“Hermione, I just want to say… I’m sorry. The ways I treated you from our first to third year were not only wildly offensive, but also inappropriate. I now understand the weight behind the slur ‘mudblood’, and I apologize for my prejudice and undeserved bullying of you. You in no way have to accept this apology, but I can’t handle the guilt weighing on my conscience for much longer.” Draco fiddled with his thumbs awkwardly, waiting for Hermione’s response. The first three years at Hogwarts had been, to put it bluntly, shit. His dad had been awful. Always putting pressure on him, comparing him to the infamous Boy Who Lived. He might’ve hated Potter, but even Lucius had to admit that his magic practice was extraordinary. And to see Hermione in his Potions class, every day, always doing better than him even though she hadn’t had magical relatives training her for years. Still, that didn’t excuse any of his actions. And he was tired of her, Weasley, and Potter looking at him like a villain. All he could do now was stare at the genius, curly-haired witch in front of him and wait. He could almost see the gears turning in her head, grinding, pondering, calculating.
“Draco. You’re right. How you treated me in those first years was completely unacceptable. However, I’m tired of hating you. You seem like you’ve genuinely changed. And plus, with your ambition and killer wit, I’d think we’d make a pretty stellar team. And don’t worry about Weasley- he’s a bit too protective, but he has the best intentions in his heart. I’ll talk to him about it, and you’ll be totally forgiven in no time flat. So, I suppose what I’m saying is, in summary, I accept your apology. Friends?” Hermione stuck out her hand, which hung in the air like a question.
Draco’s mouth dropped. He knew Hermione was a good person, but he hadn’t expected it all to be so easy. Still, doubt creeped in his mind. What would his father think? Him? Befriending a gryffindor, a mud-muggleborn gryffindor, no less? He’d hate it. But, in fairness, Draco already hated his father, so the feeling would finally be mutual. With a confident smirk, Draco returned her handshake. “Friends.”
***
Harry woke up with a pounding headache and a missing sock. He groaned, pressing his head deeper into his pillow. Ron cheerfully pulled the blinds open, causing Harry to hiss like the vampires they’d been studying in Defense Against The Dark Arts. “Morning, Harry!”
“Christ, Ron, give me a bloody minute, would you?” Harry had no idea how anyone could be so cheerful in the morning, which, as far as Harry was concerned, was any hour before 1:00 p.m.
“C’mon, it’s seventh year- only a few more months of getting up early, and then, when you’re an Auror, you can sleep in as late as you like before getting up and arresting evil wizards.” Ron said, combing his hair in the mirror. He then added, amused, “And plus, if you were really so concerned about waking up bright-eyed and bushy tailed, you should’ve stayed away from the fire whiskey last night. How much did you drink, anyway?”
“Can’t remember.” Harry finally got out of bed, throwing a robe over his pajamas. He was too tired to get changed. They were Seventh years now- he could dress however he pleased. And plus, all the teachers seemed to think they were heroes for being students during the Wizarding War and what not. He knew for a fact he would be fine in every class, he’d just have to pull his robe closely to himself during charms.
“You sure that’s the outfit you want to go with, mate?” Ron asked, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re partnered with Malfoy for potions today, remember? I’ve heard he’s the Slytherin heartthrob. The First years have a shrine dedicated to him, y’know. Draco took me and Hermione to see it. It’s pretty impressive, I must admit.”
“Ugh, I forgot about that. I swear Snape has it out for me. He KNOWS I hate Malfoy.”
“Why? You know Hermione’s forgiven him, and that was practically forever ago. He’s pretty nice. And charming-”
“-and handsome, and witty, and funny.” Harry cut him off, mimicking how he and Hermione seemed to gush about Draco literally every time he was brought up in conversation.
“C’mon, mate. I know you have your whole Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, but you’ve got to move past that-”
“-there’s more to it, Ron.”
“Really? Name one specific incident when Draco personally antagonized you, Harry Potter.”
“...He didn’t shake my hand on the train on our first day at Hogwarts.”
Ron threw his head back and laughed out loud. “You can’t, you can’t be serious…” he paused when he noticed Harry’s continued silence. “...Oh. You’re serious.”
“I am! First impressions are very important, you know. It set the tone for how our interactions would be for the rest of our years at Hogwarts- him being a prick to me, and me firing back.”
“God, you two are insufferable.” Ron joked, tying his tie. “You’re both the perfect, model students of your Houses. The faces of Hogwarts. And you hate each other! Wouldn’t it make perfect sense for you two to be friends?”
