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Draco Malfoy had a crush.
A teeny tiny stupid crush. This particular kind of a stupid crush that foolish teenagers often had, concealing that fact from their friends and shooting sheepish smiles and glances at the said crush upon spotting them on a school corridor.
A crush which should subside after three, four months, only for it to be replaced with a different love object.
A crush which shouldn’t last years!
And Draco Malfoy wasn’t a foolish teenager anymore. He was twenty five, for Merlin’s sake! It was embarrassing that his crush kept bringing fluttering butterflies to his stomach, because that was dumb and irrational. It was ludicrous that his crush made his heart skip a beat and made him feel like he was about to faint, cresting the top of his cheekbones with blooming blush.
But Draco Malfoy still had a crush. After all these years, after hooking up with numerous people in the meantime and attempting to date them, which by the way never worked and was always a failure, his stupid heart still answered to only one person.
Draco sighed, reaching out for yet another tequila shot placed in a neat row in front of him and downed it without a wince.
And his crush was right there, in the very same bar, celebrating the very same thing that Draco continuously drank to, because they had just passed their Auror exams and were officially beginning their work next week.
And Draco was hopelessly in love, yet he would never in a million years admit that.
What he thought was that being this stupidly smitten with someone was exclusively reserved for twelve-year-olds overwhelmed with first hormone waves and not entirely knowing how to cope with a sudden rush of happiness and stress bursting in their stomach every time they saw this special someone in a close vicinity.
Another thing that Draco would never admit was that he had been stupidly in love since he was the said stupid twelve-year-old. Of course, at that time he had no idea what he felt could be described with this scary, big word that he’d never uttered before and, truth be told, never intended to. Draco Malfoy wasn’t a person to run around and confess his love to everyone. No, he was the type to hide it forever for it was too embarrassing and shameful. He was the cold bastard that other people fell in love with, but never received his love back.
Except for this one stupid person living in Draco’s heart and mind.
He brought a shot glass to his lips again, previously having licked the salt off of his hand, and sucked on a lime wedge. He felt someone’s hand caressing his thigh and he turned around slowly.
It was supposed to be a date. Draco’d invited his colleague, Monty, to go and celebrate with him and keep him company so that Draco had someone to dance with and get drunk with and go home to hook up with and leave at the crack of dawn, as he always did.
And it really had been going pretty well, Draco had to admit. Monty was a real gentleman, spoiling Draco with bubbly drinks and asking him to dance and he really did seem like this kind of a loving, caring person.
But Draco’s mind continuously wandered off to a particular someone, also present in the bar, also getting systematically drunk three tables away, also on a date with someone else.
Draco was a sly snake, after all, so he was experienced in discreet glances and checking his secret crush out. He looked bloody gorgeous that night. He’d started growing his hair a bit out a few months ago, so now it was long enough to reach his shoulders, resting in loose curls at the nape of his neck and around his forehead. He’d changed his style, too; back in their Hogwarts years Draco used to be repulsed by the ridiculously huge shirts and baggy jeans he’d wear, but now the tight trousers and silky shirts with a few top buttons opened made Draco’s stomach somersault.
And it was stupid, it was dumb, he wasn’t a simple-minded teenager after all, was he! Getting hard at the mere sight of an open shirt was idiotic, really.
‘Can I buy you another drink?’ Monty softly murmured in his ear, licking the place right behind it.
Draco closed his eyes. ‘No,’ he answered blatantly, still staring at the open chest of the guy in front of him. He was now laughing at something his date had said and Draco’s head throbbed with envy.
Monty blinked, startled. ‘Care to dance, then?’ he closed his fingers on Draco’s thigh again.
‘Later,’ Draco said, pushing Monty’s hand off of his leg. ‘I actually wish to dance alone.’
He stood up, feeling slightly bad about behaving like a dick to Monty, but only slightly – Draco was a cold bastard after all – and rushed to the dance floor.
It was boisterous and the air was thick with sweat and cigarette smoke. He submerged into the crowd, not even for a moment losing his crush from his sight. Draco’s eyes felt permanently glued to him, to his longish hair, to his glasses now retracting all the rainbow lights, and his bloody bare chest with beads of sweat curling up around the collarbones and trickling down his sternum.
