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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.06. SPARKLE

Harry was a cliché. He knew he was a cliché, and a desperate one at that, but this was his life. He could either accept it or fight it, and right now, accepting it seemed to be the best way to go.

He laid shoulder-to-shoulder with Draco, his best friend and the love of his life, in the quilted hammock strung up in his backyard.

The summer was coming to a close; school was set to start next week, and after spending the last few months apart, this was all Harry had been looking forward to—taking these last few days to relax and catch up on everything that had happened while they’d been away from home.

Harry had spent the summer in Cumbria with his Uncle Remus. Remus moved around a lot, being one of the only specialists in the UK for a rare blood disease, so Harry didn’t see him often. But within the last two years, he’d taken on an apprentice who was now able to cover for Remus so he could have the summer off. As soon as he knew he had the time, he rang Harry and asked if he’d like to spend the summer with him.

Harry had elatedly said yet, happy to escape the concrete and pavement of London (and have something to do while Draco was away). He and Remus had spent as much time as possible outdoors, going camping, hiking, and kayaking. He’d learned to fish and track animals by their footprints and droppings. He’d become a proper outdoorsman and had had a wonderful time, but he was glad to be home.

Draco had spent the summer with his grandparents at their beach house, and while Harry hadn’t thought he could get any more beautiful when he opened the door to find Draco on his front steps a few days ago, he had to fight to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. His normally pale skin had bronzed in the summer sunshine, and his legs, somehow, looked longer giving Harry the impression of a Gargarean. And even though they’d talked every couple of days, sent selfies of their activities, and video chatted a time or two, Harry hadn’t been prepared for the little brown freckles that had appeared on his skin. He wanted to trace lines between them and create constellations with his fingers.

And with Draco in nothing but a cut-off tee and a pair of gym shorts, those freckles on full display across his shoulders and thighs, Harry really had to resist the urge.

But he had an idea.

He knew he was going to drive himself crazy if he didn’t figure out if the feelings he had for his friend were even remotely mutual. Draco had been kinda cryptic when it came to the love department. He talked about celebrities he was into, like Darryl McCormack and Cara Delevingne, but it was all superficial. He rarely mentioned anyone real, anyone they knew, and Harry could only hope it was because they were hiding a similar secret—into someone but too afraid to voice those feelings out loud without some kind of reassurance that that person also felt the same.

But there was also a niggling feeling that maybe Draco knew about Harry’s feelings and didn’t want to push what he couldn’t reciprocate in his face. (Harry had driven himself crazy this summer wondering what parts of his vacation Draco wasn’t telling him about. He’d seen the hot guys and the beautiful girls in the backgrounds of the pictures he’d sent; knew anyone with two eyes would only have to witness Draco’s smile to fall in love with him.)

He couldn’t wait much longer to find out. Even if Draco didn’t feel the same way, at least he’d have an answer, but he couldn’t go into this upcoming school year with all the new competition without shooting his shot first.

Rolling up on his side the best he could, Harry asked, “Did you guys ever play Sparkle in primary school?”

“Uhh, maybe?” Draco squinted up at him. “Remind me what it is.”

“So, everyone in the class would stand up in a circle. Either the teacher or one of the kids would volunteer to go first, and they would go in a line spelling the word sparkle. And whoever was after the person who said the ‘e’, they would say, ‘Sparkle!’ and, like, twirl out of the circle. And you’d keep going and going until there was one person left.”

Draco’s face crinkled, his nose scrunching up in a way that made Harry want to boop it. “I don’t think we did, and it seems kinda stupid? Like, was sparkle the only word you ever spelled?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Lol yeah! It was, like, year one! I don’t know what our spelling prowess was!”

“You know the word ‘prowess’ now, so I’m assuming you could’ve handled bigger words than sparkle. But what made you bring that up?”

Clearing his throat, Harry said, “I, uh, saw this new trend online where two friends or couples were playing Sparkle but with dares. So whoever went first would start out with a dare that started with ‘s’ and so on and so forth until someone gave up or the game was over.”

“Okay.” Draco did his best to mirror Harry’s position. “So, what’s the wager? If I win, you have to clean my room once a week for a month.”

“Oh, Lord!” Harry groaned, knowing the mess Draco could make in a few hours, let alone a few days. “Fine. If I win, you have to watch all the Star Wars movies with me.”

“Bet,” Draco said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. Harry’s heartbeat kicked up a notch when he said, “You go first.”

He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude, thankful Draco had let him go first. The only way his plan would work was if he started. “Okay. Show me something you’ve never shown anyone else before.”

A sly grin unfolded across Draco’s lips. “I don’t know if you’ve been picking up my vibe, but there has been something I’ve been wanting to show you but hadn’t figured out how to bring it up.”

