Carey ‘W’Recs Wednesday(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ presents: Passing Stranger
lettersbyelise @lettersbyelise
Chapters: 15/15 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Teddy Lupin, Andromeda Black Tonks, Ginny Weasley, Original Muggle Character(s), Other(s) Additional Tags: Memory Loss, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Musician Draco Malfoy, Depressed Harry Potter, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Therapy, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, Gay Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gender Non-Conforming Draco Malfoy, Violinist Draco Malfoy, Explicit Sexual Content, my classical music nerdery on full display, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE
Summary:
Five years after the war, Harry, listless and depressed, stumbles upon Draco Malfoy playing the violin in an underground bar in Muggle London. The catch? Draco lost his memories five years ago. Ignoring his friends’ advice, Harry befriends an unwitting Draco, overlooking the fact that their mutual attraction might not survive if Draco’s memories return.
(੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)੭*⁺˚. * ･ ｡ﾟ☆
Excerpt:
The kitchen was tiny. Harry closed the distance in one step. He returned to their previous position, Draco’s solid warmth against his side. Harry turned to look at him at the same time as Draco did.
For a long, breathless moment, Harry let himself shamelessly stare at Draco.
Draco’s skin was porcelain-smooth, the stubble on his chin as pale as his hair. Harry wanted to run his fingers along Draco's sharp jaw. He wanted to trace his thumb over Draco’s eyebrows, touch the small, endearing freckle on his temple. Harry watched as Draco parted his lips, his grey eyes falling to Harry’s mouth. Draco lifted his hand, brought a knuckle to the corner of Harry’s lips, his head tilted in invitation.
Harry’s breath hitched.
He hadn’t realised he wanted to kiss Draco until the offer was right in front of him. Had he always wanted to kiss Draco? Or was this a new development? Did the urge to kiss him have anything to do with this new person Draco had become, funny and witty and wonderfully open? Or was it about the constant tension Harry felt—the tension that had always existed between them, and that had carried over to the present?
Did Harry want to kiss Malfoy, his hot, infuriating former school rival? Or did he want to kiss Draco, the street musician who was sharp yet vulnerable, who played the violin like an angel, and rested his cheek on Harry’s shoulder when they sat on a park bench watching ducks swim in a pond?
Harry couldn’t answer these questions. And until he knew which version of Draco he wanted to kiss, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kiss Draco Malfoy, knowing there was such a divide between them. Harry held the key to Draco’s past, unsure of how much to reveal.
If you were Draco Malfoy, would you want to remember your past?
It felt disingenuous, even cruel, to kiss him when Draco couldn’t make an informed decision about Harry.
He was a shit to us. He was a bully and a bigot. He was a Death Eater.
And yet it felt like Harry was the one leading Draco on.
Harry moved his head back an inch. It was enough to shatter the heart-racing intimacy of their almost-kiss.
There was a flash of hurt on Draco’s face before he schooled his features into the haughty expression that had always been his default.
“I just don’t think this is a good idea,” whispered Harry.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was so certain you were gay.”
“You were?” Harry huffed a laugh. “Most people don’t get it unless I spell it out for them. Or drop to my knees to suck them off.”
Draco made a strangled little sound. Heat flared in Harry’s belly.
“I was teasing you, earlier,” Draco said. “When you asked about Aneta. She’s not… we’re not together.”
“This isn’t about Aneta,” said Harry, though he filed Draco’s admission away with a mental fist pump. “You and I… we’re just getting to know each other.”
“You can say it, you know. If you don’t like me that way.”
“Mal—Draco.” Harry reached out, took Draco’s wrist in his hand. His fingers circled it easily, the fine bones moving under Harry’s palm as Draco tensed. How could he say he thought Draco was the most enticing thing he’d ever seen in his life, but that he couldn’t kiss him because it felt too fucked up, without sounding like an indecisive git? “I need time. You barely know me. And I… I used to know you, but I don’t know the person you are now.”
“You’ve seen me play. You’ve met my friends. You’re in my flat. If anything, you know much more about me than I know about you.”
“You know that I’m gay, that I like you, and that I have so little going on in my life that I come to every one of your gigs. That’s the summary of my dating profile, by the way.”
Draco laughed. “No wonder you’re single.”
“Yeah. The bigger mystery is, why are you?”
“Ah, yes. A penniless, amnesiac twenty-three year old violin player with an unfathomable past. Aren’t I quite the catch?”
Harry gave him a wry smile. “What can I say? People don’t appreciate good things anymore.”
“Neither do you. You rejected me a minute ago.”
“I didn’t reject you! I— I did it out of respect! I had a perfectly good reason to—”
Draco laughed. “I’m kidding! Again! God, you should have seen your face!”
He shook his hands in the air and made a face that Harry assumed was supposed to imitate his flustered stammering.
“Hey! I look nothing like that.”
“You do, a bit,” Draco said, but his eyes were kind. He pushed himself off the counter. For a second, Harry thought he was about to leave.
Instead, he turned and crowded Harry against the kitchen bench, his hands bracketing Harry’s hips.
“What… what are you doing?” Harry rasped.
“What I’m doing,” said Draco, “is not kissing you.” But he was close enough to kiss, close enough for Harry to feel every inch of him against his front, close enough for Harry’s hardening prick to poke his hip—
Draco took Harry’s hand and guided it under the hem of his kilt. The fabric was thick and warm. Draco’s skin was soft underneath. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open. Slowly, Draco led Harry’s hand up, up, up, Harry’s fingertips brushing the side of his thigh, Draco’s breath brushing Harry’s lips. Harry’s eyes flew open when his hand reached the bump of Draco’s hipbone without encountering the slightest hint of fabric on the way.
Draco’s mouth stretched in a slow, predatory grin.
“Is your curiosity satisfied?” he purred, very close to Harry’s face.
“Satisfied…?” Harry’s voice came out as a croak.
Before he could do anything—pull Draco down for a kiss, lift the front of his kilt, feel all of Draco against him—Draco took a graceful step back, laughing.
“It’s not a party if we don’t play party games.”
“That was cruel,” Harry gasped.
Draco swayed his hips, his green kilt swishing around his long legs.
“That was revenge for not kissing me on a flimsy excuse.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge on his way out. “Come up with a better one next time.”
Harry slumped back against the counter. He palmed the front of his jeans with a groan. Draco Malfoy was so infuriating, so beautiful, so bright.
And Harry would have to find an iron-clad reason to avoid kissing him forever.
❤︎⁄⁄꒰* ॢꈍ◡ꈍ ॢ꒱.*˚‧