Draco was very drunk that night, having consumed more alcohol than he usually did. The blissful tipsiness, which was one of Draco’s most favourite feelings in the whole world, twirled around in his head, fogging his thoughts. It was beautiful when he swayed to the sides, feeling people’s hands and legs and chests all around him, all dancing to the same melody, all experiencing the same dizzy joy.
He looked back, hoping to cast a look on his crush again, startled to see he was gone. The table was now empty and another couple took a seat there immediately.
Where was he?
Draco turned around on his heels, trying to spot him in the sea of people. Good thing that Draco was pretty tall, towering over the crowds without the need to stand on his tippy toes.
There. He was right there, in the middle of the dance floor, and his date kept running his hands along his arms and stomach.
Draco felt the nauseating anger and envy again and barrelled through the crowd, elbowing his way through. The song ended and in this brief second before a new one started playing Draco managed to reach his destination.
‘Potter,’ he said confidently. ‘Dance with me.’
Draco Malfoy never asked, Draco Malfoy always demanded. And he was also used to people obeying to each and every one of his orders, that’s why it came out as a shock when Harry didn’t obey.
‘You wish,’ he only snarled and turned his back on him.
‘That wasn’t a request,’ Draco seized a handful of Potter’s shirt and turned him around. ‘Dance with me.’
‘I’m occupied, as you can see,’ Harry pulled back violently, pointing to a guy next to him, who now looked deeply bemused and glanced at Draco a bit anxiously.
‘You can be occupied later,’ Draco snapped.
‘No, I can’t,’ Harry growled, moving back even more. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured to the guy standing right next to him, now looking straight up terrified.
Draco barely resisted a sly smile from crawling onto his face. Oh, yes. He could be such a terrifying dick when he wanted do.
‘Harry, maybe I’ll – fetch us some drinks,’ the guy muttered to Harry.
Draco smiled even broader.
‘No,’ Harry immediately shook his head and grabbed the guy’s arm. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is just – Oh, fuck’s sake, Malfoy,’ he snapped at Draco when the guy indeed moved away diving further into the crowd and soon disappeared completely.
‘Haven’t you learnt, Potter? I always get what I want,’ Draco said with a very self-satisfied smirk.
‘Get lost,’ Harry rolled his eyes and turned around aiming at leaving the dance floor, but Draco still possessed his excellent Seeker reflexes (even ridiculously drunk), so he held onto Harry’s forearm and pulled him closer to himself.
Harry looked perplexed, glancing down at Draco’s fingers clutched onto his skin. He tried to wriggle out of his touch, but Draco held on hard.
‘What’s your problem?’ Harry sounded not only mad, but also genuinely startled.
‘Right now? I lead a very non-problematic life, Potter,’ Draco winked. ‘Dance with me,’ he repeated.
‘Or what?’
‘Oooh,’ Draco smirked. ‘So you haven’t changed. Still playing games, are you now, Potter?’
‘The only game that’s being played is some ridiculous game of yours,’ Harry rolled his eyes.
The music turned almost deafening now, so they had to yell in order to hear each other. Draco sighed, shook his head, and then pushed Harry closer to himself. Their faces ended up mere inches from each other and Draco noticed with a great dose of satisfaction that Harry’s glance slid down onto Draco’s flushed mouth.
He smirked again.
‘Dance with me,’ he said again.
Something hesitance-like flashed across Harry’s face, when he very reluctantly rested his hands first on Draco’s chest and then on his waist.
‘See? Wasn’t that hard,’ Draco murmured into Harry’s ear.
They allowed the music to lead them in the thick crowd, slithering like snakes in each other’s embrace.
‘I need more booze,’ Harry mumbled after two songs and abruptly withdrew his hands from Draco’s body.
Draco nodded and observed Harry leave the dance floor. He stopped by the bar, speaking briefly to the bartender, and soon turned around, trying to spot Draco’s face amongst tens of other flushed faces.
Draco raised his hand and Harry finally noticed him, nodding. Then he waved a hand at him, indicating Draco to come closer to the bar. In the meantime Harry had emptied two shots of vodka and once Draco approached him, he pushed two more in his direction.
‘Can’t do it sober,’ Harry mumbled, taking another shot.