Even though they were alone in Harry’s backyard, Draco poked his head up and looked around, as if to make sure there were no prying eyes. When he was satisfied, he pulled up what little material there was of his shorts to reveal a small black and white snake trailing up his inner thigh.

It was simple but sexy, placed with intention. It made Harry’s mouth dry. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers (and his tongue) over it reverently. He had to tear his eyes away before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“When?!”

“This summer!” He tugged the hem of his shorts back down. “One of my older cousins came in for a few days. We look close enough if you’re not looking too closely. I may have borrowed his ID for a few hours.”

“I love it! Did it hurt?”

He shook his head. “It tickled.”

Harry suppressed a shudder.

“Your turn!” Tapping his chin with his forefinger, she said, “I feel like I have to up the stakes, so ‘P’. ‘P’. What can you do that starts with—go punch your godfather!”

Harry felt his eyes go wide. “I mean, do you want me to die?! I can’t clean your room if I’m dead!”

Chuckling, Draco said, “Very true. Very true. Mmm—oh! Doesn’t your neighbor hate when anyone touches her flowers? I’ll go knock on her door for something, and while I’m doing so, pick a few flowers.”

Harry groaned again. His elderly neighbor was very particular about her garden. Every few days, Harry would see her down on her knees removing weeds, putting in new soil, and whatever else it was that people did when maintaining their plants. Though she didn’t do it for show, Mrs. Steele took as much pride in her garden as if she did, which meant no one was to touch her flowers, especially none of the pesky neighborhood kids.

Draco swung himself out of the hammock and walked over to the volleyball resting up against the fence where it rolled after their last game. He popped it up in the air once, twice, and then over the fence on the third hit. He turned his wicked grin to Harry and said, “Oops,” with a shrug. “Guess we better go get that.” He headed for the gate.

Slinking out of the hammock, Harry slid on his sandals and jogged to catch up with his friend.

They stopped at the edge of her front yard, Harry surveying his options. He never really thought about the time and work Mrs. Steele put into her garden, but standing there, he could tell the older woman tended it with care. There were dozens of daffodils and white lilies, tulips in various shades and red roses in bloom, something that looked like lavender or bluebells, and what he thought were hydrangeas spanning the front of his neighbor’s house.

The dare had been for him to pick a few flowers, but that didn’t mean he had to get caught.

Draco bumped Harry with his elbow and started across the yard.

Harry crouched and stayed low, practically on his hands and knees, moving quickly toward a bush on the far side of Mrs. Steele’s home, one she could only see if she stepped out her door and onto her front stoop.

He heard Draco knock and started working on one of the rose bushes, trying not to prick his finger on a thorn.

“Hi, Mrs. Steele!” Draco said, speaking in a fake, chipper tone he reserved for old people and when he wanted people to go away. “So sorry to bother you, but Harry and I were passing the volleyball back and forth, and we accidentally knocked it into your backyard. I was just wondering if I could go back and get it?”

Harry moved the bush side to side, looking for a flower that wouldn’t noticeably be missed.

“Oh, sure, that’s alright! I thought I told Harry that he could go into the backyard any time he needed as long as I was home, or maybe I just thought I did.”

“Since it was just me, I thought I’d knock and ask first!” His tone was still way too cheery.

Harry had just closed his fingers around a long-stemmed red rose when he heard, “Where is your—Harry Potter, what are you doing?”

His head popped up just as he snapped the rose stem. Draco was trying his best to hide a smirk. Mrs. Steele’s hand had gone to her hips.

With wide eyes, Harry grasped for words, wondering what he could say to explain the situation away without referring back to the dare. When no words came to mind, he bolted, hating the sound of his flip-flops smacking behind him, not stopping until he reached his room. He didn’t want Mrs. Steele to poke her head out the back door and yell at him over the fence.

A few minutes passed before Draco came sauntering in, flopping down on the bed beside him. His tank rolled up, revealing a small strip of tanned skin just above the waistband of his shorts.

“Mrs. Steele said she didn’t know why you didn’t just ask for a rose and told me to tell you that, as long as it doesn’t happen again, she won’t have to talk to Sirius.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved the flower at Draco.

“Here! In case she changes her mind, I’d rather not have the evidence on me.”

Draco brought the rose to his nose and inhaled deeply. Fluttering his eyelashes, he said in a dramatic Cockney accent, “Aww, mate, you shouldn’t’ve!”

Rolling his eyes again, Harry said, “Back to you. For your next dare, you’re gonna call the closest carpet cleaning place and ask them how to get blood out of carpet.”

“Pssh!” Draco threw his hand. “Easy. Peasy.”

