Prompt: # 7
Summary: ”8th year - Muggle Studies has been made mandatory for graduation. Harry and Draco are assigned to work on a final project together, and go off to spend the Christmas holiday in Berlin. Draco discovers the Muggle world is not as primitive and useless as he previously thought. Harry discovers the crush he once had on Draco long ago is back - and for the new, reformed Draco, back with reinforcements.”
Word Count: 8400
Author's Notes: Thanks to amorette for the beta, I owe you so much. Thank you to the mods for their patience. I hope you enjoy this dear prompter, this was a labour of love I tell you, even though I didn’t manage to get everything you wanted in there. I would recommend everyone to visit Berlin if they ever get a chance. Forget everything you’ve ever heard and just go. Title is in German and means “Just us two.” Hope you enjoy the story.
Nur wir beide
"Are you serious? I have to spend the entire Christmas holidays with Potter in a foreign country as a Muggle, just the two of us?”
Harry can hear the fury in Malfoy’s voice and he knows he shouldn’t feel the hurt in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t help himself.
“There is no choice in matter, Mr Malfoy. This month is designed to make all of you who are pure-blooded fully understand how Muggles live. And we don’t expect you to go completely on your own, so we’ve paired you up with someone who has grown up in the Muggle world. In addition, we thought it prudent to send you somewhere where you may not be recognised,” their Muggle Studies professor answers Malfoy in her nasally voice.
Malfoy shakes his head incredulously and sits back in his chair. Harry turns his head to Hermione, who is looking at him with a far too speculative look on her face. It makes his insides squirm. The rest of the lesson passes without another word from Malfoy, and Harry tries to concentrate on his notes.
When the class is dismissed, everyone makes their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry falls into step behind Malfoy and says to him, “At least we’re not going to be freezing our arses off in Siberia.” Instead of answering Malfoy only scoffs before walking faster away from him. Harry lets him get away, then Hermione comes to his side.
“I know that look, Harry,” she whispers before squeezing his hand gently.
They sit down at the table for eighth years that now occupies the Hall. “So, are you excited about the month?” Harry asks Hermione to try to change the subject.
She smiles indulgently at him. “I guess I am. It’ll be nice to see another city for a month. And you know I can’t resist teaching people.”
Now Harry is the one to smile at her. He knows he will miss her terribly when they are apart for the year.
“You’re so lucky that you get to go to Berlin; it’s got such interesting history and it’s meant to be beautiful this time of year because of the Christmas Markets.”
Harry indulges her again because it is good to see her smile after Ron had decided he didn’t want to come to Hogwarts with them.
The next three weeks pass in a blur as the whole of the eighth years get ready to leave for Christmas. Harry spends a lot of time brooding about what they are going to do during the month in Berlin; Hermione begins teaching him about the history of Berlin, so much so that Harry is sure he could recite it in his sleep. When Harry asks Malfoy for his opinions on the areas, he is brushed off with shrugs. So within two weeks, Harry has the entire itinerary sorted with no input from Malfoy.
All the eighth years are bundled into a rickety carriage together, with their luggage strapped to the top, there is a sense of excitement and anxiousness in the air. The excited chatter from Harry's classmates washes over him as he tries to contain the fluttering in the pit of his stomach. He looks over at Malfoy who is also silent and absorbed in a book Harry can’t read the title of.
All of them are dropped off at the airport in Edinburgh, and here the difference between those who grew up in the Muggle world and those who grew up in the wizarding world becomes very obvious. The one in each pair who grew up amongst Muggles immediately starts searching for the information board to find the check-in desk for their flight. When Harry and Hermione see that their desks are at other ends of the airport, they know they have to say goodbye.
Hermione squeezes Harry tightly to her and whispers in his ear, “Good luck. If you need me, ring me.” She thrusts a piece of paper with a telephone number into his hand. “See you in a month.”
He watches her drag Neville with her, who is looking around in wonder. Only when the two disappear into the crowd does Harry turn to Malfoy, who is busy looking around in what seems to be mild panic. “Come on, we’ve got a plane to catch,” Harry says in what he hopes is a calming tone.
He pushes their luggage trolley to wait in the queue of the check-in desk and starts looking through the plastic wallet they’ve been given with passports, tickets, and a phone for each of them. He hands Malfoy his documents.
Malfoy looks at him blankly and says, “What is this?”
“These are your tickets for the flights; apparently we have a connecting flight from Frankfurt. So we should get into Berlin about mid-afternoon, and then we can get a taxi to the flat we’ve got booked. You alright with that?” Only on the final sentence does Harry look up from the documents in the wallet.
Malfoy doesn’t say anything as he stares at the passport in his hand; he keeps looking at it with disgust.
Harry chuckles. “The photos usually are terrible, but it’ll have to do.”
Malfoy shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. The part where it says area of permanent address.”
“Yes, that is where you live during the holidays, is it not?” Harry says slowly.
