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Chapter Text

Draco POV

Harry crowds Draco’s space, the proximity to the taller boy making his breath hitch.
“I’ve been thinking about you for so long, Draco. It’s driving me crazy.”
Draco instinctively backs away and feels his back hit the wall.
“W-Wot?”
The seconds tick by slower and slower as Harry leans down and whispers into Draco’s ear.
“Wake up.”
Draco raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“I said wake up.”

Draco looks confused after being ripped out of his slumber.
“Finally. You sleep like a bloody log.” Crabbe huffs before sauntering away.
Draco fully sits up, disgustingly aware of the cold layer of sweat encasing him and drops his face into his hands. What the bloody hell just happened? He thought. Why was that orphaned bloody stupid idiot face in my dream?
Goyle popped his head into Draco’s dorm. “Crabbe says to hurry your twink arse up.”
Draco glared at Goyle as his head disappeared back through the door. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying not to dwell too hard on the poorly timed twink comment. His tie was nowhere in sight, and his vest lay discarded under his bed out of reach. He grumbled in annoyance and buttoned up his shirt halfway, grabbing his cloak before rushing out into the hall to meet Crabbe and Goyle on their way to breakfast.

“Mate, where is your uniform?” Crabbe said, eyeing his lack of a tie and vest.
“Mcgonagall is going to take lioke 20 points if she sees any more of your bare chest during breakfast,” Goyle adds, noting his mostly unbuttoned shirt.
Draco scowled and speed-walked up the stairs. He stopped at the top with the onset of an idea and turned to face Goyle.
“Give me your tie, then.”
Goyle gave him an unsure look.
“Since you’re so worried about it,” Draco added.
Goyle reluctantly undid his tie and handed it over. Draco slung the tie over his shoulder as they strutted into the cafeteria.

Harry POV

Harry was attempting to absorb as much of Hermione’s and Ron’s argument as he could without offering any of his opinions to fuel their disagreement. He knows better than to get involved by now. He huffed and stabbed a few of the pancakes on his plate that were basically drowning in syrup.
“You know,” he started, the sarcasm brewing the back of his throat, “If you guys got divorced, I don’t know if I’d feel happy or sad.”
They looked at him blankly. “We’re not married,” they said in unison.
“Yet, somehow,” Harry strained a smile and gave his pancake another stab, “you two fight like a couple in the midst of an annulment.”
Ron gave him a funky look. “What’s gotchuh panties in a twist?”
Hermione, to Harry’s delight, slapped Ron upside the head at the mention of panties around her food.

Harry didn’t quite know what was causing his annoyance.
Well, he did, but it was completely beyond him to admit the fact that couldn’t stop catching himself looking (staring) at Draco Malfoy. And it really didn’t help his case when Malfoy came striding into the cafeteria looking like he'd just come back from a quick shag in a broom closet.

Harry’s gaze dragged over his askew blonde locks and fluttered down to where he hadn't bothered to button his shirt up to. His tie lay neatly slung over his shoulder and his robe sat tucked under his athletic arm. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Harry was having immense trouble tearing his eyes away from the veins running up from Draco’s knuckles and spanning his forearms.
A shame they hate each other.

“EARTH TO HARRY” Ron bellowed. A few Gryffindors turned to look at them with amused expressions on their faces.
“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.” (He really hadn’t). He was glad something had diverted his attention from the white-blond hair a couple tables over.
Ron looked unconvinced and Hermione craned her head confusedly to see what (or rather who) he had been ogling.
“Anyways,” Ron started, “I’ve been trying to get a date to the Yule Ball, but nobody wants to go with me. I swear girls are so bloody difficult. It would be so much easier to be a girl and get to go with a guy, we’ve got less standards,” Ron jokes. “Anyway, are you having any luck, Harry?”
“Hm? Oh, erm, no, no. I haven’t really tried.”

Harry’s gaze somehow slid back to the table a few meters away where Malfoy just happened to be the centerpiece in his line of sight. Harry hypnotically watched Draco knot the tie gracefully around his collar and effectively seal off the window to his sternum.
Mcgonagall, who had been glaring daggers at Draco to fix his uniform as per usual, averted her menacing gaze and returned to eating her beans on toast.

Now that Harry thought about it, Draco was looking a bit more on edge than usual. The pre-Christmas quidditch championships between Gryffindor and Slytherin were approaching fast and tensions between the two houses were a bit higher than normal. Harry had also gotten word that Filch was planning on moving a few of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws into the dungeons with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs for construction in the dorm towers. (Thanks to a ‘small’ prank by a certain pair of Weasley twins, most of the towers were missing a roof or two.)
(And possibly a few walls.)
Harry watched as Malfoy sneered at Crabbe and Goyle for something they said. He always looked positively rotten with evil when he talked to those two, and it suddenly dawned on Harry that they looked as if they were most certainly plotting something wicked.
Crabbe muttered something to Malfoy, whose eyes swung abruptly upwards and locked onto Harry’s face as it slowly heated up with annoyance. Not much to Harry’s surprise, Draco’s gaze radiated hatred that Harry could feel burning him up even more. Malfoy had so much animosity for practically everyone that Harry decided not to take his hateful glare to heart.

Merlin knows Harry hated that boy enough for the both of them.

He was finally able to avert his eyes from the Slytherin, dropping his gaze to the food he’d been pushing around his plate for the better part of the last couple minutes. He could still feel Draco’s gaze burning a hole into his head, but tried to ignore it.

That day, Malfoy must have sneered at him 12 more times than usual, which only further validated Harry’s suspicion that he must be plotting something against Gryffindor. Harry was certain that Draco was making sure Harry knew that whatever Harry overheard at breakfast was none of his business, (even if in reality he couldn’t really hear anything, let alone Ron screeching in his ear).

Chapter Text

Draco POV

Harry reached out to fix Draco’s tie. 

“Let me help you,” he said casually. 

Draco thought for a moment that his voice sounded ethereal, as if it wasn’t really there and was just part of a breeze that washed through the window.  

His hands weaved the slightly crooked tie apart. He shifted the strip of fabric and began to retie it but froze when Draco’s eyes caught his own emerald orbs.

His hand suddenly slid down from the collar of Draco’s shirt and rested on his waist. Much to Draco’s sudden dismay, he leaned closer, keeping eye contact. “I think you look better without it,” he purred, “Draco.”

The butterflies in his stomach were understandably losing it. The taller boy slinked closer to him and Draco found himself pinned against the wall behind him. He, for reasons he couldn’t come to terms with, reached up and took the glasses off of the taller boy’s nose, letting them fall to the ground. Harry’s breath washed over his face and it was about then that he realized how close this hoe was to him. Did he really mind? No.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry whispered under his breath, as if he meant to keep it a secret. 

Draco looked into his emerald eyes and leaned in. His head tilts up to capture Harry's lips in a kiss. It's soft at first, almost cautious, but he soon becomes more sure of himself, kissing him with more confidence despite being pressed against the wall. His back arches up as he feels Harry's possessive grip on his waist. 

Draco woke up with a gasp. A couple of gasps, actually. He frantically looked around for a moment to make sure he was, in fact, alone, before rubbing his eyes open and glancing at the time. The clock read 4:46 am, which was far earlier than he would’ve liked to wake. However, he had absolutely no intention of going back to sleep now. Not after Potter had begun plaguing his nightmares. 

Draco was frankly going to lose it. It had been about a week since Crabbe and Goyle had woken him up the day the dreams had started, and Draco was seriously considering a Dreamless Sleep Potion, which he knew would eventually stop working if he used it too much because inevitably his body would become immune. 

How did Potter figure out how to torture me like this, he thought, scowling.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I can’t let this go on,” he muttered out loud. 

Draco spent the next hour in the early morning searching for a potion that would either keep him awake, give him dreamless sleep, or possibly kill him quickly. (He ended up looking in the love potion section of his book of potions for a split second before embarrassment overcame him, and he promptly ripped those pages out and Vanished them). He then spent the next two hours he had to spare before breakfast lying on his bed attempting, and failing, not to fall asleep.

Harry POV

Harry decided that there was absolutely no way Draco wasn’t plotting something. He was acting more suspicious than ever in the days leading up to the tournament, and Harry was very determined to unearth whatever he was doing. 

A perfect example of his erratic behaviour was in Potions that very day. Harry usually ignored Malfoy’s blatant insults and rugged sneers, but for some bizarre reason, Draco's eyes seemed to be permanently glued to the floor. They did occasionally drift to the shelf in search of odd ingredients which Harry was becoming increasingly convinced were for potions that would hinder Gryffindor's playing abilities at the tournament. 

It was only when Professor Slughorn called them to open up to page 183 in their books did Draco flip through his book, pausing to look blankly up at Slughorn to tell him he ‘didn’t have a page 183’. Slughorn frowned and picked up the book, and Harry caught a glimpse of the distinct tear down the inner spine of the book. 

Slughorn sighed. “Well, looks like you’ll have to share with someone else.”

None of Draco’s friends seemed to be in this particular class. Slughorn split the class into pairs, and Ron had been paired with Neville. The last people without a partner were Hermione, Draco, and Harry. Draco, it seemed, looked somewhat frightful.

Slughorn gestured Harry toward Ron and Neville. “Go on then, you all can be a group of three. Draco, join Hermione.”

Harry watched as a sense of relief flooded over Malfoy’s features. This must be a part of his plan, Harry decided. To distract Ron… by flirting with Hermione! Not this time.

Both Harry and Ron protested the pairing in unison-

“Now just wait a minute professor-”

“Actually, Hermione should work with us-” 

-and so Hermione looked relieved to not have to work with Malfoy.

“Fine then,” Slughorn said nonchalantly, “Harry, you work with Draco then. I don’t want to see any horseplay from you two.”

Harry gave himself a small smile for saving Hermione but proceeded to realize that he’d now have to work with Malfoy. He looked up to find Draco flushed and looking like he would rather be anywhere else at this present moment. It at least brought Harry some joy knowing he wasn’t exactly comfortable with this pairing either.

When they flipped to the page, they were greeted with the recipe for the Amortentia potion, much to both of their dismay. 

“Love potion?” Harry questioned. “Reckon you’ll smell your own hair gel with how bloody obsessed with yourself you are." He gave Draco a sly smile.

Draco faltered for a moment when he caught Harry’s smile, but then just sneered at him. He hasn’t said a word to Harry since they’ve been paired up, and for reasons he can’t seem to place, that really bothered him. He kept looking over to him as Slughorn droned on and on despite not a single person in the class– except Hermione maybe – listening to a word he’s said. 

He noticed Draco’s eyes fixed onto his book despite him mentioning that he was missing page 183. Naturally, this piqued Harry’s interest.

