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Harry hurried down the corridor frantically. Time was of the essence these days. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late. He ran out of Defence Against the Dark Arts as soon as the bell rang, but the Muggle Studies classroom was nearer to the eighth-year common room.
Panting, Harry entered the common room, eyes immediately focusing on the cozy armchair to the left of the fireplace. It was the perfect spot: the exact range to feel the warmth of the fire without feeling too hot and to feel the slight breeze from the window to feel refreshed without getting too cold. In addition, it was in perfect position to hide from sight without being completely left out of the ongoings in the common room.
Heavily breathing, Harry marched to his chair. Of course, his chair was already occupied by Malfoy. The blond was artfully draped all over the chair, grinning smugly up to Harry. Harry cursed.
“You’re blocking the fireplace, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, stretching languidly like a cat on his chair.
“And you are in my seat, Malfoy,” Harry said trough gritted teeth. Damn Malfoy and his obligatory Muggle Studies! It was an unfair advantage.
“First come, first serve, Potter. You know the rules. Now, off you go. There’s plenty of other chairs to choose from, oh mighty Chosen One,” Malfoy smirk widened when Harry trudged back in defeat.
With sagged shoulders he sat in the armchair directly opposite from Malfoy, glowering at the blond. He lost this time. But it was only noon. Some time, Malfoy had to get up to piss or go to dinner or something. And then, Harry would be ready to claim what was his.
Malfoy hummed a happy tune on his chair, while Harry shifted uncomfortably. It was way too hot in this stupid chair. How did it even come to this?
Harry remembered the first day of the new schoolyear vividly. McGonagall had just announced that all returning eighth years were to share living quarters after the Sorting Ceremony. Harry had been sad leaving the Gryffindor common room behind. But when he saw the new common room, he was surprised to get a homely feeling just like in Gryffindor. When everyone already went to bed, Harry stayed up, testing every place in the common room. And then he found it, the perfect spot, the armchair. He curled up on it and had the first peaceful nap since the war. The next morning when Ron and Hermione found him, he had declared this chair to be his.
He spent a blissful day in class, enduring even Potions with a smile, in anticipation of relaxing in his chair later. But as he entered the common room, purposefully striding to his destined objective he found it already occupied by a certain blond git. A certain blond git whose features where gently lighted by the fire and whose lose hair was gently swaying in the late summer breeze and whose face was all soft while he laughed with his friends and damn it, Harry thought Malfoy looked cute.
Harry decided to let it go this time, to just endure it for one evening. This was a mistake. Because the next day, Malfoy was in his chair, again. So, Harry decided to confront the blond and mark his territory.
" Malfoy, you’re in my seat. Would you mind budging over?” Harry had asked. Very friendly and very civil, thanks Hermione.
“Why?” Malfoy had asked, face scrunched adorably in confusion which rapidly turned into a frown and then a sneer. “This isn’t your property, Potter. And I am free to sit where I want, thanks for that by the way.”
Though Harry didn’t regret speaking up for Malfoy on his trial, he very much regretted listening to his inner Hermione and trying to talk things out with Malfoy instead of just outright picking the blond up and dumping him onto the ground.
Begrudgingly, Harry conceded. The next day however, he made it a point to go straight back to the common room after classes instead of letting himself being bullied into the library by Hermione. When Malfoy and his gang entered shortly after, steering towards the chair and halting in surprise, Harry gave him a triumphant grin. Malfoy shot him a murderous glare –which Harry found slightly sexy– and retreated to the other side of the room.
Since then, it had been war.
Harry was shaken out of his reminiscing by Ron's exasperated sigh. “Harry, mate, this is getting ridiculous.”
“I agree, Ron. We wouldn’t have that problem if a certain someone accepted the concept of regular seats,” Harry glared at Malfoy who perked up and stuck his tongue out. His pretty pink and long tongue, Harry registered absentmindedly.
Heaving another sigh and rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as if praying for patience, Ron mumbled, “Not going to work with two stubborn gits.”
Directing his words to Harry again, he said, “Come on, mate. Let’s just go to dinner.”
Eyes not leaving Malfoy who stared back challengingly, Harry replied, “Not now, Ron. I’m busy.”