“It’s silly really. It’s just strange, I’ve not been back since – well.” Malfoy pauses, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Since the end of the War.” He looks Harry directly in the eye and Harry nods at him in understanding before clearing his throat, he feels terrible for asking.
They wait in the queue until they reach the desk, where they are greeted by a woman sitting her computer tapping away at the keyboard. She looks at them briefly before holding out her hand and says, “Tickets and passports, please.”
Harry gives the woman the documents.
“Did you pack your own bags?”
“Did anyone ask you to pack anything for them?” Harry shakes his head, and the lady taps another key. "If you could pop your luggage onto the belt then, please.”
Harry heaves the suitcases up and the woman at the desk sticks a label round the handle. Malfoy stands next to Harry impassively. Harry looks to him expecting a sneer on Malfoy’s face, but instead he sees a look of interest grace Malfoy. He is stunned by the way it transforms Malfoy’s features into something even more handsome than previously.
The woman at the check-in desk hands Harry the passports as well as the boarding passes with instructions which gate they need to find. Harry hands them to Malfoy to look after. Harry shoulders the bag he is using for hand luggage and starts making his way to the departures lounge and their gate. Before they reach the security queues, Harry takes Malfoy aside to explain the procedure of the security check.
“So let me get this right: Muggles are so paranoid something might happen, that before they are locked into a metal tube for several hours, they are searched to within an inch of their lives.” Malfoy sounds incredulous, and Harry laughs and shrugs.
“I guess that’s just the way it is,” he says.
Malfoy sighs. “Alright, let’s go get treated like Muggles.”
Harry goes first to show Malfoy how to go through it, and it goes fine: his hand luggage is given back to him without any questions, and the metal detector doesn’t beep at all. Malfoy, however, is another story. As soon as he passes through the gate, the machine starts beeping and the security guard waves him over and pats him down. Then Malfoy’s bag is picked up by the x-ray and another security guard searches through it. As Malfoy’s wand is under a Notice-Me-Not spell, the guard doesn’t even acknowledge it.
“That’s all fine, sir,” the man says in the local accent. Malfoy merely nods and smiles before grabbing his bag. “Have a safe flight, you two.”
When they sit down in one of the rows of uncomfortable seats, Malfoy turns to Harry and says, “You never explained what these are.” Harry looks at the thing Malfoy is holding and can see it is one of the phones the school had provided them.
“That is a smartphone. Muggles invented them as a sort of mixture between a computer and a telephone.”
“A what and a what?”
“A telephone works similar like a Floo call, except you don’t see the person; you just hear their voice. And a computer is a device on which Muggles do all sorts of things. It’s almost like an extension of a brain; you can look for information on the Internet, or play a game, or write a document.”
Harry expects a comment about the ridiculousness of the inventions, but what he gets is something he is surprised by, and that’s the softly whispered, “Wow,” Malfoy utters.
“We’ve got a half hour before we have to board the plane, so I can set up your phone for you. It’ll be helpful if you know how to use it when we get into Berlin and you get lost.”
“Like I plan on being away from you in a Muggle community,” Malfoy says with mirth.
Harry chooses to ignore that and instead shows Malfoy the ins and outs of the device in his hands. Malfoy proves to be an adept learner who seems indecently fascinated with how it works. Within ten minutes, he is already discovering functions that Harry didn’t know even existed.
“So I have to put your number into this bit. Ok, so it asks for a photo as well.” Harry tries to duck out of the way as Malfoy aims the camera at him. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, hold still, Potter.” Finally Harry gives in and holds still long enough for Malfoy to take a picture, which absurdly makes him smile.
They sit in silence for a while, listening to the announcements on the tannoy system. Malfoy is occupied with his phone. He looks just like one of the several commuters. Harry whispers this into Malfoy’s ear, and Malfoy grins widely. Harry is struck by how much this lights up Malfoy’s entire face. He almost misses the announcement for their flight, but thankfully he sees the board flicker with the information. Harry grabs Malfoy’s hand, as he is still absorbed in the phone.
They board the flight, with Malfoy looking around in awe, find their seats, and stow away their luggage. Harry has to show Malfoy how to buckle himself in; he can see the beginnings of fear in Malfoy’s face. Even though he knows it won’t help calm Malfoy, he says, “You know, I’ve never actually flown in an airplane before.”
Malfoy looks at him with horror in his eyes. “I thought you were gallivanting all across the world before you came to Hogwarts.”
“No, the Dursleys wouldn’t want to spoil any of their holidays with my presence. When they went away, they would always leave me with one of the neighbours.” Harry can’t keep the bitterness from his voice; even though he knows Mrs. Figg had only ever been on the lookout for him, it still reminds him of the many ways the Dursleys had neglected to pay attention to him.
“I didn’t know,” Malfoy says quietly. “How come you know so much about airports, then?”
“Hermione told me all about them; she went away a lot with her parents, and I went with her to get her parents from the airport when they returned from Australia.”
“Yes, I did hear about that. She managed to perform a complex memory charm on her parents and then, after an entire year, reversed it successfully. She really is something.” Harry can hear the respect in Malfoy’s voice, and he wants to say something but is interrupted by the security announcements. He looks around the plane and sees that the only people paying attention to them are children and Malfoy, who has a look of childlike wonder on him.