“I hate him, Ron! He’s a pretentious, arrogant, self-righteous twat!”
“Funny. You know, that’s what every single Slytherin thinks about you… except Draco. He’s moved on, why can’t you?” he comfortingly clapped Harry’s shoulder. “Look. All I’m saying is, give the guy a chance, won’t you? I think you’ll start to realize he’s actually pretty nice.”
Harry sighed, but he knew that Ron was probably right. Hermione was easily the smartest of the three of them, but Ron had a way of reading people that was almost scary. His analysis of witches and wizards alike had saved both Harry and Hermione from many, many painful breakups. If he genuinely thought that Draco was a good person, he was probably right. However, one more thought kept nagging him.
“But if Draco’s such a good person, then why does he act like such a dick to me?”
Ron shrugged. “Hey, he’s got a sense of humor.”
After many minutes of tripping over his feet and cursing out the moving staircases, Harry finally made it to the Potions classroom.
Hermione saw them both and immediately straightened her posture. “Harry, Ron! Thank goodness you’re both here. To be honest, I was a little worried about you both after that party… oh, Harry. Did you sleep in the Owlery?” she laughed, gesturing towards his horrendous bedhead.
“I Didn’t get the best sleep last night. I was a little too worried about this stupid assignment, whatever it’s going to be…” Harry’s voice trailed off when he saw Draco walking in with his new belle, Pansy Parkinson. The Hogwarts couple of the century. He groaned internally. Draco’s soft, blond hair was perfectly brushed, his skin seemed to be literally glowing, and his emerald green eyes matched perfectly with his ironed green tie. And Harry looked like he’d just lost a fight with Buckbeak. Stellar. Fucking stellar. Draco raised his eyebrows, undoubtedly making one of his stupid jokes, and Pansy grabbed his elbow and laughed so hard that she almost fell over, her long, sleek, brown hair whipping over her head. Harry felt anger rising in his throat, which he quickly swallowed. He just had to get through this one stupid Potions assignment, and then he could go back to hating Draco as much as he pleased.
The door opened, and students started piling in. Hermione gently squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “Good luck, Harry.” She then ran after Ron, who was already fighting a Slytherin over the golden cauldron.
Snape read out the names of each pair as Harry walked in. “Granger, Weasley… Finnigan, Thomas... Potter, Malfoy.”
“Morning Potter,” Draco smirked, looking him up and down. “Did you fall out of the Whomping Willow this morning?” It was at this moment that Harry realized that Ron was definitely wrong about Draco. It would be the first time Ron was wrong about somebody in six years, but the evidence was undeniable.
“Sod off, Draco.” Harry murmured, almost falling onto his stool. “Let’s just try and make the potion, yeah? I know it might be hard for you without Daddy’s special textbook, but we’re just going to have to make do.”
Draco’s expression darkened. “Talk about my Father like that again, Potter, and I will shove my wand so far up your-”
“-Malfoy, Potter, please stop flirting.” Snape scolded, turning away from the chalkboard. “Take notes of the ingredients we’re going to be using. Don’t bother looking in your textbook- you won’t find the instructions in there. You’re going to have to rely on my instructions and nothing else. Paying attention is of the essence. Do I make myself clear?”
Harry felt heat rising to his face and neck, and realized, to his horror, that his face was now as red as the trim of his robes. “Yes, Sir.” He ducked his head down, trying to look anywhere but at Draco or his other classmates. Draco mumbled something similar and continued to look at the ingredients laid out in front of them.
“Firstly, drop one and only one Ashwinder egg into your cauldron.” Draco followed suit, grabbing a crimson serpent egg and placing it gently in the cauldron.
“Next, add a handful of rose thorns. Do NOT measure these out.” Snape added, glaring at Hermione. “This is a love potion. You should feel the amount that is right with your heart.”
Harry rolled his eyes and carefully grabbed a handful of rose thorns. He yelped when one pricked his finger, and noticed Draco trying to hide his laughter.
“Now, pour in approximately one quarter of a cup of peppermint oil.” Draco pulled out a pink, sparkling measuring cup with the initials ‘P.P’ on it and meticulously measured out the exact amount of peppermint oil before adding it to the potion. Harry snorted, and Draco looked up at him, his eyes piercing daggers. “Jealous, Potter?” he taunted under his breath.
“Oh, definitely. I’ve always wanted tupperware that makes me feel like a pretty princess.” Harry shot back, cradling the measuring cup as if it were his own child.
