I don't think I've had (a public) one at all this year so far!! This is a fic I started literally just now but I told yall I was gonna do one to "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman and I am pleased to say that I have the first scene!! And you can read it right here!! Yay!!
Harry shrugged, staring straight ahead and walking past where Draco had dramatically paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Harry slowed his pace, though, and nonchalantly sipped from his to-go cup of coffee. “I think it makes sense.”
Draco moved to catch up, their steps aligning once more. He scoffed, and his breath fogged in the frigid late autumn air. “How on earth—“
“We both want to—“ he briefly interrupted himself, glancing around to make sure no one in the open park was staring or listening in on their conversation. He was certain the Glamour was still holding up, but he could never be too careful in public. “We both want to leave,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It might as well be together. At least that way, we’ll know someone.”
“But we’re barely even friends,“ Draco nearly whispered. “How do you expect us to like each other for that long—let alone live together?”
Harry stopped walking, and Draco did too, letting Harry turn and face him directly. Draco’s eyes were wide and uncertain; he was shivering slightly, his body no longer warmed by their brisk walk. His cheeks had flushed in the cold, the color spreading to the tip of his nose, and Harry suppressed the sudden, potent urge to pull him into his arms and press his lips along the pinked skin. To warm him from the inside out.
“Well,” Harry said instead. “I think ‘barely friends’ is a little unfair. We’ve hung out.”
“Having a drunken heart-to-heart at Luna’s birthday party doesn’t really count, Potter.”
“That wasn’t the only time we’ve hung out just us two.”
“Since now, arguably,” Harry said with a quick half smile.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, I suppose you sending me an Owl to meet up and proposing this ridiculous idea does count as us ‘hanging out.’ But what about your friends? Your life? Your job?”
Harry waved a hand. “I’ll see them. It’s Muggle America, not Siberia. Besides, I’m tired of the Ministry. It’s…”he trailed off and sighed. “I need a change, and so do you.”
“Yes, you. Your mother fucked off to Paris with a man half her age. Your father is rotting in Azkaban where he belongs. You’ve got to be getting lonely in that obnoxious Manor of yours.”
Draco scoffed. “You don’t know me—“
Draco studied him in silence, a bit stunned, before shaking himself. “It’ll never work,” he said, finally.
Harry shrugged. He took another sip of his coffee and grimaced at the drink, now gone cold. He looked back at Draco, who was staring at him with a frown.
“Only one way to find out,” Harry said, tossing his cup in a nearby trash can. “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do, do you?”
Draco stared for another long moment, and then he huffed a laugh and looked away, shaking his head, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips.