‘Do what exactly?’ Draco inquired, swallowing his liquid.
‘Dance with you.’
‘You like guys now, don’t you?’ Draco asked, now mildly curious.
He knew Potter didn’t want to label himself, yet the Daily Prophet had been bursting with news about new male lovers of the Chosen One over the past few years.
‘Maybe,’ Harry spoke slowly. ‘You?’
Draco let out a hoarse laugh. ‘I’ve always liked guys, Potter. That’s old news in my case.’
‘Right,’ Harry brought another shot to his lips.
Draco waved a hand at the bartender who placed four more rainbow looking shots in front of them. He took a swig and slowly licked his lips, at the same time looking at Harry. Harry looked away almost immediately, for a second glancing at Draco’s mouth and his glistening tongue before he switched his gaze to some random place on the wall.
‘So. Excited to start working as an Auror?’ Harry asked.
‘Are we really going to talk about work?’ Draco groaned.
‘What do you want to talk about then?’ Harry seemed surprised. ‘It’s not like we’re friends and have hundreds of common interests and topics to talk about. We’re enemies, Malfoy. We shouldn’t talk at all.’
‘The war is long over. Holding grudges for such a long time is extremely unhealthy,’ Draco noticed. ‘By the way, I think your – date is gone. I’m so intimidating.’
‘You’re a dick, that’s what you are.’
‘Always have been, always will be,’ Draco smirked at him. ‘Down your shots, we’re going back dancing.’
The night had become a blur from then on. Numbing alcohol was pounding and vibrating in their veins, clouding their thoughts and filling them with the very necessary shots of bravery. Harry kept placing his hands more and more boldly on Draco’s forearms and chest when they danced, sweat trickling down their foreheads and curling up above their upper lips, with their movements slow and dizziness inducing.
‘Come home with me,’ Draco murmured into Harry’s ear.
He was overwhelmed with satisfaction and happiness and the fact that bloody Harry Potter, his ridiculous crush, was actually dancing with him. And was now following the line of Draco’s spine with his fingers, digging them into his skin more and more firmly.
‘Fuck,’ Harry growled in response. ‘We shouldn’t apparate in such a state.’
‘I’m experienced with drunk Apparition,’ Draco mumbled, then seized Harry around his waist and apparated.
They twirled in what felt like an empty void for a few seconds, squeezed tight as if pushed through a pipe, and then landed on a hard concrete, now rotating under their feet.
Harry looked around, a tad confused, and frowned upon noticing a street name sign.
‘A muggle part of London, Malfoy? What the hell? Since when you’re such a muggle lover?’
‘The prices in this part of the town were very appealing,’ Draco spoke nonchalantly, at the same time scouring through his pockets in order to find the keys. ‘Where’s your flat then?’
‘Hell nah,’ Harry laughed and then swung around a nearby lamppost. ‘I’m not telling you because you might come and pay me a surprise visit.’
‘Wouldn’t you love that?’ Draco smirked. ‘Fuck, where are those bloody keys,’ he snarled. ‘Come,’ he grabbed Harry’s wrist and approached one of the tall buildings.
He opened the front door with an impressively strong kick and entered the elevator, tagging Harry along with him.
‘I hate elevators,’ Draco admitted once they both got inside and the elevator started with a jerk. ‘What if it falls down? I don’t want to die in a stinky old elevator.’
‘You won’t,’ Harry promised.
Draco looked him in the eyes. Harry was completely plastered, as to the point where Draco was positive he would remember nothing of that night the morning after.
The elevator stopped and they went outside. Draco made one more feeble attempt at finding the keys, and when he failed yet again, he seized his wand and pointed to one door. ‘Alohomora.’
The door flung open and Draco waved a hand at it. ‘After you. Ridiculous, those keys. Useless. Utterly useless.’
Harry walked in with a great dose of curiosity and looked around. Draco flicked the lights on and Harry gasped, as if astonished by the view.
‘Woah. Malfoy, this flat is… Nice. Like, really really nice. Looks expensive,’ he murmured, eyeing a huge gold clock hanging above the velvet couch.
‘I’m rich, aren’t I,’ said Draco nonchalantly. ‘Fancy a drink?’ he added, opening one cabinet filled with bottles.
