Work Text:
*italics* = thoughts
normal = talking aloud
Harry: *okay heart, if you sprint any harder you're getting a red card* "So… fancy seeing you in the same corridor two nights in a row, Malfoy." *brilliant opening, Harry, truly Nobel-prize dialogue* "I mean, not that I'm counting or anything, just thought maybe the castle's shrinking, or you've finally admitted you're following my irresistible scent of grass and victory." *you idiot! shut up shut up shut up—*
Draco: *he's rocking that stupid Quidditch hoodie and the smell of grass and I want to bite the sleeve... what the fuck?* "I was patrolling for stray Bludgers, not stalking you, relax." *lie of the century, add it to my trophy shelf next to "I'm fine"* "Besides, if I were following anyone it'd be the catering trolley, those mini eclairs are criminal." *quick, divert, never let him know the only snack I want is standing right here*
Harry: *his ears go pink when he fibs and it's unfairly adorable* "Didn't say stalking. But hey, since we're both here, walk me to the changing rooms? I seem to have lost my uhh... favourite... um... socks? Socks! Yeah, socks." *could've said "broom," could've said "jacket," but no, let's go with the one clothing item currently on my feet—smooth, Harry, you stupid idiot. quick, say something else!* "They're lucky socks, alright? One's Gryffindor, one's… well, the other ones from my school friend *I literally only have school friends what the hell am I saying?*
Draco: *lucky socks? He looks like a walking lost-and-found basket and I still want to shove him against the wall and—get a grip, Malfoy* "Merlin, Potter, you're hopeless. Lead the way before you lose the shirt off your back." *if I walk beside I might accidentally touch his hand—damn it, I'm already moving* "Tell you what, if you can't find them I'll Transfigure you new ones—house-colour stripes, maybe add little snitch bells that jingle when you walk so everyone knows the great Harry Potter is coming and can hide their valuables, their hearts, and their socks, because apparently you just absorb clothing items like some kind of fabric dementor—" *Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Real smooth Malfoy. You utter moron.*
Harry: *did he say hearts? how adorable. walk faster... no slow down, accidentally brush your sleeve with him. FUCK how did I accidentally push him "Whoa—sorry! I didn't mean to body-check you, my shoe sort of... rebelled." *brilliant, Harry, blame the footwear, maybe he'll believe your laces are possessed by a tiny anarchist sprite* "You okay? Didn't bruise the Malfoy pride, did I?" *please laugh, please don't sue me for assault-by-sock-energy*
Draco: *oh brilliant, his hands are on me, notify St. Mungo's, I'm dying of Potter-induced cardiac collapse* "Relax, Potter. If you wanted to cop a feel, you could've just asked." *WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT PUT YOUR MOUTH IN TIME-OUT* "And no, my pride is intact. Unlike your balance. Or your dignity. And no, the Malfoy pride is unbruised. Though your excuse was. 'Rebel shoe'? Honestly." *why does he smell good why does he look at me like that abort mission—* "I'm fine." *NO I'M NOT* "Anyway, the changing rooms are this way, unless you'd prefer to stand here auditioning for a statue." *I swear on every ancestor I will spontaneously combust if he doesn't move and I will absolutely blame the socks. Why did he move away? Come back! Touch me! Hold me! GET A GRIP MALFOY*
Harry: *he's rambling, how cute... wait... how long have I been staring at him?* "Right, well—good to know you're fine. Would've been tragic if my shoe ruined your entire aristocratic lineage." *oh my godd he's smirking he's so hot awjefnrs* "Anyway, lets keep moving. By the way, I wasn't planning to touch you. I mean—not that I would—not that you'd want me to— I'm just saying I have very clear intentions when I… touch… people." *WHY DID I SAY THAT. WHY. I WANT TO EAT A BRICK. okay he's looking at me don't trip don't trip don't trip—*
Draco: "Harry, watch out!"
Harry: *YOU HAD ONE JOB. ONE. SINGLE. JOB. WHY ARE WALLS SO CLOSE TO MY FACE—* "OW—what—who PUTS a suit of armour right there?!"
Draco: *I am not laughing. I am absolutely not laughing. I am—* "Potter. You just headbutted a medieval tin can."
Harry: "It— it ambushed me." *it absolutely didn't you fucking twat.*
Draco: *he looks like a confused golden retriever Merlin help me hdurerjegj * "I warned you. I literally said 'watch out'. You had one task. Though I must admit, your battle cry of 'OW—what' was truly spine-chilling. The armour's shaking in its greaves."
