this over with.
“What does she need?” Draco sighed, thinking of Hermione and her big round belly and how she whined all the time because her feet were cold, and pulled the door open. he was doing this for her but she was still paying for it later when she was a lot less pregnant.
Potter stared at him in confusion before snapping out of it and following him inside the bakery. “How do you-”
“Sweet or salty?” He said, walking around the counter.
Potter followed, looking down at the parchment again. “Sweet, I think? Something with fruit. That’s all she was written.” He looked at the display with all the different cakes and pastries before pointing at the peach cobbler. “She likes peach, so maybe-”
“No, she’ll bloody throw up in ten seconds. Honestly, Potter, do you even know your best friend?” Draco snapped before he can regret it. Flashbacks of Hogwarts filled his mind and he pushed them aside. he was not the hissing bully anymore, he should have known better. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t snap at you. Her preferences change all the time.”
Potter seemed frozen for a few seconds as Draco cursed himself for falling back into old habits he’d long wanted to forget. But then he scratched his head and shrugged. “That’s alright, you probably saved my arse from a scolding from a pregnant Minister.” He chuckled awkwardly. Uncomfortably. “What do you suggest then?”
Draco sighed, looking at what he had displayed and thought about what he had ready in the back.
“I’ll be right back.” He said, walking into the back room where the baking happened. He picked up two blueberry muffins because he knew they are easy on her stomach. He also picked one piece of the freshly baked blueberry tarts and two Nutella filled croissants. Then he walked back out.
As he wrapped it all up in brown paper bags, he spotted the chocolate biscuits in the corner of his eye. He grabbed three of them for Rose, adding them to the bag.
When he was done, he looked up at Potter who just seemed to be stuck in a confused, frozen gaze.
Draco pretended he didn’t see it and continued. “If you pass a grocery store on the way pick up some fresh apples. Green, not red. She’ll thank you later.”
Draco then handed over the brown paper bag filled with his baking. He held it for a good 5 seconds before Potter’s head snapped up and reached out to take it.
“Uh- great, thanks,” Potter muttered to the walls. “Uhm, right, how much do I- ?”
“No, Hermione eats for free here, you’re not paying for anything,” Draco said firmly. “Tell her I said hi and that I’m looking forward to our dinner next Thursday.”
Potter cleared his throat. “Right, yes, I will, uhm, good day to you.” He said then walking back to the door.
Draco smiled weakly. “Good day to you too, Potter.”
Potter returned the small smile as he opened the door. he was almost out of the shop when he held the door open, peeking his head inside and said; “it was good to see you, Malfoy.”
And then he was gone, leaving Draco confused and tingly.
It was weird though. Because he came back. A lot. Always on Hermione’s request. Which isn’t that weird because Draco spoke on the phone with her and it was true, she really couldn’t move, and Ron was still working a lot. Draco had no idea what Harry did for a living to be able to pick up Hermione’s favourite cakes every other day at shit o’clock in the morning.
So, Draco slowly got used to seeing Potter in the early hours of the morning before he was even open. Their exchanges were quick because Draco usually already had a bag ready with what he knew Hermione wanted and he still refused to let Potter pay. But they still saw each other often.
But about two weeks before Hermione was due Potter showed up late. It was 10:23 and Draco had been open for almost an hour and there was still no sign of the other man.
He considered calling Hermione when the door swung open, a flushed panting Potter standing in the middle of his shop. By now, the tables around the bakery were filled with people enjoying their morning coffee and they all looked up at the newly arrived guest.
Pretending nothing had happened Potter walked casually over to the counter where Draco was in the middle of taking an order from an elderly woman. Draco ignored him until it was his turn.
“You’re late,” He mumbled.
“Sorry, was that a problem?” Draco was just about to snap back when he realized Potter was being genuine.
Clearing his throat, Draco turned around to get the bag filled with cheesecake this time. “Uhm- no, sorry, let me just go get the bag-”
But as he turned his elbow hit the tip jar on the corner of the counter, sending it straight to the floor where it cracked. Coins everywhere.
