Most Favourite Bedtime Story

BY : Sasunarufan13
Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco
Dragon prints: 2714
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Author's note: My apologies for the delay; I didn't mean to have a delay of nearly three weeks, but it was a bit difficult finding myself in the right frame of mind for this particular story. Still not entire there, but I didn't want to make you wait any longer, so I did my best to finish this part today!

Thanks to the following reviewers: Jan and Smile317 (You're sweet! Glad you think so!)

Warnings: Hm, nothing in particular I think? Maybe some mystery

I hope you'll like this second part!


Chapter 2

He honestly had no idea why he was here: standing in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, holding his Firebolt in his right hand, watching Malfoy stride over to him. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was gathered on the spectator stands, dressed in uniform, and every single one of them giddy to see their professors flying against each other.

He should have refused; he still had a lot of assignments to grade, it was already quite late, and there was no reason for him to indulge Malfoy's weird request. Yet at the same time it also felt impossible to refuse, like him not showing up meant that Malfoy would win their argument by default.

It was stupid to think that, he knew. They were twenty-four years old; no longer students eager to one up the other one. But Malfoy had always managed to find a way to get underneath his skin; clearly a skill he hadn't lost yet.

Malfoy stopped a few feet away from him and smirked. His broom was a Nimbus 3000, the latest one on the market. Opinions were divided over which broom was the fastest now: the Nimbus 3000 or the Firebolt still. Harry supposed they were going to find out soon.

"I'm surprised you actually showed up," Malfoy remarked almost casually; his sharp grey eyes flitting briefly to the stands, where the students were almost leaning over the railing to catch a better look at them.

"That's funny," Harry smiled thinly. "I could say the same about you. Thought you might pull your stunt from first year again, remember?"

For a moment, Malfoy appeared confused before he appeared to remember what Harry was talking about and he let out an amused huff. "Still bitter about that, Potter? It's been thirteen years since then."

"I've got a good memory, Malfoy," Harry said and swung his leg over his broom. "But it's good to see you grew up in that regard at least."

He pushed himself off the ground immediately after that, grinning when Malfoy shouted in protest. He halted several feet in the air and looked down at the blond, his grin widening.

"Too fast for you already, Malfoy? That doesn't bode well for your chances, you know?" he taunted and laughed when Malfoy casually flipped him the finger before getting on his broom as well.

Who knew a proper Pureblood like Malfoy would know such an uncouth gesture? What would his parents say about that?

"I'm releasing the Snitch now!" Elisa Ponder called out, attracting both men's attention.

They both turned around to face her, watching intently how she procured the box with the golden ball in it. She fiddled with the lock and flicked the lid open, revealing the Snitch. Its golden colour gleamed in the setting sunlight and its wings fluttered weakly for a couple of seconds before it realised it was free and it shot out of the box, high into the air.

They all watched it fly out of sight before Harry's eyes met Malfoy's and the man smirked. "Best out of five?"

"You're on," Harry grinned and flew up, aiming for the last place he'd spotted the Snitch.


He had almost forgotten just how exhilarating flying was.

The wind blowing through his hair, whistling around him, trying to throw him off course. Catching glimpses of gold against a steadily darkening sky, rushing after it every time. The adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and Malfoy raced next to each other, against each other, competing just like in the old days.

Feigning a dive to throw off Malfoy of the Snitch's course, hearing him curse violently. Slapping a hand away, just to be the one to catch the Snitch first …

Hanging upside down with only his legs clamped around the broomstick because there hadn't been any time to correct his course and he'd wanted to grab the Snitch before Malfoy could get to it. Using moves he hadn't performed in years, but which his body still remembered as clear as day as if he had been flying every day …

Excitement bubbling up inside him as they started their last round; this one being the one that would break the tie between them – he'd missed it, the excitement, the adrenaline, the rush of diving and swooping through the air, hearing cheering from the stands, nothing but the Snitch in his mind.

It was when he was diving sharply, his hand already outstretched, ready to close around the Snitch, Malfoy gaining on him rapidly, that he noticed it.

It was very brief, nothing more than a flicker really, but it was distracting enough. Something unusual showed up in the corner of his eye and when he turned his head slightly, he saw them.

He opened his mouth, confusion making him momentarily forget about their competition, when something hard smacked right into his chest and he grabbed it instinctively even as he gasped for breath; the impact leaving him winded.

When he raised his hand, he blinked bemused at the golden ball fluttering furiously in his hand, trying to escape before it gave up; its wings folding up.

