Chapter Text
"What's on your arm?" Ron asks. He bites into a croissant and scatters flaky crumbs down his shirtfront. After another bite, he leans closer to Harry and inspects the smeared silver ink. "What's... 'Maffet' mean?"
"I don't know." Harry shakes his head. "Draco wrote his last name on me, but I can't read it."
"Give it here. If I can read my dad's handwriting, I can read anyone's."
Harry lays his forearm on the table between them. A few seats away, Draco's gaze flicks towards them, but only briefly.
"Or is it 'Mallet'? I guess they'd say it 'Muh-lay', right?"
"No idea."
Ron takes another bite, exposing a vein of Nutella, and his eyes roll back in his head. When he's recovered from his gustatory orgasm, he says, "Why don't you just ask him?"
For emphasis, Ron nods towards Draco, who's cradling his tea cup in both hands. He keeps sneaking glances at Harry.
"He tried to tell me last night, but he couldn't say it."
"You know French is bollocks when even they can't pronounce their names," Ron says.
Harry almost blurts out that he's not sure Draco speaks French at all, but he's not certain how translation charms work. And Pansy had mentioned some kind of language exam. If he got Draco in trouble, Harry would certainly never get to kiss him again. Let alone get his clothes off him.
"Yeah," Harry says vacantly.
"Maybe that's a U, not an A," Ron says, Nutella on his lower lip. "Muflaj? He's not Polish, is he?"
Harry shakes his head and catches Draco watching him.
Ron licks his lips clean. "Or maybe Mukjoy?"
Draco holds Harry's gaze while he sips his tea.
"Malyog?" Ron says.
Draco hones in on Ron.
"Muljoy?"
Draco sets his tea down.
"Mayjoy? No, that doesn't fit."
Harry tries to lean down into Draco's line of sight, but he shifts to better hear Ron.
"Malgoy?" Ron says. "Did I already say that?"
A muscle in the front of Draco's ear tightens.
"Molvoy? But the V is sorta..." Ron waggles his fingers. "...fancy?"
Draco's nostrils flare.
"Mohyog?"
Draco's lips purse into a tight line.
"Mmmal..." Ron says, squinting at Harry's arm. "Mal..."
Draco tenses to rise.
"Mal...JOY!"
Draco slams a fist on the table, stands up, and points a finger down at Ron. Furious, he opens his mouth and yells, "Maaaaaa..."
He claps a hand over his mouth.
Ron snorts a short laugh.
Draco tries again. "Maaaaaaa..."
Ron holds his fingers up, curled like goat horns. "Dra-goat Maljoy."
"MAAAAAA!" Draco stomps his foot.
Someone at the far end of the table whinnies like a horse, and the table erupts in laughter.
Draco clenches his teeth to muffle a shout. In one swift motion, he reaches up his sleeve, rips his bracelet off, and scatters beads everywhere. They bounce into marmalade, and clink into teacups, and one falls into Harry's lap.
"MALFOY!" Draco screeches. "DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY! You utter imbecile! Our parents went to bloody Hogwarts together, Weasley!"
Ron stares at him, slack-jawed.
The entire dining hall goes silent, but Draco doesn't notice.
"Really?!" Draco shouts. "Your family was at my parents' Yule ball last year!"
Ron shakes his head.
"Weasley! Seriously?! You were IN. MY. HOME."
Ron finally speaks. "You speak English?!"
"BETTER THAN YOU CAN READ IT, YOU FUCKING BELL-END!"
Draco shoves his hands in his robe pockets, brings them up to his mouth, then screams into the fabric.
The hall is so silent, that the heel clops of a single woman echo through the space. Faster than a storm front, Madame Maxine is looming behind Draco.
"Monsier Malfoy?" she says slowly. "Vous allez bien?"
"Uhm," Draco says, then swallows. "Weeeee."
She cocks her head, and so does Harry, because if Draco was trying to say 'oui', his accent is even worse than Harry's.
After looking at Draco, suspicion growing, she says, "Avez-vous terminer vos devoirs de la herbologie?"
"Uhm," is all that comes out of Draco.
"Vas-y." She nods towards the table.