Draco groaned, reaching down to start collecting the little tip that had been in the jar, careful not to cut himself, when he saw Potter in the corner of his eye taking his wand out. He jumped to his feet.
“No don’t!” He whisper-yelled at the shorter man as he grabbed onto his wand and pushed it downwards. “Are you crazy?!”
Potter stumbled back, away from Draco and frowned. “What? I was just trying to help, I don’t know what-”
“You are surrounded by muggles, you idiot!” Draco whisper-yelled again.
Genuine confusion crossed Potter’s face. “What?”
“This was a muggle bakery, Potter.” He said under his breath. “I don’t allow magic in here so if you can please put your wand away.”
“You don’t- “ Potter paused. “What?”
Draco groaned, crouching down to clean the mess up. “What part of that didn’t you understand?” He said, annoyed. "Didn't Hermione tell you?"
Potter stood still for a while before he too crouched down to help. "No," he muttered mostly to himself. "But then how do you bake?”
Draco shot him an offended look before answering. “How do you bake without magic? It’s not that fucking hard, Potter.”
Potter stayed silent after that, stiffly helping Draco pick of the shards of glass. He fetched a coffee cup and put the remaining coins in it and placed it on the table.
Draco stood up, dusted himself off and went to pick up the cake Potter came here for in the first place.
"Er- I'll tell her you said hi," Potter said and moved towards the door.
"Great, yes- great," Draco said, glancing outside. It's raining a lot now. He looked at Potter again. Bloody idiot, only wearing a denim jacket over a T-shirt. "Wait a second," he interrupted Potter grabbing the door.
He ran to the back, picked up his umbrella.
When Draco handed it over to him, Potter just stared at him.
Groaning, Draco grabbed his forearm, guiding his hand to take the umbrella. "Take it, you'll get soaked in minutes."
Potter glanced down as if he only just realized he was holding Draco's umbrella. He snapped his head back up. "No, really it's fine-"
"Merlin, just take it, Potter."
He blinked. "Okay." And then he was out the door.
It only took a week before Draco got a phone call from a very panicky Hermione at one in the morning, stating that she was very much in labor.
It wasn’t the first time Draco had gotten such a call, but this time he knew it could actually be serious.
Ron was out of town for two days, because the baby wasn’t due for another week. Hermione had been anxious but had sent her husband off despite his protests. She knew how much they both valued work and thought it would be fine.
It clearly wasn’t.
Draco was already putting on his jacket, phone held by his shoulder and pressed to his ear. “Hermione, I’m coming over, okay? Maybe it’s nothing, last time it was just Braxton hicks, remember?”
Over the phone, Hermione clearly wasn’t agreeing with him because she was crying (She did that a lot recently).
“No! This feels weird, Draco. Weirder than the other times, I know this was it, I can feel it.” She said, sniffling. “Oh god, and Ron isn’t back until tomorrow night, he was supposed to be here! And Rosie was sleeping and I can’t-”
“Hey, Hermione, calm down,” Draco said. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes and I’ll take you and Rose to the hospital okay? We’ll get you checked up and it’s all going to be fine.”
Hermione sniffled again. She was adorable. “Okay, please hurry, I’ll call Harry.”
Draco paused for a moment but quickly swallowed his surprise. Harry was Hermione’s best friend, of course, she was gonna call him. “Yes, do that, we’ll take care of everything, okay?”
An hour later, Draco and Harry were walking along the hospital corridor, Hermione holding both their hands. The Weasleys had picked up Rose and Harry had called Ron, who apparently was on his way, but wouldn’t arrive until a few hours.
The doctor said walking helped the process along, so here they were, the three of them, just walking.
“This was awful,” Hermione said, clenching his hand harder than painless. “Why isn’t Ron here yet?”
“He’s doing everything he can,” Said Harry, who had been avoiding Draco’s gaze since they arrived at the hospital. “He’ll be here in a few hours, he promised.”
