It started out as a joke.
A stupid joke, really—one that Pansy and Blaise wouldn’t let go of. It had been a typical lunch in the Great Hall, all of them huddled together at the Slytherin table, when Pansy had leaned over and smirked at Draco, her eyes glinting with mischief.
“So, Draco,” she’d said, her voice dripping with false innocence, “what’s going on with you and Potter?”
Draco nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, please.” Blaise chimed in, throwing a grape into his mouth and leaning back lazily. “Everyone can see it.”
“See what, exactly?” Draco had snapped, wiping his mouth with a napkin, trying—and failing—to keep his cool.
“You practically staring at him all the time.” Pansy was enjoying this far too much. “It’s kind of adorable.”
Draco’s face had gone hot, and he’d spluttered something incoherent, shooting a quick glance over at the Gryffindor table, where, sure enough, Potter was sitting, oblivious, laughing at something Weasley had said.
“I am not staring,” Draco had hissed, his voice low. “And I am most definitely not interested in Potter.”
“Right,” Pansy had said, nodding sagely. “Of course not. You just spend all your time talking about him, watching him, obsessing over him because you don’t like him.”
Blaise smirked, leaning forward. “Denial is not gonna get you laid—"
“Shut up,” Draco had growled, his ears burning. “You’re both disgusting.”
“Not as disgusting as you two would be together,” Pansy had teased, wrinkling her nose.
Draco had shoved his plate away and stood up, muttering something about having better things to do than listen to their idiocy. As he’d stormed out of the Great Hall, he’d barely noticed the way his eyes had drifted back to Potter again—just out of habit—catching the way the light glinted off his messy black hair, the way his stupid green eyes crinkled when he smiled.
And just a few hours later, Draco found himself in Hogsmeade, snow gently falling around him as he leaned against the side of a building, tucked into a shadowy alley. His breath was visible in the cold air, and his heart was pounding in his chest for reasons that had nothing to do with the winter chill.
Across from him, hidden in the same shadow, was Harry.
Harry, with snowflakes clinging to his messy hair, his cheeks flushed from the cold, a single snowflake landing perfectly on the tip of his nose. Harry, who was looking at him with those maddeningly green eyes that always made Draco’s throat go dry. Harry, whose lips—Merlin, those lips—were the only warmth Draco needed right now.
Draco stared at him, his heart racing, his mind a whirl of thoughts he didn’t dare say aloud.
He wasn’t sure when this had started, when they’d stopped throwing hexes and started stealing kisses. It had all blurred together into one confusing, wonderful mess. One minute, he’d hated Potter with everything in him. The next minute, he was sneaking out of the castle just to meet him in Hogsmeade, standing in the snow, desperate to kiss him.
Harry shifted closer, his breath puffing out in little clouds, his eyes flicking between Draco’s and his lips. Draco couldn’t help it—he laughed, a soft, disbelieving sound. He was so in love with Harry Potter. And it was ridiculous.
“What?” Harry asked, frowning slightly, his brow furrowing in that adorable way that made Draco’s heart twist. “Why are you laughing?”
Draco just shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing. You’re just… you’re so oblivious.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oblivious?”
“You have no idea how bloody attractive you are, do you?”
Harry blinked, his cheeks flushing even more—though Draco wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the compliment that did it. “What? I—Draco, I’m not—”
Draco just rolled his eyes, cutting him off by leaning in and pressing his lips to Harry’s.
For a moment, the world melted away. It was just them, the cold air forgotten, the soft press of Harry’s lips warm and familiar, like hot chocolate on a winter night. Draco’s hands slid up to cup Harry’s face, his thumbs brushing over the freckles that dusted his cheeks like snowflakes.
When they finally pulled apart, Harry’s eyes were still closed, his breath shaky. Draco smiled, resting his forehead against Harry’s, their noses brushing.
“Still think you’re not pretty?” Draco whispered, his voice low.
Harry opened his eyes, blinking up at him, looking dazed. “You’re mad,” he said, but his voice was soft, affectionate.
“Maybe.” Draco said, pressing another quick kiss to Harry’s lips.
Harry rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips now, and Draco could see the way his eyes softened. “You’re such a git,” he murmured.
“You love it." Draco shot back, smirking.
And he did. Draco knew it. They were sixteen, for Merlin’s sake. Of course this was complicated. Of course this was messy and confusing and terrifying. But at the same time, it wasn’t. It was simple. Easy. Because they loved each other.
But just as Draco leaned in again, ready to kiss him properly this time, he heard a voice from behind him.
“I knew it.”
Both boys froze, whipping around to see Ron Weasley standing there, his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. Hermione was next to him, wide-eyed and speechless, while Ron just shook his head. “Told you, Hermione. Knew they couldn’t keep it together for long.”
Draco’s heart stopped for a second, panic flaring up, but then Harry started laughing. Full-on, deep belly laughing, and Draco found himself joining in before he could stop himself.
Ron just rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “Well, good for you, then. Now stop snogging in alleys. We’re getting butterbeer.”
Harry and Draco were still laughing as they watched Ron and Hermione walk away, but when Harry turned back to Draco, the laughter faded into something softer, something quieter.
Draco reached out, threading his fingers through Harry’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
God, he loved this. Loved him.
“Come on,” Harry said, tugging him forward, a smile still tugging at his lips. “We can get back to snogging later.”
Draco chuckled, letting himself be pulled along, but as they walked through the snow, hand in hand, he couldn’t help but glance over at Harry again.
Yes, he was completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with Harry Potter. And as Harry smiled back at him, his green eyes shining, Draco knew that was the best thing in the world.