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Harry stumbles through his sitting room and flops back onto the sofa, shoving one of Draco’s fancy pillows roughly under his head. He squeezes his eyes shut to block out the light of the day.
He’s exhausted and his body aches more than he thought possible for the amount of physical activity he was doing. Merlin, he hopes he adjusts quickly to being on his feet for so long or he’s in for a draining career.
He reaches down to massage his sore feet. He sighs louder than the hint of relief warrants. Lost in the pressure-pain, he doesn't hear Draco come into the room.
“How was your first day?” Draco asks. Harry’s eyes fly open to register Draco leaning against the door frame, a small smile on his face. He quickly brings his hands back up to his chest. Fingering his feet is not a look he wants to portray in front of Draco.
Draco Malfoy. Ex-childhood nemesis, current roommate and best friend. Potentially the love of his life.
Though Harry tries to ignore that last fact. Living with someone you’re in unrequited love with is hard enough as it is without fixating on details like Draco’s slender fingers and silky long white-blonde hair. Or his passion for decorating their flat. Or how he learns Harry’s schedule so that if their schedules align he can seek Harry out when he gets home to ask after his day.
Harry shakes himself. “It was fine. I don’t want to move for the next one hundred years though.”
Draco hums thoughtfully, moving across the room to stand in front of the sofa Harry is collapsed on. He flicks his fingers until Harry clues in and bends his legs to give Draco space to sit. A rush of affection swirls in Harry’s stomach. The silly man could just ask, but he likes that they can communicate without speaking. He confessed as much in one particularly memorable late night conversation. And no, Harry has not held that memory close to his heart since. Nope.
Draco lightly grips Harry's ankles and pulls his legs onto his lap. This closeness isn’t new. They often end up in similar positions when watching TV shows together in the evenings. The almost painful rush of closeness hasn’t worn off.
“Oh yeah? Being a Healer is tiring, is it?”
“Trainee-Healer. And for your information, yes it is. I think I’ve been on my feet with barely any breaks for the last 10 hours. Not that I really know what time it is. So.”
“Aw, do poor Potty’s legs hurt?” Draco asks softly, belying his words. He presses his fingers into Harry’s calves, making Harry hiss. “You really are tight. Do you want me to give you a massage?”
Harry hesitates. He rarely agrees to Draco’s propositions of massages, no matter how excellent he is at giving them. Draco is normally a touchy person, but that amount of skin to skin contact is hard to handle. Sometimes literally. But on the other hand, Harry somehow has to get up and do this day all over again tomorrow without collapsing into a Harry puddle.
“You don’t have to say yes.” Draco says quickly. “It was merely a suggestion.” Harry can hear the hurt underlying Draco’s words. Harry knows his unexplained refusals needle at Draco, especially since he isn’t normally resistant to Draco’s touch, but it’s not like he’s going to say you have it wrong, the real problem here is that I like your massages too much and I’m afraid I’ll jump you.
“Actually, yeah, that would be great.”
“Really? Um, where do you hurt the most then?”
“Everywhere.” Harry groans. “My back, my legs, my feet, you name it.”
“Good thing you have me.” Draco says, regaining his bravado. He lightly smacks Harry’s legs. “Roll over, I need access to your back.”
Harry does as Draco asked, clumsily rolling onto his stomach and tilts his face to the side so that he can breathe. Draco settles himself so that he’s straddling Harry’s butt, though Harry can hardly feel Draco’s body pressing into his.
“You don’t have to support your own weight like that,” Harry says, muffled slightly by the pillow. “I’m not so fragile that I can’t handle you.”
“Oh yeah? You can handle me can you?” Draco asks suggestively, letting his full weight press into Harry.
“Fuck off.” Harry mutters. He can feel his entire face flush and thanks Merlin that Draco likely can’t see it from this angle. Why did he think this would be a good idea?
Don’t think about how close Draco’s crotch is to your arse. Don’t think about how close Draco’s crotch is to your arse.
Draco slips his hands under Harry’s shirt and pushes it up, his fingertips grazing Harry’s back in the process. He doesn’t give Harry a chance to get used to the touch before he massages his thumbs into Harry’s shoulders, rubbing them in small circles. Harry has to stifle a literal groan. By the sound of Draco’s chuckle, he doesn’t think he did a very good job hiding the sound. At this rate his face is going to be beet red by the time Draco deems the massage finished.
“Tell me about your day. I need more information than, ‘it was fine’.”
Harry seizes the distraction. “Well, first off I despise the 4 am wake up. I think I was half asleep for the first three hours of the day. Once I was actually awake enough to process what was going on, it was okay.” Harry cuts himself off with another groan as Draco hits a particularly tender spot in his mid back. “Sorry, I promise I’m not trying to make porno noises.”
“Don’t you apologise. I take it as a compliment.” Draco says, digging deeper into the spot and causing Harry to have to press his lips tightly together to prevent another involuntary sound from escaping. Draco really is good at this, it’s a shame that Harry doesn’t trust himself enough to let him do it very often. Draco is a great friend for wanting to take time to help him like this and for continuing asking even though he declines ninety percent of the time.