‘Whiskey, if you may.'
‘Someone’s got a good taste,’ Draco smirked, pouring some of the liquid into a glass and handing it to Harry.
‘So.’
‘So.’
Harry slowly took a seat on the couch, as carefully as if he were afraid to stain or ruin the material. He looked at Draco expectantly, but Draco was busy filling a glass with ice cubes and drowning them in whiskey a second later.
‘So. What have you been up to since the war? Any major life changes, Malfoy?’
Draco scoffed and took a sip of his drink, letting the alcohol warm up his insides. ‘Nah. Depends on what you mean by major.’
‘Well, you know. Dunno. New flat, new job, engagement, whatever.’
‘Engagement!’ Draco almost choked on the whiskey. ‘Merlin, no.’
‘Why not? You must’ve been in some relationship, no?’
‘Oh, for sure. Some flings here and there, but nothing what you’d describe as major,’ Draco raised an eyebrow.
Harry looked a bit abashed. ‘So. What’s up? We haven’t seen each other in a long time.’
Draco scoffed again. ‘Have you suffered a memory loss? We’ve been seeing each other every day for the past year during Auror training.’
‘Oh, sure. Yeah. But it’s not like we’ve talked a lot.’
‘Alright, well, if you’re so interested. My mother bought a house in France and moved there a couple of years ago. She intended the house to be mine in the future and I was to move there with her, but I bought a flat in London, as you can very well see,’ he gestured around the room. ‘And I’ve trained to be an Auror, as you very well know. And I’m still devastatingly handsome and rich.’
Harry burst out laughing and Draco’s lip corners trembled with a smile.
‘Yeah, laugh. I’m much richer and more beautiful than you, Potter. Always have been.’
‘Sure, sure. Yeah. You wish, Malfoy.’
Harry finished his drink and then tried to stand up, but he’d had way too much alcohol that night and his attempt ended up unsuccessful, because he plopped onto the floor very painfully. Draco laughed and stood over him.
‘Need a hand?’ he suggested sweetly.
Harry looked up with such miserable and huge eyes that Draco laughed again. He extended a hand and Harry caught it, propping himself up and trying to stand up again.
Yeah, it was easier this time, with Draco’s reassuring arm leaning against him and holding him upright.
‘I’m so plastered,’ Harry mumbled. ‘Can I crash on your couch tonight? Or would you have to later disinfect it from some Gryffindor germs?’
‘Go ahead,’ Draco pointed to the sofa. ‘You needn’t have to get up, actually. You were already sitting there.’
‘Mm. Yeah. I guess.’
Harry yawned and lay down on the couch, bringing one velvet cushion under his head. Then he smiled, very gently, and his breathing immediately calmed down and slowed.
‘That was quick,’ Draco muttered.
He reached to Harry’s legs, untying his leather shoes and slowly taking them off. He placed them next to the sofa and then reached for one of the black blankets lying nearby. Once he covered Harry, he squatted down to be eye-level to Harry’s face.
‘Potter,’ he whispered.
‘Mmm,’ Harry said sleepily. ‘Malfoy. Hi.’
‘Hi there.’
It was reassuring, knowing that Harry won’t remember a thing in the morning. It was way too scary thinking about it, having his crush in his flat, on his couch, looking angelic and peaceful.
‘Harry,’ Draco spoke again, this time a bit louder.
‘Mmm. Mm.’
‘You know what, you jerk?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I like you. I like you so much, you idiot. Always have.’
‘Mm… Ma… Malfoy?’
‘Yeah?’
Harry shifted on the couch, making small sleepy noises, and then moved closer to Draco, reaching out a hand. Draco looked at it, at Harry’s fingers wandering around, and clasped them tightly with his own hands.
‘Sometimes I… Mm. Sometimes I wish you’d…’
‘What’s that?’
‘I wish you’d kiss me,’ Harry mumbled. ‘Mmm. Yeah. Would be nice. I’m so drunk. Holy fuck. Mm…’
Draco blinked. Harry was half asleep and absolutely hammered, not making any sense, so there was no way he meant what he’d just said.
‘Kiss you, Potter? What are you blubbering about?’
‘Yeah, Malfoy. K-kiss. Me.’
