Present

Archiving: just ask.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: H/D
Date Written: August 5, 2005
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Notes: for Reesa, who wanted Draco giving someone a present. Heh. :D

“Malfoy,” said Harry evenly. “What’s this?”

Draco slid his other hand in his pocket and eyed him. He had grown a lot taller, still enjoying the spurt that had left his hands long and graceful and his figure lean, as dark and wiry as his hair. “That would be a horcrux, Harry,” he said helpfully. “Number five, I believe.”

Harry stared at the bundle of cloth in Draco’s outstretched hand. “Why would you—”

“Consider it a present,” Draco shrugged.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You just show up and expect me to trust you, just like that?” Draco watched the light flicker over the rims of Harry’s glasses and thought that in all the years they’d known each other, known each other well, he’d never seen Harry remove his glasses. He reached up and gently lifted them off Harry’s face. Harry’s eyes widened, but he stayed still and allowed the touch.

“Apparently, that’s exactly what you’re doing,” Draco replied.

“You’re crazy,” said Harry, his voice low. “This could be a portkey, it could be anything, it could be—”

“The key to your destruction, yes, yes, but could we just get on with it?” Draco said. “I haven’t got all day.”

“What is it?” said Harry. “How did you get it?”

“It’s a wand, of course,” snapped Draco.

“Whose?”

“My father’s, if you must know.”

“Your father’s wand is a horcrux?” Harry blinked and his eyes went even wider. “What are you doing with it?”

“The dead don’t really have much use for magic, Potter,” said Draco dryly.

If nothing else, he appreciated the look on Harry’s face. “Oh,” Harry said. “Who—”

“Voldemort,” said Draco tersely. “But he didn’t know I knew about the Horcrux, and he didn’t have time to retrieve the wand before me.”

“Why did you come to me?” said Harry.

“I heard you were in the market,” shrugged Draco.

“Draco…” said Harry, and his voice held something new, like admiration or regret or respect or something equally imbecilic that caused Draco to clench the hand holding Harry’s glasses into a fist.

“Look, I rather need to go before the Death Eaters follow me here and kill one or both of us,” he said as snidely as he knew how, “and as I’d prefer it to be you, I hope you won’t mind my making an early exit.” He laid the wand and cloth down on the table beside him, but Harry reached up and wrapped his hand around Draco’s wrist.

Draco looked up, and a moment later strong fingers were tugging him forward and Harry’s lips were meeting his in a dry, hurried kiss.

Draco smirked against Harry’s lips, which were chapped and awkward, and prolonged the contact while he skittered his fingers over the inside of Harry’s wrist. When they broke apart he got an unforgettable glimpse of the raw green of Harry’s eyes without his glasses.

“Here, I suspect you’ll need these,” he said lightly, handing them back to him.

“Thanks,” said Harry, lightly as well, though his cheeks were tinged with red. “And thank you for the present.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Draco.

Harry grinned a bit shyly at him and unwrapped the wand. A second later there was a loud pop and a rush of wind as he vanished from sight.

“I didn’t say it was for you,” Draco added, and slid his hands back into his pockets.


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