As the plane starts rumbling, the look on Malfoy’s face changes again, and Harry pats his arm, trying to calm his own fear. Malfoy grips Harry’s arm tightly as the plane accelerates and finally lifts from the ground. Malfoy’s grip remains tight on Harry’s arm until the plane levels. Harry yawns as he tries to rid the pressure on his eardrums.
“What are you doing?” Malfoy asks.
Harry smiles. “Trying to regulate the pressure in my ears. You try it; it might make you feel better.”
Malfoy yawns and then grins; his grin gets bigger as the small screen drops down above them. For the rest of the flight, Malfoy watches the numbers tick down the miles till they reach Frankfurt.
Frankfurt airport is even bigger than Edinburgh, and therefore even more confusing; Malfoy has another look of puzzlement on his face. Harry takes his hand and drags him to catch their connecting flight. This time when the plane takes off, Malfoy isn’t as worried, but he still wraps his hand around Harry’s arm.
When they finally reach Berlin, it is quite late in the afternoon, and it is snowing heavily. They decide against taking the underground to the flat and instead get a taxi. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry watches Malfoy, who is looking out the window thoughtfully. He reaches over and squeezes his hand before he can stop himself.
“We’re nearly there,” Harry says quietly.
Malfoy smiles at him briefly before turning back to the window.
The flat is next to the canal that runs through Kreuzberg. Harry has to show Malfoy how to use the key to open the door, as he is used to doors opening with a spell. Harry thinks it is rather cute, but he is careful not to say that as he's sure Malfoy will hit him if he does. When they get the door open, they are both blown away by the size and look of the flat. The ceilings are high and light, with windows going almost the whole way up. As they look around the flat, they find they have more space for the next month than they had expected.
“I’m half starved. Do you want to go dump your bags and find somewhere that has food?” Harry asks Malfoy.
Malfoy answers with a grin and takes the bag off of his shoulder. “Come on then. We can explore the flat later, and pick a room. I think I might curse someone if I don’t have any food soon.” Harry is stunned at the humour in Malfoy’s voice. “I think I’ll be able to find a restaurant with this.” Malfoy is holding his phone into the air.
“Go on then, find us something to eat,” Harry says as Malfoy is already bent over the device, tapping away at the screen.
“Got it. The nearest one is an Italian restaurant. Do Muggles only ever do their food by type rather than just serving everything at once?” Malfoy asks as they head back outside into the freezing cold.
“I don’t know. Muggles have always done it that way; I think sometimes they just like to put everything into categories to make it easier to sort out.”
Malfoy seems to find the explanation adequate, so they follow the directions the phone gives them. They end up in a restaurant that is very small but where they are served excellent food and cheap wine which they still enjoy.
After almost two hours, they go to a supermarket to buy some food for the next morning before heading back to the flat. Harry is used to the bright colours and the stark lighting of supermarkets, but Malfoy is not. Harry can see him looking around in wonder. Harry picks out things he thinks will be most suitable for them, but Malfoy adds packets upon packets of sweets, as these are the brightest.
“How do Muggles resist this temptation?” Malfoy asks Harry as he sneaks yet another box of chocolates into the basket in Harry’s hand.
Harry laughs as he puts the box back on the shelf and Malfoy pouts. “I think it’s because it’s usually adults who go shopping, and not children.”
Malfoy gives him a playful glare that Harry laughs off again. They head to the only open till that has one woman staring dejectedly into the distance. Harry places the items onto the conveyor belt, and Malfoy hisses at him.
“How does it work, Potter?”
Harry shakes his head in answer and says, “I really don’t know. I suppose it’s a motor that pulls it along, but I’m not sure.”
Malfoy’s answer is interrupted by the first beep of the scanner, which attracts his attention immediately with a look of childish glee. When the woman has scanned the items and Harry has packed them into a bag, Malfoy is desperate to pay the cashier with the brightly-coloured Euros. “Potter, can you explain this money to me, please?” he says after he has received his change.
Harry smiles indulgently as they head into the cold for the final time that evening. It is getting dark, snow begins to fall, and they hurry along to get back inside before they are completely soaked through.
Inside the flat, Harry puts the food in the fridge, which Malfoy thoroughly inspects.
Harry says, “It’s how they preserve food that goes off quickly, like milk or meat. They can’t really use a Preservation Charm, now can they?”
“No, I suppose not. It is incredible the things Muggles come up with. Now explain the money.”
Harry sighs before getting out his wallet and putting all the coins and notes he can find onto the table. “In Germany, like in the rest of Europe, they have this currency called the Euro. Unlike Wizarding money, Muggle money usually comes in evenly divisible amounts. So for example, this is one Euro exactly.” He holds up a Euro coin. “It can be divided by a hundred into cents where 100 of these,” he holds up the tiny 1 cent coin, “make one Euro. With me so far?”
