That next Saturday was a blazingly beautiful early Spring day, the sky a soft cornflower blue splashed with sunlight.

It was one of the odd occasions that Malfoy hadn't slept in Harry's bed or vice versa but Harry knew the other boy would be awake already for the Slytherin Quidditch practice, and he intended to sneak down and watch him for a bit before taking him off for the day to monopolise his attention.

It had been a good week since he told Malfoy he was taking him out - he hadn't been called once to pick the other boy up over the past three days, which he took to mean that Malfoy had been staying away from the drugs for once, and might not be in his usual state of going up or coming down.

"That's all I want from him," he'd told Ron and Hermione in a tearful confession one night. "I'm so sick of watching him come up and down, I want him level and stable for once."

As he dressed and then collected everything he needed for his plans, Harry hummed cheerfully to himself. It was going to be a good day.

***

When Harry got down to the viewing stands, the Slytherins were already on the pitch and practicing drills together. Malfoy clocked him immediately, and soared up effortlessly to hover by the stands.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy hissed, ignoring Flint's heckles for him to come back.

"I'm allowed to watch my greatest Quidditch rival while he trains, aren't I?" Harry grinned innocently, lacing his hands behind his head and flexing. "Just getting some ideas, Malfoy. Don't let me distract you."

"Well, as a matter of fact, you are distracting me," Malfoy snapped. "I deeply resent the fact that you came here to perv on me, it is a violation of my human rights-"

"Malfoy!!!" Flint bellowed from the centre of the pitch. "If I have to come up there and drag you away myself, I'll Hex your fucking balls off! Don't test me!!"

Malfoy paled. "Don't fucking watch me, Potter," he snapped, before wheeling round and heading reluctantly down to his captain for an angry lecture.

But Harry did watch him, and he did so with great pleasure. Despite his complaints, Malfoy was playing extremely well that morning. Harry was reminded again what an excellent Seeker the boy was, and how much difficulty he'd have keeping up with him at the next game. Why was it that difficult feelings made Malfoy such a great player, and made Harry so much worse?

***

"You're still here," Malfoy glared when he emerged from the changing rooms, looking delightfully ruffled-up in the way that Harry liked him best.

"Yes," smiled Harry sweetly. "Today is the day we get to do what I want."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "I told you to give me time to think about that!" he protested. "Not just spring it on me!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ok, drama queen. If I asked, we both know you'd say no. So I'm telling you: this is the schedule for your day. You're spending it with me, and you're not getting high, and you're going to be nice to me."

"You can't control me," Malfoy snapped. "I'll come with you but if I want to get high I will, and if I want to be mean to you I will."

"Merlin, Malfoy, give it a fucking rest!" Harry laughed exasperatedly. "It's one day of your life, ok? And I'm not going to do anything terrible."

Malfoy surveyed Harry doubtfully. "Should I get changed?" he asked.

"We aren't even leaving the castle," Harry replied. "I'd say you're more than great as you are."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Fine. You have until sundown to do whatever you want. But I can't promise I'll like it."

"Ok, you absolute misery," Harry rolled his eyes back. "The first thing I want is for you to fucking lighten up. But failing that - I brought you an apple pie from breakfast because I imagine you're hungry, and we're going to go and study together by the lake."

"Study together?" Malfoy repeated incredulously, though he accepted the breakfast offering with haste. "That's what you want to do??"

"Yes," said Harry simply. "You keep selfishly dragging me out of classes or making me miss them entirely, and taking all my attention away from my work outside of lessons too, so today you and I are going to catch up."

Malfoy didn't seem convinced, though he also looked far less apprehensive than before.

"I'll make it worth your while if you're nice to me," Harry insisted. "And besides, studying is something I like to do with my friends. And I'd like to be more like friends with you, if we can't be anything else. Just - come with me. Please?"

Malfoy considered the offer for a moment, frowning. He felt like he'd been rather pushed into this, but Potter was right - they were both behind on their studies. It was a beautiful day, he didn't have other plans, and he liked the idea of having it "made worth his while".

"Fine," he sighed. "Just for a day."

***

Draco stretched out on his back and laced his hands behind his head, exhausted by the effort of so much reading and writing.