Harry attempted to discreetly peer over Draco’s shoulder to see what he was looking at. Every time Malfoy felt the gaze of the other boy he slammed his book shut and sneered at him.

“Did no one teach you to keep your eyes to yourself, Potter?” Draco scoffed. His voice dropped to a lower volume. “Every morning at breakfast you can’t seem to take them off of me.”

Harry’s face began to flush after being caught staring, but he quickly recovered.

“Did no one teach you to pay attention in class?” He quickly diverted the topic. “What are you looking at, anyways?” Harry was quite interested, and for a brief moment it almost seemed as if Malfoy might give him a bona fide answer. But then, a flush of light pink crept up from his collar and spread to his sharp cheekbones, and he shook his head. “It’s none of your bloody business.” 

“Oh, I think it is." Harry’s hand slammed down suddenly on top of Malfoy’s now closed book, and he leaned closer so that any other Slytherins at the tables near to them wouldn’t eavesdrop. Draco gave him a wild look. “I know exactly what you’re-” he paused his improvised interrogation to take in how horrified Malfoy appeared to be. He lowered his voice even more and cleared his throat. “I know exactly what you’re doing. If you think I’m going to let this tomfoolery just slide by me, you’re wrong, Malfoy.” 

Harry figured that his threat, (that he assumed was made clearly about the tournament), must have worked because Malfoy looked to be on the brink of jumping off a cliff. He also didn’t deny having done anything suspicious, which was both a good and bad sign to Harry.

Slughorn interrupted their small scuffle of breathing in each other's faces to tell them to add the 3rd ingredient of their potion. He paused and looked Malfoy in the face for a moment. “You alright there, Draco? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Then again, the Bloody Baron made his way through here a few minutes ago– so I suppose you did!" He laughed at his own joke and walked over to Hermione’s group to applaud them on their progress.

Harry dumped the Peppermint into the concoction and stirred it slowly. Malfoy seemed to have gathered himself and found his voice because he immediately grilled Harry on his stirring abilities. 

“Do you do everything this slow? Stir faster. We don't have all day, Potter.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’d love to spend all day with me, Malfoy,” he shot back, his tone drenched in sarcasm.

Draco grimaced and scrunched his nose as he grabbed the powdered Moonstone. “You bloody wish." He tapped the powder lightly into the heating cauldron and loomed over the pot to observe the nearly homogenous mixture. “Give me that, I’ll stir it.” 

Harry frowned, gripping the spoon. “I’m stirring it just fine, thank you.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and his wonderfully veined hand tightened around his book for a moment. There was no denying that Malfoy’s arms usually attracted Harry's attention, and he (much to his own chagrin) was just slightly disappointed when Draco had showed up to class with his sleeves rolled down. 

Slughorn came over to instruct them on what to do next, thus dissipating the sudden tension in the air.

Draco POV (its the same setting as Harry’s)

Draco’s soul had well enough left his body by the time Slughorn came back around. Harry had given him the impression that he seemed to somehow know about the ridiculous things he’d been dreaming about and Harry, for some reason, looked very pleased with himself for acknowledging it to the both of them. 

His confusing situation was really mistimed, too. The quidditch championship between Harry’s house and his own was approaching very, very fast, and he quite literally couldn’t keep his mind straight whenever he saw Potter. After Harry had volunteered to work with him on the potions, he really didn’t know whether he’d wanted to punch him in his perfect face or slam him against the nearest wall and smother his perfect smile. It was all very conflicting. 

Slughorn helped them finish up their potion. “Now, who can tell me what this potion is for?” Hermione’s hand shot straight up. “Yes, Hermione.”

“Whatever you smell in the steam of the potion is what attracts you. It can also be used to attract someone to you.”

“Indeed. Everyone, get a whiff of the potion and record three things you can ascertain from the scent. After you all are done you may clean up and go.”

All the students excitedly took turns taking in the scent of their mixtures and sharing what they smelled. Meanwhile, Draco froze in front of the cauldron. He didn’t think they’d actually have to smell it. Potter didn’t look particularly eager to get a whiff either, and gestured for Draco to go first. 

“Absolutely not. You go first. It was made from the recipe in your book after all, wasn’t it?” Draco knows how goofy of an excuse that is, but naturally it works on Harry because he’s so slow.

Harry POV

He shrugs and leans over the cauldron. The aroma of sandalwood hair gel basically slapped him clear across the face. The smell of his broomstick was evident as well, but it was, for some reason wildly unknown to him, much weaker. Harry struggled laboriously to maintain his composure of ‘I totally did not just smell you in my potion, mate’. His eye twitched against his will and he decided at that moment that he hated how good Draco smelled. “Satisfied? Now go.” 

Draco POV

Draco cautiously approaches the cauldron, not excited at all for what he’ll find in the steam. Immediately, it was as if someone had a bottle of cologne with Harry’s name plastered on it and had dumped it into the concoction.

Draco jolts back, face pale as a ghost and sees Harry raise an eyebrow out the corner of his eye. Why can’t this bloke just leave me alone? Draco thought woefully.

“Jeez, Malfoy, don’t be so dramatic. What did you smell, anyway?” 

Draco searched for a way to escape answering the question, but luckily he didn’t need one. 

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Slughorn called to the class. “Alright, everyone, start cleaning up.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief before immediately exiting the room, having no interest in spending another second with Harry. 

He heard Harry call “Oi, what the hell? We need to clean all this up!” But he just kept walking. He was halfway down the hallway before he realized that he left his potions book behind in the classroom, but he couldn’t turn back now. 

He arrived back to his dorm common room and slumped sadly against the green velvet couch. Potter has no right to occupy this many of my thoughts, he thought sourly. No right at all.

Goyle suddenly stumbled into the room with Crabbe, their chatter interrupting his thoughts. “Wot on earth wos he doin?'' Goyle laughed. “Mental, that one.” 

“Who are you two talking about,” Draco grumbled, catching their attention.

Crabbe snickered, sharing a look with Goyle. “That blasted Potter almost ran us over while he was-“ he was interrupted suddenly by the painting door opening up to Pansy. 

“Potters looking for ya, draky boy,” she chuckled. “Said he has ya book.”

Draco ran a hand down his face and sighed, standing to return to his room before quidditch practice. “Wotever. He shouldn’t have bothered.” I’ll just get it next class, when he’ll have probably forgotten all about the Amortentia, he thought contently.

He paused on his way down the steps upon realizing he may need that book in order to figure out how to stop his erratic dreams from returning. He needed to stop thinking of Potter. 

Draco hadn’t exactly slept well in those past couple days, and anytime he did fall asleep, green eyes met him and he hated them so much. He especially hated how much he wanted to see them again, up close and personal.

Chapter Text

Harry turned the leather Potion book in his hands. It was a bit more worn out than his own, thanks to his lack of studying. Quidditch took up most of his time, and the game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was tomorrow. 

“Whoy dont yor jus leave et with Slughorn?” Ron asks on their way to breakfast. 

Harry frowns. “I still don’t know what he’s been plotting to do at the game tomorrow, and I plan on asking.” 

Hermione chimes in. “What makes you think he’ll tell you?”

“This." Harry holds up a small, dark flask and swishes its contents absently. 

Ron stares at the flask with confusion. “Mate…” He grabs Harry’s shoulder and suddenly they stop walking. “You can’t just seduce Draco Malfoy with a love potion right before the championship match!” Harry swears he hears a few people snicker as they walk by.

Harry’s face suddenly became very crimson. “Why- what- Ron, why would I give him a LOVE POTION??” he sputtered, “this isn’t-“ 

Hermione interrupted him, thankfully. “It’s a truth potion. It’s Veritaserum, Ron.” She turned to Harry with a curious look. “Where’d you get it, anyway?”

Harry gave her a wink. “Don’t worry about it.”

They arrived in the cafeteria and Harry looked over to where Draco normally resided. Surely enough, the tall blond was reclined next to Crabbe, but Goyle seemed to be absent. 

Harry split from Ron and Hermione with a mumble that he’d be right back. He walked quickly over to the Slytherin table, trying and failing to not draw too much attention. Pansy eyed the book in his hand, then snickered and said something to Blaise, who also cracked a smile. 

Crabbe looked up before Draco did, and frankly Malfoy looked like he was trying to will Harry out of existence by not acknowledging his presence. Crabbe bumped his shoulder and he glanced up to where Harry was standing a few decimeters away from him. 

Draco POV

Harry didn’t immediately offer Draco his book back, which Draco thought was odd, and instead sat next to him and grabbed a plate to eat breakfast. 

“Wot the hell are you doing, Pottuh,” Draco spat. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is not your bloody Gryffindor table.”

Harry shrugged and shoveled 12 pancakes onto his plate. “You lot have fresher pancakes than we do, all of our’s are stale.” 

That was the stupidest excuse Draco had ever heard. “They all taste the same.” 

“How would you know,” Harry replied, “you haven’t tried Gryffindor pancakes." He grabbed one of the jugs of orange juice from the center of the table and poured himself a glass as he said this.

Draco stared, unamused.”And I suppose our orange juice tastes better too?” 

Harry smiled weirdly. “Why don’t I go get you some and you’ll see for yourself." He swung his legs back over the bench to stand up before Malfoy could refuse.

“Just stay at your own table.” Draco grumbled.

Harry held up the leather potions book in his hand and basically waved it in front of Draco’s face. “I still have something to ask you about the lesson yesterday," he lied brightly. “And I’ll only give this back if you try our orange juice.” 

As he strode over to his own table to get a sample of juice, Crabbe poked Draco in the shoulder. “It's odd that he came over here, innit?”

Draco grimaced and mumbled under his breath to Crabbe as Harry made his way back to the table. “If he tries any funny business, I’ll put him back in his place.” 

He patted the wand in his robe pocket and Crabbe snickered. “I’d pay to see that go down.” 

“Pay to see what?” Harry had just sat down next to Draco with a glass of juice. It was only then that Draco paused for an infinitesimal moment to admire Harry’s jawline before he quickly turned to look back at Crabbe. It's completely normal to appreciate another bloke's jawline, he gaslit himself.

Crabbe sneered at him. “Keep your ears to yourself Potter.”

Harry put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine, noted." He slid one of the glasses to Draco and motioned for him to drink it. 

“Wait,” Draco said, “If you’re really going to make me try this, then we should both try it." He was unadmittedly afraid that Potter had poisoned it while at his house table. It was also around this moment that Draco began to be aware of the strange looks that he and Potter were getting from their fellow students. They did look a little odd, he supposed, as they were two seekers from warring teams casually having breakfast.

Pansy even strode past them at one point just to ask if Harry was Goyle's replacement. (Goyle was, in reality, at the nurse for a toothache, but Draco just rolled his eyes at the comment).