“Finally, add the moonstone. Be careful- this stone is incredibly potent, fragile, and expensive. If you drop it, it’ll be a whole year of detention- and you’ll be paying out of your pocket.”
“Sure you can do it?” Draco mocked, nudging the stone with his wand. Harry shot him a look and then grabbed the stone, careful not to squeeze it. As lightly as he possibly could, he placed it in the mixture. The stone glowed so brightly that it illuminated the entire inside of the cauldron.
“Now, all you have to do is stir.” Draco used a long stick to stir the potion, and Harry watched as the liquid began to glow and swell, before it started sparkling. He noticed that the potion had a sheen to it. It looked as if someone had liquified the moon and put it inside a cauldron. It was beautiful.
Slowly, long, slender puffs of steam started spiraling out of the cauldron and rising upwards.
Snape nodded at the class, which, for Snape, was the equivalent of grinning maniacally and doing cartwheels across the classroom. “I’ve taken a look at all of your potions, and they all have the same mother-of-pearl sheen and spiraling, rising steam. Congratulations. You’ve brewed amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. It’ll smell different to each of you, because it’ll smell like what you’re most attracted to. So, to each one of you, it’ll smell amazing. For example, Miss Granger, what do you smell?” he asked, turning to Hermione.
Hermione piped up eagerly, deeply inhaling some of the steam. “I smell… freshly mowed grass, new parchment, and… spearmint toothpaste.”
“Spearmint toothpaste?” Seamus yelled, bewildered. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I would ask that you do not interrupt Miss Granger, Mister Finnigan.”
“Spearmint toothpaste? Hey, that’s the toothpaste I use every morn-” Ron quickly ended his sentence, and red blotches rapidly started appearing on his face and neck.
“There’s something else too, um… it’s…” Hermione also stopped talking, as the potion turned a lovely shade of scarlet. Harry noticed, to his shock, that Hermione was blushing as well. Even stranger, he noticed that the color of the potion perfectly matched the color of Ron’s hair.
Yells, screams, and laughter erupted through the room. There were cries of ‘I told you so!’ and ‘Oh, no way!’
To his confusion, Harry couldn’t smell anything. He knew that they’d made the potion correctly, since it looked the same as everybody else’s potions, but he just couldn’t smell anything. Was he just not attracted to anything? Or had he and Draco secretly messed up the potion somehow?
“Hey, erm, I can’t smell anything from our potion.” Harry said, feeling rather stupid.
“Neither can I.” Draco added, before pinching his nose with his fingers. “Merlin’s Beard, Potter, you seriously need to use less hair product. I think your shampoo is suffocating me.”
Harry clenched his fists. “Really, Draco? Maybe if you hadn’t doused yourself in your awful cheap cologne this morning I would be able to smell this potion,” he snapped.
For a beat, Draco was silent. He looked at Harry in complete shock. To be honest, it scared Harry for a moment. He was used to Draco bullying him- when he was silent, he had no way of knowing what he was thinking. It was oddly unnerving. But in a blink, Draco had recovered, and was back to his usual, snarky self.
“Potter, I think you need to lay off the fire whiskey, because I didn’t put on any cologne this morning. And for the record, it is VERY expensive. 100 galleons a bottle!”
Harry found himself shouting. “Well, Draco, then you ALSO need to lay off the fire whiskey, because I didn’t have time to shower this morning! I overslept.”
He had no idea why the students watching were snickering, or why he saw a mildly impressed Hermione begrudgingly hand Ron two galleons.
Draco’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He mumbled something to himself, and used his right hand to rub the back of his neck. Harry realized, to his surprise, that Draco Malfoy, the king of Slytherin, the crowned prince of Malfoy manor, head Prefect, was embarrassed.
“I-I’m sure there’s some residual cologne on my robes from yesterday. And you probably used lots of shampoo during your last shower, which is why I can still smell it.”
“What? That is complete and total bollocks-” Harry stopped talking when he noticed that Draco looked genuinely afraid. He hated Malfoy- or, at least, he thought he did- but he wasn’t going to humiliate him in front of the entire class for no reason at all.
Just as he stopped arguing, the realization hit him like a truck. Amortenia smelled like whatever you were the most attracted to. And he smelled Draco’s cologne after the potion had been brewed, which meant…
“Class is dismissed. You all have received full marks on this exam. Congratulations. Homework is a two-foot long essay on what you learned from this brewing assignment. Thank you.”
