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The days felt full of potential, but differently to how Harry was used to. For once his life wasn’t about chores and appointments and duties; it was just Draco and he and, at times, his guitar.
The holiday in Germany started on a whim. One of Draco’s whims. Harry and he had become friendly within the recent years, and he was surprised by the ways Draco never failed to surprise. He was knowledgeable and knew half the wizarding world, as well as bits and pieces of the Muggle world as well, it seemed. Draco knew everything and everyone that granted him tickets to exclusive events, the best tables in restaurants—everything that Harry, the gilded Saviour himself, could make use of if he only knew the game. But with Draco, Harry got all that. And if the Malfoy name was still frowned upon, Draco had a suave way of pointing out his gentleman friend. The whole world seemed to open up with just a few of Draco’s clever words and the bespoke robes Draco put him in.
That’s exactly how they ended up in Heiligendamm, Germany, enjoying a posh hotel suite at the height of the summer season that overlooked the Baltic Sea. They had to share the room—Harry started suspecting Draco of getting shared rooms on purpose—but they didn’t spend much time in the pompous white building anyway. Too intriguing were the outdoors to stay inside very much. The coastal town struck Harry as very Draco right away. The restaurants and deck bars were expensive, the drinks sparkling and garnished with mint leaves, and there didn’t seem to be just one building in the town that wasn’t a seventeen-hundred-something-built villa.
But Draco wouldn’t be Draco if he didn’t surprise Harry. Not just with a spontaneous trip, but also in his fascination for the things around them that had nothing to do with the many Galleons Draco had surely paid. When walking along the promenade, Draco often stopped, riveted by the sight of the Baltic Sea that looked so calm in the distance. He paused to point at seagulls and to look at the crooked trees for too long, and he preferred stopping at one of the kiosks to get a Fischbrötchen—a bun filled with fried fish and a mayo that Draco calls rémoulade—much rather than eating lunch in one of the fancy restaurants.
It’s on their second day after a long walk along the beach, interrupted by a few rounds of diving into the refreshing water (Harry hadn’t believed Germany to be a destination for sun-bathing and splashing about in the sea), that they found the neighbouring town. It seemed not quite as upscale, and not quite as filled with self-importance compared with their hotel. According to Draco, the best part of the town was that the promenade was for pedestrians only and banned the Muggle atrocities that were bicycles. Harry had half a mind to dare Draco to learn to ride one.
“Play,” Draco prompted, eyes lingering on the quaint backdrop of Kühlungsborn, before turning to the sea. The sun was just about to set. “You ought to play here.” Demonstratively, he sat down on the ground instead of approaching one of the benches nearby, apparently not caring about his white trousers.
Harry felt insecure; he'd only just begun to learn to play the guitar, and Ron had already gotten annoyed with him for playing the same three songs over and over again. But Draco cast a Notice-Me-Not, a thing he’s exceptionally good at, and Harry’s hands worked on their own accord, un-packing and un-shrinking the guitar from his rucksack.
Wonderwall by Oasis. Bad Moon Rising by CCR. Blackbird by The Beatles. That was his repertoire so far, even though Blackbird was still a bit too hard for him, at least when he attempted to sing along.
To Draco it didn’t seem to matter. Harry played the chords, starting out with the song he’s least familiar with, and he watched the corners of Draco’s mouth draw up into a genuine, beautiful smile. His eyes turn away from the blushing light of sunset and drew to Harry the moment the melody picked up.They stayed there.
Harry mumbled his words along, concentrating on the set of his fingers and the lyrics and not messing up the sung melody too badly. But after just the first line, Draco joins in, and that gives Harry all the security he needs. He’d keep on playing, just to hear Draco sing to it.
“Again,” Draco requested after the song was over too quickly, and Harry picked the G chord to start over. It dawned on him there and then, in the scenery of the setting sun above the sea, helplessly grinning at the sound of Draco’s and his voice melting together into a perfect harmony that he hadn’t thought possible between two blokes, that he never wanted to be apart from him.
For the first time, his mind was open for a whole new perspective on the line, All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arise.