Harry: *is he flirting with me? oh my god oh my god say something cute back SAY SOMETHING* "So, changing rooms?" *WHAT THE FUCK that sounded like I wanted to fuck him... but I do... shit* "I mean—the changing rooms. Where the socks are. Not us changing. Not that I'd mind—NO—shut up, mouth—just socks, Malfoy, focus on the socks."
Draco: *how do I react to THAT? Just walk... don't look at him. I SAID DON'T LOOK YOU STUPID POTATO*
Harry: *Kiss— KILL me now. Just walk, nearly there. Finally! I'll open the door for him!* "Ladies first." *FUCK*
Draco: *…did he just— did he seriously—* "Potter... you know what, forget it." *how do I argue with someone as cute as him?*
They step in.
The door swings shut behind them.
Click
Harry: "Oh. That's… not good."
Draco: *tell me he did NOT—* "…Potter. Please tell me you didn't lock us in."
Harry: "I didn't touch the door!" *did I? Fuck the handle isn't moving. Fuck fuck fuck this isn't how it was meant to go. I was meant to seduce him on the way to the changing rooms and—*
Draco: "Brilliant. Trapped. In a small room. With you." *this is my hell. or my dream. no. hell. definitely hell. focus. he smells good. shut up, focus!*
Harry: *why is it so hot in here? I'm sweating... what if he smells me? I stinkk*
Draco: *if he takes off that hoodie I WILL DIE. WHY IS HE TAKING IT OFF?* "What—what are you doing?"
Harry: "It's warm! And I'm sweating. I don't want to overheat and die in here." *oh god. was that too dramatic? he's staring. he's STARING. abort hoodie removal? no too late, it's off. you're shirtless now. congrats idiot.*
Draco: LOOK AWAY MALFOY. DO. NOT. LOOK AT THE COLLARBONE. DO NOT— "…You're not going to die."
Harry: "You sure? Because your face is doing that thing. The… intense staring thing." *oh brilliant Harry, call him out. why not confess your eternal love while you're at it, you absolute clown. Where out thou romeo... might as well get down on one knee while I'm at it*
Draco: "I'm not staring. I'm just… assessing. For… tactical reasons."
Harry: "Tactical reasons." he's checking me out. he's actually checking me out. holy shit holy SHIT keep breathing. "Right. Okay. Should I… flex or something?"
Draco: HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT. I WILL PASS AWAY ON THIS VERY SPOT. "Please don't. I don't need to watch you… move."
Harry: "Move?" *okay stay still. stop moving. why the hell am I shaking?* "…You're very tense."
Draco: "We are locked in a room, Potter. Alone. At night. With your hoodie on the floor. Forgive me if I'm not at my most composed."
Harry: "So… how long do you think we'll be stuck?"
Draco: *forever. ideally. no wait that's insane. I hate him. I DESPISE—his shoulders* "No idea. Could be minutes. Could be hours. Could be… long enough that we have to ration supplies."
Harry: "Draco… this is a changing room. There are no supplies."
Draco: "Well, I suppose we could eat your socks."
Harry: *…did he just flirt? or threaten me? or both?* "My socks are not for consumption. Even if they are lucky." *THAT WAS A LIE. THERE ARE NO SOCKS.*
Draco: "Fine. Then maybe we should… sit. While we wait."
Harry: *sit? together? close? oh god what if our knees touch I'll spontaneously combust* "Yeah. Okay. Sure. Sitting. I can do sitting."
They sit. Far apart. Two seconds later, the bench is too small to sit far apart. Their knees brush. Both freeze.
Draco: *THIS IS NOT ALLOWED WHY IS HIS KNEE WARM—* "…Potter."
Harry: *say something smooth. say something sexy. say literally anything that isn't catastrophic.* "…Nice knee you've got there."
Draco: *OH FOR—* "Potter, if you say one more thing like that—"
Harry: "You'll what? Kiss me?"
Draco: *okay okay okay this is your chance. come on Draco. say something smooth.* "You're mine now, Scarhead." *shit. just kiss him. kiss him. KISS. HIM.*
Harry: *OH MY GOD HE'S KISSING ME. WHAT DO I DO? TOUCH HIS NECK... I've always wanted to touch his hair...*
Draco: *OH MERLIN'S BEARD HE'S KISSING ME BACK. His hands are so warm, damn that feels good. Not the hair! Wait... no... that feels good.*
Harry breaks the kiss just for breath — one inch, barely — and their noses brush.
