Chapter 1
Harry Potter was having a crisis. A full-blown, heart-racing, slightly sweaty-palmed crisis.
It wasn’t because Voldemort was out there somewhere plotting his demise. It wasn’t because Snape had assigned a ten-foot essay on the properties of bezoars. It wasn’t even because Ron had stolen the last of the pumpkin pasties at lunch. No—Harry’s crisis was currently standing in front of him in the form of Draco Malfoy, looking incredibly annoyed and incredibly attractive at the same time.
“I swear to Salazar, Potter, if you keep looking at me like that in the middle of the Great Hall, people are going to start getting suspicious,” Draco hissed, grabbing Harry by the front of his robes and dragging him into an empty classroom.
Harry blinked. “Like what?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Like I’ve got the last Golden Snitch on earth tucked behind my ear.”
“Well, if you’d stop being so—so you, maybe I wouldn’t stare!”
Draco crossed his arms. “I have no idea what that means.”
Harry groaned, running a hand through his already disastrous hair. “You just—ugh. You do that thing.”
Draco’s eyebrow arched in what could only be described as aristocratic skepticism. “That thing?”
“You know. The thing where you smirk like you’ve got the entire world wrapped around your finger.”
“I do, though.”
Harry sighed heavily, but he was fighting a grin. This was the problem with dating Draco Malfoy—he was insufferable. Handsome, infuriating, sharp-tongued, and just the slightest bit ridiculous. And Harry was absolutely, hopelessly, disgustingly smitten.
“You almost got us caught today,” Draco muttered, stepping closer. “We agreed—no staring, no smiling, no gazing longingly.”
“I wasn’t gazing longingly,” Harry lied.
Draco gave him a flat look. “You were practically writing poetry about me with your eyes.”
Harry sighed dramatically. “Fine. Maybe I was admiring you.”
Draco smirked, but then his expression darkened. “Snape saw you.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. “What?”
Draco huffed. “He saw you mooning over me in the corridor after Potions.”
“Oh, Merlin.”
Draco ran a hand through his own perfectly styled hair. “He called me into his office afterward.”
Harry stared. “And?”
Draco straightened his shoulders and did a passable Snape impression. “‘Mr. Malfoy, I am concerned about the amount of time you spend antagonizing Potter. One might mistake it for—interest.’”
Harry choked. “No.”
Draco nodded gravely. “He suspects.”
Harry groaned. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Next thing you know, he’ll be taking out an engagement announcement in the Daily Prophet.”
Draco made a face. “As if. If anyone’s proposing, it’s me.”
Harry blinked. “What?”
“What?” Draco said quickly.
There was a long pause.
Harry coughed. “Anyway. We need a plan.”
Draco nodded. “Agreed. Step one: You stop looking at me like I’m your long-lost love every time I walk into a room.”
“Unlikely,” Harry said.
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Step two: You stop being so obvious. You nearly grabbed my hand outside Charms.”
Harry scoffed. “You nearly grabbed mine.”
“That is a lie,” Draco said, scandalized.
Harry grinned. “Is it?”
Draco flushed. “Moving on. Step three: We establish a neutral meeting place. Somewhere secret.”
Harry considered this. “Room of Requirement?”
Draco waved a hand. “Too predictable.”
“The Astronomy Tower?”
Draco shook his head. “Too romantic.”
Harry smirked. “Afraid you’ll fall for me even more, Malfoy?”
Draco scoffed. “Please, Potter, I’m already suffering enough.”
Harry chuckled. “Alright, what about—”
The door suddenly swung open, and both boys turned sharply, eyes wide like deer caught in wandlight.
Standing in the doorway was Professor Snape, looking as if he had just bitten into a particularly sour lemon.
There was a long, excruciating silence.
“I see,” Snape said, voice dangerously low.
“No, you don’t,” Draco blurted. “You don’t see anything. You are imagining things. You need more sleep. You—”
Harry smacked a hand over Draco’s mouth. “What he means is—uh—we were just, um—”
Draco licked Harry’s palm.
Harry yelped, yanking his hand away. “Malfoy!”
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not wish to know,” he said, voice dripping with exhaustion. “I do not care to know.” He fixed them with a glare. “But if either of you so much as breathe near each other in my classroom again, I will deduct every last point from Gryffindor and Slytherin alike.”
Draco frowned. “Slytherin too?”
“Yes,” Snape snapped.
Draco gasped. “Betrayal.”
Harry was too busy trying to suppress hysterical laughter to respond.
Snape sighed, long and suffering. “Get out of my sight.”
Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
And with that, they bolted.
As soon as they turned the corner, they burst into laughter, nearly collapsing against the wall.
“That was awful,” Harry wheezed.
“That was horrifying,” Draco agreed.
They looked at each other, still breathless, still grinning.
Harry reached for Draco’s hand. Draco didn’t pull away.
“So,” Harry said, “astronomy tower?”
Draco smirked. “You’re impossible, Potter.”
“You love it.”
Draco huffed but didn’t deny it.
And honestly? That was victory enough for Harry.