Malfoy hovered next to him, his face a mixture of frustration and amusement. His blond hair was no longer neatly combed back, instead mussed and in disarray from the wind playing with it and Harry had the ridiculous thought that he looked far more handsome like this than with his hair slicked back.

"So instead of catching it with your mouth, you decided to catch it with your chest this time?" Malfoy questioned, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Now who is the one remembering something from thirteen years ago, hm?" Harry raised an eyebrow and only now was he aware of the cheering and whooping happening at the stands.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was jumping up and down and Harry sighed softly, shaking his head slightly before flying over to them.

"So, was this demonstration good enough for you?" he questioned, hovering a few feet away from the stands.

"You were absolutely amazing, professor!" Ponder gushed; her eyes positively sparkling. She clasped her hands together, the leather gloves creaking slightly. "I still have to practice a lot to reach your level!"

"Just do your best and you'll be fine," Harry smiled, still feeling uncomfortable with the praise, even now that he was an adult.

"I can't believe you actually pulled off the Wronski Feint perfectly!" Eliot Thompson said amazed, leaning so far over the railing he was at risk of falling down. "It's even better than Krum's!"

As the team continued to gush and herald him for his amazing flying skills, Harry's eyes darted down to the pitch where Malfoy just touched down. He must have sensed him staring, because he turned his head for a couple of seconds, flashed a smirk and then left; his broom resting on his shoulder, looking just like he always did.

Leaving Harry to wonder what exactly he had briefly witnessed during their match.


"Something's off with Malfoy."

His, what he thought to be, rather alarming comment was met by decidedly unimpressed brown eyes.

Dropping down heavily on the kitchen chair, Hermione sighed heavily and wrapped her robe tighter around herself. "Did you seriously call me out of bed for this?"

"It's not even midnight," Harry grumbled, but shot a guilty look at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight to be precise, but he had been feeling too restless to catch some sleep and he hadn't wanted to wait until the next morning to visit his friends.

Well, one friend, he amended, hearing Ron snoring loudly upstairs.

"Harry, seriously, you called me down for this? I'm sure you're just imaging things," she said, rubbing over her eyes.

Now it was his turn to be unimpressed. "Oh, just like I was imagining things in our sixth year? You know, when he tried to kill Dumbledore? I distinctly remember you telling me I was imagining things as well back then and look how that turned out."

She groaned and flicked her wand at the tea kettle to make the water start boiling. "Yes, yes, I know. Fine, why don't you start at the beginning?"

"Well, it all started when we were eleven years old and I had the brass balls to reject his offer of - " He chuckled when she threw a napkin at him.

"Prat," she said, but there was no heat in it and there was a faint smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Be serious, what happened?"

"Someone of the Gryffindor Quidditch team asked me whether I couldn't join their training tonight, to show their Seeker some moves," he started.

She chuckled, her brown eyes glittering. "Still the ever so popular Seeker, hm?"

"Hush, you," he smiled before he sobered up again. "Malfoy overheard that and basically challenged me to a Quidditch match."

"And you agreed, because for some reason even at your age, you still can't resist accepting his challenges," she sighed and leant her chin in her hand. "You ever thought that life would be a lot simpler if you just ignored him?"

"And let him think he won? Yeah, right," he snorted and shook his head.

"How could he have even won if you didn't accept the challenge in the first place?"

He waved his hand impatiently. "That doesn't matter, focus, 'Mione. So near the end of our game, I noticed something really weird. I didn't see it for long and it was gone in a flash, but I swear to Merlin, for a second he looked like he had wings."

Silence descended over them after he'd finished. They stared at each other until the kettle whistled sharply, prompting his friend to get up and prepare some tea for the both of us.

"Wings, you say," she said slowly and handed him a mug when she was finished. "What kind of wings?"

"I don't know, regular ones?" He shrugged helplessly. "Like I said, they were gone in a flash, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't imagining them. For some reason he had wings for a moment."

"You saw the colour?"

"No, didn't pay much attention to that because directly afterwards the Snitch slammed into my chest."

"Why would the Snitch – no, never mind, doesn't matter now," she decided and shook her head, sitting down at the table again. "Let's assume what you saw, were indeed wings."

"What else could it have been?"

She ignored him. "Why would that bother you so much?" she asked, frowning. "If he cast a spell, then obviously it didn't help him in the match seeing as you caught the Snitch."

"There's no way a spell to give you wings would last so short," Harry instantly denied.

He might not be a spell expert like Flitwick, but he was pretty sure that any spells designed to give you animal attributes would last longer than the couple of seconds those wings had been attached to Malfoy's back. And even if he had used a spell – why not have done so earlier to avoid having to break a tie?