They rearranged themselves so they were sitting criss-cross across from each other on his bed, knees bumping. Draco pushed a few buttons on his cell and then laid it face up on the sheets between them. The call rang three times before a male voice answered. “Thanks for calling Carpet Fresh Carpet Cleaners. My name is Marc. How can I help you today?”

“Hi, Marc,” Draco said, continuing in the Cockney accent. “I was wonderin’ if you could tell me how to get a blood stain out of a bright rug?”

There was a slight pause before he answered. “How long has the blood been there?”

“Uhh, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Is this a prank call?” he asked. The jovial tone he’d had when he answered the phone had completely disappeared.

“No, I swear. I tried lookin’ on the web, but there’s just too much info to look through, and I need to get this mess cleaned up before me mum gets home or there’ll be more blood spilled!”

He sighed and said, “How much blood?”

Draco picked up his phone, slid off the bed, and walked to the far side of the room. “Umm, not that much? Like, bigger than a quid but smaller than a fizzy. I don’t know if it helps, and I also don’t know what his problem was today, but me bro just wouldn’t leave me alone. Started in on me as soon as I got up this mornin’. Naggin’ me, hittin’ me, pullin’ my hair. I told him if he didn’t stop, we were gonna fight. He seemed to take that as a challenge and started comin’ at me, so I pulled a knife to try and scare him backwards but he kept comin’ so I cut him.”

Harry slapped his hand over his mouth to try and hold in his laughter.

“This is absolutely a joke. I’m hanging up now.”

“Marc! Marc! It’s not! Look, I’ll put him on the phone.”

He walked back over to Harry who said, “Get away from me, you psycho!”

Draco grinned at him so wide it seemed like his smile was threatening to overtake his face. “I’m not tryna fight with you no more! Ya know we gotta get this mess cleaned up before momma comes home or she’ll skin both our hides! Tell the nice carpet man what happened!”

Harry took the phone from him. “What happened is that my brother is a psychopath! He cut me with an actual knife, and I don’t feel safe—”

“Okay! Okay! Enough of that!” Draco took the phone back. “See, Marc—”

“No. Look, I don’t know if you’re joking or not. I seriously hope you are, and if you’re not, this is not my problem anymore. You can find the information you’re looking for at goodhousekeeping.com. Best of luck to you and your brother. Have a good rest of your day.”

The phone hung up, and they immediately burst out laughing.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Like, I said: easy peasy! And now, we are back to you. For ‘r’ you need to follow me to the kitchen.”

The Cheshire grin that slowly unfurled across Draco’s face had Harry shaking his head, but he padded along behind him into the kitchen, terrified of what crazy new thing his best friend had come up with.

Draco scooped up the only pair of car keys sitting on the counter and nodded. “We’re gonna steal—or rob—Sirius’s car!”

Harry put his head in his hands and said, “Why do you wanna see me dead?! What did I ever do to you?! I’ve been a good friend, haven’t I?”

“He’ll never know!” Draco said, not answering any of Harry’s questions. “He has the same schedule every weekday. From 3-5, he is holed up in his office on a daily conference call. It’s”—he looked over at the clock on the stove—“3:24. We have plenty of time to run and get some ice cream and come back without him ever knowing we left!”

Harry continued to shake his head. “I don’t have my license. You don’t have your license!”

“But you do have your permit.”

“Which requires an adult in the car! Neither of which we are!”

“Sooo”—Draco dropped the keys back on the counter—“I guess that means you’re forfeiting, right? Cleaning my room for a month? We can start today, if you’d like!”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“We’re getting ice cream, then?”

Harry sighed, dropping his head and his shoulders, knowing if he got caught, his punishment would be far worse than having to clean Draco’s room, but he needed to complete this task so they could move on to ‘k’. ‘K’ was the whole reason he’d suggested they play this crazy game in the first place. “Yeah, we’re getting ice cream.”

“Yesss!” Draco fist pumped the air, doing a little wiggle dance in victory. “I’ve been dying for an Oreo shake!”

Before he could let his better judgment get the best of him, he swiped the keys and said, “Let’s go.”

Normally his godfather would remote start his car to let the interior cool down before getting in, but Harry wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t absolutely have to. Only once they were in the car with their seat belts buckled did he start the car. His eyes were on the window of the third bedroom that served as Sirius’s office hoping his godfather was deep in conversation and didn’t hear the engine start, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco bouncing in the seat beside his with excitement.

“This is so epic! I can’t wait to tell Teo and Mari we stole your godfather’s car!”

“Uh huh.” his eyes were still glued to the window.

“Harry.” Draco gently touched his arm. “We are in the clear! Let’s go! The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back.”

He knew he was right, but that didn’t make him any less nervous that today would be the day Sirius strayed from his routine.

With a deep breath, he checked his mirrors and shifted the car into reverse, thinking ‘K’ will be so worth it.