“What, you don’t trust me, Malfoy?” Harry smirked and Draco ultimately wanted to smack that beautiful thing off his face before anyone else could get seduced by it as much as he was right then. 

“Not really, no." His voice had risen a few octaves higher than normal and he cleared his throat. “A-hem no, no. Trust is earned, Potter.” 

Harry looked at him strangely. “Well… fine then I suppose. You try the Gryffindor one and I’ll take the Sytherin juice” 

Draco rolled his eyes once again at how slow Harry was. “No, dimwit, we both drink from the same cup. If they really are different, then I guess we’ll know, and you can give me my bloody book back.” 

Harry hesitated and fiddled with the leather binding of Draco’s book and Draco struggled to not stare at his hands for too long for risk of dwelling on his dreams from previous nights. 

“If you two don't drink those sodding orange juice glasses, I will.” Crabbe suddenly grabbed one of the glasses and chugged it down. Harry froze and his face blanched. Draco gave him a confused glance.

“Well, is it the same?” Draco asked after a moment. 

It seemed as if Crabbe’s entire life story began to spill out of his mouth. “From the time I was a wee child, I thought all oranges tasted the same…” and from there he just kept talking. 

As Crabbe yammered on, Draco stood abruptly; realizing what had happened. He turned to Harry, who was looking particularly guilty, and grabbed where his tie was knotted around his neck, yanking him up and forward. “This is why I don’t trust you,” he hissed, leaning closer. “How dare you try to trick me.” Malfoy could feel eyes in the room shifting to them.

Harry grabbed his wrist and twisted it so that Draco would let go of his tie. When that did not work, he used his other hand to shove Draco’s face away. “Let go, you twat,” Harry managed to say. 

“A truth potion? Really?” Draco spat in reply, his grip tightening on Harry’s tie as he drew it closer, swatting Harry’s hand away from his face, “I thought you were more sophisticated than that, Pottah.” 

Harry retracted his hand from Draco's face briefly, and immediately after, his clenched fist collided with Draco’s jaw. The grip on his tie loosened as Crabbe continued to talk. A few surprised gasps penetrated the air around them.

Harry wrenched his tie away and was about to back up farther before Draco’s own knuckles found their way to his face, painfully sending him a few steps backwards and knocking his glasses sideways. Scattered “oohs” erupted around the room.

Both boys, now a meter or two away from each other, began to draw their wands before they were interrupted.   

“PUT… your wands… down.” Snape’s amplified voice echoed through the hall. Harry wiped the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. He looked past Draco’s shoulder and caught the disapproving glare of Hermione (and the rather approving one from Ron). All the Slytherins around them had stopped to watch as soon as Draco had yanked him up off the bench, and Pansy seemed far too entertained by their scuffle to try to intervene. Crabbe was still yapping about every time he had ever tried orange juice.

Harry POV

Harry and Draco sat with Snape’s glowering expression across from them. He spoke in his usual methodically slow voice, which held a twinge of annoyance. “The audacity from you both- I am severely disappointed at your immaturity." He continued, “and what I want to know is what you think justifies the fracas you both created in the hall this morning.” 

Harry and Draco were silent and avoided looking at one another. Snape sneered. “Well? One of you, spit it out. Or else you’ll both be out of the championship match tomorrow." He tossed a menacing glare in Harry's direction.

Harry saw Draco in his peripheral, opening his mouth to speak. Harry dropped his head in defeat. Draco was for sure going to tell Snape all about the spiked orange juice, and he’d never touch a broomstick again.

Draco spoke. “Professor, we were fighting because I insulted his parents.”

Harry’s head shot up and he tried his best not to look as surprised as he felt.

Draco continued his completely fabricated story with perfect composure. “I told him his father must have been an awful wizard, since he couldn’t even protect his wife from death.” 

Harry was frankly feeling a bit hurt by the stabs at his late father’s magical abilities, but for some reason, Snape seemed to buy the story. Snape even looked rather smitten at the idea that Draco had said those things about James Potter to Harry’s face. Draco added some more heinous insults to his story and Snape looked completely convinced.

“Well…” he started, “Potter, it is against school policy to start physical fights with your classmates. Detention for 3 weeks. And I’m taking 50 points.” 

Harry almost smiled since he was still in the tournament, but immediately suppressed it and decided to keep up the act. 

He pasted a frown on his features. “What about him? he’s the one who-“ 

Snape rolled his eyes and cut him off. “Yes, yes. Malfoy, 1 week detention. Minus 10 points for running your mouth.” Snape seemed to be attempting to subdue some sort of grin, however was failing.

After they exited Snape’s lair and the door shut behind them, Harry grabbed Draco’s wrist and they stopped walking. Draco turned to look at him blankly and Harry could see the dried blood on his lower lip. “What… Why would you lie?” he asked genuinely.

Malfoy answered simply, “I want you to return my book to me.” 

Harry pulled the book out of his cloak and looked up at Draco, a doubtful expression on his face. What are you plotting?

It was as if Malfoy could read his mind. “Contrary to what you seem to believe,” he spat, “I don’t have any malicious plans for tomorrow, Pottuh." He snatched the book from Harry’s hand. “Plus there’s no point in playing unless I can prove once and for all that I’m a better seeker than you. Which I am.”

Harry scoffed under his breath. “As if,” he muttered. “I know you’re plotting something.”

Draco tsked and turned to walk down a different corridor toward his dorm, but glanced back at Harry. Just to keep him paranoid, he shrugged and said “I guess you’ll find out” in a very smooth voice. He then disappeared behind the corner. 

Harry pondered on the way back to his dorm. Mostly he was thinking about Malfoy’s voice and how he, for some odd reason, would like to hear it again. Then he would remember how nice it was to punch him in his handsome face. The bruises on his knuckles were already a sort of purplish-blue color

Chapter Text

The day of the tournament had finally arrived, and the whole castle was abuzz. The Gryffindor team was warming up on one side of the pitch, with Slytherin on the other. Harry kept finding himself glancing over at a certain blonde seeker. 

…Because Draco was clearly planning something. No other reason. Definitely not because of the way he looks with his hair a bit disheveled and the thin layer of sweat on him that makes him almost glow in the sunlight. 

Nope. Strictly business. 

He thought he saw Draco looking over at him once, but when Harry saw him, Draco scowled and looked away. 

See? he thought to himself. Why would he be looking over here like that if he wasn’t planning something?

He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered one of the Gryffindor chasers shouting a warning.

“Heads, Potter!” 

He turns around right in time to get smacked in the face with a quaffle. He sits up and readjusts his glasses that thankfully weren’t broken by the impact. 

“Bloody hell, Harry, are you alright?” Ginny walks over and asks.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“Good.” She smacks him upside the head. “Now stop making goo-goo eyes at Malfoy and get your head in the game. Need I remind you that it’s the championship?”

Harry sputters. “What? I am not making goo-goo eyes at Malfoy! I’m just-” What was he doing again? Oh, right. “I was keeping an eye on him because he’s clearly plotting something.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Plotting to win the match with our seeker distracted like this. Now get up and stop bloody looking at him.”

Snape POV

Snape watched as the match commenced. Slytherin was 50 points up, since their two beaters were having the best of luck aiming at Ron.

The Weasley boy stopped an impressive amount of shots, however Gryffindor's usual beaters were suspended for the first 10 minutes of the game for the stunt they pulled last week; and they were replaced with two 3rd year newbies who could hardly tell a quaffle from a bludger.

When the clock signaled 10 minutes, Lee Jordan’s voice rang out across the pitch. “The Weasley twins are back in!” The rows of Gryffindors opposite to the teacher’s booth erupted in cheers and Snape rolled his eyes. 

Ginny Weasley, who could now fly without getting slammed in the face with a bludger, scored 40 points. Angeline Johnson added 30 on top of that.

Much to Snape’s chagrin, Slytherin was now down 20 and no one had seen the snitch. 

“There goes Potter! Malfoy and Potter are hot on the snitches trail!" Lee yelled happily. Snape stood corrected. He watched as Harry and Draco raced along the outskirts of the field, ducking under and over the Chasers as they went.

Lee Jordan narrated the tussle between Harry and Draco as they neared the snitch. “Ooh Potter got hit with a nasty push there from Malfoy. Looks like he still has some hard feelings from the hall yesterday! These two have it out for each other.”

“Those boys need to learn to stop fighting,” Mcgonagall said next to him, shaking her head and looking at Potter. “He acts too much like his father. So belligerent.”

He looks a lot like his father, Snape thought, watching as Harry dove into a sharp turn. He grimaced. The both of them look like their fathers, really. Malfoy’s hair was neatly slicked away from his face, the same white-blond as his death-eater father. Harry’s locks, much like James’, were completely untamable and whipped wildly in the wind around his head as he and Malfoy basically tripped over one another. 

“Aaand Marcus Flint scores.” Lee said sadly “thats 20 for Slytherin! It seems we’re all tied up! Slytherin - 70. Gryffindor - 70.”

“Woah,” Lee suddenly said, “it looks like Potter is having some trouble on the right side of the pitch!” 

Snape looked a little closer as the boys chasing the snitch came into view at an alarming speed towards the teachers’ booth. Jordan was right; Potter was actually falling behind. Snape let himself smile slightly. To Snape's surprise, Draco glanced back to look at Harry for a second, almost like he was… worried? No, you idiot boy he thought furiously, get the snitch!

Malfoy really shouldn’t have turned away because, unnoticed by him, there was a bludger coming directly at him. It smacked him against the back of the head at incredible velocity, knocking him off course. There was a sudden uproar of “Oohs” in the crowd. 

Lee Jordan gasped dramatically into the microphone. “Malfoy goes flying! And- uh oh- right into Harry!” The two of them crashed and somersaulted violently into the teachers’ booth. 

Snape shielded his face as a bundle of red and green plowed into the second row of professors, where he was sitting. Something sent him colliding with the floor of the booth.

Lee Jordan’s voice screeched over the stadium. “OUCH that’s gotta hurt, folks. We might see a few substitute teachers tomorrow, I’ll tell ya that…”

Snape sat up, dazed yet quite annoyed. He found that it was very hard to get up, since the weight of two boys was laid across his robes. He scoffed and shoved them both off with no remorse. 

Snape took a moment to stand and pushed the hair out of his face. He brushed off his robes and looked down to see Draco straddling a very distraught Harry Potter. 

Potter’s nose was practically gushing blood and he was sitting slightly up on his elbows. For a (happy) moment Snape thought Malfoy was actually beating him up, but then he noticed his hands were tangled in Harry’s disheveled hair. He, and the rest of the staff who had already recovered from the impact, confusedly watched the two of them. Snape could hear various whispers of “What is he doing?” and “Are they okay?” coming from around the pitch. 