Harry ran out of the classroom as quickly as he could. He heard Draco yelling ‘Potter, wait!’ but he just kept on running. He knew that Draco was going to make the rest of his year a living hell, and he really didn’t need to deal with that right now. His enemy, his bully, his tormenter- and he smelled his cologne during the love potion assignment. Under different circumstances, it would’ve been funny- but not only was Draco a nuisance, but he was an ex-member of the Death Eaters. He had ties to dark magic. If he wanted to harm Harry, he could in a heartbeat. He had no idea why he smelled cologne during the assignment, let alone Draco’s. Maybe Draco was right- perhaps he smelled the residual cologne from the robes he wore yesterday.
For the rest of the day, Harry couldn’t focus. His leg kept bouncing up and down, and he made no effort to stop it. Hermione and Ron seemed to notice, and the two gave him his space. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Draco would do to him after school. He could kill him if he really wanted to- it was a forbidden curse, sure, but if he was angry enough, what would stop him? He was dreading the end of school.
When the final teacher dismissed them, Harry slowly crept out of the classroom, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. He felt like an animal being hunted- Draco could leap out of any corner, and he would have no idea. He had to remain on high alert, and he clutched onto his wand like his life depended on it. He felt like a baby holding onto its rattle, but it gave him comfort. Even if he knew that counter-cursing Draco successfully would rely entirely on luck, he felt more at peace knowing that his wand was ready when he was.
“Hey, Harry.” He felt a hand clap his shoulder, and nearly jumped out of his skin. Casting out his wand, he turned around sharply, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he realised it was Ron.
“Woah, hey, easy.” Ron said calmly, raising his hands above his head in an innocent gesture. “I know you’ve had a shitty day, so if you don’t want to go, that’s alright, and I’ll stay in our room with you, but there’s a big party tonight in the Slytherin common room. All the houses are going to be there, and it’s Saturday tomorrow, so you’ll get to sleep in. Plus, some socialization- and some pastries- may be just what you need to cheer you up.”
“You know, that actually does sound fun.” Harry could use some magical candies and pastries to boost his mood… and a little bit of fire whiskey, of course.
“Awesome! Let’s go get ready! It starts at Eight, so we’ve got plenty of time.” Ron started heading back to their dorm room, and Harry, although still anxious, followed right behind him.
***
They arrived at the Slytherin common room, and Harry’s jaw dropped. In his entire time at Hogwarts, he’d never been in the Slytherin common room. And it was gorgeous. Gleaming, marble floors excellently complemented the dark oak furniture, and ceilings. The entire room was decorated with large clusters of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious gems. Silver veins flowed through the walls and floors, as if a river of silver was slowly moving through the room. It was a jarring shock, considering that the exterior of the Slytherin quarters was so ugly. It was a jarring stone dungeon, and inside it was a dark, damp corridor with rotten, wooden stairs leading into the basement, where one would find the Slytherin common room.
“Mad, isn’t it? Since the outside’s so ugly?” Ron said, clearly noticing Harry’s expression.
“Yeah, it’s… it’s beautiful.”
“The Slytherins say that it was Salazar’s choice. He knew that if the outside looked as pretty as the inside, then every other house would want to come over for parties, like we are right now. So to prevent that from happening, he made the outside as ugly as possible. Since, you know, Slytherins don’t like other wizards and all that good stuff.”
“Wow, that, actually… makes a lot of sense.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” a grinning Hermione, dressed beautifully in a silk, blue dress, walked over and held Ron’s hand. Ron squeezed her hand in return. So the amortentia was right after all. “Well, I’ll see you around mate. Let me know whenever you’re ready to go, okay?”
“Right. See ya then.” He waved goodbye to Ron before heading towards the fizzing, blue liquid in the punch bowl. He eagerly ladelled it into his cup before taking big, confident sips. It was delicious. It slowly and easily flowed down his throat. It tasted like blue raspberry, but there was some magical ingredient that kept it fizzing on the tip of his tongue. He mused to himself, wondering what the element could’ve been.
“Veritaserum.”
“Hmm?” he turned to see Luna Lovegood, dressed extravagantly in a scaled dress that kept shifting sapphire, ruby, emerald, violet, and any other dazzling colors it could pick up on in the room. It was as if the dress had a mind of its own. It was exquisite,
“You’re wondering what the secret ingredient is, right? It’s veritaserum. The potion that makes whoever drinks it tell the truth.”
“What? Why on earth would they spike our drinks with that?”
“Well, it certainly does make the party more interesting, doesn’t it? And it ensures that no one’s lying during a game of Truth or Dare.”
