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There it was, lying innocently on one of the tables in the eighth year common room like some kind of sick joke. Harry approached it, alone and painfully curious as he bit his lip with apprehension.
He’d promised to stay out of Malfoy’s business at the conclusion of the war. They weren’t rivals anymore, and silly games of conflict were left behind in sixth year. Defeating a Dark Lord had that effect on people, and consequently friendships had formed uncannily between members of all houses as they returned to complete their education.
In fact, Draco Malfoy has become sort of a friend of Harry’s if he dared to word it that way. The git was witty and cool, and something about the glint that remained in his eyes when he smiled had Harry coming back for more. It was as if he was a whole new person.
Which is why he detested the innate longing that came with prying into the business of a Malfoy; it was like an old habit that died hard. Or maybe it was that silly whisper in the back of Harry’s mind that wanted nothing more than to know Malfoy better.
Either way, the temptation was far too strong to resist, and he knew that the rest of the eighth years would be back any minute from the younger students’ quidditch match. So with a sinking feeling in his gut, he reached forward.
***
Hermione, in an effort to share her love of Muggle Studies, had extrapolated an intricate doing of her own magic that allowed a certain kind of electronic to work within the castle walls: a Muggle iPod. The trend spread rapidly throughout the eighth years, who now found it commonplace to study with ear buds in and their favorite tracks blaring. She’d even been working recently on a modification of the spell that could project the music from any given device like a speaker. She was still working out some of the kinks, but it was coming along just fine, and she knew before long they’d be using it effortlessly.
***
This is why Harry was itching to know just what Draco Malfoy was humming, poised elegantly as he always was in a chair while he read. He’d watch as his eyes would scan a book, or a roll of parchment, and his lips would mouth the words of some mystery song softly. And his attention would loll on his mouth, trying to piece together phrases at first, but then... he’d begun to daydream about them. They were the gentlest shade of pink, like rose or carnation or some other sappy color, and they were far from chapped (unlike Harry, who was constantly battling dehydration). He wondered what they would feel like, how they could possibly taste, and before long he began to blame the unknown music for all of his embarrassing yet intriguing thoughts. Sometimes they would come at meals, when Malfoy had his earphones secretly slung through his robes as he ate. And Harry would blush, staring unintentionally until they’d meet eyes and he’d glance away quickly and self consciously. That damned iPod, what could he possibly be listening to? And why was he suddenly so bloody attractive while he did it?
***
There it was, shining like a beacon in his hand. An iPod, a normal, ebony lined piece of hardware that he’d typically consider mundane. But this, this held the secret that Harry had been contemplating for weeks. Here, in his palm, he’d finally have answers.
He paused for a brief moment, still fighting his instinct to scroll through every playlist and album the device had to offer. Would Malfoy be mad? But what he wouldn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him... right?
He clicked the center button, and the screen popped on. Harry’s curiosity piqued. His breath quickened. Here it was, all of the answers to his impending attraction...
The door slammed open. A crowd of eighth years walked in, jabbering as always. Hermione was in the forefront with her newest friend Pansy in tow and a very amused Blaise Zabini. Behind them, Draco Malfoy entered with an almost grateful expression.
“Need some tips on music, Potter? I’m just glad I haven’t lost the damned thing.” He extended his hand, and Harry cocked his head confusedly as he readied himself to hand it back.
“You’re not pissed that I was about to go through your things?”
Malfoy shrugged. “We all know you have a history of stalking me. Go ahead, press play.”
Harry wasn’t sure why his heart was racing. His gaze traveled down to the circular button, propped against his now sweaty palm. He expected the song to be muted, for a title to flash across the screen with the absence of ear buds.
What happened next was far from what he ever could’ve guessed.
Firstly, his thumb glided in downward motion as he pressed it. Secondly, the rest of the students filed in from Quidditch, faces painted in red and gold, green and silver. Third, it appeared that Hermione’s magic was more solid than she’d anticipated.
Because all at once, everyone’s attention diverted to the two boys on either side of the iPod that was now absolutely blaring the first few lines to Shake It Off by Taylor Swift.
Harry, confused and startled, hit next without thinking.
“I promise that you’ll never find another like Me!”
He hit next again.
“Drew looks at me...”
Again.
“I remember when we broke up the first time-“
And one last time.
“We were both young when I first saw you...”
“Draco!” He called as Hermione lowered the volume with a flick of her wand. “This is nothing but Taylor Swift!”
Draco glanced around, suddenly feeling the presence of everyone’s gaze boaring into him.
“Yeah? So?” He seemed hesitant at first, but after a moment of thought, his shoulders straightened. “Got a problem with it?”
“Uhm, no, it’s just... it’s just...” Harry suddenly couldn’t spit out the words that were scrambled and fried within his mind. Those lips. Those eyes. The way he moved gracefully and effortlessly in a fashion that opposed his own blunt clumsiness. All at once, he knew. It wasn’t the music. It was Draco. It was everything about him.
“It’s just that he’s in love with you, mate.”
Ron piped from the sidelines, and Harry turned to him, flabbergasted, mouth dropped, heart beating erratically in his chest.
Ron’s response was a shrug. “It’s quite obvious, really. You deserve to be happy, Harry, with all that we’ve been through in the past year.”
“I can second that,” Zabini stepped forward, arms crossed as he stood comfortably next to Ron. “It’s been a rough year, Draco. Wouldn’t you agree?”
For the first time, Harry shifted his focus to the boy in front of him. He appeared almost scared, a few shades paler than his normal vampiric tone. Suddenly, he felt sick to his own stomach. What if Draco didn’t want this? What if Zabini’s intervention was only pious?
“He-here’s your iPod.” Harry stuttered, handing him the object with an unexplainable electricity as they touched. Draco’s eyes widened, but Harry pivoted to head back to the dorm. Away from all of these faces. Away from the rejection he hadn’t known he’d feared.
“Potter, wait.” Draco demanded helplessly, and he turned back. Malfoy was frozen for the moment, but finally formed he words.
“It’s been a rough year for me, too.”
And then, like lightning striking through his being, Harry knew. He just... knew that everything he’d been feeling, thinking, wanting, was mutual. He ran forward, pulling Malfoy into an embrace that quickly led to a sample of those lips.
They were just as delicate and perfect as he’d imagined.
After the cat calls and the clapping (largely from the area of Hermione and Pansy) subdued, they separated and shared soft smiles that meant the world.
“So, uh.. Malfoy,” Harry coughed with a grin, taking his hand as if to lead him somewhere.
“Yeah?”
“It’s a love story, baby just say-“
“NO, you twat!” Draco playfully hit him in the back of the head before Harry led them from the common room. Truth be told, they had a lot more to talk about than just Quidditch and Taylor Swift.