Have a Drarry Muggle AU. I may decide to write more and make this a longer, multi chaptered fic - let me know!
Beach House
When Harry pulls up in the driveway, Draco is ready. He sprints towards the car, wrenching open the door and flinging himself inside, his bag awkwardly crammed up against his knees. “Go go go go,” he pants, jamming his feet into his shoes. “Drive!”
To his credit, Harry doesn’t question him, merely guns the engine and speeds off, Draco’s house fading into the distance. With a grunt, Draco shoves his bag underneath his seat, managing to get his feet up so he could tie his shoelaces. He knows he probably looks horrendous, like he’s just walked through a cyclone, but he really doesn’t care.
Beside him, Harry raises an eyebrow. “You’re in a hurry.”
Draco grunts. “Parents.”
“Oh.” Harry looks over, one hand finding Draco’s. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Draco shrugs. “Assholes as usual. The usual shit. ‘You can’t be an artist! Why don’t you try football?’ Blah blah blah blah.”
Harry frowns. “You sure you’re okay - “
“I’m fine.” Draco gives him a small smile. “It’s summer. They can’t stop me. Besides, I’ve been looking forwards to this for weeks.”
Harry looks like he’s about to press the point, but Draco hastily changes the subject. “Who are we picking up first? Pansy?”
“Nah.” Harry takes a sharp left, trees and houses wizzing by the windows. “Blaise. Cause Pansy takes forever to get ready. We’ll grab him, then pick her up on the way to the beach.” He pauses. “Actually, you should probably text her now. Tell her I’ll be over in ten.”
Draco nods, digging his phone out of his pocket. Picking u up. Be at ur house in 10.
K, came Pansy’s reply, and Draco grins. “No way she’ll be out in 10.”
“When is she ever?” Harry rolls his eyes. “I swear, how long does it take her to put on her fucking eyeshadow for God’s sakes?”
Draco laughs, leaning back in his chair. It was late afternoon, sunlight streaming through the windows, making everything seem golden. The air was warm, smelling like leaves and plants and growing things, the sky clear above him. It was the perfect day, and Draco feels himself itch for his sketch pad.
“What are you thinking about?”
Draco looks over, his brows raised. “Sorry?”
Harry laughs. “You have your ‘I’m thinking’ face on.”
“I do not have an ‘I’m thinking’ face - “
Harry nods. “Yep. Your eyes go all dreamy and glassy and you bite your lip like this - “
Draco flips him off, and Harry smirks. “Fine tosser. I’m thinking about how bloody hot your car is.”
Harry frowns. “Yeah, I can’t get the bloody roof to open for some reason.” He bangs the console with his fist. “Damn thing is stuck.”
“Your car is a piece of junk.” Draco pokes at the buttons, grimacing at the cracking noise they made as he pressed them. “I’m surprised it’s gotten you this far.”
“Asshole,” Harry says. “I happen to be the only one of us who can drive - “
“Gays can’t drive.” Draco gives him a wink. “And you’re bi, so don’t even.”
Harry rolls his eyes, but remains silent as they pull up at Blaise’s house. “Call him will you?”
Draco sighs, raising his phone. He dials Blaise, fiddling with the handle of the door as he did. “Oi - “
“Yes yes, I see the car. Calm your tits, Malfoy.”
“Screw off,” Draco says, hanging up. He shrugs. “Should be out soon.”
The door opens, Blaise strutting down the driveway. He was dressed perfectly as usual, and Draco sighs as he rolls down the window. “Hey Zabini. Going to a fashion show?”
“Fuck off,” Blaise mumbles. He throws himself in the backseat, kicking his legs up behind the chair. “Least I don’t look like I crawled out of the dumpster.”
“Hey!” Draco says. “That’s not nice to say Harry looks like he’s crawled out of the dumpster!”
Harry swats him, and he laughs. “We can’t all be models like you, Blaise.”
