For @drarrymicrofic - Prompt: Spell - 1115 words
Anything over 1k should not be considered a microfic. This is ridiculous. I know! But I got carried away. Sorry!
“Legilimens,” Harry whispers for what must be the tenth time today.
Draco stiffens, jaw clenched. There’s a hard stone the size of England sitting in the pit of his stomach, a stone he’d very much like to extract and fling right at Robards’s stupid head.
It would be entirely deserved and not the least bit excessive, Draco thinks.
After all, that’s all the prick deserves for deciding on a whim that all Auror partners should learn the art of bloody Legilimency, with daily training sessions on top of that.
Robards dropped the horrific news at the weekly department meeting three weeks ago: “Being able to maintain a mental connection with your partner on the field can be extremely valuable. You need to learn to link your minds. It’s a skill every auror is expected to master. It could literally save your life.”
Draco thinks he’d rather died, if he had the choice. That would be a far better option than letting Potter wander free in his mind, with full access to ... well, everything.
If Draco were normal about Potter, he reckons he’d be fine with the whole Legilimency thing—not thrilled, but okay ... fine.
If he had a normal crush, he could probably gather all his inconvenient feelings and shove them into some dark corner of his mind, lock them behind a door, or burry them in a bloody drawer or something—surely there was a place like that where you could dump all the things you’d rather die than have discovered, such as your extremely powerful and unrequited crush on your Auror partner for example.
But here is the thing: Draco Malfoy is not normal about Harry Potter, nor are his feelings, and if Potter were to step foot in Draco’s mind, he’d be hit by the enormity of it. No drawers would ever be big enough. Potter would be horrified, and Draco would die of mortification.
“Try to relax this time,” Harry says stupidly.
“I’m relaxed,” Draco replies, fingers tightening around the armrest of his chair.
Harry shoots him an unconvinced look, then voice softer, “Okay ... I’m going in.”
Draco braces himself then feels Harry pushing softly at the edge of his thoughts. It’s warm and lovely and Draco hates it. He stiffens and does what he needs to do to protect his heart.
“Malfoy!” Harry sighs, irritated.
“What?” Draco says innocently, pretending he has no clue what Harry is about to say.
“Your walls! They’re up again. Put them down.”
“They are! I can’t get through your mind and make the connection if your walls are up.”
Draco feels Harry pushing harder, trying to force his way in. Draco resists, pushes back, but the bloody wanker is powerful, Draco knows he only has so much time before his walls inevitably start to crumble. He can already feel the cracks.
“Jesus, Malfoy, you’ve built a bloody fortress in there. What the hell?”
Draco rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Have you considered you can’t manage to get through because you’re pants at Legilimency and not because of my non-existent walls?”
Harry gives him a pointed look. He shifts his grip on his wand, then says, eyes looking away, ”It worked with Justin.”
Draco’s stomach lurches. “You practiced with Justin?”
Harry has at least the decency to look slightly guilty. “Well, I had to know if I was the problem." He rubs the back of his neck. “Justin suggested it when I told him we were struggling.”
Of course he did. That sneaky little fucker. Of course that rate-face, slimy piece of shit was going to jump at the opportunity to prove he’ be a better partner than Draco. Of fucking course. Draco can’t stand him. He fucking can’t stan--
“You’re mad,” Harry says, surprised.
“You’re mad. I can feel it,” Harry says.
Draco’s blood suddenly runs cold because if Harry can feel it, that only means one thing: he’s managed to get through, though Draco has no clue how, his walls, though shaky, definitely still hold.
Unless … Fuck! The bloody cracks. His anger must have slipped through them.
“Actually, that’s not quite it.” Harry frowns in concentration while Draco desperately tries to locate the cracks so he can seal them before the whole thing collapses and all hell breaks loose. “You...” Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re jealous.”
Draco coughs, splutters, he almost chokes.
“Jealous? Of rate-face Justin?” He squeaks. “Why the fuck would I be jealous?”
Harry’s lip twitches, one smug eyebrow raised as if to say, You tell me.
“I don’t give a rat’s arse who you practice with, Potter. If you want to waste your time poking around Justin’s stupid head, be my guest. Though, I don’t know what you could possibly find in there, it’s probably just a big fucking empty hole, the guy’s got exactly one braincell,” he taunts.
Harry huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Right.”
“Actually, come to think of it, you should ask Robards for a change of partner. You’d make a cracking team.” Draco aims for biting but his voice comes out thin, and vulnerable.
Harry hums. His eyes soften, and Draco, horrified, feels the cracks getting deeper and deeper.
“And why would I do that?” Harry says, shooting him one of his infuriating lopsided smile, the one Draco can’t resist, the one that sends his heart bloody racing.
Draco’s walls tremble. They fucking shake.
Then, softer. “Why would I? When I have you.”
With a deafening sound, the cracks split open.
Draco freezes, heartbeat hammering in his ears, he tries to stop the disaster, but it’s too late. Hopeless. The wall shatters into a million pieces, and suddenly, everything is flooded.
Draco holds his breath, mortified. He stares at the floor, hands shaking. That’s it. His life is over. He will have to resign, go into exile somewhere far way... like Siberia.
“Draco,” Harry whispers as he picks Draco’s wand off the desk beside them and holds it out to him. “Cast the spell on me.”
“Legilimens. Cast it on me.”
Draco looks up, heart pounding. He has no idea what Harry’s on about, but complies anyway. He grabs his wand, points it at Harry’s head, then whispers, voice trembling. “Legilimens.”
In an instant, he’s in Harry’s mind. There’s no walls. Everything is warm and lovely and inviting and ...
Harry bites his lip, smiling shily at Draco from under his fringe.
“You,” Draco stutters. “You...”
“Yes,” Harry says, his smile huge as he rises, catches Draco by the shirt, and kisses him.
Draco closes his eyes, kisses him back.
“Yes,” Harry repeats, this time directly into his mind as he deepens the kiss. “Me too.”