6 hours later little Hugo was born. Ron arrived on time, Hermione was asleep. Everything was fine.
Except Draco who hadn’t slept since he picked up the phone in the middle of the night. He was exhausted, both from lack of sleep and crying alongside Hermione because Hugo was just so cute, even with red hair, and he was so proud of her. But now he needed to go home.
He was walking to his car when a voice stopped him.
“Malfoy!” He turned around, watching Potter jogging across the parking lot. “Hey wait up.”
Draco leaned against his car, fighting his eyes. “What was it, Potter? I’m very much looking forward to going home now.”
Potter smirked. “Yes, I can see that. Which was why I’m driving you.”
Draco paused, eyes widening. “Excuse me?”
“Well, Ron said you looked like dead weight and asked me to drive you home, so you didn’t crash and die.” He said with a chuckle.
Draco continued to look baffled. “Ron said that?”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t you too tired to drive?” Draco said, sceptical.
Potter shrugged. “Never been much of a sleeper, I guess.”
Draco considered it for a moment. He was too tired to drive, no doubt about it. But it was Potter.
“How will you get home then?” He asked.
Potter smirked again. It was getting annoying. “I assume there’s an alley I can apparate discretely back to my own place.” He said casually.
Draco paused. “Right, magic.” He deadpanned. “Haven’t done that in years. Does it still feel horrible? Like a rollercoaster?”
The other man stared for a second. “You haven’t appareted in years?” He said, clearly confused.
“I’ve lived in muggle London for years, Potter, did you forget?” He teased. Bloody hell, he was tired. “Why do you think I have a car?”
Potter kept staring at him, seemingly stuck in his own head. Until he said. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
Draco slept all the way home. He was gently shaken awake by Potter, who had parked his car outside his apartment building.
“Come on, Malfoy, we’re here.” He said, helping out of the car. Merlin, that was horrifying. Potter helping him out of the car because he hadn’t slept for 24 hours.
“Right, thank you,” Draco said, thinking that was it.
But Potter helped him all the way up to his front door.
“Good work today,” He said, awkwardly tripping outside of Draco’s door. “Hermione really appreciated you being there.”
Taken back, he said; “Well, I sure hope so, we’ve been friends for more than a year and a half now.” He looked away. “But thank you, Potter. I’m glad you accepted me being there. You took it better than Weasley did at first.” Draco chuckled drily.
Potter’s eyebrows furrowed for a second. “You’re harmless, Malfoy. If you’re friends with the minister of magic, you’re as much of a thread as a bowtruckle. ‘Mione didn’t just befriend anybody.” He said with a smile.
Draco was baffled. “Thanks...” Was all he could say. Was Potter being reassuring? Friendly?
Potter chuckled. “And don’t mind Ron. He still didn’t even trust me when I’m speaking parseltongue.”
Draco, still speechless, said nothing. Just stared at the other man until he coughed awkwardly.
“Well, I’m gonna let you sleep now. Goodnight Mal-”
“Wait here, Potter,” Draco said before he could regret it and darted into his apartment. He returned with a brown paper bag. He handed it to Potter with a shaky hand.
Potter eyed it sceptically. “What was this?”
“It’s breakfast.” He said, shaking his head a little. “Well, and a couple of muffins I think. It’s from the bakery.”
When Potter didn’t say anything Draco continued. “As a thank you. And because you need breakfast.” He shot him a nervous smile, wondering if it was too much. If Potter would think it was weird.
But the man just smiled and took the bag. “Thank you, Malfoy.” And again, he was out the door.
They didn’t see each other again until 3 weeks later when Draco was drinking tea with Hermione. Well, he was drinking tea. Hermione was breastfeeding Hugo.
“Does it hurt?” He blurted out, making Hermione chuckle.