“I guess, yeah.” Still… a truth serum at a party? Harry started to regret drinking that entire beverage. Then again, he wasn’t planning on playing Truth or Dare- last time, he had to go streaking through the cooridors, where he was greeted by a very amused Mcgonnogal and a very unamused Snape. He wasn’t aiming to get 10 detentions in a row again, so he decided that at this party he would just hang out with small groups of people and stay near the walls of the common room.
He took in the sights at the party. In a corner, Gryffindors and Slyhterins alike took turns swigging fire whiskey. The Hufflepuffs seemed to be… baking something? Whatever it was, he saw the delicate wave of wands and smelled something so delicious that his stomach growled immediately. Proudly, Hufflepuffs removed light, airy, pink pygmy puff macarons from the oven. He’d have to get some later. Half of the Ravenclaws were setting up a board game that looked too complicated and boring for Harry to care about, while the others were arguing over what to watch on the Wizard TV. One of the Muggleborns had introduced them to Netflix, and things had never been the same after that.
Just as he was heading to see Dean, Harry’s eyes landed on Draco. He was wearing a crisp blue button-down, a light gray tie, and charcoal trousers to match. Harry was suddenly very aware of his over-sized muggle But I’m A Cheerleader hoodie that Hermione had gotten him for his birthday and his quidditch pajama pants. Draco was raising his brows in that stupid, sexy- erm, cocky- way that he loved to do, and Pansy was grabbing his arm and laughing and laughing and laughing like he just told the funniest joke in the whole wide world. She was wearing a short, sleek gray dressed that matched Draco’s tie. Her hair was freshy curled, her makeup expertly applied. Everyone was right- they really were perfect together. He felt seethingly, overpoweringly angry. He started to see red, which he didn’t even think was possible- he alwaays just assumed that was expression. He had to stop. What was wrong with him? Draco’s eyes met his, and he looked away immediately- he couldn’t meet his gaze.
In an instant, he turned around and walked out of the room. Someone was yelling his name- he didn’t care. He felt the anger rushing over him like a wave. He needed to get back to his room and clear his head. That was it. Stupid Malfoy. Stupid Malfoy and his stupid girlfriend and his stupid perfect life.
Finally back in his doorm room, Harry put his head in his hands and cried. God, he felt so dumb. The Boy Who Lived, the boy who’d stared death in the face and lived, who killed Voldemort, and he was crying over a boy. A boy who he hated, no less. It was exhuasting. Tears and snot got on the front of his hoodie- he was going to have to wash it later. Oh, this was embarassing. Secretly, he was glad no one had followed him. It was hard to explain, but he was an angry crier- ever since he was a little kid, he’d felt hot tears pinprick his eyes the minute he was shouted at. And it was really difficult to explain to friends and family members that no, he wasn’t sad, he was just angry.
“Potter? Are you… feeling okay?”
“Bloody hell, Draco! You’ve gone and given me a damn near heart attack!” Harry bolted upright, hurriedly wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Fucking stellar. This night just couldn’t get any better. Here he was, bawling like a baby, and not only that, but his enemy had walked in on him. It was completely, totally, and utterly humilitating. And he couldn’t do anything about it.
“Potter, I want to talk to you.” Draco cleared his throat awkradly. He fiddled with his tie, his fingers moving up and down the knot. Was he… nervous? No. Couldn’t be. He was never nervous. “I know that you don’t like me very much. I’d just like to know why.”
“Why? Why?” Harry started laughing uncontroallably. “Because you’ve treated me like shit since the start of our years at Hogwarts, that’s why! And because you refused to shake my hand on the first day.”
Draco started laughing as well. “Really, Potter? That’s why you hate me? I was a kid. My dad hated you, for God’s sake. I was TRAINED to hate you. And I’ve apologized consistently. You don’t have a problem with any other witch or wizard at Hogwarts, so there’s got to be something else going on. So tell me- what is it? Why d’you hate me?”
Harry’s mouth opened, and he forced it shut. He hated Draco because he was an aarogant bully who couldn’t get himself sorted. That’s all he needed to know.
But veritaserum didn’t care about secrets. All it cared about was the truth. All the emotions he’d felt since fifth year started pouring out, and he wasn’t sure how to stop him. Maybe he didn’t need to. It was oddly cathartic, this release. And if the person who had to experience them was Draco, then so be it.
“I’ve been in love with you for two years, Draco. I’ve been in love with your stupid face and you stupid laugh and your stupid fashion sense and your stupid jokes and you’ve gotten and gone yourself a stupid girlfriend and I have to watch you two be stupidly in love and I can’t take it!” He was crying again, and found himself yelling this time.