Madam Hooch had called a timeout to make sure the professors were okay and all eyes were trailing on the professor’s section. 

Malfoy’s voice suddenly interrupted the silence that had fallen over the school. “Oi, I got it. Hold Still.” 

Draco majestically (and rather forcefully) yanked the golden snitch out of Harry’s tangled mess of locks. A resounding gasp overtook the pitch.

Lee Jordan’s very bewildered voice came over the speakers. “Draco Malfoy… has the snitch!” An uproar of cheers came from the Slytherin side of the pitch. 

“Harry caught it first!” shouted a number of voices from the Gryffindor side.

Draco was having a rough time trying to get off of Harry, since he was pretty sure that every bone in his body was bruised after that crash. Potter clumsily shoved him sideways and they both laid on the ground in moderate agony. 

“Get those two to Pomfrey!” hooch shouted towards the stands. Suddenly, a very long roll of thunder shook the stands and, amazingly, a bolt of lightning struck the leftmost side of the field. “Everyone, inside!”

Hermione POV

Filch basically evicted half of Gryffindor tower for the night.

“It’s too dangerous to have you all sleep in the lightning storm with no roof over your heads,” Filch had told them as he ushered the group of Gryffindors towards the stairwell. 

“As if he cares about our safety,” Hermione mumbled to Ron and Harry as a rumble of thunder shook the staircase.

“Oim pretay shuh that dumbledore arsked him to morve us to be quite honest,” Ron whispered back.

Harry, who had various bandages up and down his arms and legs, nodded. “I’d believe that.” They descended yet another set of stairs.

“Shut your traps, ya youngsters.” Flitch shot at them. He led them down to the extra Slytherin dorms and they settled in with the minimal amount of toiletries and clothes that Filch had let them grab before he kicked them out for the night. There were 4 rooms with 4 beds each and a lounge room that connected them. Hermione decided to share a room with Angeline and Ginny, while Harry, Ron and Neville took one of the adjacent ones.

Hermione scrunched her nose when she and Ginny entered the room. “It’s so dank.”  She ran her hand along the dark green curtains that hung from the bedposts. “I like this color, though.” 

Ginny smiled. “Me too.”

Ron POV 

Harry sighed and laid down on one of the viridian green bedspreads. He laid still for maybe 5 minutes and Ron thought he’d gone to sleep. He then shot up suddenly and looked at Ron. 

Ron, who was in the middle of changing his shirt and had his arms tangled over his head, raised an eyebrow. “You aulright ther, mate?” he asked suspiciously. He managed to free his arms and threw his shirt to the side. “Youhr luk a lil shocked.”

Harry’s eyes lingered for a moment on Ron’s moderately muscular arms. He shook his head and fell back onto his emerald pillow. “I’m alright”. 

Ron shrugged and pulled on a Gryffindor tank top. “Orkay”.

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute as Ron pulled various clothes out of his bag before Harry cleared his throat. “Erm… Ron,” he started, “how high would you rate Malfoy on a scale from 1-10?”

Ron did not hesitate. “Easy, 0. Next question." He went back to trying to find his trousers.

“No, no I mean like physically," Harry added. Ron had to stop and think this time. 

“Malfoy, hmm. Draco Malfoy," He said thoughtfully. He hummed again. “Okay… I’ll give him +1 for his bloody gorgeous hair. He’s still at a 0, thougrh.”

“Wot? Whoy,” Harry asked amusedly. 

“Ets becose that sneer he wears cancels out everythin’ else that wars good.” Ron chuckled.

Harry nodded absently. “Fair enough.”

It was at that time that Hermione walked through the door. “Ron, why did you put your trousers in my bag?” she asked dourly, handing them to him.

“Ohr oops,” he said. “Oi wars jus lookin’ for thorse.”

Hermione was about to say something else but Ron interrupted her. “Hermione, wot would you rate Malfoy on a scale from 1-10?” he said casually. “Harry wars wonderin’.”

She looked at Ron with the most confused look Ron had ever seen cross her face. “Like- Draco Malfoy?” She asked bizarrely, her questioning eyes drifting to Harry. “Why would you want me to rate him?” 

“It’s a 0, right? That’s what I told him,” Ron said confidently.

Hermione paused. She opened her mouth to speak but then just closed it again as if she was rethinking her answer. Ron’s eyes got wider the longer she took to answer. 

“You mean physically?” she asked. Harry nodded, slightly more embarrassed now that Hermione knew that he was wondering what she thought of Malfoy.

She hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Like 8.43.”

“WhOT??” Ron screeched. “Eight?? Thawt bloke hardly deserves hoigher than a 2!”

Hermione shrugged as she started listing his attributes. “He's tall, has a good physique, a nice jawline, takes care of his hair,” she glared at the mop on Ron’s head. “But that sneer of his doesn’t do him much good.”

Harry's eyebrows had long since disappeared into his hairline. “Jeez Hermione, that is high.” 

She laughed, a devious grin on her face. “You should know, Harry, you spend most of your time ogling at him.”

Harry’s face reddened. “I’m observing his suspicious behaviour, thank you very much.”

Hermione snorted. “Yeah, just like all those girls who are planning on asking him to the Yule ball. Even Ginny was considering it.” She abruptly slapped a hand over her mouth, slowly turning to look at Ron. “Do not tell her I told you that,” she hissed.

Ron rolled his eyes. “If Ginny showrs up with that twat, Oi’l make sure he regrets going near her.” 

Harry POV 

So, Harry thought contentedly as he laid on the green sheets. It’s not just me then. Draco happens to be good-looking, and I just happened to notice that. 

Earlier that day, after the quidditch game that somehow ended with Draco on top of him, Ginny had impressively, and rather unsafely, piled both him and Draco onto her broom and flew them to Madam Pomfrey’s sick bay. They had both taken a seat (or rather they both melodramatically flopped) onto adjacent beds. Pomfrey had walked in and promptly told them to take off their uniform tops so she could take a look at their sporadic bruises. Both boys obliged and Harry found himself trying to look literally anywhere that wasn’t Draco’s bare chest. 

Malfoy must have noticed his avoidance because his voice broke the silence that was created when Pomfrey went to fetch some sort of anti-bruising ointment. “What are you looking for, Pottuh? The snitch isn’t in here, in case you haven’t noticed." He said snappily. Harry looked back at Malfoy’s face to see one of his eyebrows raised as his gaze ran over Harry’s flushed face. “You don’t look too good, honestly,” Malfoy continued, “You hit your head or something?” He leaned slightly over the edge of his mattress and gingerly waved his hand in front of Harry's face. 

Harry snapped back to reality and smacked Draco’s hand out of his face. Malfoy winced and Harry realized his knuckles were even more bruised than his own. He briefly recalled how hard Malfoy had punched him in the face the day before. Before he could say anything, Pomfrey returned with the ointment.

“Right then,” she started, “let me check you for breaks and concussions then I’ll bandage you all up.” 

Malfoy ushered to Harry’s general direction. “He might have one, what with all that blood rushing to his face.”

Madam Pomfrey took a good look at him and checked him for a concussion. Thankfully, there was none and so she checked Malfoy.

Harry had watched as the nurse wrapped Draco’s side, which had smashed into his broom when they collided. His eyes, on their own accord, observed Malfoy’s arms very openly. 

“Oi, wot do you keep on staring at me for,” Draco asked genuinely. 

Harry was quick to counter. “Wot do you keep staring at me for?” Even though Harry had been oblivious to Malfoy’s eyes as of late, it was a completely reasonable question. 

Draco, much to Harry’s surprise, quickly shut up and looked down at his hands as the nurse smeared some magic ointment on his knuckles. “All right, all done with you,” she said.

Malfoy looked very relieved to be able to leave. 

“You can remove the bandages tomorrow after a good night’s rest. Now drink this and then go back to your dormitory.” She handed him a blue flask with a viscous liquid inside. He grimaced and took it, standing up to leave. 

The nurse bandaged Harry then told him the same. He thanked her and trudged back to his dorm. He arrived just in time for Filch to tell the Gryffindors in his tower to hurry up and grab their necessities so they could go down to the Slytherin dungeons and sleep there because of the storm.

I do happen to notice him quite a bit, he pondered as he laid on the green sheets. But that’s not weird or anything, I mean, I have eyes.

Chapter Text

Harry’s legs stretched out over the plaid picnic blanket on the grass. Draco observed his light pink shirt and jeans, which matched his own outfit that was a slightly darker shade.

“You’ve got somethin’ in ya hair, Pottuh.” Draco spoke softly as a light breeze passed through the branches above them. 

Harry leaned towards him. “Whoy don’t ya come and get it, then?” he smirked seductively.

Draco shifted his weight forward to tangle his hands into Harry’s hair lovingly. “Oh…” he said, “I can’t seem to find… whatever it was." He slowly began to pull his hands out of the dark strands of his hair but Harry’s hands gripped his wrists and pulled them back around his neck. 

“I’m sure you can keep looking,” he murmured, his strawberry chapstick scent wafting up to meet Draco’s senses. 

Draco’s hands continued to interlace with Harry’s locks at the nape of his neck as their lips connected softly. Draco’s eyes drifted shut and he relished in the taste of strawberries.

Draco opened his eyes to find a black ceiling with green accents. His room remained unchanged from when he had closed his eyes for the night, and the pink plaid picnic blanket beneath him was now his dark green bed sheets. He sat in the silence for a millisecond before suppressing the thought of missing Potter’s voice. 

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, a furious (and very much embarrassed) shade of red rising to his face. Okay, that’s it, he thought. That was the last straw. He rubbed a hand down his face in an attempt to stop the blood from spilling into his cheeks and reached over to his satchel to grab his Potions book. Malfoy dwelled momentarily on Harry’s taunting face when he’d waved the book in front of Draco in the cafeteria. What a bully, he thought as he placed the book down and stood up to stretch, can’t even let me have my dreams to myself. He checked the time bitterly, which read 2:53 am.

The potion of dreamless sleep, he realized wistfully as he searched his book, called for lavender. Draco was indeed very much allergic to lavender. He sighed in annoyance at his dumb luck and flipped through the bibliography of his book, searching for literally any alternative to seeing Harry every time he fell asleep. He ended up in the “substitutions” section of the book and doubtfully looked under lavender. The text under lavender was barely legible but he was semi-successful in making out the words “blood” and “Chamomile”. Surely any blood will work, he considered.

Draco snuck down to Slughorn's classroom, (thanks to a nifty invisibility potion shot he’d acquired from a bet with Blaise), and gathered all the ingredients and materials for his dreamless sleep. 

No more Harry Potter in my dreams, he thought contentedly, no more dreams at all. 

