Chapter 1
The first time that Harry kissed him couldn't be considered anything other than a blur, honestly. A hazy memory diminished down to drunken laughing and flashing lights. The eighth-year common room had been full and thudding with loud, pretentious music chosen mostly by the overwhelming amount of Gryffindors making up the year group.
He and Harry had made up close to the start of the year; in an attempted display of house unity for the sake of the extremely anti-slytherin population of Hogwarts. Population of the entirety of Wizarding England, really. But by the time the Christmas party rolled around, they were friends. Good friends. Odd, considering their history, but they worked, and neither felt overly inclined to reject the growing friendship with the amount of positives it held for them both.
The Christmas party had been arranged by Blaise and Seamus- who, like them, became fast friends once the house divide was lifted. This, however, meant that the party would be thoroughly supplied with a vast variety of both wizarding and muggle drinks. So by extension, everyone at the party was absolutely, and undoubtedly sloshed.
Draco was drunk enough that he couldn't stand properly, so sat contently on his favourite chair sipping his drink while he watched everyone else embarrass themselves, because despite that; he easily remained the soberest in the room.
He was just watching Pansy clumsily ask Luna to dance with her, when the golden boy- sloshing his drink around dangerously- climbed up on the table and began dancing like an absolute oaf. Draco found this extra funny, thanks to his four FireWhiskies, and so began chortling violently.
Harry's head snapped up at the nearby noise, and when he caught sight of Draco- began laughing with him- shaking his arse in a terrifying attempt at twerking.
"Sto- Stop- HA! Harry-" Draco forced between great bouts of laughter. He found it less funny, however, when Harry tried to pull him up on the table in front of a load of Gryffindors who were now cheering wildly.
At Draco's refusal, Harry pouted and stepped off the table, pressing into Draco's personal space as he brought his mouth to the side of his head. "Come on, dance with me!" He could feel the warmth of Harry's breath hitting the shell of his ear as he shouted over the music.
"Do you know me at all Potter? No." His own clipped tone pressed back, strengthening at the practised use of his last name. This, however, resulted in a second pout, as well as Harry somehow winding up in his arms, pressed against his chest. "What are y-" He tried before the raven grabbed his hands and began waving them about in a rhythm that clashed awfully with the beats of the music. The movement made his head spin and caused his eyes to blur; the boy in front of him slipping half hazardously in and out of focus. "Harry I don't like dancing!" He pried his hands from the Gryffindor's grip, sitting back in his chair pointedly.
The raven huffed and muttered what Draco thought to be, "Everyone likes dancing.." before shuffling away into the crowd. The blonde rolled his eyes, seamlessly resuming his people-watching. Pansy and Luna were now dancing close together, the pair adoring great, flushed smiles. Seamus and Dean were dancing too- though their brand of romance involved much more groping and grinding as they tangled themselves together with drunken giggles and messy kisses.
Draco realised -probably far later than he would have done normally, that Harry was back, and now stood to his right, watching Seamus and Dean with an expression that he couldn't quite place.
"What is it now, Potter?" He enjoyed slipping between Harry's first and last name. They were close, so first names were a given, but calling him Potter welcomed a familiarity and banter that they both enjoyed and was unique to only them. A private joke.
"What's it to you, Malfoy?" He chuckled, throwing his head back.
"Where are your followers, oh great prophet?" He bowed his head to further the joke, but Harry didn't laugh. When he looked up, it was to find him moodily playing with a loose thread on the hideous green Weasley jumper of 6th year.
"Ron and Hermione are off snogging somewhere and everyone else.." He looked around, "Well, pretty much the same, really"
Draco looked back at the crowd, and sure enough, Neville and Hanna Abbot were also swaying together contently. When he looked back, the raven was watching him with an uncertain gaze, lip trapped between his teeth turning it a cherry sort of red.
Before he could look away, however, Draco was engulfed by all that was Harry. His weight; his smell; his taste.
It was a foolish kiss. A drunken, disoriented affair; messy at its surface, and shameful at its core. As soon as the surprise-born glittering faded from the corners of Draco's vision, he shoved Harry away with a force that concealed his shaking hands.
"I.." was all Harry could utter, looking fearful as his mouth dipped downward with regret. It came out as a question. As though Draco could answer it for him. The blonde watched- a steady frustration mounting- as Potter turned to push through the crowd, swaying as his unfocused eyes avoided his own. What right did Potter have to do that? None, Draco decided.
But that night was mostly forgotten by the next morning, reduced down to a dreadfully clouded memory of warm breaths and green eyes. And yet still, Draco never knew what pushed Harry to kiss him that night. He never asked.