The music thrummed through the grand hall, a low, pulsing beat that seemed to wrap around Harry’s chest, making everything feel heavy, slow, like the whole world had been dipped in honey. He shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the edges of his mask. This was supposed to be fun—everyone was saying so. A magical masquerade at the Yule Ball, a night of mystery, enchantment, and whatever else. But Harry didn’t feel enchanted. He felt restless.
He stood against one of the stone pillars, watching as students twirled across the floor, faces hidden behind elegant masks, robes swirling as they moved. He should be out there, dancing, laughing, pretending for one night that everything wasn’t complicated. But his feet wouldn’t move. Not yet. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but it was something. Something he couldn’t name.
His gaze drifted across the room, past the clusters of students, past the floating candles casting their soft glow, and then—he saw him. A figure across the room, standing alone, watching the dance with the same quiet intensity that Harry felt burning in his own chest. The figure wore a black mask, simple but striking, and his platinum hair caught the candlelight like silver thread.
Harry didn’t need to see the rest of his face to know. He didn’t need to hear his voice, didn’t need to watch him move. He knew who it was, as surely as if they were standing face to face. Draco.
The world seemed to tilt slightly, the sounds of the ball fading into a distant hum. Draco hadn’t seen him yet, but Harry could feel the pull in his chest, a magnetic draw that always seemed to exist between them, no matter how hard they tried to ignore it.
It’s you. It’s always you.
Harry’s feet moved before his mind had caught up, pushing him through the crowd, weaving between couples who were too lost in their own worlds to notice him. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he got there. He didn’t even know why he was going, but he couldn’t stop himself.
As he got closer, Draco turned, their eyes locking through the thin slits of their masks, and for a moment, everything stilled. The world slowed down, the music dimmed, and all Harry could see was him—Draco, standing there, like he’d been waiting too. Maybe he had been.
Harry swallowed, his throat tight, his heart pounding loud in his ears. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, wasn’t supposed to notice the way Draco’s robes fit his body perfectly, or the way his hair fell just so, or the way he always looked like he belonged in these grand, sweeping rooms filled with elegance and tradition. He wasn’t supposed to notice how Draco’s scent—something crisp and cold, like winter air—seemed to fill the space between them.
But he did. He noticed all of it, every single detail, and it made his chest ache.
Draco’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, and without a word, he extended his hand. His fingers hovered in the air, just close enough for Harry to see the slight tremor, like maybe Draco was as nervous as he was.
It would be so easy to take his hand, to step into this moment, to let himself fall into whatever this was. But everything was so complicated—so fragile.
Still, Harry reached out, their fingertips brushing lightly, just enough for a spark of something electric to run up his arm. Draco’s fingers curled around his, and suddenly, it felt like everything clicked into place. Like this was the moment he’d been waiting for without even realizing it.
They didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Harry let Draco pull him onto the dance floor, the music swelling around them, slow and sweet. They moved together, not perfectly, but it didn’t matter. Harry’s hand rested on Draco’s shoulder, the other still entwined with his. It was easy, too easy, like they’d done this a thousand times before.
Draco’s breath ghosted over Harry’s ear, and Harry’s heart stuttered, skipping a beat. The room around them faded into a blur of color and sound, but none of it mattered. Not now. Not with Draco so close, his body warm against Harry’s, his touch so familiar despite the masks and the gowns and the formality of the night.
Heaven is a place on earth with you.
Harry’s pulse quickened as he realized just how true that was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this—like the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a few stolen moments.
They swayed together, a quiet rhythm that felt more intimate than any words could be. And then, without warning, Draco’s hand slid from Harry’s shoulder to the small of his back, pulling him in closer, their bodies almost flush. Harry’s breath caught, his fingers tightening around Draco’s, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to.
For a long moment, they just stood like that, barely moving, barely breathing, and Harry could feel the tension thrumming between them, heavy and full of things they couldn’t say.
Draco’s head dipped, his lips brushing against the edge of Harry’s jaw, soft and fleeting, and Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, a shiver running down his spine.
“I knew it was you,” Draco murmured, his voice low and rough, and Harry’s heart clenched. “I always know when it’s you.”
Harry swallowed hard, turning his head slightly, his lips almost grazing Draco’s. “How?”
Draco’s smile was small, almost sad. “How could I not?”
Harry’s chest tightened, his fingers gripping the fabric of Draco’s robes as if that could anchor him, keep him from floating away into the weightlessness of this moment. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to tell Draco that it was the same for him, that somehow, he always knew. That it had always been Draco.
And then Draco’s lips were on his, soft and tentative, like he was testing the waters, unsure if this was allowed. Harry didn’t hesitate. He pressed closer, kissing him back, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to savor this.
Heaven is a place on earth with you.
The kiss was sweet, unhurried, like they were the only two people in the room. Maybe they were. When they finally pulled apart, Harry kept his eyes closed, leaning his forehead against Draco’s, his breath mingling with his.
“I don’t care,” Harry whispered, his voice shaking. “I don’t care about anything else. Just... stay.”
Draco didn’t answer, but his grip on Harry tightened, and that was answer enough.
For tonight, this was enough. For tonight, it was everything.