Malfoy nods quickly and says, “One hundred cents is equal to one Euro.”
Harry grins at Malfoy and adds, “From the Euro, it’s fairly simple, as you just have more of them. The only difficult bit is that it’s a decimal currency. Which is why you have coins like five, ten, twenty, and fifty cent coins so you can make up the bit after the decimal point.”
Now Malfoy looks completely baffled, and Harry laughs.
“Don’t worry I still don’t understand it fully myself either. I usually just try to give them the note that is higher than the amount they want paid and then sort the change out later.”
“So the bits of paper are ‘notes’? And they go up, too?”
“Oh yes, the bits of coloured paper are notes. They have the amount they are worth printed on them, and they go up to 500 Euros, but most places tend not to accept that note. I believe Hermione said it was for security reasons.”
“Why security reasons?”
“In case of theft, I imagine. I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered. Which room do you want?”
Malfoy nods at him and they walk back to the hallway to choose a room. Malfoy heads for the door right at the end of the corridor, which opens into a bathroom. The next door he opens is a bedroom, and he says, “I’ll go for this one then, I suppose. Good night Potter.”
Harry smiles at him and says, “Good night Malfoy. See you tomorrow.”
The door next to Malfoy’s is another bedroom that Harry goes for. On the wall opposite the (far-too generous double) bed is a TV, which Harry turns on because he wants something on in the background. He slings his suitcase onto the floor, not bothering to unpack anything. He takes off his jeans and t-shirt and drops them onto the floor as well. He gets into bed and snuggles into the pillows. As the TV is currently squawking at him in German, he rummages in the bedside table for a remote which he uses to find an English news channel. He turns the volume low so as to not disturb Malfoy. Finally, he drops off into an exhausted sleep.
The first week, they do some of the more touristy things. One day, they go to the Reichstag and enjoy the view of Berlin. At one point, Harry is walking towards the exit and notices Malfoy isn’t with him anymore. He looks around to see if he can find him anywhere. Harry finally spots him kneeling in front of a small child who’s dropped something on the floor, and Malfoy is picking it up again for the child with a smile on his face. The child grins at him and runs back to his mother, who says a thank you to Malfoy.
Malfoy spots Harry and hurries over to him. “They’re not so different to us at that age, are they?” Malfoy asks.
Harry shakes his head. “No, children are children after all; the difference really is only the things they can do and learn.”
“It’s weird - all my life I’ve been told Muggles are below us, that they are not worth the air they breathe. But now looking at them, and being amongst them, it’s a bit daunting. They have found ways of doing things that Wizards wouldn’t even dream of. I mean, these Muggle wands they’ve given us are incredible. Maybe magic limits us from looking at things in a more creative way.”
Harry laughs deeply. “You know, I’ve never looked at it in that way.”
Malfoy shrugs and they make their way to the exit of the Reichstag. They decide to go down to the street in front of the Brandenburger Tor, which they stop at briefly to visit the small exhibition about what it was like when the wall was there. Malfoy asks questions about everything. Some of them, Harry can answer, as Hermione had made him research so much. But other questions, Harry can’t answer, and each time, Harry apologises to him.
“Don’t apologise, Potter. You must think me so stupid. Not knowing things a five-year-old would know.”
Harry shakes his head. “It’s fine. That’s how I felt when I first learned I was a wizard. If you grow up somewhere, it is much easier to understand how everything works. I remember before we ever had any lessons at Hogwarts, I was so worried that, growing up with Muggles, I would be a rubbish wizard. Even now, there are things you would do with magic that I might do by hand.”
Malfoy is silent for a moment. “Honestly, I’ve never thought about that. Magic just seems like such an innate part of everything I do. I mean, all the charms for even the most basic of things. And Muggles don’t have any of that.”
He sounds so upset with his own worldview that Harry throws an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s head back, have some food, and warm up, considering how fucking cold it is.”
Malfoy nods and they walk to the nearest U-Bahn station. They get out at the station near the flat, and it is snowing. Fat white flakes fall heavy from the sky covering the already lightly dusted streets with another layer. Harry is about to gather a handful of snow and throw it at Malfoy when he feels a snowball hit him in the side of his face. He whips round to see a grin on Malfoy’s red face.
“That’s it,” Harry says before launching his handful of snow at Malfoy. It catches him full in the face, and before he wipes it away, Harry notices the snowflakes that cling to his lashes and the way that makes his eyes sparkle.
“Not fair, Potter. I’m already freezing, and now it’s sliding down my neck.”
Harry throws his arms up in mock surrender. Turning on his heel to walk to the flat, he doesn’t get far before another snowball hits him in the nape of the neck.
“That was fair, Potter. Don’t argue. This is payback for thinking I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot Malfoy,” Harry says gently.
Malfoy doesn’t say anything, only quirks an eyebrow. He rushes past Harry to open their door, clearly so pleased with himself that it only takes two attempts to open it.
When Malfoy takes off his coat to hang it up, his shirt becomes untucked to reveal a toned, pale stomach that makes Harry’s mouth dry with a sudden maddening desire to touch.
