It was just a little past three in the morning, and Harry still wasn’t back yet. The five eighth year Gryffindor boys (Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom) had all gone out drinking for the night, as they did every Friday. The pack of rambunctious boys would usually leave the castle a little after dinner, stay out for a few hours, drink a couple drinks, and be back in their dorm rooms by midnight. Not tonight though. They were still out, and Draco was starting to grow worried. Not that he would admit it, he would rather be hit with another sectumsempra than do so, but he was worried.
About Harry, that is. He didn’t give a rat’s arse about the other four boys. Okay, maybe he cared slightly about Longbottom too, as the quiet boy was tolerable, but he really didn’t care about Weasley, Finnegan, or Thomas. He just needed to be sure that Harry was alright. It’s just because he saved the whole wizarding world and stopped me from being thrown into Azkaban, Draco told himself over and over again, trying to justify his worries. But it was useless, Draco knew why he felt so worried about Harry. He’d been in love with the git since he was fourteen.
It all started when they met in Madam Malkin’s robe shop before their first year, before Draco even knew it was Harry Potter he was talking to. He had just seen a young boy with black scruffy hair, beautiful dark skin, and the most breathtaking green eyes he’d ever seen. Draco wasn’t quite sure what it was that he felt for the other boy, all he knew was that he wanted to get to know him better.
Draco didn’t know it at the time, but that was the start of his journey to falling in love with Harry Potter. It started off as a crush, one that he did his best to ignore and suppress. His affection for the other boy continued to grow though, and he had fallen fully in love by his fourth year.
Shaking his head, Draco tried to clear his thoughts. It’s no use getting caught up in his feelings for Harry, it’s not like he would ever return Draco’s affections. Draco tried to re-focus on the book he was reading, but yet again his thoughts strayed. Letting out a sigh, Draco marked his page and closed the book. He might as well just sit and wait for Harry to come back, because he knew full-well he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the stupid Gryffindor returned.
Draco wasn’t even sure how they got away with going out every Friday night. All Hogwarts students, even eighth years, were expected to be back in their dorms, or at least common rooms, by curfew. Apparently being the Saviour of the Wizarding World, or at least his friend, had its perks. Not that Draco knew anything about that. He and Harry may be on much better terms than they were before, and were even on a first name basis with each other. But that didn’t mean that they were anything close to friends, they just figured it’d be a lot easier having to room together if they didn’t want to kill each other.
And Draco would never be able to break the rules like Harry did. He wasn’t even able to leave the castle unless under the supervision of another person, due to repercussions from the war. And unfortunately, none of his friends had returned for their eighth year, meaning he didn’t leave the castle often. Other punishments of his were limited and monitored magic use and community service for the next three years. And, of course, having to return to Hogwarts for his “eighth year”. It was irritating at times, but at least it wasn’t Azkaban like his father got. Draco could handle this, he could not handle Azkaban. He and his mother both got light sentences because Harry spoke at their trials.
Just then Draco heard a noise at the door, and looked up to see Harry stumble into their shared dorm room. “Are you alright?” asked Draco, taking in the other boy’s appearance. He looked like a wreck and was clearly drunk, or at least was at some point.
Rather than answer Draco’s question, Harry turned his head towards the blond and stared at him for a few seconds, just blinking. “You’re still up?” he asked, his speech slightly slurred.
“Couldn’t sleep, wanted to finish what I was reading,” replied Draco, only half-lying. True, he did want to finish what he was reading, but he was also worrying about Harry the entire time. “Harry, go to sleep. You look horrible.”
Harry nodded in reply, but didn’t make a move towards his bed. Instead, he asked Draco, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“What?! No!”
“But, why not?” whined Harry, rather reminiscent of a child in Draco’s opinion.
“Because,” Draco said sternly, “you’re drunk, Harry. You’re clearly not thinking properly and will probably regret this in the morning.”
“I won’t,”
“What?”
Harry ignored Draco and started walking towards the blond’s bed. He lifted up the covers and laid down next to Draco, curling up into his side. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s body and laid his head down on Draco’s chest. “What are you doing?” asked Draco, barely above a whisper.
