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Harry heaves his book bag over his shoulder and trudges down the steps of the dining hall. Christ, he’s exhausted. Tonight isn’t a study in the library kind of night-- it’s a study half-clothed-and-half-asleep in your bed kind of night. But study he must, at least for part of the weekend.
For one, he’s got a scholarship riding on his 3.0. For another, Parker Parnassus, the pompous ass, broke the curve on the last physics exam, and damn him if he thinks Harry’s going to let it happen again. Not for the first time, he wishes he hadn’t gotten into an Ivy.
He takes the back door to his dorm in hopes he doesn’t run into anyone he knows, but luck must be against him because he quite nearly trips over his crying roommate, crumpled over on the steps.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Harry asks, planting a soothing hand on Draco Malfoy’s back.
“No-- I don’t know. I just-- I thought I was so smart, you know? How am I supposed to be perfect? How?! But I have to be, and I never thought it would be this hard, and I’m so tired--”
“Alright, alright,” Harry says. “We’re going out.”
“Out?” Draco repeats.
“Yeah. I know of a party happening tonight. You seem like you need to think about something other than school.”
Draco laughs wryly. “Haha, funny joke. Have you met me?”
Harry drags Draco to his feet. “Tonight’s the night, then.”
He leads Draco towards Greek Row after dropping their bags off in their room. The shortcuts between buildings are unlit and unpaved, and crickets sing in the trees above.
“It won't be too, like, frat-boy-y, right?” Draco asks, apprehensive.
Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh god no. I’m not that straight.”
Draco pauses. “You’re… not?”
“Nope.”
“Oh. I-- nevermind.”
Harry stops too, in the middle of the alleyway. “No, it’s okay. What?”
“I don’t think I am either.”
Harry’s face splits in a grin. “Great! Then we’re on the same page.”
The party is loud, throngs of people crowding into a tiny house, and Harry flirts with the boy behind the bar to get them doubles. “I’ve only ever had champagne,” Draco says. Harry laughs, downing his.
When someone asks Draco to dance, Draco looks to Harry for direction. “Um, okay, I guess?” he stammers. Harry gives him a nod of encouragement, but it only takes until the kid has put his hand on Draco’s waist for Harry to wish he hadn’t urged Draco on. He gives them one song, and then moves in.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asks. The stranger shrugs, and Draco sighs, clearly relieved. The rest is a blur-- five more drinks, drunken shouts of joy when someone puts on Cotton Eye Joe, a few hits off someone’s dab pen and a burned throat...
“Do you want to get out of here?” Harry says into Draco’s ear.
“God, yes. Food. I need food.”
“Minimart it is. Whadd’ya want?”
“Necco Wafers. Oh, and Takis. And oysters and marionberry ice cream”
Harry laughs. “You’re fucking crazy.” He plants a sloppy kiss on Draco’s forehead.
They run to the minimart, wheezing from smoke and thrill. They run home, too, until Draco pushes Harry into the fountain. After that, they sprint. They make it out of the muggy fall night and into their dorm, sweaty and free, and Harry yanks his shirt over his head.
“Gonna play some music,” he says.
“Yes! What kind?” Draco replies enthusiastically. He’s staring at Harry’s bare back.
“You’ll know it.”
“Will I? I only know chakive--tchoo--er--Tchaikovsky.”
“You’re gonna have to listen hard. These songs are generation defining,” Harry assures. He’s trying to be serious, but his eyes are far too wide and bright.
“Kay,” Draco says, in earnest.
You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream, the way you turn me on...
Harry gets Draco to scream-sing along with him. Draco’s white-blond hair bounces as he lifts his arms above his head to dance. The moonlight streams in the window, and the church bell strikes 1AM, and it might just be the best night of Harry’s life.
Don’t leave me tongue tied, don’t wave no goodbye...
Draco turns the music up. “My best friend,” Harry shouts, “once told me if she had an interview with the president, and this song came on, she’d stop asking questions to sing along.”
I’m on my way, driving at 90 down those country lanes, singing to Tiny Dancer...
“We should turn it down!” Harry yells between lyrics. “Someone’ll complain to the RA.”
Draco reaches for a sip of water and spills the glass over the desk. “Shit, that’s my chem book,” he says.
“We’ll worry about it tomorrow,” Harry replies.
Come on, come on, turn the radio on, it’s Friday Night and it won’t be long...
Harry has both his hands on the small of Draco’s back, Draco’s lean arms wrapped around his neck. It smells like sweat, and the city just before it rains, and youth.
You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset. She’s goin on about something that you said...
Harry’s voice cracks on the high note, and Draco giggles until tears run down his cheeks and gather in his dimples.
All the other boys try to chase me, but here’s my number, so call me maybe…
He’s not sure when they started kissing, but now they’re both deep into it. Hands are under clothes and Draco’s tongue is in Harry’s mouth and it’s bliss.
Draco moans and tears away. Harry leans up to chase his lips and tightens his grip on the thighs across his lap instinctually. “This is a twin bed,” Draco says.
“Trust me,” Harry promises, “If you want to, we can make it work.”
You take me places that tear up my reputation, manipulate my decisions, baby there’s nothing holding me back...