Harry: "That was… good. Really good. Like… top five decisions of my life."
Draco: *TOP FIVE? Potter, if you rank our first kiss next to buying a broomstick I swear—* "Only top five?"
Harry: *I'm probably grinning like an idiot* "Well. Surviving Voldemort was pretty decent."
Draco: "Oh, of course. How dare I compete with your history of traumatic life-or-death events."
Harry: *he's being sarcastic but his lips are red and he's still close and holy shit he's gorgeous—* "Draco?"
Draco: "Yeah?"
Harry: "I'm gonna kiss you again."
Draco: *oh no oh yes oh MERLIN TAKE ME NOW—* "If you must."
Harry: *Did he just... moan?*
Draco: *if anyone ever finds out I made that sound I will fake my own death and move to Albania. With Harry obviously. We'll get married.*
The door behind them suddenly rattles — someone trying to open it.
Both freeze.
Voice outside: "Hello? Is someone in there? The lock jammed again!"
Harry and Draco stare at each other.
Harry: "…we should… stop."
Draco: "…we absolutely should." *but I don't want to stop*
Harry: "Draco?"
Draco: "Harry. I don't care what you're going to say. I'm kissing you right now."
Harry: *tHiS iS tHe MoMeNt I'vE bEeN wAiTiNg FoR*
The lock clicks. The handle turns. Draco launches backward on pure instinct—except Harry's faster. Much faster. He grabs Draco by the front of his jumper, yanks him close, and throws the invisibility cloak over both of them in one messy, panicked swoop. They collide into the wall, pressed chest-to-chest, sharing the same breath. A teacher's voice drifts in as the door creaks open: "Honestly—who keeps jamming this thing—" Draco is frozen. Absolutely frozen.
Harry: *oh god oh god his hands are on my hips oh god come closer*
Draco: *I'm touching his hips... his breath is in my face... I wanna kiss him right now.*
The teacher mutters something about maintenance spells and steps further inside. Harry's fingers curl around Draco's wrist. Draco goes bright red, invisible fabric or not. Harry leans dangerously close to Draco's ear. Whisper-soft.
Harry: "You still kissing me after this?"
Draco: *internally screaming in pure Slytherin agony* "Harry… if we survive this, I'm never stopping."
Harry: *he's gonna kill me for doing this but... fuck it* "So don't stop now."
Draco: "What do you mmph—" *Damn Harry this is a wet dream come true ShUt Up BRAIN OFF BRAIN OFF*
Harry's knees nearly give out. Draco's lips were rough and their teeth kept clacking together but fuck this was hot. Who would've thought this would happen one day? Certainly not Harry. The teacher turns, grumbling, and finally shuts the door behind him as he leaves. Silence. Other than the sound of their mouths against each other.
Harry: “…We just full-on kissed under my dad’s cloak while a teacher was three feet away.” *Say something romantic, you emotionally stunted troll.* “I, uh… think I’ve found a new favourite use for it.”
Draco: “Harry, if you ever tell anyone I let a Gryffindor grope me under an invisibility cloak, I’ll deny it, Obliviate you, and then sue you for defamation.” *…Except that'll never happen because we'll run away together before anyone finds out. Obviously. Like I said, we're getting married."
Harry: *He hasn’t let go. Repeat: he hasn’t let go.* “Deal. But I get to keep the memory.” *Lean in again. Do it. Worst case, he hexes you and you spend the rest of term limping. Best case—* “…Draco?” *Whisper it, like it’s a secret spell. Is this sexy or do I sound constipated?* “I’m really glad you followed the non-existent Bludger.*
Draco: *My name in his mouth sounds illegal. I am so completely fucked. Say it again babe* “Shut up.” *Say it back. Say something. I LOVE YOU. NO don't say that. I LOVE— shut the fuck UP* “…I followed the catering trolley, remember?” *Idiot. Did you forget the lie you told him? Kiss him again. Kiss him before he comes to his senses and realises he could literally have anyone else.*
Harry: *He’s blushing. I can feel it against my cheek. I want to bottle it.*
Draco: *change the topic before I say something embarrassing like I LOVE YOU* "Where did you spawn the cloak from?"
Harry: "Well, Hermione taught me a—"
Draco: "Actually, I don't care… cloak off."