“Right. I’ll make dinner then. Pasta all right with you?” he says to distract himself.
Malfoy nods and Harry sets a pan of water onto the hob. He is smiling as he does so, as he can still see the look of pure joy on Malfoy’s face as he is getting the ingredients together.
The whole time Harry is cooking, Malfoy pokes his nose into everything Harry is doing, asking questions and stealing bits of food out of the pans and then yowling when he burns his tongue. It makes Harry laugh, as Malfoy seems more carefree and happy than he has ever seen him.
The flutter he felt in his stomach months ago whenever he thought of Malfoy returns, and he is sure it is worse this time. Harry swallows the feeling, as he knows it would make things difficult for him.
After dinner, Malfoy follows Harry into his room and sits on the bed. “I bought some DVDs the other day when you had a nap. Can we watch them?”
Harry is a little surprised at the request, but he nods his agreement.
Malfoy grins and goes back into the hallway to collect a plastic bag containing a small collection of DVDs.
“Aren’t all of these German?” Harry asks as Malfoy looks through them.
“Hmmm?” Malfoy isn’t paying him any attention as he flicks through the DVDs.
“Malfoy. Aren’t all of these DVDs in German? We won’t understand a word.”
“No. I checked, and all of these are in English as well. And you know, you may as well call me by my first name, seeing as we are living together.”
Harry is a little shocked at Malfoy’s - no, Draco’s - suggestion, but mostly he is incredibly pleased.
“If you say so, Draco,” Harry says with mirth.
Draco picks a brightly coloured DVD out of the bag. He passes it to Harry, and he settles into the bed. Harry puts the DVD into the slot in the TV, and then sits on the opposite side of the bed.
The film starts, and it is indeed in English. The film is a comedy that is funny at times but also quite thought-provoking.
About halfway through the film, Harry shifts to a more comfortable position. It is then he notices that Draco is closer to him than he expected. When he looks over, Draco is almost curled into Harry’s side. Harry watches the open and rapt attention Draco is paying the film. It makes him want to lean down and kiss Draco gently. But he doesn’t, because even though Draco clearly regards him as a friend, this is surely not the type of friendship Draco has in mind.
Near the end of the film, Draco has fallen asleep in Harry’s bed. One hand curled against his chest and the other open, almost as if he wants Harry to curl against him. Harry turns the TV off with the remote and settles down to sleep as well.
Early in the morning, he wakes up incredibly warm. He finds arms wrapped around him, and he relaxes back into them. He enjoys the breadth of the chest that is pressed against his back and the way a leg has been slung over his hips. It is only when he shifts slightly to get himself more comfortable that he feels the swell of Draco’s cock against his arse, and the urge to push back to increase the pressure. He realises he can’t allow this to happen. Harry carefully extracts himself from Draco’s arms, trying to ignore his sigh of discontent that almost makes him get back into the bed.
Instead, he goes into the bathroom, fills the bath with too-hot water, strips off his clothes, and sinks in to his neck. Only then do his hands wander down to his aching cock. He lets thoughts of Draco surface in his mind as he strokes himself. The image that finally brings him over the edge is Draco sinking into him with a whisper of his name.
He drains the bath, wraps himself in a dressing gown, and ends up in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea. When Draco joins him, his hair is mussed and there is the obvious imprint of Harry’s pillow on his cheek. Harry’s chest aches at the sight.
“Sorry about that, Harry. Must have dozed off. Hope I didn’t snore?” Draco asks and looks relieved when Harry shakes his head. “I’ll be honest: that was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in absolute ages.”
He reaches over to Harry and steals the mug out of his hands, letting his fingers brush against Harry’s, before taking a sip and grimacing. Harry chuckles and says, “Make your own if you don’t like how I take it.”
“Oh, I like the way you take it just fine. You’ve just let it get a tad too cold, don’t you think?” Draco laughs.
The day Harry really notices it is the day they go to the Checkpoint Charlie museum. The whole way through, Harry barely has eyes for the exhibition; he can’t look away from Draco. It’s the expression on his face. That he knows now is pain mixed with sympathy. He realises then that this must be what it was like for Draco when Voldemort was living in the Manor. How he would never have been able to trust anyone - the constant fear of punishment for the smallest things.
It breaks Harry’s heart for Draco. Without thought, he reaches for Draco’s hand and squeezes it.
They walk through the rest of museum hand-in-hand.
The last room in the museum is filled with pictures of the Wall coming down. The pure joy in the people’s faces causes tears to spring into Harry’s eyes, and when he looks at Draco, he can see some in his eyes too.
When they go back outside, Harry squeezes his hand gently and says, “I never even thought about how it must have been.”
Draco shrugs his shoulders and smiles. “Let’s go get something to eat. It’s not too late, so we can walk somewhere.” Harry lets his hand go and changes the conversation.
