Setting the Record Straight
“You are the Harry Potter. The department already respects you, mate.” Draco says, moving the tea closer to Harry.
Harry’s eyes finally lifted from the parchment. Wide at first, then narrowing like two unforgivable curses after a blink. He rose in a swift movement, striding directly into Draco’s personal space until he had his back firmly against the door. An accustory finger pressing the center of Draco's chest.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?”
He's been waiting for the wand to fall... it was inevitable. The harmonious friendship he thought he had with Potter was, as always, another product of his imagination. Naturally, it was Saint Potter saving him once again... it didn't matter if they drank tea together every day, shared pints at the pub after work, or exchanged jokes during those long nights in the cold rooms of Level Nine... Draco should have known he was nothing special.
“We’re not mates. I do not—” Harry faltered over the words, his finger pressing even harder into Draco’s chest. “You think I’d let Ron do— Do you think I let my friends... rim me?" He said the last part as an angry whisper. "We are not mates. I do not let mates do that to me—We are—”
Harry ran out of words, blushing so intensely even his neck turned red, struggling to name… this.
Draco, meanwhile, could only assume there had been an uninformed accident involving felix felicis and the kettle from the break room earlier that day because in all his life, fate had never been this kind to him.
“We are dating. You like it or not,” Harry said at last, crossing his arms over his chest, nodding more to himself than to Draco. “I know we haven’t talked about exclusivity, but you should know I haven’t—no one. I was hoping you weren’t—if you are, it’s my fault for not asking, but—”
“There’s nobody else, Harry.”
“Good,” he replied, softening his furrowed brow. Draco pressed his thumb over it, helping him let go of the tension. “Good.”