"Uhm. Layyyy petite day-zhoo-nair est bon?" Draco says. He sounds as though he's reading from a dictionary. Poorly.
Her long, gnarled fingers hold a bead up to the light. She huffs derisively and says, in heavily accented English. "As I suspected, Monsier Malfoy. Follow me."
Across the table, Draco gulps, then turns away, and follows her. Harry's heart sinks at the sight of Draco's retreating form. When he loses sight of him, he lets out a sigh that ends with, "Shit."
--
It takes Harry all day to find him again. He skips classes, and lunch, and whatever had caused Hermione to send him a handmade Howler. Probably missed an exam.
So by the time he finds Draco, he's exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and just on the edge of delirium.
"There you are!" he says.
Draco has just stepped through the doorway from the Ombrelune common room. The back of the mermaid panting is an empty expanse of pale green water. Draco holds it open for him while he catches his breath, his hands on his knees. A bead of sweat runs from his temple onto his cheek.
"Not for long," Draco says.
There's a glow rounding the bend of a corridor. A fluttering red envelope gains altitude, trailing flames behind it. Another of Hermione's Howlers. Harry sights down the end of his wand, like a rifle, and shoots it down with a perfunctory "Glacius!"
Draco clears his throat and looks more than a little impressed. For the first time, Harry notices the suitcases in Draco's hands, and the bag slung across his chest. And he's wearing jeans. Rather tight jeans.
"Sorry," Harry says. "What do you mean, 'not for long'?" He nods towards Draco's suitcases. "You're leaving?"
"I've been expelled. For failing a re-administered language exam."
"Oh," Harry says, at a loss. "Uhm. Sorry. I guess."
He can't help but feel a little to blame. Even if Draco had definitely been cheating.
Draco sighs. "It's not your fault. You didn't bribe my French tutor to skip lessons for three years."
"Do you have to leave now?" Harry asks.
He'd been hoping for at least a little time alone together.
Draco catches Harry glancing at the open door of the common room, and a quiet, tight smile blooms on his face.
"I don't have to report for expulsion for a few more minutes." He nods towards the sofa. "If you wanted to..."
"Yeah?!" Harry blurts. "I mean- Uhm. Yes."
He glances behind himself before following Draco, and there's a slow, oddly shaped fireball drifting down the corridor. Harry squints at it. It's a whole flock of Hermione's Howlers. Bloody killjoy.
Harry wraps two spells in his mind, thinks 'Glacius' while he says, "Ventus!" A bitter cold wind whips through the hall, and a tornado of snow eats the Howlers, leaving a sizzling, pulpy mess.
Draco pulls him across the threshold, then pulls the painting shut after him. Before Harry can say a word, Draco pins him up against the painting. His hips, his chest, they keep Harry against the painting. He can hear the murmur of the deep see, and feel the back and forth pull of the current. It's like being pinned against an underwater window.
They make eye contact and exchange bashful, eager smile before Draco leans down and kisses him. Standing, Draco's height is evident in a way it wasn't when they were on the sofa. Then, Harry had laid him out like a feast. Here, Draco traps him against cold glass with the mere touch of warm lips and solid weight.
Draco pulls away first, and that's when Harry realises it's a goodbye kiss. They both lick their lips, chasing the taste of the other.
"What, uhm..." Harry clears his throat and musters up his courage. "What happens... You know... with, uhm. Us?"
It's a bold presumption, the word 'us'.
Instead of rebuffing him, Draco is quiet. He sucks on his bottom lip, his gaze trained on Harry's mouth. "I assume I'll be sent to Hogwarts."
"Really?" Harry asks, a spark of hope flickering in his chest. Visions of getting backed up against the Slytherin windows dance in his head. And then turn into fantasies on sofas and beds and throw rugs that make blood settle in his cock, not his brain.
Draco lets out a heavy sigh. "Pity I have exactly one reason to attend Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts, and he'll be sleeping in Ombrelune without me."
All of Harry's fantasies shatter like sugar glass. "No..." he whimpers.
"Mm hm."
"But I'll be back home for Yule..." Harry offers. "So we can see each other then, right?"