‘Do you often think about it? Me kissing you?’
Harry nodded and shifted around on the sofa again, grasping onto Draco’s hands. ‘Yeah. All the time.’
‘You like me, Potter?’
‘I do. Mm. I’m so tired now.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep, dumbass.’
A minute went by and Harry didn’t speak again. His breathing evened out, he opened his mouth a slit and tiny snoring noises escaped his lips. He was asleep for good this time.
Draco brushed a hair strand out of his face and gently removed Harry’s glasses, placing them on the coffee table. He moved closer; so close that he could count all of Harry’s eyelashes.
‘I wish I could kiss you too,’ he whispered. ‘Good night, Harry.’
He meant to move away, but Harry’s grip on Draco’s hands became even stronger.
‘N-no,’ he mumbled quietly through his sleep. ‘Stay. Please.’
Draco sighed.
‘There’s no room here, you moron. Where am I supposed to lay down, on the floor?’
Turned out that, indeed, that was probably the only option. Draco sighed and placed a pillow on the floor to lay on it, not letting go of Harry’s hand even for a second. He positioned himself in a relatively comfortable position (as comfortable as sleeping on the wooden floor can be) and closed his eyes.
‘I… I like you,’ Harry mumbled again, hardly audibly.
‘Yeah. Me too.’
When sun entered the living room a few hours later, Draco was sound asleep and Harry was the first one to open his eyes. Alcohol from the night before hit his head like a Bludger and he groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead.
Only then did he realise his hand was trapped.
Under Malfoy’s hand.
‘Oh, sweet fuck,’ he whispered.
He wrested his hand out rapidly; so rapidly that Malfoy immediately woke up, looking around very confused.
‘What the fuck?’
‘Oh, shit, sorry, Malfoy. Didn’t mean to…’
‘You idiot,’ Draco groaned. ‘What time is it?’
‘No idea. I’ll be getting going. Where are my shoes? Where are my glasses?’ Harry stood up, trying to step over Malfoy lying on the floor, but obviously didn’t succeed and stepped right onto Draco’s stomach.
‘Potter!’ Draco yelled, folding in half and holding his stomach. ‘You really must be retarded or something!’
‘Sorry!’ Harry gave him the most apologetic look he could make. ‘Fuck. My shoes…’
‘Here,’ Draco snapped, pointing to them next to the couch. ‘Glasses,’ he added, pointing to the table next.
Harry put on both of them hastily and then looked down on Malfoy.
‘Have you – slept on the floor?’
‘Yeah,’ Draco winced. ‘I have to admit, not the comfiest place. You owe me a massage. My back’s killing me.
‘…Why?’
‘Because I’ve slept on the floor. I just told you.’
‘No. Why have you slept there in the first place?’
Draco rose and propped himself up on an elbow, with his other hand still massaging his stomach where Harry’d stepped a moment ago.
‘I needed to keep an eye on you. You were so drunk, I needed to guard you in case you decided to sleepwalk or jump out of the balcony.’
‘Right. Um, Malfoy, listen… Did we talk last night? Did I tell you something?’
‘Define “something”.’
‘Something… unusual.’
‘You talked about your secret threesome with Weasley and Granger.’
Harry gasped and his jaw dropped. ‘What! I! No! What!’
Draco laughed and brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Kidding. No, not really.’
‘Okay. Good,’ Harry looked visibly relieved.
‘Why? Do you have some spicy secrets to share?’
Harry turned red almost instantly. ‘No.’
‘As you wish, sir. If you want to take a shower, the towels are in the cupboard on the right in the bathroom.’
‘Oh, sure. Yeah, I might.’
‘You should,’ Draco ostentatiously wrinkled his nose. ‘You stink.’
Harry rolled his eyes and then obediently walked up to the bathroom. The flat was whirling and spinning around him as he walked, alcohol still buzzing in his veins. He found the towel, undressed and turned on the faucet, letting the icy water pour over him and wake him up.
He was sure, he had this gnawing feeling that he did say something last night… Something he shouldn’t have… But hey, after all he wasn’t the only drunk one there. Since he couldn’t remember what that was, Malfoy probably couldn’t as well.
