Work Text:
A light breeze blew across the grounds, causing the grass and trees to rustle. Waves rippled across the glassy surface of the lake, making the moonlight reflecting on it shimmer and dance. Sitting cross-legged with his back leaning against the beech tree and looking out onto the lake sprawling beneath him, Harry almost felt peaceful.
In the dead of night, when the world was only overlapping shadows and most of Hogwarts was asleep, there was nothing to make him panic – no family members of war casualties in whose faces he could see his community members dying; no sudden movements in his peripheral vision that caused him to turn around quickly and draw his wand out only to realize that he was threatening a terrified first year; no nightmares. Finally, some quiet.
Draco, sitting next to him with his back against the tree, one leg bent and the other straight, took in a deep breath and sighed in contentment. “The only thing missing in this scene is a cup of hot chocolate,” he said.
Harry sniggered. Just the day before he’d gone to the kitchen to snag a late lunch and found Draco drinking hot chocolate and eating chocolate chip cookies. “Didn’t you tell me just this morning when you saw me drinking hot chocolate that ‘hot chocolate is for children’ and that ‘a Malfoy would never be seen drinking any sweet beverage’?” he had asked.
Draco’s face had turned bright red, looking ashamed at being caught in an undignified position. “Hence I am here in the kitchen, hiding from any person who might disturb my private indulgences,” he’d said pointedly, lifting the teacup he was holding from its saucer to his mouth and sipping. His attempt at sounding aloof was marred by his shaking hands, causing the cup to clink against the saucer as he set it back down. A few drops of the precious liquid spilled onto the saucer, staining the pristine bone china.
“Or maybe…you’re actually still a child and your appearance is a glamour hiding your true age,” Harry had joked, raising his eyebrows and grinning. Draco had snorted and thrown a cookie at him.
“Don’t laugh,” Draco said as they watched the giant squid poke a tentacle out of the water. “At least l don’t like treacle tart.”
“Oh the horror of sugar wrapped in crust!” said Harry sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“It is!”
Harry rolled his eyes again, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the calming waves. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was now the right time to pick up the courage and say what he’d been holding back for the past two years? He’d relived the scene again and again, wondering if he was in the wrong, desperately seeking the solace of his right for self-defense.
Guilt had won out in the end, but fear had stopped him from confessing these past few months. Well, what was he a Gryffindor for if not for these exact situations?
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, resolutely keeping his gaze on the silvery fragments of moonlight in the water.
“Sorry for what?” Draco sounded confused.
“For almost killing you sixth year.”
Harry thanked whatever being there was above for the darkness hiding his flush of embarrassment. Draco let out his breath in a huff. Harry heard him moving but refused to shift his gaze. Was he fidgeting with his hands? Was he raking his fingers through his hair as he tended to do nowadays when he was agitated, messing his perfectly kempt blond strands?
A few minutes passed, though for Harry it felt like hours, his heart beating in his ears, a lump stuck in his throat. Was this the end of their friendship? A friendship that had been slowly built from the broken ruins of their childhood, from the shattered remains of British wizarding society, from a civility that had formed during the trials when Harry had defended the Malfoys and saved Draco from Azkaban? Their mutual bullying had turned to light-hearted banter, their hate long forgotten.
Draco let out another breath. “Alright,” he said softly.
Harry slumped as all the tension that had built up in his muscles released. He exhaled in a rush.
“Alright,” Draco said again, his voice louder and steadier, and Harry heard him getting up. Harry’s panic returned. Maybe it was too much for him? Maybe ‘alright’ didn’t mean ‘I forgive you’, maybe it meant that he accepted the inevitable end of their relationship. Harry’s shoulders slumped and he hung his head, staring at each blade of grass between his legs.
Smooth, delicate fingers caught his chin and pulled his head back up. For a second he saw strikingly silver moonlit hair against the night sky, then Draco’s face filled his vision and soft lips pressed against his own. Harry’s eyes widened and he froze in shock. Before he could digest what was happening and decide how to react, the lips disappeared and Draco along with them.
Harry turned slowly to watch the pale figure run up towards the castle, his robes billowing behind him. He was bewildered not only by Draco’s actions but also by his own feelings. He didn’t know if given the time to react, if he’d pull away…or kiss him back.