Potter had led him to a spot by the Lake, a beautiful little hidden patch of meadow that Draco hadn't known previously existed, and set out ink, Quills, textbooks and parchment for each of them. Of course he's prepared, Draco had thought scornfully to himself. He probably had wet dreams about this little study session all week.

The wildflowers were delicate and softly colourful, bluebells and violets and snowdrops, and the pages in front of the boys were filled with lines and lines of ink on the Wolfsbane potion, the Inanimagus spell, and the merits of non-verbal magic.

"When was the last time you were high?" Potter asked abruptly, and Draco frowned at the intrusion.

"I finished coming down yesterday. So I guess just under a week ago?" he responded. That was his best guess.

"Do you think you could ... go without it for a bit now?" Potter sounded almost timid, shy, words Draco would never normally associate with the boy.

He thought about the request. "Why do you ask?"

The dark-haired boy shrugged, laying down his Quill. "It would be nice for me to sleep at night without worrying about you," he said quietly. "I like you better when you're like this, you're more you."

"I like me much better when I'm high," Draco smiled ruefully. "I like you better when I'm high, too."

Potter looked a little hurt, and Draco felt a little twist of remorse in his stomach.

"Come here," he whispered, and the other boy came to lay uncertainly down next to him. They turned so they were facing each other, and drank in the other's features for a second.

Malfoy's proximity made the little hairs on Harry's arms stand up, as if they were pulling him towards him by the follicles. Are his up too? he wondered. It feels like I'm touching him.

Malfoy reached up firmly but gently, cupped Harry's chin, and then kissed him with soft but deliberate intent.

The scent of the wildflowers and the light of the early spring sun washed over them as they kissed side by side, and after a minute Malfoy pushed Harry onto his back - not roughly like usual, but as though he was precious - and Harry allowed himself to be pressed blissfully into the warm grass under the weight of the other boy's body.

He allowed Malfoy to kiss him, to slip his hands up his robe. Allowed him to slide off the frustrating material that kept their bodies apart where the heat was most intense.

"Can I?" he whispered, and Harry nodded.

They hadn't done it like this in a while, so Harry was surprised at how quickly his body relaxed into the pressure as Malfoy slid inside him, and how little it hurt.

Recently if they slept together it was more frantic, hungrier, a way to distract Malfoy from his comedown, but this? This was tender, this was gentle. It felt like love.

Yet it wasn't gentle in the way it was when he was high. Draco seemed present and more aware of his surroundings, and enthusiastic too.

"There's a good boy," he breathed in Harry's ear as the pace picked up.

Harry was extremely grateful for the spot he'd chosen for their date-that-wasn't-a-date that afternoon. A solid line of trees arched around the two of them in a crescent, protecting them from the view of the castle, though there was still the illicit thrill that if anyone was on the Lake, they'd be seen quite quickly.

"I love this," Harry rasped, voice strained from focus and pleasure. "I love what you do to me. I love watching your face screw up above mine. I love the way your hair falls in your face-"

He wanted to see how many different ways he could tell Malfoy he loved him without actually saying the forbidden three words, and he seemed to be doing quite well.

It became clear that the end was nearing.

"Are you close?" he asked.

Malfoy's eyes were wide, his breath loud. "Yeah," he gasped. "Can I-?"

Harry pretended to think about it, though it was a struggle to act casual when his mind was being slowly blown.

"Potter, I don't have long, stop playing fucking games!" Malfoy choked. "I'm- Potter, please-"

"I'm not stopping you."

Harry grinned as Malfoy collapsed on his chest with a drawn-out groan.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked sweetly.

"Much better, you teasing bastard," Malfoy replied with a glare.

Harry sighed lazily, and stretched out on the grass as Malfoy rolled off him and got to cleaning up. "This has been a good date so far, hasn't it?" he asked happily.

"Not a date," Malfoy corrected him. "A study session."

"Oh yeah, the studying was the most memorable and important part for me too!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Wanker."

"Dickhead."

"Darling."

"Potter."

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a/n: thanks for reading! please vote and comment if you enjoyed🤍🤍  the date isn't over so i guess this could be considered part 1 of 2,  stay tuned for the second half in the next chapter!!

~ paradisedraco