He couldn’t believe this was happening. Harry Potter was in his bed, cuddling with him. This was all just a dream, right? There was no way this was actually happening. The Boy Who Lived wasn’t drunk cuddling with him? Right? But looking down, Draco could in fact say that Harry was hugging him. Draco could barely breathe, almost scared that if he breathed too much or too fast that it would scare Harry off. “Harry,” Draco said, a little louder, “what are you doing?”
The black haired boy didn’t respond though, just burrowed his head further into Draco’s chest. “Harry?” asked Draco, yet again.
A loud snore was Draco’s only response.
Draco let out a mildly annoyed sigh, but it was laced with affection. He may not have any idea why Harry had felt the sudden need to cuddle with Draco, but he was going to enjoy it while he could. Because who knew when, or if, he’d ever get to do this ever again. Draco closed his eyes and let sleep take him in, a small smile on his lips.
***
The next morning Draco woke up to Harry shouting “What the fuck?!” before immediately falling out of Draco’s small four-poster bed and onto the floor.
Draco’s heart sank. Harry was probably sober now, or more likely hung over. He probably didn’t even remember the events of the previous, or worse: regretted them. Draco had known that this would happen, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt still. “I knew it…” murmured Draco, letting out a defeated sigh.
“Knew what?” asked Harry, clearly confused, “Why was I sleeping in your bed?”
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t get even a sound out before Harry continued talking. “I bet this was just some prank on me, huh? You know, take advantage of me while I’m drunk. Ugh, I thought we were past this!”
“You climbed in,” blurted out Draco, cutting off Harry before the black haired boy could continue rambling.
“What?”
“You came back late last night, drunk. I told you to go to bed, but rather than use your own bed you climbed in with me and promptly fell asleep,” explained Draco as he got out of the bed and walked over to his dresser.
Harry stared up at Draco from his spot on the floor, blinking. “Oh,” was all that Harry said.
“Yeah,” replied Draco, rolling his eyes. He opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a small green vial filled with liquid, then shut the drawer. “Here,” he said, tossing the vial to Harry.
“What is this?” he asked, eyeing the contents of the vial warily.
“Hangover potion,” replied Draco, his back turned to Harry as he started to grab what he needed to get ready. “It’ll help.”
There was no verbal reply from Harry, but Draco did hear the vial being uncorked and assumed Harry had downed the vial. There was a silence between them for a few moments as Draco continued to grab things and Harry got up off the floor. “I’m sorry,” came Harry’s voice from behind Draco.
“What?” asked Draco, turning around.
“I’m sorry for getting mad at you,” said Harry, “I thought that you found out that I like you and wanted to make fun of me for it.”
Draco’s eyes widened and his heart started beating faster. Harry liked him? Him. Draco Malfoy. A Death Eater. That wasn’t possible, was it? Why would Harry Potter like Draco? It didn’t make any sense. Judging by Harry’s facial expression Draco gathered that he hadn’t meant to confess his feelings for Draco. “Fuck,” cursed Harry, “Fuck, fuck, shit.”
“You…” started Draco, his voice frail, “you like me?”
“Yeah, I do. And I know you don’t feel the same, but I’d been meaning to tell you anyway. Just happened sooner than expected. So, yeah,” Harry replied, awkwardly.
He just stood there, staring at Harry. This was a dream. He was still sleeping. Because there was no way in hell that Harry just confessed to liking Draco. “You like me,” repeated Draco, but this time as a statement rather than a question.
Harry nodded, a faint blush just barely visible on his darker skin.
“Can I kiss you?” asked Draco, walking over towards where Harry was.
“What?” asked Harry, his eyes wide.
Draco rolled his eyes, “I’d like to kiss you, Harry. Can I?”
Slowly, Harry nodded, still looking at Draco with wide eyes. Draco smiled softly and took the last few steps that way he was standing directly in front of Harry. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips against Harry’s. The two kissed softly for a few moments before pulling apart, resting their foreheads against each other. Draco could feel Harry’s hot breath against his lips.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” said Harry, smiling.
“Me too,” replied Draco, also smiling.
The two then let out a small fit of giggles. “Say,” started Harry, “you wanna go out sometime? Like, next Hogsmeade weekend?”
Draco smiled even brighter and his heart soared, “I’d love to,” he replied before kissing Harry again.