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At first it was an occasional catching of Harry’s eye, then it moved onto a tentative smile thrown Harry’s way before finally they were exchanging pleasantries as they passed each other in the Great Hall.
Harry didn’t remember when the pleasantries became more flirty, but he was frequently left with a red face after speaking to Draco. No-one ever mentioned it to him, but he saw the glances, the hidden smiles as he sat down.
Things between them had improved steadily over the first few months of eighth year and there was barely any animosity now. Quite the opposite. But Harry still didn’t know what to do when Draco said something that definitely counted as flirting. He hadn’t known at all, until the day Draco had kissed him. Granted, it was December and there was mistletoe, but Harry felt sure it would have happened anyway. It had been a quick, fleeting kiss but the tingling feeling it left was longlasting.
That was five years ago. They’d been inseparable ever since, moving in together once they left Hogwarts. And on this, the day of his best friend’s wedding, Harry was standing in front of the mirror, trying to flatten the inexplicable mass of hair on his head. He really was due a haircut.
He sighed as Draco stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders.
“These robes are going to look great on the floor, you know,” Draco murmured into Harry’s ear before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his neck. “And you will look even better in your birthday suit.”
Harry felt the colour rising in his cheeks, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Why do you always do this?”
“I can’t help it. I love making you blush,” Draco replied, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “It really brings out your eyes.”
Harry laughed. “You idiot.”