They find a small Thai restaurant just off of the side of Oranienburger Straße. They almost stumble into it as they are both half starved and freezing cold. The staircase down into the seating area is narrow and steep, and Harry almost slides over as the snow on his boots thaws. Luckily Draco manages to stop him crashing downwards by grabbing hold of Harry’s waist. They both laugh as they fall into the restaurant. Fortunately, the only people in the room are the waitress and a barman.
They are given a seat in a corner of the restaurant, next to the radiator. Both strip off their layers as quickly as they can. Draco is the first to reach for the menus. “Harry, there is a slight problem with this menu. It’s all in German and Thai, no English.”
Harry looks down at the laminated card in his hand and sighs. “So cast a Translation Charm. Remember, we were told we could if there was no other way.”
“Fine, but we are going have to get rid of the waitress.”
Harry grins; he knows exactly how to. “Excuse me, could we have two mojitos and a bottle of white wine to share?” He smiles at the waitress.
“Right away, sirs,” she answers with an accent he assumes is what happens when Thai and German mix, before leaving the seating area and heading to the bar.
“Mojitos? What on earth are those?” Draco hisses at him before he taps both their menus with his wand and instantly Harry can understand the menu.
“It’s a cocktail. You’ll like it I’m sure. You do trust me, don’t you?”
Draco looks at him for a moment before answering, “Surprisingly, yes. Do I think it’s wise? No. But there we are, Potter.” Harry makes a face, and Draco rolls his eyes. “Fine. There we are, Harry.” Harry can’t shake the shiver that comes from Draco putting emphasis on his name.
The waitress comes over with their mojitos; Harry watches as Draco takes his first sip and his face changes into an expression of pleasure. Harry flushes as he imagines seeing that expression on his face in a different context.
“You know, I underestimated you, Harry. You were right, I love this.” Draco’s voice is heavy with admiration, and he continues to sip on the drink.
Harry takes a sip, too, a grin on his face. “Many people underestimate me. I’ve got more to offer than expected.” He can‘t keep the teasing out of his voice.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Draco says, and Harry isn’t sure how to interpret the tone of his voice.
They order a selection of dishes that they share. They spend almost two hours drinking at least two bottles of wine, and eating the incredible food that is served to them. It is almost nine o’clock and, flush with the wine and food, when they decide to head towards one of the Christmas markets they had seen being set up.
In the Underground, they attract attention as they fall all over themselves, laughing and pushing and shoving each other. One older lady that Harry is sat opposite smiles at them indulgently, and he knows what she is thinking: that the two of them are a couple, and that are enjoying a night out together. Harry knows that he wishes that to be the truth, but unfortunately, he is all too aware that there is no way Draco could like him in that way.
They get out of the Underground and walk to the Christmas market, which is beautiful. The lights of the stalls shine brightly against the pitch black night sky, and the dusting of snow on the stalls seems almost exactly like a scene on a postcard.
Draco is looking around, and Harry can hear him whispering, “Wow! Muggles are incredible.” Then he grabs Harry’s gloved hand and drags him off in another direction. Involuntarily, Harry squeezes his hand. Draco stops and grins at him. They have stopped in front of a stand that sells Glühwein. Draco orders two of them and plonks one down in front of Harry on one of the tables that surround the stand.
“Go on, have some.” Draco’s enthusiasm is catching, and Harry finds himself grinning. He takes a tentative sip of the mixture, and he immediately understands why Draco dragged him to this stand. The spices in the hot wine remind him of Christmas and make him feel very at home. When he looks up from his drink, Draco is looking at him intently with a hint of tenderness. The next thing Harry knows, Draco’s lips are on his.
His lips are cold but soft, and Harry sighs with happiness as Draco slips his tongue into Harry’s mouth, and he can taste mint and the spicy sweetness of the mulled wine. His fingers move of their own violation to wrap themselves around Draco’s waist to hold him close.
Draco breaks the kiss and looks at Harry, who is stunned and unable to find any words. Then Harry breaks into a grin before dragging Draco toward him again, this time the kiss more heated. Harry wishes it would never end, but the kiss ends when Draco pushes him away gently before grabbing his hand. Harry finds himself pulled into the nearest alley, and then Draco Disapparates them to their flat.
Harry wants to scold him, as he is sure that was not what they were supposed to do as part of their month here in Berlin; but the hungry look in Draco’s eyes stops him. Draco pulls Harry to him again and growls, "Finally," into his ear, which turns Harry on more than he cares to admit. Harry feels himself getting harder as Draco kisses the skin underneath his ear. When Draco presses his hips against Harry’s, he groans as he can feel Draco through his trousers. He can feel the slide of Draco’s tongue around the shell of his ear, and his knees buckle.
He is released with a chuckle and then pushed towards his own room. He leans against the door as Draco kisses him again, and he can’t help the way his hands greedily snatch at Draco and the moans he utters.
They fall into his room and onto the floor, which makes both of them laugh. Harry looks up at Draco and the way his laughter brightens his face even in the darkness of the room. He realises he’s completely and utterly besotted. There is also the tiniest bit of guilt in him, and he feels that he is taking advantage of Draco in his drunken state, but all thoughts scatter like leaves when Draco slips a thigh between Harry’s legs and brushes his aching cock. Harry humps upward, and he shivers at the low chuckle Draco gives as he grinds down onto his leg.
