Hello lovely! Here's a prompt idea for you:
"And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago
Is green eyes and freckles and your smile."
@orange-peony Peony, it is an honor to have gotten this prompt from you--and especially such perfect lyrics!! So, for your consideration, some fluff! Enjoy.
Draco's head pounded in protest as he forced his eyes open against the streaming sunlight. He raised a feeble arm to defend against it, squinting and using the other hand to rub the sleep from his face.
Then, someone shifted next to him, and Draco was suddenly very much awake.
He nearly yelped in shock but bit his tongue just in time to block the sound. A tanned, muscled back rose and fell with sleep-heavy breaths, and a head of black, messy hair was pressed into the mattress under Draco's spare pillow.
Can a hangover cause hallucinations?
Just to be sure, Draco Accioed a hangover potion and drank it down, wincing at both the bitter taste and the fast-acting effects. He shook his head and looked back at the source of the disturbance.
Sure enough, Potter remained. Very much real, and very possibly naked, though the bedding covering his lower half left that fact a mystery.
Draco cringed as memories from the previous night came in flashes. Being stood up by his blind date and going to the Leaky to drink his sorrows away. Running into Potter, who'd met his half-hearted insults with mirthful, bright green eyes and easy grins. Being persuaded into joining Potter at his table in the corner. Talking the evening away, trading light banter and stolen glances and tentative, friendly touches. Having too many shots of firewhiskey and Potter offering to see him home safely.
The last thing he remembered was Potter holding the door for him as they left the bar.
Panic twisted in Draco's stomach. And he and Potter....?
And he'd missed the whole thing?
Draco closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the headboard. Of course. He'd finally had Potter in his bed, after years of fantasies and pining, and he couldn't remember any of it.
Potter stirred, then, and Draco froze.
What if Potter didn't remember what happened? What if he thought Draco took advantage? What if--
Draco didn't hold back his yelp this time, Potter's interjection startling him from his thoughts.
"Overthinking--whatever it is. I can practically hear you panicking internally," Potter's rough, sleepy voice was far sexier than should be allowed. "It's fine."
Draco felt the knot in his chest begin to loosen. "Do you remember last night?"
The black-haired head nodded from its face-down position. "Gimme a second."
Draco held himself back from shaking his leg nervously against the bed as he watched Potter shake off the sleepy cobwebs in his mind. Finally, Potter sat up and turned, revealing taut abs and the waistband of his pants, the latter of which Draco noted with a mix of relief and disappointment.
"So, last night. We ran into each other at the Leaky, and--"
Draco waved a hand. "I remember all that. What happened after we left?"
Potter looked at him with amusement. "Bossy. Anyway, I brought you back here. You managed to put on your pajamas, but after that, you climbed into bed, you pulled me down. Said I was in no state to Apparate. I reminded you that I wasn't nearly as drunk as you and that I could just use the Floo, but you wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."
Draco's heart sank. "Potter, I sincerely apologize if, in my inebriated state, I was, er, less than--"
Potter interrupted him with a chuckle. "No, nothing happened. You just wanted me to sleep in here. I was just too tired to argue anymore."
"Then why, pray tell, are you wearing only pants?" Draco drawled, finally regaining some of his pride.
But Potter raised an eyebrow. "You said, 'Potter!'" Draco rolled his eyes as the other man put on an affected, exaggerated impression of him. "'Do not soil my silk sheets with your street clothes, you heathen! Sleep in your pants or borrow something of mine!' And none of your clothes fit me, so," Potter shrugged.
Draco nodded. "Well, thank you for your help last night, Potter. I very much appreciate it."
"No problem. You're not bad company, Malfoy," and Potter gave him another one of his easy smiles, like Draco was someone he just...smiled at.
"So, er," Draco coughed. "What happens now?"
Potter pressed his lips together. "Well, the way I see it, we have two choices. The first is, I can go and leave you to your Sunday morning. Or--" Potter looked away. "We could get up, I can make us breakfast, and I can get to know you better."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Wh...why?"
"Like I said, you're not bad company. Maybe we can continue our conversation from last night--just with less alcohol," Potter smirked.
It would be easy to send Potter away. It would preserve his pride, that's for certain. And perhaps Draco of 18 hours ago would've done just that.
But, sometime last night, Draco had decided to give himself the chance that Potter seemed to think he deserved. The chance to change things. To have a fresh start. To make up for lost time.
Draco smiled. "Breakfast sounds great."
Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).
Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!
