Chapter Text
It was close to six by the time Draco finally got home, because Robards had wanted him to go through a mountain of ‘leavers’ forms before clocking out for the day and he instantly started panicking about only having an hour to get ready for his date. He doubted Harry had been subjected to the same torture, which was a bit of an oversight on their part since Harry might have reconsidered quitting if faced with the huge stack of parchment Draco had dutifully worked through. He felt a little silly getting so worked up since they’d been on plenty of fake dates, the fact that he couldn’t play everything off as pretend added a new level of ‘terrifying’ to the evening. It was hard to believe it was actually happening, and if Harry hadn’t sent him a short note saying, Looking forward to tonight! See you later, H x, he might have thought he’d imagined the whole thing. But he hadn’t. And now he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. He was tempted to Floo Pansy and ask for her help, but he didn’t think he could deal with the ‘I told you so’s’, so he panicked alone while Blippy, saint that she was, occupied Scorpius and prepared an overnight bag for him.
By five to seven, he and Scorpius were standing in his office. He gripped Scorpius’ small hand tightly in his own while the little boy positively vibrated with excitement. He’d been chattering non-stop since Draco told him about the sleepover with Albus, but now he was silent, the anticipation rendering him temporarily speechless. Draco kept his eyes on the clock above the mantelpiece and watched the seconds count down. Harry had said seven, and he didn’t want to be early.
One minute to go. He looked down at Scorpius and smiled reassuringly, then grabbed a handful of Floo powder.
Thirty seconds to go. He took a breath and went over the address in his head for the hundredth time.
Fifteen seconds to go. He threw the powder into the flames, knelt down, and announced, “The Burrow.”
Molly Weasley’s face appeared after only a few moments. Draco tensed, expecting her to gasp in horror or close the connection but she just smiled warmly and invited him through. When he and Scorpius stumbled out of the fireplace into the Weasley’s front room, he came face-to-face with Harry and was struck dumb. He looked…stunning. That was the only word Draco’s mind would supply. He was wearing a tailored Muggle suit in a blue so dark it was almost black, a matching tie, and crisp, white shirt. He’d even tamed his hair, although it was still fairly wild, and trimmed his beard back so it was little more than stubble. Draco had never seen him looking so well put together. How on earth was he still single? And what in Salazar’s name was he doing taking Draco out on a date? He tried not to think too hard about what that stubble would feel like against his face or…lower.
“Harry!” Scorpius yelled, tugging his hand out of Draco’s grasp and darting towards Harry.
Draco broke out of his stupor just in time to grab the back of Scorpius’ shirt and stop him from planting sooty hand prints all over Harry’s delectable suit. Harry laughed and wandlessly vanished the soot from them both before crouching down and opening his arms to the small boy. He scooped him up and swung him round in a circle, much to Scorpius’ delight.
"Hi, Scorp! Good to see you. I've missed you, little man." Draco knees weakened at the sight of his son and his…his date? Love interest? Maybe-boyfriend? in a such a tender embrace. "Al and James are upstairs playing. Why don't you go up and find them," he said kindly, putting Scorpius back on the ground.
Scorpius squeaked and glanced quickly at Draco, searching for permission, before he darted up the stairs at Draco’s nod.
“Anyone would think he was excited to see Albus again,” Harry said fondly.
“He’s been bereft,” Draco sighed, staring after his son.
“Al too,” Harry agreed. “I’m sorry about, you know, everything.”
“It wasn’t all your fault. I didn’t have to go along with it.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Potter, it’s fine. Let’s just agree that we both fucked up.”
Harry inhaled deeply through his nose, and Draco thought for sure he was going to press the issue, but then he slumped and shook his head, an amused smirk on his face. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. We’re both fuck-ups.”
“That’s not—” Draco protested, but Harry cut him off.
"Come on, we've got a reservation to make!" He crooked his elbow, inviting Draco to link arms, and after a moment's hesitation, Draco stepped closer and looped his arm through Harry's. Maybe he stood slightly closer than necessary, but he didn't have time to think about it before the familiar sensation of being dragged navel-first through a toilet roll swept through him.
Draco opened his eyes to find Harry had Apparated them to a quiet side street off Diagon Alley. They walked in companionable silence, Harry leading the way since he refused to tell Draco where they were going, and close enough that their knuckles brushed. The sensation sent thrills racing through Draco, his skin tingling with every accidental touch. He felt drunk from all the anticipation, the nerves, the excitement swirling around inside him. The knowledge that Harry really liked him, and wasn't faking it, was like a drug, and everything felt more intense, so even things they'd faked before felt new and exciting. Not even the part-curious, part-horrified, part-disgusted passing stares were enough to take the shine off his mood. Let them look, he thought smugly. He was the one Harry wanted.
