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“Remind me again the purpose of this,” Draco says, eyes narrowing.
Harry schools his expression into a mask of innocence. “It’s part of the Muggle trick-or-treat process.”
Ron rolls a lollipop in his cheek. “Let’s see it then, angelboy.”
“Oh, what do you know about it, Weasley!” Draco scoffs. “You’ve never been ‘tricks-and-treatsing’ before either.” He scowls and slumps back against the sofa, clutching a full, lumpy pillow case. “This candy is mine. The Muggles gave it to me.”
Ron rolls his eyes, and Harry bites back a grin. Draco’s disgruntled pout doesn’t quite hit the same when he’s wearing a silver, shiny halo and iridescent glitter highlights. Honestly, it hits cute as fuck. Harry’s been nursing butterflies in his belly all evening.
“The candy sorting is the best part of the evening,” Harry cajoles.
Ron extracts the sucker from his mouth with a loud pop. “Second only to the candy trading,” he adds.
Draco narrows his eyes.
Ron shrugs. “Suit yourself. My candy is better than yours anyway.” He cuts his eyes to Harry and winks.
Draco grunts and with a dramatic heave, dumps the contents of his bag onto the common room coffee table. The white wings strapped to his back flap adorably as he shakes out the last bits of candy. Ron’s eyes widen at the mountain of multi-colored wrappers, and he rubs his hands, the impish glint in his eye enhanced by his devil’s horns.
“Feast your eyes, you devil,” Draco preens, “but touch my candy and you just might lose a hand.” He turns to Harry. “Now what, Potter?”
“Now we sort.”
Draco brandishes his wand and before Harry can protest, all the candy levitates off the table and swirls around in a flurry of magic, chocolates and boxes arranging themselves in piles neatly stacked by size and color. He smiles smugly at his handiwork.
Ron blinks, hair windblown, his devil horns askew. “Bloody hell.”
Harry shakes his head. “Well, that’s one way to do it.”
Draco deflates a bit. “I guess the Muggles sort manually, don’t they.”
“You think?” Ron says flatly.
“It’s fine.” Harry says, though his heart pummeling in his chest suggests otherwise. He'd counted on having the time sorting to strengthen his resolve, but there’s nothing for it now. He glances at Ron who gives him a bracing grin.
Harry adjusts his Waldo knit cap. “Right, then. I’ll go first.” He gives his candy a once-over, reassuring himself he has everything he needs. He takes inventory, again.
After the third perusal, Ron clears his throat. “Mate.”
“Yeah, right. Er, Draco.” Harry cringes at the wobble in his voice. “I’ll give you this candy bar for… “ He makes a big show of inspecting Draco’s candy, but he’s already spied the silver wrappers he needs. “ ...a kiss.”
Draco’s back stiffens, and he stills. A satisfying blush tints his cheeks under the glitter. He sputters, “You want a—” He inhales sharply as Harry leans forward and reaches across him, plucking a Hershey’s chocolate kiss from the table.
“Oh.” Draco’s blush bleeds down his jaw. He opens a random piece of candy and pops it into his mouth, chewing with...disappointment?
The hopeful wish Harry made on the first Hallows’ Eve star he spied that evening expands in his chest. He takes a deep breath. Across the table, Ron wiggles with excitement.
“For quite some time,” Harry begins, “I’ve thought that you were one…” Harry places a box of Hot Tamales in front of Draco. “I know you think I’m a—” A package of Air Heads is next. “But I think you’re a—” Sweetarts. “It would give me great—” Almond Joy. “If you would be my—” A box of Sugar Babies completes the stack.
“Wicked,” Ron exclaims.
“In exchange,” Harry continues, “I want all your kisses.”
Draco stares silently at the candy, his face unreadable. Ron watches him with barely contained excitement as if waiting for the quaffle to fly through the hoop.
The silence stretches, and cold panic shunts down Harry's spine. He pulls his cap down over his brow. “You know, it’s fine, forget it, I’m, it’s whatev—”
Draco dumps handfuls of chocolate kisses into Harry’s lap, grabs Harry’s jumper and pulls him close. The kiss is off-center, their teeth clack together, and the table corner digs into Harry’s ribs, but he couldn’t care less. Draco’s lips are soft and warm, and he tastes like chocolate and caramel.
Draco leans back and frowns. “No tricks?”
Harry nuzzles his nose against Draco’s. “No tricks. But I win for the best treat.”
Ron whoops and whistles, and Harry captures Draco’s protest with another kiss.