Draco felt sick. The tie wrapped around his eyes scuffed his cheeks. He had protested the blindfold, but the others insisted the game would be more entertaining if they knew Draco wouldn't see who came in the closet.
He would be lying if he said he wasn't scared. Eighth year just started and he wasn't friends with anyone except Pansy and Blaise. Draco was talkative enough now, so people invited him to parties. But there was a group of loud, drunk teenagers outside the closet and he trusted none of them.
They were discussing who to send in the closet with him. Seven minutes in heaven. He hoped they sent Pansy. She was the only person he would be comfortable kissing, given that they knew they were totally incompatible. Knowing his friends, though, they would send someone to embarrass him. Maybe Granger, who annoyed the crap out of him. Or Greengrass, a kind, sweet girl, but so simple minded sometimes that Draco got bored listening to her.
He should not have agreed to this. Even at night, the early September heat lingered in the dungeon. The close walls of the closet seemed to suffocate him further, even though he couldn't see. His breath came out short and his skin felt hot. If they didn't send someone in soon, Draco decided he would leave.
A minute later, they did.
Draco knew the door opened when the voices and laughter outside briefly raised, before the door clicked shut and the world outside became muffled again. The presence of another living, breathing person in the room made Draco's skin prickle. He heard their breath, the slight movement of their limbs, the natural heat off their skin.
A hand touched his arm. Nothing more than a brush.
His mind flicked through a million guesses and thoughts and questions before settling on a blank. There was no way to know who it was until after. Should he speak? Ask their name? And if they didn't answer?
All questions disappeared the moment fingers brushed his neck, and a hand cupped his jaw. His heart drummed in his chest, his ears, his lips. When their soft breath ghosted his cheek, white static drowned out any sounds.
Soft lips found his. For a moment the world went very still, and only this moment existed.
Then everything happened in a whirlwind, and Draco's thoughts struggled to catch up as his body took over.
It was good. Too good. They knew what they were doing, each movement sure and steady and deliberate. A tilt of the head. Dip of the chin. Fingertips pressing into the sensitive skin of his neck.
Draco brought his hands up to their waist. Oh. Oh .
He must have froze because they stopped kissing him, pulling back. Draco brought his hands up to their face, feeling the stubble on their jaw. His hands trembled as he worked his way down to their chest, which was flat and muscular. Oh .
Everything jumbled inside his chest. There were no words to fix this. Had he really not known? Had he not known from the moment the other boy walked in?
The closet crashed and burned around him. His lungs had stopped working a long time ago. Then his name, spoken low and calm.
"Draco."
Potter. Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The Savior. His rival and nemesis and a Gryffindor, for Merlin’s sake. Not to mention he was openly bisexual. All at once air rushed back into his lungs. His hands were clenched on Harry's arms.
Distantly, the sound of people counting down reached Draco's ears. Their time was almost up. His whole body was both numb and the most alive it has ever felt.
He kissed a boy. He kissed Harry Potter.
Fingertips brushed back his fringe, and Harry's voice whispered into his ears.
"Find me upstairs by the end of the night. First door to the left after the Great Hall."
Then his presence was gone. The door opened and Harry walked out.
Draco heard him say, "Nothing happened. Obviously."
Only then did Draco have the strength to get up and walk out, his hands reaching up to untie the blindfold.
☆★☆
He was not going to find Harry. It could be a prank. A Weasley joke. One final humiliation before they graduated and never saw each other again.
So why was he searching for him throughout the night? Glancing around for a wave of brown hair, or that charming smile of someone everyone knew and liked?
"Who are you looking for?"
Draco looked down at Pansy, startled. He had forgotten about her.
"No one. Nobody."
"Whatever you say, Draco." Pansy rolled her eyes. "You are just not subtle."
Draco cursed to himself silently, and looked pointedly at the floor. He was not going to wander off alone in search of Harry Potter who kissed him because of a stupid game organized by drunk teenagers. Absolutely not.
"Look, I'm gonna go get another beer," Pansy said, her eyes latching onto someone near the table littered with various beers and hard alcohols. Draco followed her gaze. Blaise Zabini.
The official heartbreaker of Slytherin and possibly the entire history of Hogwarts. And Pansy was obviously in love with him.
Blaise laughed at something, and that's when Draco realized who Blaise was talking to.
Harry Potter. Of all people.
"I'll come with you," Draco said without thinking, and followed her to them, ignoring the slightly amused look Pansy shot at him.
"Blaise," Pansy called out, running to hug him. Blaise smiled into the hug, but Draco thought he looked tense with Pansy's arms around him.
"Hey again, Draco," Harry said looking into his eyes, smiling easily. Why does everyone smile so much? It just confused him.
Pansy didn't say anything, too wrapped up in Blaise’s honey brown eyes. Draco let his gaze slide back on Harry, like it had been trying to all night.
"Hey," Draco said, but it came out soft and low. He couldn't manage a smile to ease away the awkwardness. Harry patted Draco’s arm, who felt startled at such a casual gesture and then annoyed to see Harry leaving, which only annoyed him more.
"I'm gonna go check on something. Catch you later." Then Harry walked away, his hand accidentally brushing Draco's arm as he disappeared around the corner.
Then it clicked.
"I'm gonna–just..." Draco jerked his thumb in some direction, never good at acting discreet. Pansy barely paid attention to him, and said goodbye half heartedly. Blaise, on the other hand, watched Draco go with sharp eyes, and a little too much clarity.
Draco walked through the cliques and crowds of teenagers milling about the common room, left the dungeon, and rounded the same corner as Harry. He kept walking past the Great Hall, where a door just up ahead closed quietly.
First door to the left after the Great Hall , Harry had said.
Was he really going to do this? His brain must not have been working properly, because he continued walking until he reached the door.
His body worked on autopilot, his hand catching the door handle clumsily. The door gave, and Draco cautiously opened it.
Something grabbed his arm and pulled him in. The door closed and locked behind him and then it was dark.
"I thought you wouldn't come." Harry. Who else? He heard each word like a vibration wherever Harry touched him.
"Me too."
No response. Then Harry kissed him.
It was rougher than the first, and deeper. Harry crowded him against the wall, so deliciously unapologetic. Strong hands held his hips in place, before they slid around the waistband of his jeans. Fuck . Draco's whole body pulsed to one beat.
"Is this okay?" Harry's fingers found the button of his jeans. His breath fanned hot against Draco's collarbone. Draco tilted his head and kissed Harry.
"Yes."
The button came undone. Then the zipper. Things got faster after that. They found themselves tangled on the floor of the dark room in an urgency Draco willingly lost himself in.
Harry's hands were everywhere at once, a blur of motion and warm caresses, while his lips moved leisurely like they had all the time in the world.
Draco discovered the answers to a million questions he didn't know he had. Each kiss made sense, each touch a fact. Had Draco not known all this time?
As his breaths became pants and the black behind his eyelids exploded in color, Draco decided he had known for all his life.