"There isn't," she agreed, curling her hands around her mug. "Even so, why does it bother you so much? So Malfoy apparently had wings for a couple of seconds; that doesn't seem so dangerous to me."

"You don't sound like you believe me," he said accusingly, narrowing his eyes.

She sighed gustily and leant back in her chair. "Look, Harry, you said it was gone in a flash; maybe something reflected in a window cast a shadow on his back and made it look like he had wings. Even if it's not a shadow, there's no reason to get bothered about this. It's not like he'll be able to kill anyone with wings that only appear for a couple of seconds."

"I don't know about that," Harry murmured pensively.

Malfoy was persistent, as he had shown in their sixth year. If anyone could figure out how to kill someone with wings that only appeared for a couple of seconds, it would be Malfoy.

"Please don't start being obsessed over him again," she groaned and rubbed her temples.

"I wasn't obsessed!" he protested immediately.

She snorted and stood up, lifting her mug. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed and you need to go to sleep as well. Don't let Malfoy bother you so much; I'm sure it was nothing."

"I'll remind you of this conversation if he does end up doing something evil!" he called out to her retreating back.

All he received in answer was a raised hand.

He pulled a face at his own mug of tea, drank most of it and washed it off, leaving it behind on the sink to dry before he returned to his private quarters at Hogwarts.

Don't let Malfoy bother him, huh?

Easier said than done.


He really tried to push it out of his mind.

It was as Hermione had said: even if Malfoy had had those wings for a moment, it wasn't like it had done him any good, considering Harry had won three of the five matches. So it shouldn't matter at all. Let Malfoy cast all the weird spells he wanted, as long as he wasn't harming anyone with them.

And it was clear he wasn't – harming anyone that was. While most professors still were quite wary around him, none of them could deny he was a good professor. Students talked after all and only very few were subtle. Bar the occasional bemoaning about the homework or the harsh grades some were unfortunate enough to receive, none of them had any particular complaints.

So if Malfoy was potentially doing something evil, it didn't involve the students, which was good of course. Any evil doings didn't occur at Hogwarts either, because after the less than stellar professors they had had in the past, McGonagall had installed new wards; ones that would alarm her immediately if any form of dark magic was used on the premises. It was the reason why Harry made sure to warn her each time he was planning on showing dark spells to his students so that she wouldn't grow alarmed and order the castle to encase his feet in stone.

Having his feet trapped within the floor the first time he'd forgotten to warn her had been more than enough to never forget the warning again.

For all intents and purposes, it didn't appear as if Malfoy was planning something malicious and thus, Harry tried to forget the incident, because honestly, what would Malfoy even be able to do with wings?

Even if they had looked rather large during the brief moment Harry had spotted them …

It didn't matter. There was no longer a war pitting them against each other, no longer a Dark Lord that Malfoy could be trying to please. They were colleagues and Malfoy was at least doing his best to be civil enough during the times they saw each other.

They were adults now, no longer teenagers trying to see how far they could push each other before the other one would break.

It really didn't matter.

Except it did and it was driving Harry mad.

He had tried to catch Malfoy unaware at random moments throughout the day, wanting to prove to himself that he hadn't gone mad and he had really seen those wings appear. Whenever he saw him, though, whether that was in the hallways, in the Great Hall, on his way to the dungeons, Malfoy appeared like a normal bloke, no mysterious addition of wings to be seen.

The failure to spot them again made him start doubting himself, questioning whether he hadn't imagined them in the end anyways, just like Hermione had suggested. He'd been so certain of it, though, and he heavily disliked the notion that he might be losing his mind. He hadn't survived so many years of being hunted down by Voldemort only to end up losing his mind over some possible imaginary wings now!

So in the end he decided to do what he should have done from the start: recreate the setting and check if he could see them this time.


"Why don't you just go up to him and ask him about them?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

Her head was floating in the fireplace and she watched with hawk like eyes how he pulled on his gloves before fishing out his Firebolt out of the closet.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, like that would go splendidly. 'Hey, Malfoy, do you happen to get the occasional extra appendages on your back when you fly or was I just imagining things?'. Yeah, like he's going to answer that."

"You don't know until you try," she insisted. "I thought you said he'd become more civil to you?"

"Yes, keyword being civil – that's far from answering any personal questions like this one," he retorted and checked his watch one last time.

A quarter to nine; Malfoy should be in his quarters by now.

"All right, if you don't hear from me by midnight, you have permission to assume something happened," he informed her lightly.

