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Summary
“Hm,” Malfoy hummed, eyelids drooping, and a satisfied smile softened the lines and planes of his face. “It’s a favourite. Why do you think I like riling you up so much back then?”
“Because you’re an arsehole?” Harry supplied with a roll of his eyes and a smirk.
Malfoy tutted, clicking his tongue twice, “Because I liked you glaring at me. So… intense.”
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I forgot where I got it, but the prompt was that Harry's in the pub while Draco walks up to him, all drunk, and confesses that he had a crush on him since Hogwarts.