“What, you wanna try?” Draco grimaced, placing his teacup down. “No, it doesn’t. It just feels weird, honestly. Nothing like Ron-”
“Oh no, shut it. Don’t wanna hear about your sex life, that’s disgusting.” When Hermione laughed Hugo whined a bit, making the attention go to him immediately.
“Don’t be so sensitive, Draco. I’ve heard plenty about yours!” She said, smiling when Hugo calmed down again.
“What, my non-existing sex life? Haven’t gotten laid in months, darling.” He mumbled bitterly. He hadn’t gone clubbing with Laura in a while because of everything that had been happening, which meant no one night stood in a long while.
“Yes, I know, I’m trying to change tha-”
The front door opened, interrupting both of them.
A caught off guard Potter paused, looking at them. “Oh, sorry Hermione, am I interrupting?” He glanced at Draco.
Hermione smiled, returning her attention to Hugo. “No, not at all, come on in. Ron should be home in an hour or so.”
She was sitting in the only armchair which meant the only place to sit was beside Draco on the couch.
He sat down heavily. “What were you guys talking about?” He said, coughing weirdly.
“Draco’s sex life,” Hermione said unbothered.
Draco could feel his face heat up. “Hermione!”
She looked up at him, surprised. “Oh, was it a secret?”
Shaking his head, he placed his hand over his eyes. He didn’t want to watch The Chosen One making fun of him.
Sure enough, a chuckle left Potter.
“Sounds interesting.”
Draco moved the hand from his eyes. “Shut it, Potter.”
He looked over at Hermione who was buttoning her shirt, trying to stifle her own laughter. “I keep trying to set you up, but you don’t want to!” She mocked.
Pointing a finger at her, Draco leaned forward. “That’s because you keep making it a blind date, and last time I checked wizards don’t want to date an ex-death eater.”
Potter’s eyebrows shot up, but Draco ignored him. As did Hermione.
“Oh, don’t be so judgemental. John wouldn’t have minded, he voted for you at your trial.” She said, adjusting Hugo in her arms.
Again, Potter sat silently confused.
“Doubt it, darling.” As he leaned back he noticed the staring. “Is something wrong, Potter?”
Potter sputtered. “No, uhm. No, sorry.”
Hermione giggled again. “Harry, calm down, I’m not gonna set him up with one of your co-workers.”
He leaned forward, making his dark hair an even worse mess. “No, it’s not- uhm, I just didn’t know he- well, you were...”
“Gay?” Draco finished. “Surprise, Potter. All death eaters suck dick.”
Potter’s cheeks darkened as Hermione snapped; “EX-death eater.”
He rolled his eyes and she further scowled. They’ve had that conversation multiple times. It often starts with Draco saying something self-degrading about his past and Hermione getting mad at him for speaking ill of himself. Then it progresses to Draco arguing her that he really was a death eater scumbag, and Hermione saying he was just a child with no other choice. And it usually ends with Draco mistakenly blurting out some of his secret self-hate and Hermione getting upset and/or crying (usually crying but only since the pregnancy) and Draco pulling her into a hug, apologizing for upsetting her.
“Don’t get me started Draco, I just had a baby.” She said, sternly shooting him warning daggers.
“Oh, darling, like that would stop you.” He teased, winking at her.
“You’re right, I could still kick your arse.” She smirked and Draco pretended not to see the spark of worry in her eyes.
He then realized Potter was still watching them like they had grown two heads all while being very warm in the face.
There was an awkward silence until Hermione stood up with Hugo announcing she would put Hugo down for a nap.
He stared at Potter who was still silent with furrowed brows.
He decided to take pity on the guy. “You want tea?”
Potter rubbed his hands on his jeans. His hair really was getting out of hand. It wasn’t as long as Draco’s, but it was still long enough to look like a bird's nest.
“Uhm, yeah, sure.”
Draco got up, making his move to walk towards the kitchen.
But hands snapped around his wrist. He turned around.
“Wait, you don’t have to make it,” Potter said, suddenly letting go of his wrist as if it had burned him. His hand was placed behind his neck instead. “I thought you would just... you know.” Draco didn’t understand until Potter took his wand out of his pocket.