There was, for a reason he couldn’t verify, some part of him that wanted to go back to sleep. And see Harry. And maybe taste his strawberry chapstick again.

Harry POV

Harry drowsily sat up in his bed and groaned in annoyance. That blue drink that the nurse had given him was seriously testing his bladder and he rolled out of the viridescent sheets with sleep threatening to knock him out. Grabbing his glasses and propping them on his nose, he staggered tiredly to the door and pushed it open, not quite knowing where the loo would be. The analog clock with snakes for clock hands ticking above the door read 3:19 am.

He wandered through the halls of Slytherin for a minute or two after leaving the connecting lounge room and ended up outside a door that resembled the Gryffindor bathroom doors, although they were green instead of red.

He pushed open the door softly and his eyes struggled to adjust to the light of a flame sitting on the sink with a small cauldron on top. Whoever was procuring the flame hadn’t noticed him come in, since he was preoccupied with a razor in his hand.

Both POV

The light glinted off the edge of the blade and Harry lunged towards it. He slapped the blade out of the hand of a very startled Draco Malfoy and grabbed his arm without thinking, placing a hand on Malfoy’s side to move him away from the sink. 

 “Wot do you think yur doing??” Harry says, looking between the cauldron and Draco while keeping his hands firmly attached to the other boy. Malfoy stares at him with a look of wild disbelief and something else Harry can’t place. 

Draco’s mind races. Am I still asleep? How is he here?

There is a beat of silence before Draco, who seems to be at a heavy loss for words, manages to weakly, and rather pathetically, grate out the words, “pinch me”.

Harry considers it in confusion for a moment and furrows his brow. 

Before he can answer, however, Draco swiftly slaps himself across the face with such force that Harry is quite glad that he didn’t get slapped. Draco’s eyes slowly look back up to Harry and he grimaces when he catches the other boy’s face again in the dim light, almost as if he’d hoped Harry wouldn’t actually be there.

Malfoy’s hand raises in order to apparently slap himself again, but Harry’s own hand shoots up to grab his hovering wrist. If only to fuel Harry’s confusion, Draco looks positively petrified by the touch. 

“Yew stupid idiot. You're gonna die.” Harry whispered, as it was past 3am and people were sleeping. 

Upon coming to the realization that he was indeed awake, (thanks to Harry’s lack of dream-like flirting), Draco ripped his hand away suddenly. He dropped his voice to a hiss, “wot are you doing here, Pottuh.” 

Harry glared at him. “Obviously I had to take a piss,” he spat, “and since you seem to have been absent, Filch announced that some of the Gryffindor dorms are moving tonight because of the storm.” As if to solidify his point, a roll of thunder echoed distantly. 

Harry sighed, looking at the half filled flask on the sink ledge. “And I'm glad it was tonight because– as much as I would have liked it– you would be very much, very dead within a week, Draco.” 

Draco winced at the sound of his name in Harry’s mouth. 

Harry continued and one of his hands still rested absently on Malfoy’s hip. “I don’t know what your trying to concoct to beat Gryffindor at the rematch, but Chamomile and blood aren’t supposed to mix into potions that-” 

Draco interrupted him with an awkward clearing of his throat. “Ah-em, roight, so uh, that isn’t what I’m doing." He gave a nervous laugh and silence followed. “Why don’t you run along, back to Gryffindor, then,” he added, attempting to move away from Harry. 

Potter kept an unmoving hand settled on Draco’s waist, and for a moment his grip tightened. “If you try to take one more step without explaining to me what that is, you’ll find my wand pointing directly at you,” he threatened in a low voice.

Draco desperately looked for something to tell him that wouldn’t give his dreams away. If only to make matters worse while he pondered, he watched Harry move his hand from Draco’s side to snatch up the slightly opened potion book on the edge of the sink. Malfoy attempted to swipe it back in vain.

Harry read the pages for a moment and frowned. “Dreamless sleep?” he questioned. “But then why is this an Amortentia?” He gestured to the cauldron on the sink.

Draco flushed. “Why would I be making a love potion at 3 in the morning?!” he whispered as loudly as he could. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe because of a certain Ginny Weasley? Gryffindor’s best chaser?” he glanced back at the potion. 

Malfoy opened and closed his mouth silently. He looked and felt frankly too confused to speak. 

What did Ginny have to do with any of this?

Harry continued, “Chamomile and blood make three things: a very bad substitute for lavender, a very weak excuse for an Amortentia, or any bad luck potion you can think of,” he said studiously. For once, he was glad he’d paid attention in class.

“Wait, Ginny?” Draco asked cautiously. He paused as an idea sprung into his head. He leaned onto the edge of the sink, facing Harry. “Yeah… Ginny. How’d you know?” he pasted a nonchalant look on his face as he continued to twist the truth. “Mate… I can’t stop thinking of her. I wasn’t really planning on telling anyone this, but…” He shrugged and let out a dramatic sigh. Harry gazed at him expectantly.

“I keep having dreams about…” he trailed off when he caught Harry’s emerald eyes. “…her.” The sentence ended with an uncertain twinge in his voice. He cleared his throat again and snatched his book back from Harry.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he started, turning back towards the sink and expecting Potter to leave him be. 

He should've known that Potter would never let him get away with mentioning a Weasley, much less mentioning that he ‘liked’ a Weasley, because he was abruptly cut off by Harry putting out the small flame under his cauldron and dumping the contents of the pot down the drain.

Annoyance swelled in Draco’s chest. He held onto the feeling, partially in order to suppress any other feeling he was experiencing when he looked back at Harry's stern face. 

Draco sparingly shoved Harry away from the sink, peering down the drain at his discarded solution. “Wot was that for?” he hissed, his gaze shooting upwards to Harry’s glasses. “Do you want me to keep thinking of her?” 

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Has your hearing gone, or is it just your lack of common sense, Malfoy?” Draco was very much taken aback by the sudden insult. “I just told you that nothing goes right when blood and Chamomile mix,” Harry concluded. 

Draco’s eye twitched. “You said it’s a substitute for lavender, which is in dreamless Sleep." He let his gaze run up and down Harry’s face, which for some reason was reddening. “It seems your poor eyesight didn’t pick up on that.”

Harry gave a single, humorless laugh and shook his head, willing the redness in his face to subside. “If you actually paid attention last week when Slughorn was yapping,” he added semi-mockingly, “then you’d know that it matters what type of blood you substitute with. In this case, it's not just your blood you need, it’s Ginny’s, too. Hence why I am not going to let you make this potion.” A smug look crossed his face.

Draco groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was so tired at this point that he’d rather talk to a certain Harry Potter in his dreams than the one standing dangerously close to him in real life. 

“Anyways,” Harry added, “Move. I need to piss.”

Draco let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed his things, swiftly leaving the room and trudging back to his dorm.

Chapter Text

Draco POV

Is this real? Draco thought to himself as Harry walked through the bathroom doors. The two lock eyes as Harry sees Draco by the sink. There’s something familiar about this.

Immediately, Harry stops in his tracks. “Draco, what are you doing with that razor?” he asks cautiously, as it could be used as a weapon of any sort. His voice resonated against the bathroom tiles in a low echo.

“N-nothing,” Draco stammers back. The room feels like it’s falling away, yet the walls remain ever passive. Slowly, Harry walks over to Draco in an attempt to stop whatever he was about to do. 

“Is this real,” Draco finally thinks aloud. “Pinch me Pottah.”

“No, why on earth-” he's interrupted by the sharp sound of Draco hitting himself square across the face.

As the noise reverberates through the cavernous bathroom, Harry implores, “Why on earth would you do that?! Are you alright?” He tenderly lifts his hand to the now reddening spot on Draco’s face. 

Malfoy looks at him for a moment before dropping his gaze as Harry’s thumb absently brushes over Draco’s jaw. His previously clenched fists relax at his side. “I am terribly sorry…I don't know what’s come over me,” Draco says as the red splotch on his face begins to sting. He winces. “Bloody hell that stings,” he voices. 

His gaze floats back upwards and his eyes meet with Harry’s. Tension fills the air as Draco stares into Harry’s emerald orbs. Antecedent to either of them reacting, Harry is filling the space between them as if his face were a magnet to Draco’s. Before their lips meet, Harry hesitates. Reading the queues of the man in front of him, Draco closes the space fully, enveloping the two in a tender kiss. 

He pulls away suddenly, and this time, Draco’s entire face begins to glow red with embarrassment. “I- I’m so, so sorry,” Draco stammers in a panic. Before Harry can respond, Draco gathers all of his belongings and rushes towards the door of the cold and looming bathroom. What’s wrong with me?

As soon as his hand reaches the handle, however, he shoots straight up in bed with a bead of nervous sweat upon his temple. He rubs his eyes. “What… just happened…” Draco grumbles to himself as he rises from his dream of Love's sweet embrace. 

The room no longer feels so loved. It feels dark, and quiet. GET OUT OF MY HEAD, his mind screams. What he attempts to ignore, however, is his heart craving the sweet caress of Harry Potter’s lips.  

“Oi, mate get up or we’ll be late for breakfast.” Crabbe’s voice cuts through his thoughts. The door to his dark room is slightly ajar.

Harry POV

The morning after his encounter with Draco in the bathroom, Harry goes looking for Ginny, and almost crashes right into her while walking through their dorm’s connecting lounge room.

“Ginny! There you are, I’ve been looking for you! Do you have a date to the ball yet?”

The ball is coming up very soon, and he completely forgot to look for a date. He didn’t want to go with her as a date date, but there’s nothing wrong with going with a friend. Especially if it makes sure that Draco can’t ask her, something in the back of his head says. 

“Um…No?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Perfect! We could go together! Thanks, Ginny!” Harry says before walking away, not noticing the perplexed look on her face. 

Harry wouldn’t have a problem if Ginny went with someone. It’s not like he likes her. But the idea of her even being asked by Draco of all people makes him sick. 

Harry gets halfway down the hallway before realizing that he never specified that he asked Ginny out platonically. He stops for a second, considering turning back around before thinking, Nah, she probably knows. And he continues down the hall.

Draco POV

Two days before the Yule ball, Marcus Flint approached Draco. 

“Oi, Draco, come ‘ere a second.” 

Draco, who was on his way to Charms, slinked behind the wall connecting to a miscellaneous stairwell to see Flint looming deviously in front of him.

Flint put a reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. He lowered his voice so no one passing by could hear him. “I just got word that Gryffindor made their playbook for Wednesday’s rematch.”

“Okay, and?” Draco questioned. He was not quite sure where this conversation was going.