Harry: "Why?"
Draco: "Because I want to see your face properly when I kiss you." *WAIT. He’s going to think I want to keep my eyes OPEN while we kiss. Like some sort of weirdo. I’ll probably blink mid-kiss and poke him in the eye with my eyelashes. We’ll need eye patches. We’ll look like a pirate-themed wedding cake topper. ABORT. ABORT. CLARIFY BEFORE HE THINKS I’M A PSYCHOPATH WHO KISSES LIKE A SECURITY CAMERA.* "Eyes closed, obviously. I’m not a Victorian ghost trying to steal your soul through your retinas." *Should've just kept my MOUTH SHUT*
Harry: *He said “see your face.” That’s basically a marriage proposal in Slytherin. Stay cool. Remove the cloak like a normal wizard and not a drunk octopus.* “Uh—right. Cloak. Off. Yes. Sure. Good idea.” *Be sexy. Be cool. Be—WHAP! I just slapped him across the face with my cloak*
Draco: *I’m going to marry him and then smother him with this cloak for assaulting me* “Potter. I swear to every deceased Malfoy ancestor—”
Harry: “SORRY—SORRY—okay it’s off it’s off—”
Draco: *okay Malfoy, this is it, don’t be weird—just be smooth for once in your miserable existence* “Now. Where were we?”
Harry: *I'm hyperventilating I CAN'T BREATHE* “Uh. I think you were about to—”
Draco: *KISS HIM YOU TWAT. HE'S RIGHT THER—*
Harry: *mental reboot… please wait… buffering…* “—mmmnh—”
Draco: *oh good I broke him. perfect. success.* “You okay there, Scarhead?”
Harry: *okay Harry, say something sexy, cultured, mysterious, something that proves you’re not just a horny Quidditch jock— oh Merlin he’s staring, QUICK, SAY SOMETHING FANCY* “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. Just… overwhelmed by your, uh… beauty.” *what the fuck was that. abort. pick a different line.* “I mean—uh—Shakespeare said that. Probably.”
Draco: *…Shakespeare said WHAT? Harry, what absolute literary crime are you about to commit?* “…Shakespeare said I’m beautiful?”
Harry: *YES THAT’S WHAT YOU SAID HARRY. STICK WITH IT. COMMIT TO THE BIT.* “Well, not in those exact words. But, you know… vibes. He said…” *What did he say?* “‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s broom?’”
Draco: *A SUMMER’S—WHAT?? A BROOM??* “…a broom, Potter?”
Harry: “Yeah. Because you’re… sleek. And fast. And, uh… I want to ride—” *OH GOD ABORT ABORT ABORT* “—to ride… on the wind… of poetic inspiration.” *why am I alive. why was I ever born?*
Draco: *he did NOT just almost say he wants to ride me. He did NOT. He absolutely did. Oh sweet Salazar, he’s an idiot. A beautiful idiot.* “Potter. That is not even CLOSE to the quote.”
Harry: “What? Yes it is! It’s the one that goes, ‘Romeo, Romeo…’”
Draco: "Stop misquoting lines of Shakespeare! Shut up!"
Harry: "Make me."
Draco does. Hard. There’s a thump as Harry’s back hits the wall and a muffled gasp that neither will ever admit to making. Hands in hair, fingers on jawlines, breath mixing — it’s a mess. A beautiful, canon-violating mess. Finally, Harry pulls back again, lips swollen, eyes glazed, voice a very undignified whisper:
Harry: “So, uh… top three now?”
Draco: *Potter, if you put me anywhere lower than number one I’ll hex your socks into sentient beings that chase you across the castle* “…We’ll renegotiate later.”
Harry grins like he just won the House Cup.
Harry: “Later as in… tonight?”
Draco: “Later as in the second I get my breath back.”
Harry: “Draco?”
Draco: “What now?”
Harry: *giddy idiot mode ACTIVATED* “You wanna help me look for those non-existent socks?”
Draco: *there were no socks. obviously.* “I’m doomed.”
Harry: “Yeah. To me.”
Draco: *…sweet Salazar he’s right and I love it* “Shut up and kiss me.”
Harry absolutely does. Then promptly whacks Draco's arm with the invisibility cloak’s hem.
Draco: "Lucky I'm into you, Harry, or you'd find yourself in the middle of Antarctica with nothing but your Gryffindor scarf to keep you warm."