“True,” Blaise mutters as Harry pulls out of the driveway. “I’m one of a kind.”
Harry snorts. “Why, so humble today Blaise.”
“I’m always humble.” Blaise kicks Draco’s seat. “We getting Pansy?”
Draco nods. “I told her we were coming in 10.”
“No fucking way she’s going to be out in 10.” Blaise scoffs. “This is Pansy we’re talking about.”
“I texted her 30 minutes ago so...” Draco trails off. “Hopefully she’s out.”
“It’s so fucking hot in here.” Blaise bangs his head on the window. “Where’s the air con?”
Harry jabs at the controls again. “Useless thing is broken. I can’t roll the roof down.”
“Fuck.” Blaise kicks the back of Draco’s seat again. “It’s too hot.”
“That’s because I’m in the car,” mutters Draco, and Harry laughs.
They pull up at Pansy’s house after 10 minutes, Draco texting her again. We’re here.
Blaise snorts. Get ur fat ass out here pans.
10 minutes, she writes back, and Harry groans. “10 minutes. It’s always 10 minutes. Last time she said that - “
“Waiting in the car for 1 fucking hour.” Blaise scowls at his phone. “Can we leave without her?”
“I wish,” mutters Draco, and Harry sighs. “Okay. We give her 15 minutes.”
25 minutes later, Pansy breezed out, carrying a huge bag in her hands. “Hey guys,” she chirps, sliding into the car next to Blaise. “Ready for our 5 days of epic fun?”
Harry groans. “Don’t call it that.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” Pansy snaps. “I was going to call it out 4-way orgy, but I decided not to.”
“Thank God,” Blaise mutters, and Pansy flips him off. She rolls her eyes. “Why is it so bloody hot in here?”
“Roof won’t roll down,” Harry says. “The button won’t press.”
Pansy leans over, jamming her finger into the controls. “That won’t work - “ Draco starts, then stops as she slams her fist against the dashboard. “Pans, you’ll break the fucking car...”
“Zip it Malfoy,” Pansy replies, slamming her hand against it again. With a self-satisfied smirk, she sits back down, raising her eyebrows as the roof slowly buzzed open. “Kiss my ass.”
“Already tried that. Turned me off girls permanently,” Blaise mutters. Pansy huffs. “My ass is extraordinary. There’s this one girl named Granger who I’ve been getting on with, and I swear she can suck me off - “
Harry bangs the steering wheel, the horn going off with a loud honk. “I actually know Hermione and I’d prefer if we don’t talk about her sucking you off Pans?”
Pansy winks, sticking her bottom lip out. “Fine. Be like that.”
Draco just sighs, placing his feet on the dashboard. The wind was fierce, now that the roof of the car was down, whipping his hair around his face. He glances over at Harry, his dark hair and green eyes, the lines of his jaw and his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. The familiar itch takes over, charcoal and ink on paper, and Draco’s remainder of 1 year ago.
Sitting on the roof, hiding from his parents, sketchbooks filled with drawings of the boy with green eyes. Hundreds of them, sketches and paintings and watercolors, because even then Draco couldn’t stop himself.
He’s jolted out of his thoughts by Harry again. “Thinking about me?”
Draco turns away, hoping Harry couldn’t see his blush. “Thinking about art school, actually. Or applying for it.”
“Parents still won’t let you?” Blaise asks, and Draco lets out a bitter laugh. “As if they would ever let me. Manipulative bastards, both of them.”
“Assholes,” Harry mutters, and Draco shrugs. “Whatever. That’s not the issue.” He takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky, willing the tears not to flow, for his eyes to stay dry. “They want me gone. They say I’m hanging out with the wrong people, that they are corrupting me into thinking I want to be an artist. They want....” He falters. “They want to send me to some bloody school in Norway.”
He senses Harry stiffening in the seat next to his fingers going white on the steering wheel. He winces, looking down, anywhere but Harry’s face. Behind him, Pansy swears. “Shit. Fucking Norway?”
