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Thirty seconds before the fire consumes them, Harry Potter realises that he is in love with Draco Malfoy.
As far as timing goes, it’s not the most perfect situation and really, fate does seem to be holding some sort of vendetta against him, but at least he will die knowing that he’s in love with someone.
Someone who can be infuriating, who can make Harry want to hit something in frustration and at the same time shout off the rooftops his love for the bane of his existence.
Twenty seconds before the Fiendfyre rise its head, ready to devour them, Harry Potter says three words that hold the key to his heart.
“I love you.”
~*~
A week before his world turns upside down, Harry Potter was just an over-worked Auror, who had been sent on yet another mission without enough information to support him. Normally, he was okay with the fact that the Auror Department was, at the moment, severely understaffed with the ongoing bout of Dragon Pox, which led to over-hours and all in all just a whole lot of confusion.
But in this case he would have preferred to be informed that his partner on the case was going to be the acclaimed curse breaker, and git extraordinaire, Draco Malfoy. At least then he wouldn’t have cursed and thrown a tantrum in the Head Mistress’s office.
He would have done so in the privacy of his house.
As luck would have it, not only did Prof. McGonagall view his temporary descent to teenage sullenness but she also didn’t get a chance to glimpse the mature and calm adult he has definitely transitioned into. Which had been the image he had been going for.
At least Malfoy’s reaction had been no different from his.
(and at least he hadn’t blasted a biscuit tin in annoyance. He was surprised Malfoy hadn’t been put into detention.)
~*~
Six days prior to the most important day of his life Harry has no option but to face the fact that being around Malfoy makes him regress back into a petty and scowling version of himself. It’s not a realisation he’s proud off but at least he has the capability to accept his shortcomings. Malfoy on the other hand, does not take it very kindly when Harry points out all his faults.
In hindsight, maybe handing him a four-foot-long parchment has been taking it too far.
He knows, he knows that it’s important they work together because he can’t take care of the curse at Hogwarts alone but there’s just something so satisfying about needling Malfoy.
And it has absolutely nothing to do with the flush that rises on Malfoy’s cheeks when he’s angry or the adorable twitch of his nose when he’s trying to rein in his temper.
~*~
“You can be a complete prat at times, Potter but I must say, today you’ve shown me that behind all the fumbling, fashion-challenged mess is someone with a brain.”
Just five days before the biggest realisation of his life, Malfoy compliments Harry for the first time.
They have managed to pinpoint the Room of Requirement as the origin of the curse that’s causing surges of magic. It’s been kept contained to just one wing of the castle for now but at the rate it’s growing, they’re sure it would take over the whole castle within five days.
Malfoy’s face when they first stand in front of the wall, ready to call the room into existence, is one that makes Harry want to touch him, hold his hand or stand next to him so that Malfoy would know he’s not alone.
He looks nervous, ready to watch his life spiral out of control and it’s too much like Sixth Year for Harry to digest.
~*~
It takes them 2 days of research to realise that the cursed fire that is devouring everything is created by the Fiendfyre that was started five years ago.
It takes Harry five minutes to realise that Malfoy looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.
It takes him just a few seconds to come to terms with the realisation that he’s okay with holding Malfoy in his arms for as long as it needs for him to stop looking so scared.
~*~
“I used to have nightmares about it.”
Harry hasn’t told anyone about his night terrors, not even Ron and Hermione but he hates letting Malfoy feel like he’s the only one who is still affected by the events that occurred in that room.
Malfoy doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading, one of the many he’s been poring over since they uncovered the reason behind all the magical fluctuations, but Harry can see the tenseness in his shoulders finally relax a little.
“I used to have them every night,” Harry continues, aware that Malfoy is listening, “and I would wake each night terrified that I was back in the room. I could almost feel the heat of the fire on my skin, a heat so searing that I was convinced it was going to burn everything.”
He can feel the bile rise in his throat as the memories resurface. He is startled when Malfoy slips his hand over his.
They hold on to each other that night, each helping the other keep the nightmares at bay.
~*~
The night before they have to tackle the room, they go out to Hogsmeade.
It’s not a conscious decision but after hours of going over the theory there’s only so much they can do. They’re aware of their roles, Malfoy will perform the counter curse to end the Fiendfyre while Harry will provide the magical support to boost his.
Harry learns that Malfoy is an adorable and affectionate drunk. He stops after one drink himself just so he can appreciate this version of Malfoy, free from inhibitions. By the time they reach the castle, Malfoy is all but leaning on him, rambling about Harry’s hair.
“. . . and all I want to do is run my fingers through it and . . “
Harry stumbles back against the wall outside his room as Malfoy fall onto him, focused on getting his hands on Harry’s hair.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Malfoy whispers against his lips, bringing Harry’s attention to the fact that they’re pressed together, he can feel Malfoy’s chest rise and fall against his. He’s never before noticed just how red Malfoy’s lips are, or how he can stare into Malfoy’s eyes for hours.
Harry doesn’t know who leans first and as he bites down on Malfoy’s lower lip, he realises that he doesn’t care.
What matters is that after days of wondering about it he finally knows how Malfoy tastes. He can count Malfoy’s ribs under his fingers, feel the softness of his hair, leave bruises on that skin.
He can’t find it in himself to care because now he knows the breathy sighs that leaves Malfoy’s lips as Harry leans over him on the bed, he can recall the sight of Malfoy biting on his lower lip as Harry enters him, he can feel the drag of nails down his back.
Harry feels no concern for tomorrow because he knows this night, this one chance was more than he could have asked for and more than he could have known that he needed.
~*~
A minute before the fire can consume them, Draco Malfoy is ready to give up, he can’t move, can’t see, feel, breathe anything other than the fire.
Twenty seconds before they might die, Malfoy looks to his left to see Harry smiling at him as he says the words that make him breathe again.
The counter curse starts flowing off his lips before he’s aware of it.
~*~
“I told you you could do it.”
“Shut up, Potter, gloating doesn’t suit you.”