“With what? Staring at Malfoy? You can do that after dinner.”
Harry shook his head. “What if he leaves in the meantime? I would waste a perfect opportunity to get into my seat.”
“It's just a chair!” Ron exclaimed.
“You don’t understand, Ron,” Harry said solemnly. “It’s the perfect seat.” See, even Malfoy nodded his head gravely.
Pansy joined in. “Weasley is right. You can’t just stay here all day and starve. How about a truce? We all go to dinner now, and then you can go back to your weird way of flirting.”
Harry and Malfoy spluttered. “We’re not flirting!” shouted Harry, “We’re fighting, Pansy!” shouted Draco.
“Whatever,” Pansy examined her nails. As she turned around and sashayed out, she said over her shoulder, “I hear tonight’s shepherd’s pie and treacle tart.”
Harry’s stomach rumbled. Shit, he really was hungry. He looked up to Malfoy who sported a similar tempted expression.
“Truce?” Harry asked.
“Alright,” Malfoy conceded.
They both slowly stood up, cautiously going towards the door without breaking eye contact. Out in the corridor, they took a relieved breath and stared at each other awkwardly.
“Well,” Harry cleared his throat, “until soon, I guess.”
“Take your time chewing, Potter,” Malfoy sneered and ran down the hallway.
Perplexed, Harry stood there for a second. Ron nudged his shoulder, “Aren’t we going, too?”
Realization dawned on Harry. He grabbed Ron’s wrist and tugged him along hurriedly. Malfoy was going to eat fast. He had no time to waste.
Harry barely savored the food, too occupied by keeping an eye on Malfoy during dinner. He ate fast, but still with impeccable manners. Transfixed by the pink lips that Malfoy constantly licked with his pink tongue, Harry forgot about his own food all together. The blond sneaked glances across the Great Hall towards Harry, assessing his progress.
When Malfoy’s plate was empty, he purposefully stood up, shooting a meaningful look towards the Gryffindor table, and went out of the hall.
Fuck. Harry shoveled the remaining food into his mouth. He sprang up, grabbed another piece of treacle tart, and hurried out the hall. Luckily, he knew a shortcut.
Harry and Malfoy met right in front of the common room, coming to a slithering halt. They assessed each other for a few seconds, staring intently at the other’s eyes. The air between them cackled with tension.
Both scrambled simultaneously towards the door, struggling through, and pushing, shoving, and tripping the other while hastening towards the chair.
Somehow, they ended up squished into the chair together.
“Budge over, would you,” Harry said, shifting towards the middle of the chair. Half his arse was pressed sideways against the arm of the chair.
“It’s not any better for me, Potter,” Malfoy hissed, flailing with his arms as he tried not to lose his balance.
“Why don’t we…wait…urgh…here,” Harry shifted some more, jostling the blond around until Harry was fully seated with Malfoy comfortably draped over his lap.
“There,” he said, quite proud of himself. “Should have done that right at the beginning.”
Malfoy was oddly stiff. So, Harry nudged him. “You alright?”
The blond stared at him incredulously. “Don’t you hate me?”
Harry blushed. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Oh,” Malfoy said. He tentatively put his arms around Harry’s neck and relaxed when Harry put his arms around his waist.
“I–I like you, too,” Malfoy whispered into Harry’s neck.
Harry decided to be a bit bolder and kissed Draco on the cheek. “I don’t mind sharing my chair in the future with my boyfriend?”
“Well, then,” Draco said, blushing furiously, “better brace yourself, because you will never get this chair alone anymore.”
Harry hurried to the Muggle Studies classroom right when the bell rang. His boyfriend was already waiting, smiling when Harry approached. Hand in hand, they walked to the common room, chatting about their day.
In the common room, they focused immediately on the cozy armchair to the left of the fireplace. It was the perfect spot: the exact range to feel the warmth of the fire without feeling too hot and to feel the slight breeze from the window to feel refreshed without getting too cold. In addition, it was in perfect position to hide from sight without being completely left out of the ongoings in the common room.
But when they approached, it was already occupied. Harry and Draco shared a look and stood menacingly in front of the chair, blocking the fireplace.
With matching glares, they said, “You are in our seat.”
The End.