Feeling emboldened, and wanting there to be absolutely no doubt in anyone’s mind as to the nature of their relationship, Draco took Harry’s hand in his and laced their fingers together. He felt, rather than heard, Harry’s faint gasp of surprise because his body stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then Harry squeezed his hand and Draco knew his gesture had been accepted.
Harry pulled them to a stop after a short walk and Draco smiled as he recognised the restaurant—it was the Thai place they’d visited on their very first date.
“I thought it was appropriate.” He shrugged. “I won’t order us anything too spicy this time, I promise.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “I assure you I can handle as much heat as you, so no need to go easy on me, Potter. It just took me by surprise last time.”
“Whatever you say, Malfoy,” Harry retorted. He grinned and dragged Draco through the narrow doorway, then bounded up the stairs like an over-eager puppy, completely dispelling the illusion of sophistication that the suit created.
The interior of the restaurant was just as Draco remembered it, only this time he only had eyes for Harry rather than watching out for journalists. He’d been worried that they might struggle to find things to talk about with the added pressure of knowing there was something deeper between them than a simple arrangement, but things never once became uncomfortable. Harry spoke at length about his plan for the school, how many teachers he’d gotten on board, how many parents had expressed an interest in their children attending before he’d even advertised to the wider wizarding community. Draco couldn’t help but get swept up with his enthusiasm and found himself agreeing to help teach, despite never having had any training, in addition to promising to help Harry search for the perfect premises.
It was raining by the time they left the restaurant; big, fat raindrops that soaked through Draco’s light spring cloak in seconds. He’d cast an umbrella charm as soon as they stepped outside, but it did little to help protect against the rain splashing back from the walls or being whipped up by the wind, and he shivered as some rain trickled down the back of his neck. They stood huddled together under an overhanging storefront, the atmosphere between them as heavy as the clouds above, but neither of them made any move to leave. Draco shifted from foot to foot, and made several aborted attempts to speak, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound either too desperate or too dismissive. He wanted to tell Harry how much fun he’d had, how he never wanted the night to end, how he could have sat in that restaurant with Harry until the end of time and still never have tired of staring into his eyes or holding his hand across the table. But he said nothing. What if Harry hadn’t enjoyed himself?
“So…” Harry started, pushing his damp hair off his face only for the wind to blow it straight back into his eyes.
“So,” Draco said tightly, fully expecting Harry to say, ’This was great, but I think we’re better off as friends.’
“Um, please tell me to fuck off if you want, but, uh…do you fancy coming back to mine? For a drink or…you know, whatever.” Harry shrugged, studying the wall over Draco’s shoulder.
Draco bit down on his lip to stop the broad smile that threatened to bloom across his face. “You’re inviting me back for a nightcap?”
“If you want to? It’s just…I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, and I’m not ready to say goodnight yet, but it’s too wet for a walk. So…what do you say?”
“That sounds—Oh, wait. What about the boys? Shouldn't we be getting back to relieve your ex-mother-in-law of them?"
“It’ll be fine. Molly’s not expecting us back.” Harry clapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes widened comically behind his glasses. “Shit! I mean—”
“Potter! How terribly presumptuous of you to think I’ll be out all night on a first date,” Draco cried in mock offence.
Harry laughed and playfully nudged Draco with his foot. “Fine, we can head straight back to the Burrow.”
“No, no. A nightcap at yours sounds good! Perfect, even. Lead on.”
Harry laughed again and wrapped an arm securely around Draco’s waist. “Ready?”
He nodded dumbly. The last thing he saw before they Disapparated was Harry's bright green eyes fixed on his, his pupils blown wide.
If he didn’t have bruises on his shins from their hasty ascent of the stairs to Harry’s bedroom, Draco would be very surprised. Harry had crowded him against the wall the second they stumbled in through the front door. He couldn’t remember who had moved first but as soon as their lips met, he hadn’t cared. Harry devoured him; his mouth, his tongue, his teeth attacking Draco’s exposed skin. When they eventually made it up to bed, a trail of discarded clothes in their wake, Draco sank back onto the soft mattress and marvelled at how hungrily Harry looked at him. He felt desired and it was empowering. His body was on fire, lit up from within—he’d never craved anything more than he craved Harry’s presence above him, their bodies twined together. He hooked his hands behind Harry’s head and dragged their mouths together, and that was when he stopped thinking.