Draco sighs again, but without the heavy edge to it. "I suppose. That's months away, though."
Gradually, as they've been talking, the entryway has grown brighter, and the light is odd: a flickering flame, turned seafoam green. It makes Draco's eyes glint the color of tarnished copper. Green is good on him.
"Maybe I can get a Portkey on the weekends and-" Harry stops short, because someone is pounding on the other side of the painting.
"Harrrrrrryyyy!" A voice drifts through the glass and water.
The banging and knocking sounds like it's coming from a submarine, leagues away. When he turns, there's Hermione's silhouette, framed by flaming Howlers like some demonic backwoods sorceress emerging from the forest.
Her voice is wavery and murky through the water, but she's clearly yelling his name.
"Uhm," he says to Draco. "I think she wants to talk to me."
Draco nods tightly and takes a step back. After a glance at the scene, he slides his luggage further from the painting.
"Right," Harry says, then braces himself. He pushes the door open a crack. "Sorry, 'Mione, I know you've been trying to-"
"Harry!" Hermione stomps in, shoes sodden. The corridor floor is soaked, and water pours from the outside of the painting. The Howlers are sizzling and screaming at the same time. But Hermione is louder. "Where have you been?!"
"I was looking for Draco, and I-"
"You missed it!" she shouts. The steam from the Howlers isn't doing her hair any favours. "You idiot!"
Harry and Draco exchange baffled looks. "Missed what?"
Hermione looks like she's going to screech, grow a toothed beak, and rip his head off like a pterodactyl.
"The Challenge!"
Harry waits for her to explain, and when she doesn't, he softly says, "The what?"
And then, Hermione does screech, but she doesn't eat his skull. But she probably would if she could. "The first Challenge of the Tournament! You know! The whole reason we're here!? Little thing called the Tri-Wizard Tournament? Heard of it?"
"Uhm." Harry tries to recall today's date and fails. "Oh."
"We lost, Harry! By forfeit!"
"Oh, shit," Harry says. Draco grimaces, but stays wisely silent. "I just have to win the other two Challenges, I guess."
"No, Harry, we lost-lost! We're done! Out!"
"But-"
"We didn't show up for the very first Challenge, so we're out of the Tournament."
Harry squints at her. "That can't be-"
"Did you actually read that book I gave you?" she asks, then harrumphs and crosses her arms over her chest. "Or did you just look at the pictures?"
Draco snorts a laugh that he tries and fails to hide in his hands.
Harry has to stifle a laugh, too. "So what happens now? Some kind of extra Challenge to get back in?"
"No, we have to pack up and leave."
Harry hears Draco's breath catch, and Harry's already holding his. He and Draco look at each other and both try to not smile.
"We're going back to Hogwarts?" Harry asks, trying to not sound as hopeful as he feels.
Draco's given up on hiding his excitement. His eyes are that twinkling grey-green again, and his cheeks are pink.
"Yes," Hermione spits. "And I've been sent to get your things, because you're expected to present yourself in the Headmaster's office immediately."
She says it all so emphatically that it feels like she's using her hands while speaking, but they're clenched tight at her sides. After glaring at him for a few terse moments, she shoulders past him, then walks like a tin soldier through the common room, and disappears down a hallway.
Draco watches her leave, then turns back to Harry, grinning. "So sorry you lost, hm?"
Harry steps closer, closing the gap between them. "I'm devastated."
"I imagine," Draco says, and puts a hand on Harry's waist.
Harry returns the gesture, then slides his fingertips under the waistband of Draco's jeans. Draco kisses him again. It's the slowest one so far. It's a kiss that knows it has time. It's a kiss that knows it's only the first of so, so many. It's a kiss that will, in time, become home.
Harry finishes it softly, in stages. First, he gives up Draco's lips against his. Then, the brush of his nose against his upper lip. And finally, the release of the breath they held.
Draco gives him a quick peck, like a garnish. Harry licks it away and nods towards the open door.
"May I escort you home, Monsieur Malfoy?" He picks up one of Draco's suitcases, then holds out an elbow.
Draco picks up the other, then loops a hand through Harry's elbow. "Oui."
--