“Anyway, yeah.” Harry says, scrambling to pick up his story again. “All the Trainee’s were assigned to a Healer. We pretty much just shadowed the Healer’s today and watched what they were doing. But it was really interesting to see what I’ve been studying for so long be put into practice.”
“How was the Harry Potter factor? I know you were worried about that.”
“Better than I thought it would be, actually. I know all the Trainees in my cohort and all the Healers treated me more or less like anyone else.” Harry momentarily gets distracted by the feel of Draco’s hands as they make their way to his lower back. “Some of the patients made comments, but mostly they were more concerned about why they were in Mungo’s in the first place and not the weird Saviour lurking in the corner.”
“I’m glad.” Draco murmurs. He rubs his hands gently up and down Harry’s back, making him shiver.
“How was your day?” Harry asks as much for something to focus on as real interest.
Draco tells him about an old – or possibly young? – witch who was looking for either a deflating or re-inflating potion. Harry is ashamed by how much of Draco’s words are going over his head. Normally he loves listening to Draco’s stories. Even if Draco wasn’t an engaging storyteller, which he is, Harry loves how enthusiastic he can get, face animated and gesturing wildly. Even if Draco was speaking a different language, Harry would listen just to hear the smooth sound of his voice.
When they first moved in together, and he was just starting T potions, Draco had been ashamed of how often his voice would crack. They had already been close friends for over a year by that point and Harry had been one of the only people Draco would speak freely around. Even though Draco is much more comfortable now, Harry still feels irrational possessiveness towards the memory of how Draco had trusted him.
But, right now, his tired brain is not focusing on Draco’s words. The closer that Draco’s hands move to his arse the more his distraction increases. Draco shifts backwards slightly to get better leverage for the part of his back right before it meets his arse. He doesn’t touch it, but the feeling of Draco so close to where he wants him sets Harry on fire. His cock starts to harden where it’s trapped between his body and the sofa and he desperately wills it down.
An undetermined amount of time later, during which Harry's efforts to get rid of his erection by frantically pulling up memories of McGonagall sternly telling him off are undermined by Draco lavishing attention to the joints of his hip, Draco shifts again. Harry cranes his to see Draco turning himself around so that he’s facing Harry’s legs.
Harry supposes that he should be thankful that Draco is going to skip actually massaging his arse. He doesn’t think he could handle that without doing something ill advised and likely friendship ruining.
Draco presses his thumbs far up Harry’s thighs and Harry hisses, his body involuntarily jerking slightly under Draco’s.
Draco smirks at him over his shoulder. “You like that, do you?”
“Draco…”
“Here,” Draco says, moving so that he’s supporting his own weight again. “Can you turn around again? I need to get your quads.”
Harry prays that he’s soft enough that it won’t be noticeable. He flips over and then intently stares at the ceiling, trying to put all his focus into discerning images there and not Draco. He refuses to get a (worse) boner while Draco is so close; his hands on his upper thighs and his gaze way too close to his cock for comfort.
“I’d ask if that’s a wand in your pocket, but…”
“Oh my god.” This isn’t fair. People should definitely be able to have control over their blood, then all of his wouldn’t currently be concentrated in either his face or his cock. What does he even say to that? He wishes he could see Draco’s face. “Godric, I’m sorry. I think with all the Healer training I’ve deprived myself a little too much.” Not to mention the fact that he can't stomach the thought of being with anyone else or that the man he's in love with is centimeters away from his cock.
“No worries.” Is it his imagination or does Draco sound disappointed? “I’ll take it as a compliment as well.” Draco adds, a smirk clear in his voice even though Harry can't see his face. He was definitely imagining any disappointment.
The silence as Draco kneads the knots in his legs is only broken by the occasional “ouch” from Harry when he hits upon a particularly tender spot. Harry occupies the time trying not to die of embarrassment and fighting the image his mind keeps presenting him with of Draco touching him just a little bit higher up. He wants to flick himself in the forehead.
“Alright!” Draco announces eventually, startling Harry out of his thoughts. “Feet next, I’d say. Can you sit up? There’s not enough room on the sofa for both of us if you’re lying down.”
They fumble around until they reorganise themselves with Harry sitting with his legs straight out along the sofa and Draco kneeling at his feet. Draco grabs his left ankle and begins to peel back the sock.
That jolts through Harry enough to take care of what’s left of his erection. He quickly pulls his leg free of Draco’s gribs and brings his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “Er…”
Draco looks up, startled. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Erm, I just, uh, didn’t expect you to take my socks off.”
“I can leave them on, if you’d rather?”
Harry closes his eyes. He’s being dumb, this is Draco . He trusts him a stupid amount. He wouldn’t do anything. Neither of them are eleven anymore. Harry himself should definitely be more okay with this. He’s defeated Voldermort for Merlin’s sake, taunts from when he was eight shouldn’t affect him anymore.
