Entry tags:

art, harry/draco, hp, my fic

Art Rec and impromptu ficlet: - H/D
Title: Love Line
Pairings: HP/DM
Rating: R
Word count: ~1200
Summary/Notes: I had offered up a prompt (folks had been crying out for crackish prompts) to hd_inspired back to school fest, but hadn't really been following it. Then Kapow! I almost missed this Awesome piece of art! Give Me Your Hand. Well even though it's anon… anyone who's looked at this person's art can recognize it. Nobody claimed the prompt for fic, so I had to write this short drabble/ficlet to go with it. ETA: the art was of course by the multitalented raitala

Beta thanks to Bubba and Pi for taking a quick look at this for me:)

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Harry took a series of deep breaths as he climbed the final staircase to the North Tower. When he had accepted the appointment as the DADA professor, he knew that he'd probably have to interact with Malfoy at some point in time. He'd managed two months, and as much as he didn't want to have to converse with Malfoy in private, it could not be avoided.

"Hullo?" Harry called out as he knocked on the open door. When there was no reply, he walked through the classroom to the door to Professor Malfoy's private quarters. Harry thought it rather odd that despite being Head of Slytherin House, Malfoy chose to live up in the tower.

When Harry knocked on the door, it swung open a few inches. The room was dimly lit with the warm glow of a dozen scattered candles and the starlight shining through a small window. "Malfoy?"

"Just a moment." Harry heard Malfoy call from another room inside his quarters. Harry stepped into the modestly adorned sitting room and waited.

The décor wasn't what he would have expected at all. For some reason Harry expected opulent wall hangings and Louis XIV furniture. He had seen Malfoy at mealtimes, as well as staff meetings, so he knew that Malfoy's dress reflected what one might expect of a Seer, but he assumed that Malfoy's private quarters would look more like Malfoy Manor. Instead, the room had an ethereal feel to it with only sparse furnishings. In fact there were hardly any furnishings at all – only piles of brightly colored pillows and silks strewn about haphazardly making the room more reminiscent of Professor Trelawney than Malfoy.

Divination and star charts lined the walls instead of paintings or ornate tapestries. There wasn't even a small table or desk to be seen. Harry tried to reconcile the airy natural feel of the room with the vengeful elitist boy that he'd known in his youth. But then Harry thought of the Draco Malfoy that he had seen glimpses of during the war – the worn and defeated posture, the conflicted expressions, and the desperate behavior. It had been ten years since he had seen Malfoy, on the last day of his trial. Harry had testified on his behalf. Malfoy nodded at him as he exited the Wizengamot chamber a free man.

"Professor Potter? What a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Harry was startled out of his reverie by Malfoy's formal greeting.

"Sorry to bother you so late," Harry began nervously, "but this really couldn't wait."

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Huh?"

"A drink? Scotch? I was just about to have one myself."

"Oh. That's… this won't take but a minute."

Malfoy flicked his wand and a decanter and two glasses floated in from the other room. With his wand outstretched, Malfoy steered them over to the floor by a small pile of pillows under the open window.

"Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable."

Reluctantly, Harry sat on the pillows. One drink wouldn't kill him. Besides, it would take the edge off of the extremely awkward first meeting.

"You can remove your shoes if you wish," Malfoy offered as he sat next to him.

"Oh. No need really." Harry noticed that Malfoy was barefoot and dressed in a loose shirt and lounging type trousers. To his recollection, it was the first time that he had seen Malfoy out of robes since the school year began.

Malfoy conjured ice in the glasses and poured two generous glasses of the scotch. "Cheers," he said, handing one to Harry.

"Cheers." Harry took a tentative sip and the alcohol burned as it slid down his throat. He took another longer sip and savored what must have been a well-aged scotch.

"So…" Draco put his glass aside. "I've been wondering when we were going to sit down for a talk. I must admit I was nervous when the Headmistress said that you'd accepted the post."

"Nervous? Why?" Harry took another long sip.

"Don't get me wrong. Minerva has always been upfront and supportive of me, but I thought that perhaps my tenure here had reached an end."

"I wouldn't… from what I understand you're doing a great job and the students are crazy about you."

Malfoy blushed, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what sort of metamorphosis must have happened after the war, after Malfoy had gained Sight, after McGonagall had taken him in at Hogwarts.

"Malfoy," Harry started.

"Call me Draco," he said with a shy smile. "May I call you Harry?"

"Umm, sure. Draco."

"Yes?"

"I needed to talk to you about Glinnilian and Humboldt."

"Seventh years. Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"Right." Harry took a steadying breath. "I caught them… umm… engaged in… umm…"

Malfoy looked at him with a completely lost expression.

"Snogging in my classroom," Harry blurted out.

Malfoy looked relieved. "Oh. Is that all?"

"Isn't that… I was hoping you could talk to him."

"It's not a big deal, Harry. They are of age and I find it comforting to know that at least someone in this castle is getting some."

"But…"

"Do you have a problem because they're both boys?"

"No," Harry replied defensively.

Malfoy smirked. "Because a Slytherin was snogging a Gryffindor?"

"No, that's not—"

"Let it go. It's not like you found them Hexing each other to death in a bathroom."

Harry fell silent. He turned away, unable to meet Malfoy's stare.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy murmured. "Truly. Sometimes…"

Harry looked up at Malfoy's pained expression. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't know what that spell did. If I had known…"

Malfoy nodded. "Hogwarts is my home. I don't want to leave."

"I'd never… Look, Malfoy," Harry noticed Malfoy's face stiffen. "Draco, I am willing to accept that things have changed, that you've changed. We can work together. I'm sure of it." Harry meant it.

Malfoy smiled and his body seemed to relax. "When was the last time you had a reading?"

"A reading?" Harry was confused by the abrupt change in conversation.

"Yes, a reading."

"A long long time," Harry admitted.

"Give me your hand."

"I don't think—"

"Pffft. Give me your hand. I'll do a quick Palm Reading. I'm not Trelawney with her macabre predictions of doom and gloom."

"Unfortunately in my case, most of those were true."

Malfoy froze.

Harry held out his palm. "I was joking. Well, not really, but do a reading."

Tentatively, Malfoy took Harry's hand. His grip was warm and sure. "Ahh, you have a very long life line."

"Despite the efforts to make it otherwise," Harry said goodnaturedly.

"Indeed." Malfoy's eyes met his for a moment before returning his attention to his palm. "You've overcome great adversity and still have a sense of humor."

"That's not much of a prediction. McGonagall assured me that you were a true Seer," Harry teased.

"I'm simply getting my bearings." Malfoy slid the hand around Harry's wrist a little higher up his forearm. A spark ignited between them.

Harry felt his hairs stand up on end and the distinct sensation of blood flowing to his crotch. Malfoy smiled at him knowingly.

"Let's look at your love line, shall we?"

"Not much there," Harry choked out. Suddenly, it grew uncomfortably warm in the room. Harry tried to pull his arm away, but Malfoy held it steady.

Their eyes met, and Harry could feel the blush in his cheeks. Malfoy looked confident and inviting as he said, "I can see you're going to take on a new lover. Very soon."

In that moment Harry realized that he had a newfound appreciation for the subject of Divination. Perhaps, some tutoring would not be remiss.