“Fuck,” Harry utters breathlessly, and he feels Draco grin into his neck. They find a rhythm quite quickly, of rocking and rolling motions, which puts the perfect amount of pressure on Harry’s cock, and he finds himself coming when Draco kisses him deeply again. Draco follows him soon after, moaning Harry’s name, and this causes a flutter in Harry’s heaving chest.
Draco rolls off him and laughs again. “We didn’t even manage to get our coats off,” he says before casting a cleaning charm on them both. Harry doesn’t say anything, as he is still trying to calm his breathing. “Anyway. Good night, Harry.”
Draco pulls the duvet off Harry’s bed and covers both of them. He kisses Harry chastely on the lips before settling onto his side away from Harry. After several minutes in silence, Harry drops off into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning, Harry wakes up stiff-limbed and cold. When he turns his head, sure that he dreamt last night, he sees he is indeed on the floor, but there is no Draco next to him.
They don’t talk about it when they see each other in the kitchen.
They go to the Jewish Museum in their last week. Somehow, Harry feels it's the right way to end this trip; and Hermione had begged him to go in her last email to him.
Harry and Draco haven’t talked about That Night, and although they are still friendly with each other, there is a tension that wasn’t there before which they both don’t acknowledge.
They walk through slowly as the whole exhibition demands that time is taken to absorb everything. Harry reads every single piece of information. One part of the museum he spends a lot of time on is the collection of items that people had donated. Seeing some of the letters reminds him so strongly of the letter he had found of his mother’s; a letter he still keeps hidden at Grimmauld Place.
Near the end of that corridor, there is a room with an art installation. The door is inconspicuous enough, but the room itself is high and narrow. Each wall is dark grey concrete, and when the door falls shut, they are left in darkness. The only light is from a tiny slit in the wall about 20 feet high. It feels claustrophobic, and when the doors finally open, he can breathe easier.
Harry can feel that Draco is behind him as he reads the plaque about the room they have just been in. Then he feels a hand on his shoulder, and Draco has his cheek next to Harry’s.
"Let's go, Harry. I need a few moments to process this," Draco whispers into his ear. Harry nods and takes Draco's hand and drags him to the underground
Draco looks thoughtful as he sits down in the carriage. Harry realises then that Draco looks so much like a Muggle, no one would ever know he had grown up in the wizarding world. A smile breaks out over Harry's face, and Draco looks up at him. "What are you smiling at?" he asks.
"Just the fact that you look so much like a Muggle and that it just goes to show how much you've changed."
"Thanks, I guess. You know it's not just been since the end of the War that I changed my views. But it's been the last few weeks that have really made me understand Muggles. And I wish Granger were here so I could apologise to her; that room in the museum made me think about how terrible she must have hurt. All those insults I used to throw at her." Draco sounds so sad and ashamed of himself.
That's the reason Harry gives himself as to why he does what he does next. He stands up from his seat and leans over to Draco and kisses him. He doesn’t get a response straight away, but then Draco kisses him back and Harry sighs with happiness. Draco breaks the kiss and chuckles softly.
“We should probably wait till we get back to the flat. Don’t want to scar some small child.” Draco sounds breathless but he is smiling. “Don’t think they would be old enough to see the things I am going to do.”
Harry grins and says, “I look forward to it.” He places a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips before sitting down opposite him. They don’t talk until they reach the flat, but for the first time in a while, there is no tension; it feels comfortable and Harry is reminded of the hours he would spend with his friends. He hasn’t felt this comfortable around someone other than Ron and Hermione in such a long time.
As soon as the door falls shut, Draco drags Harry close and kisses him. He wants to be able to say he doesn’t melt into the kiss, but he does. However, it doesn’t elicit any laughs from Draco; instead, he pulls Harry closer and wraps his arms around his waist.
Harry breaks away, gasping for breath, and looks into Draco’s eyes for any signs of doubt. He doesn’t see anything that could be construed as doubt; instead, Draco’s eyes are lit with arousal. Harry takes Draco’s hand and drags him to his room.
Draco pulls off Harry’s clothes as fast as he can manage. With each layer of clothing removed, Harry doesn’t feel colder but hotter and hotter. Draco’s hands seem to be everywhere at once as more and more of Harry’s skin is revealed.
When Draco has Harry almost naked bar his underwear, he pushes him backwards onto the bed. Harry watches as Draco strips, and he can’t help the way that his breath comes in pants. Draco crawls up to him – Harry is sure he has never seen a more erotic sight – and kisses him. It starts slow and gentle, a tentative exploration, before the pace increases and Draco has his hand on Harry’s very insistent cock.
“Please,” Harry whispers when Draco moves his mouth to the shell of Harry’s ear.
“What do you want me to do to you?” Draco almost purrs into his ear.
“Anything. Just do something.”
