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That ugly thing

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After the war, Harry struggled to figure out who he was, besides ‘The boy who lived … Twice’. It took a few years and loads of short term jobs, like Auror advisor, substitute Defence Against the Dark Arts, helping Arthur tinker with muggle objects and even woodworking. The conclusion was though, he liked to work with his hands. Anything that kept his hands busy and his mind mostly blank, was exactly what he wanted.

He and Draco had moved into Grimmauld Place about a year or so after 8th Year as roommates and had a fast growing friendship. Harry had spent most of his time in Grimmauld curse breaking, getting rid of Dark Artefacts and painting the muggle way with the colours and patterns Draco thought best. Harry had to practically beg Draco to let him have a television in the living room so he could fill it with films and TV box sets he’s missed in his time away from the muggle world. He didn’t have to beg Draco too much to get a muggle record player, especially after he had found some of Sirius’ old records. They spent quite a bit of time dancing around the living room to Queen, The Cure, Fleetwood Mac and Pink Floyd. It took Draco a while to admit he loved muggle music, but they got there eventually.

Living with Draco, had its ups and down, but most of the time he was tolerable to live with. His parents had been exiled and the Manor had been seized by the ministry who (only at Harry’s insistence) allowed Draco to collect his belongings and any non Dark heirlooms or family memorabilia he wished to keep.

They liked living together, of course to an extent, but they had reached an unspoken understanding, that if they had nightmares or were just having a shit day, one could climb into the other’s bed without question. Meaning they often woke up wrapped around each other. They never spoke about the midnight cuddles or the occasional kisses to the forehead. Draco never asked about the cup of tea that was always on his bedside table when he woke up. And Harry never asked about all the quiet sizing alterations and sometimes new additions to his wardrobe.

They would never admit that they were falling in love with each other. They spent many years in the pure heat of ‘hate’ and definitely not absolute infatuation with each other. However, for Draco, he had to admit it to himself when Molly Weasley set Harry a challenge. Molly had given Harry the challenge of: knitting, and that set Draco on fire with excitement and encouragement. What could he say? He (secretly) loved a knitted jumper and sometimes wore one of Harry’s Weasley jumpers when he wasn’t home.

So Harry spent most nights with a Molly Weasley Certified jumper pattern, two sticks and a seemingly never ending amount of wool, in front of the telly watching daft british comedy shows, while Draco sat with a book trying not to give Harry the satisfaction of his enjoyment out of the telly. Some nights, Draco couldn’t help but giggle at Harry’s glasses hanging on the edge of his nose and looking down through them like Madam Pince when a first year student bought a book back a day late.

He also couldn’t stop himself from laughing until he nearly peed himself when Harry tried to use his knitting needle to Accio more wool and didn’t realise until its fifth attempt, Harry had just thrown the needle at him and told him to ‘piss off’.

As Christmas neared, Harry was growing more and more frustrated with the jumper, each time he lost a stitch he would throw it in the air and let it sit on the ground whilst he rubbed his hands over his eyes. Some nights he just leaves it there, otherwise he would just Incendio it without a second thought. But Kreacher (he pops up occasionally, to whinge about the uncleanliness of the house, but likes to spend his time in the Hogwarts kitchens) picks it up, dusts it off and leaves it on Harry’s armchair, grumbling away.

But on Christmas Eve, Harry and Draco exchanged simple gifts. For Harry, Draco got him a broom polishing kit, a signed picture of the Falmouth Falcons and a new dragonhide thigh holster for his wand. For Draco, a box of expensive muggle chocolate ( his other secret guilty pleasure) the box set of his favourite comedy show and an old transcript of Macbeth.

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching crappy Christmas telly and gossiping about Pansy’s rocky relationship and Blaise’s new business in ‘Helping people make new friends’ as Blaise put it but is definitely some sort of escort service.

In a lull in the conversation, Harry whispered that he’d finished the jumper, immediate excitement filled Draco. Whilst he did laugh at him a lot, Draco was encouraging Harry all the way.

“It’s really shit, but it's done” Harry whispered, his cheeks going red and hands fidgeting with his nails.

“Well? Show me you idiot!” Harry stood up quickly and pulled a pile of wool from behind the sofa, and shook it out to reveal a black and bright green striped jumper, with holes in it and loose threads and it was perfect. Ugly, but perfect.

“Umm, I made it for you” Harry whispered trying to hide his face with the jumper.

Draco’s heart melted, he could feel the weight of tears fill behind his eyes, this dumbass made him the most perfect ugly jumper and he loved it.

“Thank you, Harry, I love it” He reached out to touch the soft fabric, he brought it to his chest and kind of hugged it, smiling like someone had given him a baby kneazle. Before he could really think about his actions, he lent in and kissed Harry on his still blushing cheek.

The red of Harry’s cheeks just got even more intense as he stuttered out a “You’re welcome”.

Draco internally smirked when a dirty thought floated into his head. He slowly began to unbutton his shirt, making sure Harry was watching, he was kind of trying to look away but always seemed drawn to Draco’s pale and toned torso. Harry had sat down again trying to distract himself with tea and little mince pies.

Draco slipped the jumper over his head, his hand getting stuck in a rather large hole in the armpit, but quickly recovering. The little holes where Harry had lost stitches showed the pale skin underneath. He could see Harry’s eyes bug out a bit, knowing he had caught him.

“You look good - shit I mean, it looks good, the jumper I mean looks good, you look terrible, awful” Harry stuttered, rambling on a bit, his cheeks still red.

Draco giggled a little bit before asking “Harry can I try something?”

“Umm, sure”

Draco grinned, before climbing into Harry’s lap, so he was straddling him. Harry made a surprised noise but clung onto Draco’s hips anyway. Draco leaned down and kissed Harry, slotting their lips together like his life depended on it. It took Harry a few seconds for the shock to wear off before he brought his hands up to cup the side of Draco’s head and play with his hair. When they broke, panting, Harry’s glasses were skewed on his face and Draco’s cheeks were flushed.

“I think we should have done that a long time ago” Draco whispered, panting a little.

“Merlin, yes!” Harry smiled, leaning his forehead on Draco’s clearly angling for another kiss.

This time, their tongues collided and they moaned almost simultaneously, practically begging for more, it was wet and fun and neither of them could get enough. Draco sucked on Harry’s lower lip as he moaned and gripped Draco’s arse, kneading it lightly. They broke again.

“Wanna take this upstairs?” Draco whispered, smiling suggestively.

“Merlin’s hairy balls, yes, I want this, Draco please” Harry begged. “That bloody jumper looks so good on you” his voice changed into something less sexually charged.

Draco’s gaze softened, placing a hand flat on Harry’s chest “Harry, thank you, it means a lot, I really love it, thank you.”

He placed another kiss to his cheek and one on the corner of his mouth as a tease.

“I know, its not your usual fashion, and Pansy will try to burn it but I still, wanted you to have it”

“Pansy will have to claw it out of my cold dead hands before she can get to it, I love it.” Draco breathed seriously. “And Harry … I think I love you”

“I think I love you too”