When he got back to the living room, feeling a bit more reassured and towelling his damp hair as he walked, Draco was standing by the counter and pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
‘Want some?’
‘Would be nice.’
They drank in silence, while Harry avoided looking at Malfoy very noticeably. Draco raised a brow.
‘You good?’
‘I have a dumb question, Malfoy.’
‘No surprise.’
‘Did we – Did something – Last night…?’
It was endearing, watching Harry stuttering and blushing over again. Draco smirked.
‘No, Potter. You didn’t happen to take advantage of me. Pity.’
Harry choked on the juice.
‘No, for real. Nothing happened. You can sleep peacefully from now on.’
‘Okay. Good,’ Harry exhaled. ‘I’m glad.’
‘Hey! I’m great in bed, excuse you very much! What’s there to be glad about?’ Draco frowned.
Harry blushed again. ‘No, I mean… I’m sure you’re very, er – skilled. I’m just…’
‘Chill,’ Draco waved a hand. ‘I’m kidding. Again. Learn to take a joke.’
‘First learn to make one,’ Harry mumbled.
‘Breakfast?’
‘No, thanks. I need to go.’
Draco did his best to hide a pang of disappointment. ‘Okay. I’ll see you at work on Monday then.’
Harry nodded. He finished his juice and awkwardly gestured towards the front door.
‘So. That’s it, I guess.’
He handed Draco the glass and their fingers brushed, like electricity. Harry jumped up and, sweet Merlin, he began to blush again.
He looked up and Draco was already looking back at him.
‘So.’
‘So.’
‘It was nice.’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll go.’
‘I’m not going to stop you. You know where the door is.’
Harry walked up to the hall, glancing back at Malfoy once more. He nonchalantly leaned against the counter and smiled.
Harry smiled back.
And then he opened the door and left.
He came back a second later, though, before Malfoy managed to walk up and lock the door after him, because why the hell not and because alcohol always gave him an extra shot of bravery, even though it'd mostly evaporated already, and because he bloody loved that guy. He grabbed Draco’s face, freeing a surprised gasp from his lips, and kissed him hard.
He pressed his hands onto Draco’s waist and felt Draco relax under his touch, pressing back onto Harry’s body. Draco gave the kiss back as hungrily and eagerly as if he’d waited for it his whole life.
They stood there, leaning against the wall and kissing the life out of each other, touching and feeling and tasting.
Once they parted, Harry was blushing again, but this time Draco’s cheeks were also covered with red blooms.
‘Well, hello there,’ he smirked.
‘I’m sorry,’ Harry whispered.
‘Fuck’s sake, Potter, you have nothing to apologize for!’
‘I shouldn’t have…’
‘You very well should. Besides, I lied before. We did talk last night. You told me you wished I’d kiss you.’
Harry made a facepalm and Draco smiled.
‘I’m dumb.’
‘I gave the kiss back, didn’t I? If I didn’t like you, I’d have pummelled you.’
Harry stopped dead. ‘You like me too?’
Draco nodded. ‘I’ve liked you for a long while. A very long while, to be precise, you idiot.’
‘Why haven’t you ever…’
‘Acted on it? Prolly the same reason why you haven’t ever made a move either.’
‘Fair enough,’ mumbled Harry. ‘Can I kiss you again?’
‘You can,’ Draco laughed.
Their mouths found each other yet again, this time gentler and slower. Draco touched Harry’s face and caressed his cheek, and Harry flung his arms over Draco’s neck.
‘This is better than I imagined,’ Harry whispered.
‘Oh, yeah? I often hear that. I’m better than what you can dream,’ Draco winked at him.
‘So. You like me?’
‘Yup.’
‘And I seriously told you that I wanted you to kiss me last night?’
‘Yup.’
‘Did you?’
‘What, kissed you last night? No. I didn’t want our first kiss to be forgotten by you later.’
‘Well, you can be sure I won’t forget this one,’ Harry smiled and rested a hand against Draco’s face. ‘This is crazy, you know that? We’re crazy.’
‘Old news, Potter. You’ve always been a lunatic.’
‘Says who!’ Harry laughed. ‘Oh, fuck. I like you a lot.’
‘Yeah. I figured,’ Draco smirked. ‘And now shut up, dumbass. I want to kiss you again.’