Flint grinned. “Their captain, the Weasley girl, has it in their team room at the pitch. I know you got that invisibility potion from Blaise…You know what I’m getting to, don’t you?” he whispered, “get the playbook during the Yule ball since the pitch will be empty, and I’ll make sure you’re captain when I’m gone.” Filch patted Draco’s shoulder and turned to leave. 

Draco quickly asked, “what if I don’t have the potion?” 

Filch turned back for a moment, looking annoyed. “Figure something out, then,” he hissed before swinging around the corner and disappearing down the hall.

Draco formulated a plan as he walked to charms. He would walk over to the Gryffindor table the next morning as nonchalantly as he could, greet Harry as if he didn’t just have a dream about him, attempt to flirt with Ginny (and possibly ask her to the ball since Potter already thought that he liked her), and in the process he would pluck a piece of her hair off her robe for a polyjuice potion so he could sneak into the pitch and get the playbook. 

Not much could go wrong. Right?

Harry POV

Harry looked up from his plate to see Draco stride over to where Ginny sat next to Hermione, who was across from Harry. Ginny frankly seemed to be avoiding talking to Harry whenever she could.

Malfoy greeted him first. “Morning, Pottuh. Have you done the Potions work?” Harry opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by what seemed to be Malfoy attempting to flirt with Ginny. “Your hair looks wonderful today, Ginny, as it usually does." Harry watched Draco’s hand brush over her upper back. 

Harry did not try to suppress his irritated expression. “Did you really just come over here to flirt with her?” he asked flatly. 

“Yeah, actually,” he smirked, “I was going to ask if she had a date to the ball." He put a hand down on the table flirtatiously between Hermione’s plate and Ginny’s glass of milk. Harry fleetingly desired to be in Ginny’s place. 

“So,” he said cooly, “Ginny, do you have a date to the dance already?” His hand lingered on her back. 

Ginny looked up, unamused and attempting to shrug off his touch. “Yeah, I do.” 

Malfoy leaned away from her. “Oh, that’s too bad,” he said. He adjusted his tie casually, addressing Hermione, Harry and Ron. “I’ll see you all in Potions then, I suppose." He then walked away, not even bothering to ask who Ginny was going with. 

“Thart wars weird,” Ron said. “Ginny, if you had saird yes, oi think oi might’ve smacked thart bloke to the moon.”

Ginny chuckled. “I would have done that myself before saying yes." Her and Hermione laughed together. Harry was trying hard to stop thinking about Draco adjusting his tie with his overly attractive hands and joined in with their laughter.

Chapter Text

Draco was wearing a Gryffindor uniform as he stood in one of the forgotten 7th floor bathrooms. He swished the polyjuice potion around its bottle, took a breath, then took a swig of the grimy liquid. He gagged in disgust and looked in the mirror to see his features shifting. His hair suddenly grew, and it turned a Weasley kind of red. After a moment of discomfort, Ginny’s face was staring back at him. The potion will wear out in an hour, he reminded himself. 

Draco managed to make it all the way down to the Pitch and into the Gryffindor team locker room. He pried his way into Ginny’s locker and swiped the playbook. He tucked it under his arm along the inner lining of his red and black cloak, hidden away. Stepping out of the room, he ran smack into Professor Mcgonagall. 

“Ginny!” The professor smiled. “I didn’t expect to find you here! Why aren’t you at the ball?” 

Draco almost spoke in his regular voice, forgetting that he was supposed to be Ginny. “I-” 

“Never mind that, poor girl, you need to get to the ball and have some fun. You’re too mature for your own good. The rematch will be fine, I made sure to give Flint a firm talking-to about any ideas he may have.” She winked and ushered Draco out of the pitch. 

Draco slinked down the hall and turned the corner to walk down the hallway toward Slytherin, this time running into a very dressed up Hermione Granger, who seemed joyous to see him. Or rather, to see Ginny.

“Ginny! Harry’s been looking everywhere for you, you’re going to miss the first dance!” Hermione suddenly looked down and took in the fact that Ginny (Draco) was wearing a bloke’s Gryffindor uniform. It wasn’t unusual for Ginny to wear the men’s uniform, but it was unusual that she lacked any formal attire.

“Oh, goodness… Ginny, where’s your dress?” She turned on her heel and called down the hall. “Harry! Ginny and I will be right back!” Draco peeked down the hall and caught a glimpse of a very dapper Harry Potter. Hermione turned back to Ginny. “Come on, let's get you situated.” She grabbed Draco’s arm and dragged him up to Ginny's room.

“Is this your dress?” Hermione held up a blue gown with golden accents. 

“Uh-”

“Actually, green suits you better. Here, try this one.” She tossed Ginny (Draco) a green dress that reminded Draco of the couch in the Slytherin common room. He held the fabric awkwardly for a moment. Hermione looked at him expectantly, and when he did not move, she gestured to the dress. 

“Go on then, Ginny, we don’t have all day. I won’t look.” She turned her back and looked at the wall. I won’t either, he thought. Draco reluctantly proceeded to change with his eyes glued shut. He absolutely did not have the intention of violating Ginny’s privacy. 

How did I even end up in this situation, he thought remorsefully as he pulled the cloth over his shoulders. I should’ve just ratted Flint out to Mcgonagall. He’s already been held back 2 years, he shouldn’t even be on the bloody team. 

Hermione attempted small talk while he struggled to pull the fabric over his head, but Draco only responded with hums and very short answers in what he considered to be his most Ginny-like voice.

Eventually, he got the dress on and Hermione told him to turn around so she could secure the complex ties on the back. “I’m surprised you agreed to go with Harry when he asked,” She said casually. “I thought you considered asking Draco because you knew he’d say no.”

Ginny (Draco) choked on the air but quickly recovered, bringing his voice up a few octaves. “Yeah…I was surprised when Harry asked me too,” he said quietly. Ginny wanted me to… reject her?

Hermione giggled. “Honestly, I think he asked you because he didn’t want Draco to get a date. I know you’d prefer to be snogging Luna somewhere, but I’m happy you told him you’d go. I’m not a fan of seeing him all lonely.” 

Draco was taking in far too much information at once. Ginny likes girls? And Potter… he only asked Ginny because he wanted me to be alone? Why does he care? His mind raced.

“All done. You look beautiful.” 

He dazedly looked into the mirror and saw a very elegant Ginny Weasley staring back at him. 

“Let's go to the ball!” Hermione said happily. 

And so, they left. Draco desperately wanted to go back to his dorm with the playbook he’d stashed inside Ginny’s dress, but part of him knew that the opportunity to mingle with Harry without him knowing it was Draco whom he was talking to wouldn’t present itself again. He was also 100 percent sure that Hermione could catch up and tackle him rather quickly if he decided to make a run for it in heels.

Harry POV

Hermione had been gone for about 20 minutes before she showed up at the doors of the great hall with Ginny, who was wearing a dashing green dress. Harry smiled at his friends as they walked over and he set down his 6th odd-tasting glass of punch. 

“Ginny, you look superb." He said as they neared. Her face was more flushed than normal after seeing him, and she gave an odd, crooked smile but didn’t say anything. 

A slow song suddenly came over the room and Dumbledore called all couples up for the mandatory slow dance that Mcgonagall had them practicing in class for the past few days.

Hermione looked around. “Well, I ought to find Ron before he tries to get another shot of firewhiskey from his brothers’ secret stash.” She mumbled, “he should at least do one dance with me.” She left to find him.

“Well, let's go dance then,” he said smiling. Ginny looked rather distraught.

Draco POV

Harry placed his right hand on Ginny’s (Draco’s) waist while Draco’s left hand rested on Harry’s shoulder. Draco could feel Ginny’s face flooding with blood and he, to no avail, attempted to suppress the flush of scarlet. Just my luck that the dance started as soon as we walked in, he thought.

Draco is caught off guard by the music starting. So much so that he stumbles over Harry a bit, almost tripping over his feet. Harry wordlessly tightens his grip on his- Ginny’s waist. He knows his face is redder than a tomato right now. He can feel Harry’s bicep through his suit where his hand rests. 

Harry spins Draco- Ginny. He’s not dancing with you, he’s dancing with Ginny. Get a grip, Draco. Harry spins him around, then pulls him back in. Are they closer than they were before? They must be, because Draco can now smell Harry’s fragrance clear as day. Eucalyptus and strawberry. The same thing he smelled that day in potions class. 

Remembering the day they brewed the love potion jolts him out of the trance he seemed to be in before and he subconsciously backs away from Harry. 

Harry’s grip on Draco’s waist is unrelenting, and instead of escaping like he was trying to do, he just stumbles back, and Harry takes the opportunity to dip him. When he pulls Draco back up, their faces are closer than ever. They fall into an easy rhythm moving to the music. He keeps catching himself glancing down at Harry’s lips, and when he looks up to see if he noticed, he swears Harry was looking at his own before lazily meeting his eyes. 

Oh. He was looking at Ginny’s lips. Not his. He wants to kiss Ginny. This whole thing would be so much easier if he could bloody think straight. 

As they adeptly waltzed across the floor, Draco gained the courage to quietly ask in his most Ginny-like voice, “Why did you ask me to be your date to the ball?”

Harry looked at her with kind eyes. “You said you didn’t have a date yet, and I couldn’t leave one of my best friends without company.” 

Draco momentarily forgot that he was supposed to be smiling, and Harry frowned when he saw Ginny’s downcast face after his comment about them being friends. 

“Ginny… I don’t mean to be rude, but you do know I asked you here platonically, right?” Harry said delicately. 

Man, Draco thought, subtly amused, Potter is slower than I thought. He doesn’t already know about Ginny and Luna? 

Harry quickly backtracked upon realizing that what he said may have sounded more rude then he intended. “Well- I mean- not that I wouldn’t date you or anything-” he sputtered, “It’s just- I think we’re better as close friends, yeah? Well- not too close, that is-”

Draco cleared his throat to cut Harry off from his awkward tangent. “It’s fine, Harry." He forced the words out in a very butchered attempt at Ginny’s accent.

Harry stared at her for a lingering moment. “...do you have a cold or something? You sound off.”

Ginny (Draco) nodded. “Sore throat,” he fakely rasped out.

Harry nodded understandingly then dropped his voice as they swung in time with the couple next to them. “Hermione blabbed that you might ask Malfoy to the dance.” Potter rolled his eyes and sighed. “I understand why, though, that twat is too handsome for his own good. Hermione and you keep catching me staring more than I should, honestly.”

Ginny (Draco) was caught heavily off guard. He didn’t bother to wipe the perplexed look or the creeping redness from her face. “Why do you look at him so often?” she bluntly questioned with a rasp.

Harry turned his attention to the stone floor where they waltzed as the song came close to the end. “I know I told you that I thought he was, you know, plotting as per usual, but honestly… Ginny,” Harry’s steps faltered. His voice dropped to be just audible over the music. “I can’t take my eyes off of him. He's so-” Harry searched for the right word. “-attractive,” he breathed.