Draco blinked twice, before quietly adding, “Potter, I’m gay.”
He hadn’t seen THAT response coming.
“What?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty much out to the whole school.” Draco gave Harry a dumbfounded look. “How did you not figure it out? Like literally EVERYONE knows about it. Why d’you think the first years have a shrine for me? I’m practically and ~icon~.” Draco explained, flamboyantly gesturing towards himself.
Already, Harry felt better. “But-but Pansy…”
“...my best friend. I love her, but definitely NOT in that way. You, on the other hand…”
Seamlessly, Draco strode over to Harry. He sat down and grabbed his hands. His hands were warm, soft. He must’ve been using a magical hand lotion of some sort.
“But... then why’re you such a… prick all the time?”
Draco shrugged. “What can I say. I’ve got a sense of humor.”
So Ron was right, after all.
His emerald eyes gazed into Harry’s. Looking closer, Harry noticed tiny, little flecks of silver swirling through the irises. Like the river in the common room, Harry mused to himself. Like the stars in the sky. Like the diamonds on the face of a watch, always spinning.
Slowly, and delicately, as if he was putting moonstone in a cauldron, Draco pushed one of his hands into Harry’s hair, so that four of his fingers were in his hair and his thumb was resting elegantly on Harry’s earlobe. Then, with all the care and prudence Draco could muster, he closed his eyes and leaned into Harry. The smell of his cologne flooded Harry’s senses. It was oddly woody, and he detected hints of vanilla in its undertones. It smelled amazing.
When Draco’s lips met Harry’s, he felt fireworks. This was everything he’d ever wanted, and so, so much more. He’d only ever had one other kiss, and that was with Cho Chang during Spin The Bottle. He’d kind of assumed all kissing was like that- a short, methodical exchange that no party really benefitted from. This, however, was different. Draco’s lips were soft, and he could taste the slightest bit of cherry on his lips- chapstick, no doubt.
For what seemed like an eternity, they just stayed there. Harry was stood up- he had no idea when he had started standing. Finally, Draco pulled away.
“C’mon, Potter,” he said, pulling out a broomstick. “There’s a spot I want to take you too.”
“Oh, really, Mr. Seeker?” Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow and smiling.
“Oh, sod off.” Draco said, giving Harry one more quick kiss to show that he wasn’t really angry.
He mounted the broomstick, and Harry followed his suit, wrapping his arm around Draco’s waist. He could feel his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt, and felt himself blushing again, like a schoolgirl caught in a lie.
Draco flew so high in the air that Harry could almost reach out and touch the stars. The wind whipped his face, and Harry laughed, and laughed, and laughed. The wind tussled Draco’s once-combed hair, turning it into a mane of pure starlight. Harry felt on top of the world, easily the best he’d felt in a while.
They landed in an open field, the soft blades of grass silver in the moonlight. Draco laid on the grass, and wrapped Harry in his arms. They stayed in the field for the whole night, while Draco pointed out different constellations to Harry.
“...And that one’s Oreins’ belt. I’ve got no clue what it’s meant to look like, but hey, pretty cool, huh?” He pointed towards a line of three stars in the sky. Harry laughed, burying his head in Draco’s shoulder.
“Yeah, pretty cool.”
Draco ran his hands through Harry’s hair, massaging his scalp with his fingers. Harry shut his eyes and felt his entire body relax. This was nice. It felt so natural, as if they’d been doing this for years. Draco seemed to know just where to play with his hair.
“I love you, Potter.” It was so sudden, abrupt. It was said quietly, but in contrast with the quietly chirping crickets and lapping lake, the statement seemed deafening.
“That’s kind of gay, Draco,” Harry responded. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Harry cackled, sat up in Draco’s lap, cupped his face, and kissed him again. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’m totally kidding.”
“You are the worst, Potter.” Draco murmurred, smiling into the kiss, his arms still wrapped around Harry.
“...So, how are we going to tell everybody?”
“I’m pretty sure most of them know. What can I say- we DO have undeniable chemistry.” Draco teased, elbowing Harry’s side.
“Well, I guess we can wait for a bit, huh?” he was excited to tell everybody, but he also didn’t feel the need to shout it from the rooftops- not yet, at least. He would tell Ron, though. And Hermione. And Dean. And Seamus.
“Definitely. We love each other. And right now, that’s enough.”
With that final, lovely thought, Harry felt himself start to nod off, before he finally fell asleep, nestled deeply in the Head of Slytherin’s arms.