“Oh.” Draco glanced at it awkwardly. “Well, I don’t have it with me, I was just going to make it myself.”
“You don’t have your wand with you?”
“I think it’s in a drawer at home somewhere.” He wondered.
Potter’s eyes widened and he froze. Draco was just about to demand to know what the hell he was staring at when he shook his head laughing, looking away. He then took off his glasses and wiped a hand over his face, letting it settle there for a moment.
Draco scowled. He felt made fun of.
“Please do tell what you find so amusing, Potter.” He spat. Draco had felt he and Potter had been friendly enough to be in the same room, which couldn’t be said about Hermione’s husband, but now he thinks that his fear of Potter only being civil with him because of Hermione was true.
Potter didn’t say anything for a moment, just let out a tiny snort.
Then he opened his mouth, wiping a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Sorry, really, I just didn’t expect to ever see Lucius Junior making tea by himself.” There was a smile on his face, and though it didn’t feel hateful, it still mocked him.
Draco pretended it didn’t hurt as much as it did and scowled one last time, then turned around and went for the door.
“Tell Hermione I had an emergency.” He said, trying to make his voice cold.
“No, wait, Malfoy-”
Draco spun on his heels as Potter once again grabbed his wrist. They were face to face now and Draco felt his mouth run dry. He had forgotten how much taller he was than Potter as he looked down on the other man. Funny how the chosen one made him feel 2 inches tall even though he stood almost a head taller.
“I will not use my time on being made fun of, Potter.” He said, snatching his hand away and behind his back. “So please, let me be on my way without trouble.”
Potter looked confused and shook his head, again. “No, Malfoy you don’t understand, I wasn’t making fun of-”
“Oh, sure, Potter.” He snapped. “Nobody forced you to hang out with a death eater, there’s no need to be cruel.” Grabbing the doorknob, he pulled it open.
“I wasn’t making fun of you! God, Malfoy, I knew you were self-centred, but this is ridiculous. You’re as dramatic as you were in school, for Merlin’s sake. What about Hermio-”
Turning his head over his shoulder, Draco bit back; “You know nothing about me.” He felt his face get red with anger. And hurt, too.
Potter looked taken back, stepping a single step backward. “I-”
“You know Draco Lucius Malfoy. But you know nothing about Draco Malfoy.”
And with that, he stormed out the door.
The days after that were Bad.
It had been a long time since he had gotten multiple of those in a week, and because of that, he decided to take a day off at the bakery. He knew his staff could take care of it for a day by themselves, so he wasn’t worried.
It helped when Hermione visited.
She came in the morning, having left Hugo with Ron back home.
He didn’t tell what happened in detail because he knew she would go straight to Potter, yelling his head off and demanding he apologized to Draco.
He didn’t want that. He wasn’t mad anymore. Not even sad. Just disappointed mostly. Disappointed he screwed up a possible friendship (friendship? Really?) and because he thought Potter would have been more understanding. But then again, Potter didn’t know his story. Clearly, Draco had been mistaken when he assumed Hermione had told her best friend his whole background. But Hermione cursed at him and said she wasn’t someone who spilled secrets to her best friends just because they were best friends. And then she said Draco was also one of her best friends. Draco may have cried.
But the next week he was good as new back in his bakery. It was an hour after closing and he was in the middle of mixing a fresh batch of chocolate scones for tomorrow to bake so they could be warm for when the first customers would arrive. They sold better that way.
Just as he wrapped the dough and left it to rise a loud knock was heard at the front door.
Draco’s blood ran cold. Only Potter did that.
He contemplated ignoring it, but he also knew if it was Potter he wasn’t going to stop until he opened.
He turned off his music, wiped his hand in his apron and went to the front of the store.
Sure enough, the birds nest stood behind the glass door, lit up from the lamp post.
He sighed and turned the lock.