“No, it’s okay.” Harry says, finding that he means it. He wants Draco to know. Harry opens his eyes and squints past Draco’s shoulder, toying with the tops of his socks. “The thing is, I don’t really ever let people see me with bare feet.”
“Hold on, we live together, I must have–.”
“You haven’t,” Harry says sharper than he meant to. “Sorry, I shouldn’t snap." He takes a deep breath. "My cousin and his friends used to make fun of me a lot for it and– oh here, I’ll just show you.”
Harry pulls off the socks from both feet. He doesn’t look down himself; he knows what they look like. The second and third toe of each foot are fused all the way up to the nail so that it looks like he only has four toes. He can still hear Dudley taunts, calling him a freak and a weirdo, Vernon echoing the insults. He remembers the day that Dudley learned at school which animals only have four toes and started calling him a dog, chasing him down the street barking.
He doesn’t dare look at Draco. “I know it’s ugly–”
“Oh Harry, no. You’re fine. They’re just toes.” Draco shifts closer, an earnest look on his face and puts his hand on Harry’s ankle. “Are you telling me you haven’t let anyone see your feet since you were a child?” He asks softly.
“Er, yeah.”
“I don’t know why I’m surprised at this point. Harry, please stop listening to things a bully child told you when you were a child. I mean, I must have insulted your hair a thousand times at Hogwarts and you still have this atrocious style.” Draco says, balancing with one hand on Harry’s knee to flick a lock of his hair.
“Yeah, well, it’s different with you.”
“It shouldn't be. You’re beautiful. Your feet included,” Draco says, sounding taken aback by his own words even as he says.
Harry’s stomach twists. Draco’s still so close, their faces inches apart, and did he actually just say… No one has called him that before. He couldn’t imagine anyone even thinking that of his feet.
“Sorry, sorry, that was crossing a line,” Draco starts to pull back.
And self control eroded by tiredness and the phantom feel of Draco's hands on him, Harry just– leans in and presses their lips together.
Draco freezes against him. His lips are so soft and warm and Harry revels in the feeling, but neither of them are moving. Harry starts to pull back; to apologise and try to scavenge what’s left of their friendship. But then Draco shudders and opens his mouth to him. They move hesitantly, softly. Then Harry puts his knees down and without breaking the kiss and Draco moves so he’s straddling his legs. The kiss deepens and suddenly Draco’s tongue is pressing against his. One of them moans. His hands end up pressed to Draco's back. Draco’s are in his hair.
Harry pulls back slightly, panting, and Draco’s mouth finds his neck. “Oh god.” He gets lost in the sensation. Whatever Draco is doing with his tongue should be illegal. He's going to have Draco’s marks on him after this. Like he’s Draco’s.
“Wait,” he gasps in a brief moment of clarity.
Draco immediately pulls back, his dazed expression quickly being panicked. “Did I–”
“No, no, sorry. I just thought, er, you, you’re really important to me and I don’t want to mess this up.” Draco is still sitting on his lap and it’s making it difficult to string his sentence together. “I mean to say, I think we should talk about this before we do anything that someone might regret.”
“Are you regretting this?”
“ I kissed you. ”
Draco smirks, smoothing a hand through Harry’s hair. “Harry, no. I’m not. How could I?”
Something loosens in Harry’s chest and he grins. “Me neither.”
Draco smiles back at him. “And when I say that I mean this is not a one time thing for me. I’ve been imagining this forever. I want– I want–”
I love you, Harry thinks and forces himself to hold the words back. It’s too soon for that. “Me too. I want everything.”
Draco jerks forward, but this time wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders. “I want that too,” he whispers. Harry returns the embrace, squeezing Draco around the middle. This is nice. This is more than he ever imagined. Draco in his arms, lips still puffy from kissing, and promises of so much more. Some of the adrenaline from the kissing fades and he relaxes back into the cushion of the sofa, content to have Draco resting against him.
“So when you say you’ve imagined this for forever…” Harry teases after a few moments of silence pass.
“We are never talking about that.”
“But–” Harry interrupts himself with a yawn. “Merlin, I’m tired. I haven’t even gotten dinner yet and I could probably fall asleep like this. I can’t believe I have to wake up at four in the fucking morning again."
“I wouldn’t mind if you fall asleep. I like this.”
Harry blushes. “Beds though. My legs will fall asleep if we spend the night with you sitting on me.”
Draco doesn’t move. To be fair, Harry doesn’t release his grip on him. “Do you still want the foot massage?”
Harry yawns again. “Later? I’ll probably pass out if you do and I really should eat something first.”
Draco presses a kiss into Harry's shoulder, then grumbling, he gets up. He offers a hand to Harry and pulls him to his feet (bare, for the first time around someone else in too long). “Fine, let’s find you some food then, Potter. If you insist on being responsible.”
They don’t drop their hands until they get to the kitchen.