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Harry wasn’t planning on going to his school reunion, because what’s the point in seeing people he was never friends with again after all these years? Who cares what they’re up to now? Why waste a night pretending they had all gotten along, when in reality they had all been happy when they didn’t have to see each other after graduation?
The thought of possibly catching a glimpse of a certain someone had made him change his mind though, so at the last moment he had found himself going to the reunion anyway. But with most of his friends deciding against going, he has found himself standing by the drinks table by himself. Feeling like he is fifteen again.
But when a certain blond-haired man catches his eye, his heart skips a beat, and his legs nearly give out from underneath him. He curses himself in his mind, because why did he come here? What is the point in this? What good will it do, seeing him again? Why isn’t he at home right now, watching Netflix, or wanking himself into a stupor? Anything would be better than having to face Draco fucking Malfoy.
“Potter?” the man asks, an arrogant smirk on his face as he comes up to the drinks table. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Malfoy.”
“You look…”
“Don’t,” Harry warns him, but it only makes the smirk on Draco’s face grow bigger. The memories of a night, nearly twenty years ago, flashing before his eyes.
“How about a dance?”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Draco whispers, as he leans into his ear. “The graduation party at the Weasley’s…”
Harry swallows hard, his cheeks flushing red, because of course he remembers. How could he forget? He had gotten into an argument with Ginny about something stupid, so he had run upstairs to get away from her, only to find Draco hiding there as well. Somehow – Harry still isn’t sure how exactly – they had ended up in bed together that night, only to never see each other again. Until tonight, that is.
“How about that dance?” Draco grins, knowing exactly what seeing him again is doing to Harry.
They step onto the dancefloor, Draco sliding his arm around Harry’s waist and pulling their bodies together. Harry almost tells him that they shouldn’t. But then, isn’t this what he had thought about hundreds if not thousands of times since that night?
Something in Draco’s boldness makes him feel brave. So he presses his lips against Draco’s, closing his eyes and feeling himself drifting off to a faraway memory. Their first kiss as teenagers, nervous and drunken. Draco eagerly returns the kiss, and for a moment they are all alone, lost in the moment. Lost in a memory.
When Harry finally opens his eyes, the memory slowly fading, he finds the other man smiling at him. Something in his eyes telling him that he had come here too, hoping to pick up where they had left off that night.