Draco abruptly stopped their movement. Harry’s breath washed over Ginny’s features. He dropped his head in order to avoid looking at Harry while the redness in his face spread over his nose. It’s in his nature to make things difficult for me isn’t it?

Draco looked up, and seeing Harry’s worried expression must have flipped a switch in his brain because none of this nonsense surrounding the rematch mattered anymore. It very suddenly felt wrong to cheat at the rematch, which was a foreign thought to Malfoy. His hand floated to his side. 

Harry POV

Ginny was very quiet at the conclusion of the song. She stopped moving and looked down suddenly. Is she mad at me? Harry worriedly thought. 

Ginny’s head then shot up and looked at him very intensely. 

“Erm. Ginny? What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

Ginny smiled through gritted teeth and pulled something out of the side slit of her dress. She thrusted it toward Harry and turned to leave swiftly.

Harry looked down to see the Gryffindor playbook in his hands. “Wait, what?” His eyes retreated back up to see Ginny already stepping out of the great hall doors. “Ginny, wait!”

He broke out into a sprint and pushed past the throng of people next to the dance floor. Ginny was already down the hall by the time he rushed through the doors. Why would she give me this, he pondered, running towards the staircase. 

Ginny’s heels hindered her speed and Harry caught up with her when she neared the middle of one of the lesser-used staircases that led up to her dorm room. She whirled around when she heard his steps coming very close to her. 

Except there was something wrong with her face. 

It was not Ginny that Harry was looking at.

Chapter Text

Harry POV

He was indeed face to face with Draco Malfoy, who was in a dress.

Harry, who was momentarily overcome with shock and confusion, was abruptly slammed into the wall of the stairwell by Malfoy’s pale hands. “Why did you have to follow me,” he hissed. “I already gave you your stupid book.”

“I obviously didn’t know it was you, you bloody genius,” Harry spat sardonically. He pushed Malfoy, who was already off balance, into the wall across from him. “Care to explain yourself, Malfoy? Why would you pretend to be Ginny? Are you trying to give me a distraction before the big rematch? Is that it?” 

Malfoy scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter." He gestured toward the paper in Harry’s hand. “I had no intention of going to that ball or of seeing you. I only wanted that playbook for Flint. You’re lucky I have a shred of decency, or else I would have just left with it,” he sneered.

Harry tilted his head and his hand relaxed slightly where it pinned Malfoy’s upper arm to the wall. “...Whoy didn’t you leave with it?”

Malfoy opened his mouth to seemingly say something snarky, but nothing came out. He paused and looked away from Harry’s gaze, which kept very obviously raking over his dress and exposed skin. “I guess I had a change of heart,” he said simply.

Harry gave an unamused chuckle and reapplied the weight on Malfoy’s upper arm and side where he was pressed to the wall. He leaned closer. “Don’t lie to me, Draco.”

“I’m not lying.” He shot back. “Believe it or not, I hate Flint more than I hate you.”

Harry looked at him skeptically. “...Sure you do.”

Draco looked offended that Harry was disbelieving of him. “I do!”

“Prove it then.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh, so giving you the book and foiling Flint’s plans wasn’t enough for you?”

Harry stubbornly kept his grip on Draco’s waist and arm. “I’m saying your record for having an ulterior motive is-” Draco suddenly cut him off.

“You told me I’m attractive.”

Draco POV

Harry stilled. His face flushed. “I told Ginny that,” he gritted out. “And that has nothing to do with-” 

Draco was suddenly in the mood for gaslighting.

“Yes, it does." He cut Harry off once again. “You're pinning me to a wall and interrogating me, Potter. How could you possibly be thinking straight when all my attractiveness is right in front of you?” he smirked. He suddenly decided to take the bold route. His eyes focused directly on Harry’s own green irises. His smirk grew wider.  “I bet you’d love to take this dress off of me.”

Malfoy’s gaslighting (flirting, but he won’t admit that) was working swimmingly. Harry looked like he was using up his last ounce of composure to remember how to breathe. 

Thus, Draco was surprised when Potter’s head dipped and his voice hovered confidently close to Draco’s ear. “Yeah?” He paused, unsuccessfully fighting off a smirk of his own. “I bet you’d let me.”

Malfoy looked up abruptly and they studied each other’s faces. There was an odd scent on Harry’s breath, something he couldn’t quite place. He did not expect that response. He broke eye contact and looked down in slight shame at the implication of what Harry said as his face began to warm once more against his best efforts.

Harry removed his grip from the other boy’s muscular deltoid and slid his hand under Malfoy’s jaw, lifting his chin. “Getting shy now, are we?” He tilted his head just so.

In reality, Draco was getting flashbacks to the dreams that plagued him. He distantly wondered whether he was asleep and this was all just his imagination. His eyes flitted to Harry’s lips.

Harry must have seen his eyes shift down his face because he ran a thumb across Draco’s bottom lip in return. Malfoy’s hand intrepidly slid into Harry’s less-tousled-than-usual hair. The oddity of the situation was not lost on him, and he accepted the fact that there was no way that this was not some stupid dream where bloody Harry Potter had decided to show up.

Harry leaned into his touch. “Trying to find the snitch, Malfoy?” he teased. He let his gaze draw over Malfoy’s face and land on his lips. His emerald eyes fluttered back up to meet Draco’s frosty grey irises.

His breath washed over Draco’s face; this time there were clear, familiar nodes of strawberry, and…firewhiskey?

Wait. Draco blinked and broke eye contact. 

He’s been drinking? Suddenly things didn’t seem so unrealistic for the context of the situation.

Before he could say anything, the two of them were interrupted by the sound of sporadic giggles floating up the stairwell.  

Both POV

Two girls, Harry and Draco realized, were approaching. Before they could take their hands completely off of each other, Ginny and Luna had arrived to where they stood in the enclosed spiral stairwell. Draco eyed the smeared lipstick on both of their faces.

Ginny stopped short and let go of Luna’s hand. She squinted at Draco in disbelief. The scene of the two was understandably odd to see. “You- why are you two-“ she started before stopping to look Draco in the face with a most frightening expression, “Malfoy, where did you get that dress?”

It was less of a question and more of an ‘I know where it’s from don’t lie’ kind of threat. Draco barely answered. “Uh-“

“Is that my dress?” 

“Er…yes, it is, but-“

Antecedent to his explanation, she grabbed his wrist and swiftly dragged him up toward her dorm. Before Harry or Luna knew what was going on, Ginny and Draco were out of sight. Luna instinctively ran towards the familiar place of Ginny's dorm. 

“WAIT!” Harry; exasperated, yelled as he started to run after them. Can these bloody people please stop running away?

 By the time Harry had caught up to Luna; in turn Ginny and Draco as well, the door was closed. He opened the door, but upon peering inside at the scene for perhaps a couple moments too long, he shut it with a flushed face and wide eyes. Across the arch of the doorway, Harry had seen a half naked Draco Malfoy being berated by a very criticizing Ginny Weasley. Through the door, he could still hear Malfoy desperately trying to explain himself.

“You look quite hot and bothered there, Harry,” Luna mused. 

He jumped, nearly forgetting she was there. He waggled his finger to and fro. “No no no,” he denied. “It’s just a bit hot in this corridor." He pulled at his dress collar and loosened his tie slightly to accentuate his point. Luna shrugged. There was a beat of silence that lasted for far too long.

Harry changed the topic. “So… what were you and Ginny-” Harry is cut off by Ginny opening the door of her dorm. She scowled. “Quit snogging in my dress and go away.” 

With that, she aggressively dragged a complacent Luna into the confines of her room and shoved Draco in Harry's direction. The magnitude of the shove caused both boys to fall backwards onto the cold stone floor. Harry blearily looked up at Draco, who was on top of him like he had been at their Quidditch game.

A beat of silence followed the fall as Draco attempted to mentally reorient himself. “Uh, maybe we should-”

“Why are you always on top of me?” Harry’s words slurred together towards the end of his inquiry as he cut Draco off. There must have been something in that bloody punch.

Draco was back in one of Ginny’s Gryffindor uniforms, except she had given him no time to fasten any buttons or tie his tie. His hair was more a mess than his clothes were. “Why are you always under me?” His tone was borderline accusatory.

Before Harry came to his senses to shove Draco off of him because they were in the middle of a very public hallway, he admired the white-blond hair in front of him and the exposed, pale expanse under Draco's shirt. “Don’t get it twisted, Malfoy,” he said, eventually pushing the other boy off of him. “I would rather not have you straddling me on the floor with my dress robes on.” 

The opportunity was right there and Draco couldn’t help himself. “So you would want me on top of you if your robes were off?” He cringed at his own flirting with this drunk twat. Why did I say that, he thought remorsefully as he sat up.

Harry’s mouth was trying to form words but for some reason the taste of punch lingered on his taste buds and his ability to coagulate sentences was hindered. “Erm- well, I just mean- I wouldn’t want my suit to get dirty or anything, from- you know- being on the floor, of course.”

It was glaringly obvious that Harry had not denied anything that Malfoy had uttered. 

They were both sitting up on the floor and Draco stood up fully. He reached down and hoisted up a very unbalanced Harry Potter onto his feet.

Harry yawned and rubbed his temple, and, with his other hand, steadied himself on Malfoy’s arm. “I reckon Ron put a whole bottle of firewhiskey in the bloody punch,” he mumbled.

Harry’s eyes shifted and lingered on Draco’s undone tie. “Here, let me help you,” he said casually, his hand rising to the tie slung haphazardly over Draco’s shoulders.

Draco was hit with a most potent feeling of deja vu. He blushed furiously upon remembering the dream he had a week before. He took a step back from Potter's reaching grasp. Okay, he considered. Am I dreaming?

He took a long look at Potter. Harry met his eyes and they stood silently in the middle of the hallway. Harry looked like he was somehow getting more hammered the longer they were together. Did this git let me flirt with him in the stairwell only because he’s drunk? He sighed and tilted his head. And not because he actually feels the same?

They broke eye contact when two Gryffindors turned down their corridor, no doubt to turn in for the night, as it was almost midnight.

Draco took a closer look and realized the two people coming towards them were Ron and Hermione.

Chapter Text

Both POV

Hermione halted when she saw them from a few meters away. She grabbed Ron’s arm to stop him from running into the corner of the wall. Ron looked like he had semi-successfully chugged 3 bottles of firewhiskey, and the exasperated look on Hermione's face hinted to Draco that he probably had.

“Harry?” She looked questioningly toward Draco and took in the fact that he was wearing the Gryffindor uniform. “What’s going on?”