“If you’re sure.” It’s not a question and Harry knows this, but he still nods frantically.
Draco pulls Harry’s pants off and lightly brushes his hands over Harry’s aching cock. Harry thrusts up to tell Draco to stop teasing. Draco smiles down at him and grips him more firmly, with a wrist motion that leaves Harry incoherent.
Harry rummages in the bedside drawer and gives the bottle of lube to Draco. He lets himself fall back on to the bed. The snick of the cap sounds loud even compared to the gulping breaths he is taking.
The slippery digit at his hole reminds him that the thing he has fantasised about for months is actually happening.
“Ready?” Draco asks uncertainly.
Instead of answering, Harry pushes back against the finger. Luckily, Draco seems to understand what Harry wants, and he pushes a second finger in.
“More, please, God, more.” Harry never thought he would be this vocal, but something about Draco inspires him to let go a little bit more.
“My, my… who would have thought you’d be this demanding, Potter?” Draco says as he pushes in a third digit. This time, Harry feels full, and for a moment, he worries that Draco could never possibly fit. But then, Draco brushes his prostrate with one finger and Harry bucks up. Draco grins smugly and presses more firmly on the bundle of nerves.
“Draco, if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to Merlin, I will–“
“Do what exactly? Harry?” Draco says as he withdraws his fingers and coats his cock with lube. He looks into Harry’s eyes, and Harry feels slightly overwhelmed at what he sees in them. In the same moment, Draco guides himself to Harry’s entrance and pushes in slowly.
Draco only stops when he is full seated inside Harry, and his hands are stoking soothingly at Harry’s sides. Slowly, Harry releases the breath he was holding, which helps to ease some of the discomfort. Draco further helps him by taking Harry’s flagging erection into his hand and slowly stoking it. When some of the pressure eases, Harry realises he is thrusting back against Draco, who uses that to start thrusting into him as well.
One of them shifts slightly, and Draco hits his prostate, which makes Harry cry out with pleasure, and it is then he understands why he has wanted this for so long. It is more intense and more intimate than anything else he has ever experienced. The way Draco’s face is half slackened with pleasure and half screwed up with concentration is intoxicating to watch, and the way each thrust on Draco’s part is followed by Harry’s whispered name is incredibly endearing.
When Draco’s thrusts become uncontrolled and the hand on his cock is almost frantic, Harry knows he is incredibly close to coming, and that affects Harry too. When Draco reaches his free hand to brush a hair from his forehead and then traces his lips, the pressure in Harry’s groin comes to a crashing high, causing him to paint his stomach and Draco’s hand white.
Draco freezes above him, apart from small, shallow thrusts of his hips as he groans out his orgasm, before collapsing on top of Harry. Harry wraps his arms around Draco and holds him close, feeling the heartbeat of the other man against his skin. “Stay,” he whispers into Draco’s ear.
Draco nods before shifting slightly to slip out of Harry with an obscene noise. He settles on to his side next to Harry, tracing small circles on Harry’s stomach after cleaning them both with a charm. The repetitive motion makes Harry feel a bit drowsy, and he stretches slightly despite the soreness in his arse.
“You alright?” Draco asks with a hint of concern in his voice.
“Never better,” Harry says, and he knows it to be true.
“Only I know you’ve never done this before, and I don’t want you to be in pain.”
Harry kisses him to shut him up. “Draco, I am one hundred percent fine. In fact, more than fine.”
Draco sighs and kisses him. “It’s just I keep expecting you to jump up and out of the bed because you’re disgusted with me.”
Harry looks at him with a mixture of bemusement and shock. “Trust me, I am going nowhere. I have wanted this for quite some time now. And being here in Berlin with you made me notice how much.”
“Are you trying to say you like me, Harry?”
“Of course that’s what I’m trying to say. Draco, you have changed so much, and it was almost impossible for me not to fall for you. But I was quite sure you didn’t like me back, especially after that night. When I woke up on my own.”
The look of shame on Draco’s face makes Harry reach over and smooth a hand over his cheek. “I was so sure,” said Draco, “you only let me sleep with you because you were so drunk and maybe a bit horny. When I woke up and you were asleep curled into my side, I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we had built, for something that was one-sided. I thought there was no way you could’ve liked me in that way too.”
A weight lifts from Harry’s chest, and he lets out a laugh. “So essentially, what we’re both saying is that if we had actually talked about this, we could have done this a lot earlier.”
Draco grins and says, “I think probably the second night, if I’m entirely honest. The first night, I was too tired, and the way I felt about you was still so confusing, but by the time you had made breakfast the next morning, I was absolutely sure.”
Harry presses a hand to his face and groans. “We are complete idiots.”
“We can make up the time we missed, though.” Draco gives him a suggestive look, and Harry’s limp cock twitches slightly.
“Maybe in a little while. I am completely and utterly knackered.” Harry pulls Draco toward him and wraps an arm around him. “I could do with a nap, and then I am all yours for as long as you want me.”
“Oh I should think that will be for a very long time,” Draco says as he kisses Harry sweetly.