———
“Are you serious?” Harry asked, the slice of toast he’d about to bite into paused just before his lips as he gawked at Draco.
Draco hummed in agreement as he finished his own mouthful. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t serious. It’s not a fleeting thought. It’s actually been on my mind since you mentioned needing a premises. I believe it’s perfect for what you envisioned.”
“It really is, but, the Manor is your ancestral home. Where would you live? I don’t want to force you out.”
"Have you forgotten how big it is? It's far too large for Scorpius and me to live in alone and my parents are never coming back to the UK. Scorpius and I can continue living in the East wing, and your school can have the rest, along with access to the grounds. I won't be giving it up, I see it more as improving its legacy. I'd rather it was given purpose than left to languish." Draco paused, wondering how to phrase his next request. It was rather important, after all. "I do have one condition…"
“Anything. Anything you want, Draco.”
“Blippy stays. The Manor has been her home for over a hundred years, so I won’t see her forced out or made to feel unwelcome.”
“That's…yeah! Of course, she can stay. I'd never dream of making her leave. Should I offer her a job, or…?”
“I’ll talk to her. I doubt she’d accept it though. She’ll just be happy to see the Manor full of life again, and have more children to fuss over.”
Harry continued to stare at him in wonder. “This is…Wow. I just. Wow. I can’t believe you’re letting us use the Manor.”
Draco smiled around his mug of coffee. “My offer is entirely selfish, you realise. If the Malfoy name becomes associated with a fine educational establishment, it could be just enough to mask the stench caused by my Father’s actions. Scorpius might even grow to be proud of his name, and that’s the best legacy I can leave him.”
“Of course he will,” Harry said, reaching over and squeezing Draco’s hand. “It’s going to be amazing. Merlin, I’m so excited.” He took a large bite out his toast and jam, grinning around the mouthful.
There was silence for a few moments as they ate. Draco was thrilled Harry was so happy with his suggestion, but he couldn’t help wondering whether Harry had considered all the implications of using the Manor. He didn’t want to bring him down from his good mood, but he thought he had to bring it up.
“So, you really think it will work? I mean, the Manor doesn’t exactly have a good reputation, and with my name attached, it could put people off. I wouldn’t want to curse your project before it even gets started.”
“Hey, no, shut up. If people are going to be put off by a name, they’ve no place at the school, okay?”
Warmth blossomed in Draco’s chest at the determination in Harry’s expression. He’d been worried about suggesting the Manor, but once the words had left his mouth, he was certain that it was the perfect place for Harry’s school.
“Hey, do you think maybe I can come over at the weekend and take a look? Get an idea of space and so on?” Harry asked.
“Certainly. Bring the boys, too—Scorpius is desperate to show Albus his toys, and I’m sure James would enjoy trying out the half-sized Quidditch pitch in the garden.”
Harry’s knife clattered to his plate, and he goggled at Draco with unabashed shock. “Fuck me,” he exclaimed breathily.
“I believe you discovered last night that I prefer it the other way round…” Draco smirked.
“Merlin’s balls, you’re impossible,” Harry said fondly. “I can’t believe you’ve got your own Quidditch pitch.”
“Half-sized. It’s really not that impressive,” he sniffed. “You’re welcome round anytime you like to use it.”
“I love you.”
Now it was Draco’s turn to blanch. “I’m sorry…what?” he spluttered.
“I was going to wait to tell you, but I just. I can’t. I hope it doesn’t scare you off because I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“If I’d known all it would take to seduce you was a Quidditch pitch, I’d have told you about it years ago,” he admitted.
“Years?”
Draco’s face flushed. “You didn’t hear that.” He focused on scraping up the last bit of egg with his toast, but he could feel Harry’s gaze on him the whole time. “Fine,” he mumbled when he looked up, “I may have been a teensy bit in love you for a little while, but don’t get cocky or I’ll take it back.”
Harry's delighted laugh melted the pout from Draco's face. He couldn't stay grumpy, not with so much to look forward to, and not with Harry. He finally had what he'd been dreaming about and for the first time, he was excited about the future. He had no idea if Harry's dream would be successful, but if anyone could open a wizarding primary school and make it work with absolutely no experience, it was Harry Potter, and Draco was certain would stay at his side for as long as he was wanted.