Harry looked at her blankly as his words slurred. “Hermione, mate… d’y’know Draco uses peppermint chapstick?” He giggled and swayed where he stood. “Crazy, innit?” 

Hermione pursed her lips and glared at Draco. “What did you do?” she hissed at him. “And where’s Ginny?” She took another gander at Draco’s outfit. “And… Why are you suddenly a Gryffindor?”

Draco put up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t do anything to him. Someone spiked the punch, and this dimwit appears to be a lightweight.”

Hermione left Ron leaning against the wall and strode over to where Harry had taken to steadying himself against Draco’s side. She thwacked Harry’s forehead with her index finger, and he blinked slowly. She sighed. “He didn’t sleep last night, I’m pretty sure.” 

Draco’s brow furrowed. “Why?” 

Hermione blinked in surprise at his concern, but then just shrugged. “He has nightmares sometimes. That, mixed with the firewhiskey, is certainly taking him out of his right mind.”

She considered something for a moment before looking sternly in Malfoy’s eyes. “Could you help me take him to his dorm? Ron and him share a room. Just down the hall.” 

Draco nodded. He wasn’t really used to doing people favours, but a part of him felt like he had accidentally taken advantage of Harry in the stairwell. 

She slung Ron’s arm over her shoulder and huffed at the added weight. Draco attempted to do the same, but he was 90% sure Harry had passed out standing up. He gave up and scooped Harry into a bridal carry. 

Hermione looked at them with an amused expression but didn’t say anything.

The four of them continued down the hall and took a left. Hermione pushes open a door, lets the 3 boys into the dorm, and follows behind them. She breaks off toward Ron’s room tiredly and gently closes the door behind them.

Harry POV

Harry blinked drowsily. He was surrounded by the fresh smell of sandalwood, and he briefly heard a low voice. Disoriented and confused, he tipped his head up to find the source of the sound. Malfoy’s jaw was a decimeter away from his own face. Why is this hoe so close? He soon came to the groggy realisation that he was indeed being carried. 

Malfoy walked over to Harry’s bed and dropped him rather suddenly onto the covers. “Ouch,” Harry grumbled to himself, sitting up and rubbing where his ankle had hit the wood edge of the bed frame. 

“You alright, Potter?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll be taking my leave.” Malfoy turned to exit rather briskly through the door, but Harry heard his own voice interrupt him. “Wait… Malfoy.”

Draco paused before he could reach the door. His heart rate picked up. “Yeah?”

“You forgot your book." He languidly held up the playbook that had been sitting uncomfortably in his jacket pocket.

Malfoy looked at him, puzzled. “It’s not mine,” he said bluntly. “It’s your team’s playbook, Potter. I’m not supposed to have it, remember? That’s what started all this.”

Harry sighed and fell back onto his pillow. “Oh,” he said, as if he was only now hearing about this. “Everything’s kind of a blur.”

Malfoy snorted and leaned gracefully on one of the crimson bedposts. “Yeah, I’ll bet. I’m surprised you can keep your liquor down, you bloody lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight,” Harry protested. He rubbed a hand across his face. “I had, like, 6 glasses of punch.”

“Merlin,” Malfoy breathed.

“I only realised what it was when you ran out of the Hall, and I almost threw up my dinner trying to keep up with you.” A smirk rose to his lips after a beat of silence. “You don’t look too bad in a dress, Draco.” He kicked off his shoes.

Malfoy’s face flushed against his will. “Uh- just… forget about that." He fiddled with the fabric hanging on the bedpost.

I like seeing him flustered, Harry thought. “I probably will, sadly,” he sighed tiredly, “I’m already blanking on everything else that happened tonight." He sat up with an embarrassing amount of disorientation, shrugging off his suit jacket. “Be a good boy and hang this up on the door, will you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Is your memory really that bad?” he inquired with an amused tone, walking over to where Harry lay to grab his jacket.

“No, I actually do remember stuff when I don’t drink 6 glasses of spiked punch," he reasoned sleepily. He shifted comfortably under the covers while Malfoy hung the jacket on the door. 

Draco hesitated a moment before speaking. “Er- do you need… anything else?” he asked awkwardly. “Your dunk arse should probably get some sleep.”

Harry didn’t answer and Draco realised he had already passed out. He exhaled and turned the doorknob to leave. “Goodnight, Harry,” he said quietly.

Draco POV 

His room was quiet, but his mind was loud. He sat up in bed and looked at the time. “2:37 am”, read the clock on his bedside table. The events of the night before replayed in his head so many times that he could almost see them on the dark ceiling above. He longed for Harry like the waves long for the sky. Reaching high just to fall short and crash down. Draco reached his hand up to the ceiling, wishing Harry were in front of him. His hair, his skin, his- 

“Stop,” Draco uttered as he tried to silence his never-ending thoughts. He can’t be thinking like this. His father’s stern face appeared in his mind, forever judging him.

 “Go away,” He whispered aloud, his words getting caught in his throat. His heart raced, and his mouth grew dry as thoughts of Harry moved through his mind. You can’t be thinking these things, Lucious’ voice pierced through his head. It's wrong, His mind concurred. His thoughts grew louder and louder; trying to escape, but only managing to become silent tears. His convictions loomed over him, making him feel small and trapped. His breath quickened. He could feel his heart racing. 

I've got to get out of here. I need to go. Get out. Get out! GET OUT! His thoughts pounded against his skull like heavy rain on a glass window. He aggressively pushed back the covers of his now too-hot bed and rushed to the door. Clumsily putting on his slippers, he stumbled through the doorway and into the hall, walking away from his suffocating dorm as fast as he could. 

Harry POV

Harry sat in his dorm, groggy and half asleep. The blasphemes organ within his ribcage longed for something, though he couldn’t discern what it was. Fragments of sleep clouded his vision, and he blinked slowly, firewhiskey still raging through his body. How did I get here, he thought tiredly. Events from a couple hours earlier surfaced in his mind.

Draco.

The incessant beating in his chest had something to do with the silvery-blond twinkish bloody stupid idiot that his eyes had a tendency to drift to. 

Without much of a thought to go back to sleep (or rather, without any thoughts at all), he stood up. His balance betrayed him, and he swayed unsteadily for a moment. He let his gaze drift around the room, landing on a silky pile of fabric stuffed behind his trunk. My cloak. An invisible walk would surely do him some good. And a short trip to the bathrooms wouldn't be such a bad idea, either.

Grabbing the cloak and trying to ignore the fog in his brain, he opened his door and gracelessly strode into the hall.

Both POV 

Before Harry knew it, his long walk had caused him to stumble into the dungeons. He saw a form in the distance crouched against the wall. Who the bloody hell is this? He wondered. As he drew near, he was able to make out the distinguishing features of Draco Malfoy, blond hair and all, huddled on the ground against the wall. 

In his slightly drunken state, Harry approached him, nearly forgetting about his invisibility cloak. Before speaking, he remembered that Draco could not see him, and he quickly threw the cloak to the floor. 

Draco, startled, briskly wiped the tears from his face. His quavering voice broke the stifling silence. “Sorry,” he sniffed, “I was…just out for a stroll.” 

He hardly bothered to look up, frankly too ashamed to see who had caught him crying in the corridor. Who the bloody hell would come down here at 2 am?

Harry ignored his weak excuse for crying in the deserted hallway. He crouched down to face where Draco sat against the stone wall, and his hand floated up to the blond’s shoulder, pulling him into a resolute embrace. 

Draco’s eyes go wide due to the unexpected action, and not even knowing who this person is. 

That is, until he smells the unmistakable aroma of eucalyptus and strawberry.

“...Pottah?”

He tries to back up out of shock, but his back hits the wall. He’s basically trapped in Harry’s embrace. 

“Wot- wot are you doing?” Draco asks quietly, catching himself relaxing into Harry’s grasp and tensing again. “Gerroff me,” Draco mutters, pushing Harry’s chest lightly, but the other boy doesn’t move.

“I don't really know why I’m doing this”, Harry’s words slur together as he mumbles into Draco’s silverish blond hair.

“Yeah, I don’t either.” There’s a beat of silence as they both stay still. “So move, idiot,” Draco says, yet not attempting to push him again.

After another moment, Harry loosens his embrace just slightly. “...What are you doing here, Draco?”

Harry’s question broke him. 

There was something about his name being spoken so softly in the darkened hall that caused Draco’s words to crumble together before he could properly formulate a response. After a moment, Draco moved his hands from their place of resistance on Harry’s chest to loosely return the embrace. They sat in silence for what Draco would later consider as an embarrassingly long time. 

Hot air swept over the blond boy’s ear as Harry sighed and pulled back. “You don’t have to tell me.” He offered Draco a small smile and patted his rather slouched shoulders. 

Draco looked at him blankly and suddenly stood up. Harry followed in suit. The sudden difference in height was so stunning it made the room seem a bit more green and blue.

Harry's still-hammered self wobbled forward and crashed into Draco, who caught him before he fell too far down. Harry’s arms clumsily landed around the blonde’s neck, and his head came into close contact with the Slytherin’s sternum. 

Thump-Thump Thump-Thump

Harry felt his face rush with blood as he started profusing apologizing in his rather flustered state. 

Six glasses of Firewhiskey must not allow for much agility or grace, Draco concluded silently. 

Draco, who for once looked as calm as ever, had begun to hear his heartbeat in his ears as he felt the cold rush in where Harry had been moments before as he peeled himself from Draco’s shirt.

“Oh oim so sorry I-”

“Potter”

“Really didn't mean t-”

“Potter!”

“I just tripped, really-" 

“HARRY”

“Sorry?” Harry’s eyes glanced up to Draco’s, finally.

“It's okay, you sloshed twat” He gently took Harry’s arm and guided it over his shoulder. “You probably won't even remember this in the morning,” he continued under his breath. “Let's get back to your room.”

Draco holds Harry gingerly around his waist as he stands beside him, allowing him firm enough support to not fall but light enough for him not to think too much about the space between them and the warmth Harry transfers to his body. Draco wraps the invisibility cloak that Harry had used to get there around the two of them as he tries to remember the way back to the Gryffindor common room. 

The red door creaked eerily, and Draco silently prayed that Ron would not wake up and see Harry slumped into Draco’s side for the second time that evening.

As Draco tucks Harry into bed for basically the second time, he clocks that leaving without an invisibility cloak may be unwise. He takes it without too much thought. As he begins to walk toward the door, he stops and turns one last time to bask in the brunette's drunken beauty. After a moment of hesitation, he shifts quietly back to Harry’s side, and he leans down, head above the tousled hair on the pillow, to graze Harry’s forehead with his lips, which had been yearning for Harry’s skin since the last time they had the pleasure of meeting, at least, in a dream or two.