The closest creamery was about seven minutes from his house, a straight shot up the road. Since he’d gotten his permit, he’d driven by it countless times (always with Sirius in the car) on their way to the grocer or on the way back from an appointment or any other time his godfather let him practice. He knew the mechanics—don’t drive with both feet; two hands on the wheel at all times, preferably at ten and two; check his mirrors every three to five seconds; use the blinkers when turning and merging.

Sirius said he was more than ready to take his driver’s test, and honestly, he felt comfortable behind the wheel. Even though he was following every rule of the road and going under the speed limit, it was the idea that he might get caught—either pulled over or Sirius would find them gone—that had him nervous.

Almost as if he could read his mind, Draco reached over and laid a hand on Harry’s knee. “Relax! You’re doing great, and we’ll make this quick . . . ish.”

The red and white sign became visible as he passed through a green light. “We’re going through the drive-thru and then heading back to my house!”

There was a gentle pressure on his knee. “We can’t exactly take the evidence back to your house. If Sirius comes downstairs, he’s gonna wanna know how we got them so quickly.”

If he hadn’t been driving, Harry would have dropped his head against the steering wheel. Instead, he just groaned because he knew Draco was right, again.

“What’s the point in stealing a car, if we’re only gonna keep it for twenty minutes?! Look, we’ll get our milkshakes, sit there and drink them, and then go home. And I’ll make the next dare super, super easy to make up for all the anxiety I’ve cost you today.”

Harry flipped on his right blinker and rolled his eyes, gently laying on the brakes before he turned into the parking lot. For a Thursday afternoon in mid-August, the parking lot was as full as he expected it to be—which was not full at all—but he still circled around the lot until he found a row of empty spots and carefully pulled in.

He shifted the car into park. Draco pulled his hand back to unbuckle his seatbelt. Harry hoped the disappointment didn’t show on his face.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Harry said, “Please don’t make me answer that.”

Draco snorted. “Since you risked life and limb to get us here, milkshake is on me.”

They ordered their drinks and waited for them to be brought out before moving over to sit on the tabletop of one of the plastic-covered picnic tables, trying to find what little shade the awning offered. The table was big enough for them to sit comfortably, uncrowded, but Draco’s body was pressed into his side. His long legs were warm and soft, his shoulders knobby but strong. Their pinkies brushed gently up against each other, and Harry was thankful for the chill of his drink keeping him cool.

He felt rather than saw Draco turn his head. When he said, “It’s your turn,” he felt Draco’s breath against his neck and shivered.

This was the reason he’d started the game in the first place, the moment these dares had been leading up to. As soon as he said the words, there’d be no going back.

It could all go to shit. Draco could recoil and never talk to him again. Or it could be magical and wonderful and the best thing that ever happened. Either way, he’d finally know.

Setting his milkshake aside, Harry turned, looked his best friend directly in the eyes, and said, “Kiss me.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow at him, an audacious smile dancing across his lips. He set his milkshake behind him and turned, scooting impossibly closer and slotting their knees together. He pushed a few loose curls behind Harry’s ear, cupping his cheek tenderly.

Harry didn’t know where to look, between Draco’s half-lidded eyes or his roguish mouth that drew nearer and nearer to his own, and when their lips finally met, it was hesitant and so incredibly soft, like they were testing the waters. Deciding the temperature was fine, they dove in, all reservations left behind.

Draco’s tongue danced across his lips, begging for entrance, and when Harry let him in, he moaned; the taste was so sweet.

Draco’s lips were wild and ravenous against his. His hand found its way into Harry’s hair, holding his head in place while his mouth ravished his, kissing him like he simply couldn’t get enough. It was exciting and exhilarating, and he wasn’t totally sure where to put his hands and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. This kiss was everything he’d imagined it could be and more, which was why a small piece of him died when he pulled his lips away to catch his breath.

Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s, whose thumb gently caressed his cheek and whose heavy breathing matched his. It took him a few tries before he was able to say, “That was—”

“Yeah.”

“Was that—”

Without finishing the question, Draco shook his head. “No.” He pulled back so he could see Harry’s eyes but left his hand in place. “No, I didn’t just kiss you because of the dare. I’ve been wanting to do so for a long, long time. And it seems like maybe you have too?”

Harry laced their fingers together and said, “I’ve liked you for, like, ever. Practically since the day we met.”

“I feel so dumb.” Draco leaned his forehead against Harry’s again. “All this time we’ve spent pining over each other, and we coulda just been snogging!”

Harry placed a finger under Draco’s chin, tipping his friend’s—hopefully, boyfriend’s—face up and dropped a sweet kiss on his lips. “Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #(not going so great)#(hard to find the time right now)#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #hp fic #word prompt: sparkle #this is long af

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