Only poking his head out, he waited for Potter to speak. He might not blame Potter in any way for his actions, but he knew that technically Draco wasn’t the one who should apologize. Even though he felt the need to.
Potter looked away from his eyes, tripping back and forth on his feet as he rubbed his hands together. It was rather chilly out.
“Uhm...” He started and Draco said nothing. “Can I come in?”
Draco scrunched his nose in confusion before pulling himself together. “Why?”
Potter had seemingly expected the response because he immediately responded with; “Because I want to talk to you.”
Draco paused, sighed again, then pushed the door open enough for Potter to slip inside.
Deciding that Draco would feel better on his turf he immediately walked through to the back, into the main bakery. He felt jittery and wanted to do something with his hands. It would also give him an excuse not to look The Chosen One in the eyes.
As he figured, Potter followed him. He was hesitant and paused at the ovens to look around. Draco smirked. At least he could still surprise.
Draco pulled out the bowl of strawberries that needed to be prepared for the tarts he had planned for later. It was only 8 pm but he wasn’t leaving for another 2 hours.
Draco cut the strawberries with precision and speed after having done it a million times before. Potter was still silent, just out of his vision to his left. Draco sighed and decided to speak.
“Any day now Potter, I have work to do.”
Potter coughed awkwardly beside him.
“Yes, of course.” He sounded uncomfortable. “I want to apologize. For last week at Hermione’s.”
Draco paused his knife and turned his head. “Did she put you up to this?”
Colour rose to Potter’s cheeks as he fumbled with his words. “No! No, really, no, uhm it’s all me.” He shot Draco an awkward smile and he turned back to his strawberries. Potter’s smile was distracting. “She only told me when you’d be here.”
“Oh.” He said. “Well, uhm. It’s okay-”
“No please, just-” Potter paused again. Coughed. Shuffled on his feet. “I’m sorry. For last week. For what I said. It was uncalled for and rude. I’m genuinely sorry. You’re clearly not the same bloke you were in school.”
Draco felt his fingers shake.
“And I’m sorry for the Lucius thing,” Potter took a step closer. “I didn’t know you changed your name.”
Draco placed his knife on the cutting board. “There was no reason you would know. It’s alright, Potter. I understand where it came from, you don’t have to apologize for it. I understand.”
There was a pregnant pause before Potter breathed in loudly.
“Hermione said you might say that.” Draco locked his eyes on the red strawberry juice left on the cutting board. “And yes, I do need to apologize. I was rude and hurtful. That’s something to apologize for, don’t you think?”
His voice had gone soft and Draco sharply turned his head. Potter was closer than before, only a small space between their feet.
He didn’t know what to say. Potter was genuinely apologizing.
“I would love to get to know you. Start over, you know. What do you say?”
The question shook Draco out of his thread of thoughts, and he looked into bright green eyes.
“Uhm, well.” He said, knowing how nervous he sounded. “I’m not really that exciting of a person. Just less of an arse, honestly.” He tried to snort casually, but he knew it sounded awkward.
Potter laughed though and Draco smiled.
“I’m not too sure,” Potter said. “Hermione wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t interesting.”
Okay, that might be true.
“What do you say, Draco?” He said, holding out a hand.
Potter’s voice had dropped, and Draco gave in. He shook his hand, embarrassed that his own was sticky with strawberry juice.
“Okay, Harry.”
And Harry’s smile was blinding.
“Thank you for forgiving me.” He said, and Draco could tell he was honest. “And I’m sorry for interrupting your work, I can go if-”
“No!” Draco practically shouted. “No, please. It’s really fine, I’m just preparing for tomorrow.” He said, returning his eyes to the cutting board.
“Can I help?”
Draco’s head snapped up. “What?”
Harry shrugged. “I want to see you cook.” He grinned. “Or bake, or whatever it was you do.”
Draco snorted, thinking it over. He then looked over at the apples that needed peeling and pushed them towards Harry.
“Peel them. And don’t touch anything without asking.” He snickered, wondering why it was so easy to just fall into casualness with Harry.