“Fucking Norway,” Draco replied, and Pansy swears again. “What the hell?”
“Bastards.” Blaise shakes his head. “What a load of goddamn bastards.”
“When?” Harry’s voice is quiet, and it makes Draco want to cry. He swallows, hard. “Start of next year. This is supposed to be my last summer.”
“Do you want to go to Norway?” Harry’s deadly serious, fingers white-knuckled on the wheel. His biting his lip, peeling away at the flesh with his teeth, blood starting to well at the cracks and Draco shakes his head. “No. God no, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you guys.”
“I can kill them.” Pansy locks eyes with him. “I could kill them. You could come and live with me.”
Draco laughs, his eyes filling up with tears. He blinks them away rapidly, coughing to clear his throat. “Thanks for the offer, Pans. I... I don’t really want to talk about it any more.”
Blaise nods. “Yeah. We’ll enjoy these 5 days. Figure the rest out later.”
Harry gives a tiny nod, one hand reaching out to grasp Draco’s. “Right. Let’s enjoy the beach first.”
“The beach,” Pansy grumbles. “All this sand up your crevices.”
“Lovely, Pans,” Blaise mutters, and despite himself, Draco laughs.
They finally pull in to a small cottage, on a cliff overlooking the waves. Harry parks the car, climbs out. “We’re here!”
“Finally,” Pansy chirps. She stands, stretches her arms above her head, then winks. “Okay. I’ll unpack?”
“Nah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’ll bring everything in. You two make food or something.”
“Sounds fair,” Blaise says, grabbing the bag with all the groceries. He stalks up to the door, yelling over his shoulder, “Where are the goddamn keys?”
Draco finds them in Harry’s bag, tossing them to Blaise, who winks as he unlocks the door. He and Pansy skip inside, kicking it shut behind them.
Draco takes a deep breath. He can hear the waves, crashing over each other, rolling and tumbling and mixing into the sand. The wind pulls at his skin, soft tendrils on his face and he grimaces. “Harry - “
Harry just shakes his head, grabbing him and shoving him against the door of the car, presses his mouth to Draco’s.
They stay like that for ages, Draco’s hands on Harry’s waist, the edge of the handle digging into his hip. The sound of the ocean fills his head, deep and distant, his lips moving against Harry’s.
They’ve done this so many times that they knew each other perfectly, knew every line and fold, every movement before they started. Draco lets his head fall back, his mouth open, drowning in the emerald sea of Harry’s eyes.
When they pull apart, they are both panting, Draco licking his swollen lips. He raises an eyebrow at Harry. “What was that for?”
Harry looks down. “I - “
“You tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking.” The words fall out of Draco’s mouth in a clumsy heap. He winces. “I mean. If you want to...”
Harry just sighs. “I’m thinking that I don’t want you to go. To Norway, I mean. I’m thinking that it’s far and cold and I’ll be so fucking lonely and I know you will too. I’m thinking that 10 months is a goddamn long time to be away from you, and that I don’t know how I’ll survive not being able to see your face. I’m thinking that I’ll miss you, from your smart ass comments to your drawings.” He runs his hands through his hair. “What about you?”
He wishes he could draw it, show what he meant on a piece of paper. Eyes and embraces and falling stars, chocolate and marshmallows, the fizz of soda on your tongue. Wind and hands and lips on your hair, a hundreds kisses to hide the bruises, all the trappings of a simple summer together. Ink, two boys together, so close their shadows merged into one, blood dripping from hands onto a concrete floor.
He looks up. “I wish I could draw it. What I’m thinking, I mean.”
“What are you thinking,” Harry asks. “What are you thinking?”
“I...” Draco trails off. He glances, over Harry’s shoulder, to the ocean and the sand and the cottage. When he looks back, his voice is firm. “I’m thinking that I love you.”