She lifted an eyebrow. "If you can survive Voldemort, it would be quite embarrassing if you let yourself be done in by Malfoy of all people, don't you think so?"

"I'm glad you think that highly of me," he grinned and winked. "I'm off, talk to you soon."

"Don't do anything stupid," she warned him.

"When have I ever done that?" he questioned rhetorically and left before she could decide to rattle off an entire list she no doubt had memorised throughout their years of friendship.


Some Slytherin students eyed him bemused when he strode through the dungeons, aiming straight for Malfoy's private quarters. They eyed his broom with interest, but seemed to think better of questioning him. There was no doubt they were wondering just what the hell he was doing in the dungeons at his late hour, though, carrying a broom of all things.

The door to Malfoy's quarters bore a simple but elegant dragon, who stood on his hindlegs the second Harry appeared in sight. Malfoy's private rooms were deeper in the dungeons than Snape's had been, but the dark haired man assumed it was a matter of privacy. Most students would probably think twice before making the long trek to complain to their professor about something inane.

The dragon snorted when Harry halted in front of it, opening his jaw as if to breathe fire.

"You're going to call Malfoy or should I knock on the door?" he asked, tilting his head to the left.

The dragon paused, appeared to eye him carefully before he slithered out of his frame, vanishing from view.

Not even half a minute later footsteps could be heard approaching the door and Harry straightened his back when it swung open, revealing Malfoy dressed in a simple sweater and black trousers.

The blond wizard raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms; his cool gaze flitting to the broom. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled, something flickering in his eyes. "Didn't expect to see you here at this late hour. With a broom nonetheless. Lost your way to the Quidditch Pitch, Potter?"

"Nope," Harry replied cheerfully and lifted his broom slightly. "Came here to ask whether you're interested in another match."

"Another match?" Grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Where's this coming from? A week ago you were ready to refuse my challenge."

Harry shrugged lightly. "I'm tired of looking at assignments and while it pains me to admit, you're the only one who can give me a proper challenge. So what do you say? Fancy another round?"

Malfoy stared at him for a little while longer, his mouth pressed into a thin line before all the tension suddenly left him and he nodded. "Fine, meet you at the Pitch in ten minutes."

"Brilliant, I'll see you there then," Harry said and turned around; fingers tightening around his broom, hyper aware of how slowly the door closed behind him.

Let the experiment begin.


"I knew it!" Harry shouted incensed and it was enough to make Malfoy stop abruptly, nearly toppling off his broom in surprise.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Potter?" he snapped irritated, as the red ball they had enchanted to act like a Snitch flitted away, disappearing somewhere beneath the stands.

"I knew I wasn't going insane." Harry pointed accusingly at his back where just five seconds ago, he'd spotted the definite outline of large wings fluttering. "Where the hell do those bloody wings come from? And why do they disappear so fast?"

Instead of spitting at the accusations, Malfoy grew oddly pensive, sitting so motionlessly on his broom that for a moment Harry wondered whether he'd somehow become frozen. He looked around him just to be certain, but there was nobody else but them here, so that ruled out a hex being cast.

"You can see them?" Malfoy asked oddly, right when Harry was about to ask if he was okay.

The strange question had Harry frowning. "Yeah, not for long, but I saw them. Where did they come from? Why do they disappear after just a couple of seconds? Are you using some kind of spell?"

"What do they look like?" Malfoy deflected his questions with another one of his own; his grey eyes growing with a weird sort of intensity. He flew closer to Harry, making the other man lean back warily.

"I don't know, big, I guess. Silver whitish, I think? I only saw them for a couple of seconds just like last week," he answered cautiously.

"You saw them last week as well?" There was definitely interest growing in those grey eyes, but for the life of him, Harry couldn't understand why.

"Yes, look, are you going to answer my - "

"Interesting, very interesting," Malfoy murmured and this time he flew so close, their knees bumped against each other. The corners of his mouth unfurled slowly in a smirk and when he spoke next, his voice acquired a strange breathy tone. "Things just got a hell of a lot more interesting, Potter."

And that was all he said before he flew down, dismounted his broom and disappeared into the castle again.

Harry was left hovering in the air, his breath escaping in tiny little clouds, as he wondered just what the fuck had just happened.


When he woke up the next morning, he was greeted by a single, green aventurine stone on his pillow, cut into the shape of a wing.


AN2: Yes, this story is getting more chapters, because clearly I like to screw myself over. What else is new, what else is new.

Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.

I hope to see you all back in the next chapter! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!

Cuddles

Melissa



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