Prompt for eight nights of Drarry: a large woollen scarf
Hi, sweet friend! @orolin-writes thank you for the prompt. Here's a bit of auror partners, pining, friends-to-lovers fluff for you! Title from "Realize" by Colbie Calliat.
When Harry thinks back, he guesses it probably started at a pub night. Draco must've laughed at one of his jokes and made Harry think, How can I get him to do that again?
Was it when Harry mentioned he hadn't eaten breakfast? Draco left the office without a word and brought him a breakfast sandwich and a coffee from the cafe down the street because, "Ministry pastries are shit." And then, if looks could kill, Draco's glare when Harry offered to repay him would've done what Voldemort's two Avadas couldn't.
Or perhaps it was before; on their fourth mission as auror partners when Draco took a nasty hex meant for Harry. When Draco was under a magical coma, and Harry was sick with worry and guilt and a lot of regret that he hadn't yet had the courage to call Draco a friend to his face.
It also could've been even earlier. When Draco was still Malfoy. When he was on probation and chose to spend it repairing Hogwarts, apologizing, learning Muggle culture, and nearly emptying his family's vaults into charities. When Harry realized he was still staring constantly, this time without any real reason to, but he found he didn't want to stop.
"Potter." Pale fingers snap in front of his face. "Earth to Potter."
Harry blinks, and Draco's face come into focus. "What?"
"Time to go." Draco strides toward the door and retrieves his coat and scarf off the rack. "It's Friday."
Harry groans. "How the hell did we pull Friday patrol duty?"
Draco chuckles. "You're the one who said you wanted to spend Fridays out of the office." He slides into his coat and wraps his woolen scarf around his neck.
Harry sighs and rises from his chair. "I thought it would mean we get to end our shift early, since we're already out, but I forgot how bad Fridays can get. It just makes the day longer."
Draco rolls his eyes. "Well, it's your own damn fault, Potter. Now c'mon, it won't be so bad. We can stop by that cafe you like on the way."
Harry joins Draco at the door, waiting for him open it so they can leave, but Draco just stares at him quizzically.
"Potter, did you not bring a coat?"
Draco sighs. "Potter, it's freezing. Did you not check the weather before you left?"
"No," Harry blushes. "I took the Floo to work, and I forgot we had patrol duty, so—"
"Oh for heaven's sake." Draco huffs and steps into Harry's space, unwinding the scarf from around his own neck. "Here," he says, wrapping it around Harry's neck and tucking the ends into his uniform robes. He presses his palms gently against Harry's chest, as if sealing the scarf into him. "That, plus a warming charm, ought to do the trick."
Harry stopped breathing at some point, and he's not sure he'll ever be able to again. Draco's hands are on his chest and his eyes are looking into Harry's and his scarf smells like him—warm and spicy—and Harry never stood a chance.
The words tumble out of him, like an avalanche. "I love you."
Draco's eyes are so wide, and Harry wants to apologize, wants to suck the words back into his mouth and swallow them, but then Draco is blurry and close, and then they're kissing, and if Harry came back from the dead for no other reason, this alone, would be enough.
Eventually, his lungs remind him that they would like to function, thank you very much, and he pulls away from the kiss with a gasp; his heart stutters when Draco leans forward a few inches, chasing it.
"I think I loved you before I knew what it was," Draco whispers, his lips swollen, eyes hooded, cheeks rosy. And after that, Harry doesn't—there's no choice but to kiss him again.
After another blissful minute, Draco's the one to pull back and say, voice heavy with regret, "We should go. But, you'll come back to mine after work. Right?"
Heart racing, Harry nods. Leans forward and gives those pouting lips another peck. "Gods, yes. And you're right, we should go. But there's no reason we can't spend a little more time patrolling every alleyway in Diagon."
The corner of Draco's mouth quirks up. "Very true. Plus, you know, you might still be cold. I'll have to warm you up."
"Definitely," he agrees with a grin. He reaches across to open the door and let them out of the office. Draco flashes him a smirk as he passes him in the doorway.
Harry follows him out of the office, through the front door of the building, and into the snow. And, despite the chill, he's never been warmer.
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