Harry smiled brightly and began right away.
By the time it was 9.30 pm Draco called it a night. They had made a bit of a mess after Draco tried to show Harry how to make the perfect pie crust, and Draco was tired enough to tell himself he would deal with it tomorrow.
They now stood outside the front door as Draco locked up.
“How do you get home?” Harry asked, zipping up his jacket.
“I walk. It’s only 7 minutes from here.” He said, fumbling to get the keys in his bag. When he looked back up Harry was staring at him. Something he had been doing quite a lot since Draco ran into him for the first time since school.
“What?” Draco said, wondering if it was his hair. It was still in a ponytail, most likely not pretty anymore as it had been in the morning.
But Harry shook his head slightly. “It’s just so weird seeing you without magic.” He said with a soft smile. Draco ducked his head as he felt his face get warm. “The baking, muggle London, the no-wand thing, your transport. It’s interesting. It’s new.”
Draco tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and looked at Harry’s shoes. “I just don’t need it anymore.” He said, quietly. “Sometimes magic does more damage than good.”
Harry nodded. “I understand that.” There was an underlying tone of deeper understanding and Draco’s hands felt warm. “Then let me walk you home, at least.”
He sniffled in the cold but nodded. “Alright.”
They walked in silence and when they finally stood outside Draco’s apartment, he felt misplaced.
He was about to say goodnight when Harry interrupted him.
“So uhm.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I have a confession to make.”
Draco studied his posture, feeling himself filling up with nerves. “Oh?”
Harry laughed awkwardly again. “Yeah well, I guess it’s no secret I’ve been kind of taken by you lately.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Harry’s eyes were now glued to the sidewalk. “And Hermione kept bugging me for visiting your bakery so much. And then she practically ripped my ear off when I told her what I said to you. And I felt really bad because I never wanted you to feel like I was making fun of you.”
Green eyes met silver. Just for a moment.
“I was frustrated I didn’t know what to talk to you about. And I snapped because I thought that fighting was what we were good at, so that must be it, right?” A sour grimace showed on Harry’s face and Draco wanted to smooth it out with his thumbs and lips. “But of course, that was stupid to assume. And I really am sorry. I just wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t know how.”
Draco was stunned. Frozen. Utterly confused.
“But...” He started. “Why did you want to talk with me?”
Harry snapped his gaze up to meet his, and for the second time, Draco felt chills go up to his neck. “Because...” Harry paused. “Well, because Hermione talked about you all the time. About how great you were. I wanted to get to know that person as well. I always felt sad that we didn’t become friends in our 8th year.” His eyes flickered again. “And because when I first saw you, I thought you were gorgeous.”
Draco’s breath hitched. That couldn’t be true. Harry was supposed to hate him. Or just really dislike him. It would only make sense. Draco was stunned enough that Harry had wanted to be friends. But this? How?
“Of course, I’m not expecting anything from you. I know we have our past and there’s probably a lot to talk about.” Harry took a step forward. “But I think I would like to take you out on a date. With me. If you’re interested.” His gaze was confident now, truly Gryffindor.
Draco felt red like the strawberries he had cut and his hands as sticky. He locked his eyes with Harry and forced himself to speak. “Uhm.” He said taking a deep breath. “Yes. I-I would like that.”
Harry beamed. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Draco snorted nervously and looked down at Harry’s lips. He wanted to kiss him.
Harry seemed to read his mind because he stepped even closer, so close their chests were touching, tucking a strand of hair behind Draco’s ear and asked;
“Can I kiss you? I have I read the sexual tension all wrong?”
Draco broke out in a smile and decided to just lean down, at the same time as Harry leaned up.
Their lips met. It was soft and short. Sweeter than anything Draco had ever baked, and more addicting than any dessert.
They broke apart. Draco felt warm.
He felt even warmer when Harry smiled and said; “Hermione was going to be so happy I finally got my head out of my arse.”
Fucking finished.
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