slytherinvalues:

The time when Harry and Malfoy are surprisingly domestic; And Ron nearly cannot process that :

Ron would never believe what he was seeing before his eyes.

Malfoy lived in a studio flat now, Harry had said. They had buried their old rivalry now, Harry had said. Harry was quite taken up with the blond ferret git now, he had said.

What Ron expected though, was certainly not this.

Upon stepping out of the floo into the living room, Hermione in tow, Ron’s brows began to furrow in confusion. The sight which welcomed him was a large, spacey room with sparsely furniture covering its white marble floor. The fireplace behind him cackles loudly, illuminating the huge wooden table in the middle of the room etched with meticulously designed carvings. The room was dimly lit otherwise, an open kitchen to the corner of the flat and paintings decorating the ivory coloured walls, family heirlooms floating along a corridor leading to a door which could only be the bathroom. At a side, a sofa with golden trimmings sat.

When Harry said studio flat, Ron did not expect this large, posh room with space enough to host a party. But of course, he wouldn’t expect less with Malfoy. If Malfoy was to live in a studio flat, it would be a mansion studio.

But what Ron really didn’t expect, was the sight before him. On the bed. An odd feeling welled up within Ron, as he felt his chest had ceased working to take breaths in. He felt like he was intruding into a fantasy bubble.

Because before him, Malfoy was perched in the middle a king size bed which was placed several feet off the ground on a small platform, half lying against the wall behind him. With one hand, he was flipping a book casually held in it, and the other hand…was currently wrapped protectively around the figure basically on top on him.

Ron could recognize that nest of messy dark hair anywhere, having known his best friend for a decade and said best friend’s profile always plastered on posters. What he could not begin to process, was that Harry was currently lying face down, sprawled across Malfoy, snoring softly. His face was buried deep against Malfoy’s collar bone, arms loosely clutching the body under him, in his, apparently, deep slumber. Malfoy’s chin was resting gently atop Harry’s head, eyes peering down at his book in concentration. A comfortable-looking duvet was thrown across both of their bodies, covering Harry waist down. Malfoy’s arms were left out.

What slightly unnerved Ron was, the both of them looked so cozy that it seemed like they had resumed the same position for the millionth time. Ron has no idea that this was the definition of “taken up”.

Hearing commotion, Malfoy eventually lifted his head up from his literature. He blinked at the couple before him for a moment, sighed, but not unkindly, then shifted.

To Ron’s slight horror, the ferret shut his book after marking his place in it, throwing it to a side, then used his now free hand to…begin slipping it into the head of dark hair resting on his chest. His fingers moved smoothly, tangling in the messiness. Ron looked on as Malfoy slowly caressed and massaged the scalp.

Then Malfoy began speaking, in the most gentle tone Ron had heard the git used that lacked every ounce of bitterness that he was familiar with. “Love, get up. They’re here.”

Gradually, the still figure on him began to stir. Clinging to Malfoy yet, he reached up to rub a fist into his eyes. Harry was not wearing his glasses, Ron noticed. Malfoy smiled down at him affectionately, a smile so secretive that Ron was not sure that he should be allowed to watch. Uneasiness in him remained, he watched on. Malfoy thumbed away a strand of hair which was blocking Harry’s face, cupping the cheeks in a light grasp and pressed a kiss to the scarred forehead, rousing his lover to wakefulness. Ron inhaled sharply.

Harry made a noise of confusion, but got up from his spot previously basically stuck to Malfoy. He staggered up, stepping down from the platform of the bed, which made him stand taller than Malfoy’s sitting form. A side of his face was red with imprints from being pressed to Malfoy’s shirt. Malfoy looked up at him with an almost fond, open expression on his face, soft smile still lingering. They started a what seemed like silent conversation with glances, or so Ron assumed, before Harry pointed a thumb towards the corridor. Malfoy nodded. “Go, shoo,” He said, waving a hand.

Then he turned to Ron and Hermione, acknowledging them for the first time since they got into the flat. “Sorry about that,” He said, with no intention of moving from the bed, “Poor one was working himself exhausted from doing overtime the whole week. He thought he could stay awake. I bet he can’t.” He gave a polite but slightly smug grin to Ron, and Ron suddenly found everything surreal.

/* /* /*

“Aww,” Hermione whispered beside him while they all wait for Harry to come out of the bathroom, “Aren’t they so cute?”

“Yeah,” Ron found himself agreeing, his voice faint to his own ears, “Which is exactly the issue here. What the hell was that?”

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(just a short one)

(more?)