CHAPTER ONE
Hari always thought Draco's eyes were one of the most beautiful things about him. He would never admit this of course for so many reasons. But being this close to Draco just confirms it, most people would say his eyes are a light green but thats because he never lets them get close enough to see them, really see them. Just like how he doesn't let people see him. When you're as close as Hari is you can see his eyes are not green at all, not even close, not even a little bit. No, his right eye is a soft blue. Softer than the crushed baby blue flowers in his hands. His left eye is white, like clouds. It's funny, Hari thinks, everything about them is polar opposite. Draco's skin is soft and always so pale like he's never been outside in his life while Hari’s dark brown skin is a deep brown colour. Draco’s angel white and ocean blue eyes are in deep contrast to Hari’s grass-green ones. Draco's daisy white hair opposes Hari’s chocolate brown hair. If Draco’s the calm Hari’s the storm, if Draco’s the sky Hari’s the ground. The only thing alike between the two boys is the small patch of white hair atop Hari’s forehead where his scar meets his skull. Hari’s looking up at the boy, his breath warm on Hari’s noes. Hari had always been shorter, the doctors say it’s from years of malnutrition. If it were anyone else, everyone else Hari would be scared to be looked down on like this, but this isn't anyone else, everyone else. This is Draco and that is different.
“I promise you so long as my heart is beating it belongs to you, one word from you and I will rip it out of my chest and give it to you with a smile on my face knowing that it's you who owns it” Draco breaths down then he kisses him
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ONE YEAR EARLIER
Hari’s chair was uncomfortable, to say the least. The harsh wood dug into his back and he went for putting his hands under his bottom to make it more comfortable. He was zoning out what the man was telling him. He knows what the lectures about. He failed a test and now it's all the media is talking about. Dumbledore put him into muggle math assuming he would thrive because he went to school when he was living with the Dursleys. Clearly, he knows nothing about what he went through because he never went to school. He never even left the house until that day with the snake.
But he’s okay because he’s here. Not under the stairs, not bleeding out in the kitchen after Dudley went to sleep. No, he’s here.
Sometimes he thinks he will wake up under the stairs and realise this was all a dream.
But he’s fourteen now, there’s no way he could dream he’s gone to Hogwarts that long. No, he's here at Hogwarts in this uncomfortable chair getting lectured about failing a test he didn’t have time to study for with everything else going on.
He finds himself reminding himself he’s in this current moment a lot. He chooses not to think about it.
Hari’s head is pounding by the time it's over. He stretches his shoulders before going to his quidditch match.
He promises himself that he won't lose, last time he lost it didn’t go well for him, especially when he went home for Christmas.
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Sweat beads down his thudding temple. He got about ten minutes of sleep last night, not consecutively either. His vision is starting to go dizzy and he doesn’t know how much more he can take of it.
The camera following the crowd starts wiring. A new thing Dumbledore added to raise more money for Quidditch is a kiss cam. It’s magically focused on whoever has the most chemistry.
Which is why you can imagine his surprise when it settles between him and his opposing opponent, Draco Malfoy.
He doesn’t know why him and Draco started off to a bad start. Or he does know and doesn’t want to admit it. Doesn’t want to admit that if he had just shaken Draco's hand it would have turned differently.
But he does have a reason. Growing up he had always been told he had some sick, disgusting disease that makes his skin brown. He was told it was infectious and that’s why they never touched him, why when they did they had gloves on, why they made him clean his blood off the frying pans after he’d been hit.
He thought it was a trick to see if he would give them the desise.
What was an even bigger shock was when Draco actually kissed him, and when Hari’s hand instinctively went out to block the brunt of whatever was flying at him (not a frying pan not a frying pan notafryingpannotafryingpannotafryingpan) the game ended with the snitch in his hand.