Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong
to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling. Although I want to own Harry Potter... And
Draco Malfoy... and lock them in a room together... and... Uhh...
Yah... (shifts uncomfortably)
I don't own them.
Authors Note: This is my first fic. I know it sucks. Just read and review please, and thank you!
It was the touching that first alerted him that something had changed.
It was a fleeting caress of fingertips, dragging along his forearm and sending electric shocks tingling through his body.
They had made it look casual, sweeping their fingers to emphasize; placing their fingers to gain subtle contact; rubbing to gain attention.
It wasn't something that was unusual. People touched each other every day in an innocent manner. But this person... They were different. When other people touched him, it didn't send shock waves of pleasure coursing through his nerves – and especially not through two layers of cloth! - and usually the contact between others were swift and casual. But this person lingered and their actions seemed to scream 'pay attention to me!'
It was to everyone's surprise that they even became friends. One day they were at each others throats, spitting, taunting, hurting. But then they started talking. An innocent question, made something turn his hatred into remorse and respect. A while later, people were gawking in the hallways as the once-rivals walked through the halls together, bickering gently about the upcoming quidditch match.
For a while, many people didn't believe that the schools most famous rivalry was gone. They poked and prodded, until they were ready to scream.
Finally the crowds subsided, and the students didn't stop to stare when they were seen walking together. It became an everyday routine: eat breakfast, walk together to their classes, have lunch, separate for their next lessons, then after dinner have a short quidditch practice.
They even spent time together in either the library, or his Head Boy's room to study and to quiz themselves about their different lessons.
It was during one of these study sessions that he noticed the changes.
Leaning his elbows on his knees and scanning the pages of his potions book, he was absorbing himself in his revision, when he felt his companion scrape their fingers along his shoulder. Tilting his head towards them to show his attention, he grunted softly, still absorbed with his reading.
"Hey, Draco? What's the last ingredient for the Mood Enhancing potion again?" they asked.
Finally shaken out of his stupor, Draco Malfoy looked in their direction and smirked slightly. "I'm reading about that particular potion actually. Here, look," he said, while sliding the book over slightly.
"Oh, thanks," they said, and leaned forward, invading his personal space.
Before Draco could move away, he caught a faint whiff of cologne and something that vaguely smelled of fresh cut grass, then felt a subtle placing of his friends fingers on his thigh.
Swallowing to wet his suspiciously dry mouth, he casually leaned back into the cushions of the couch to study his companion.
Lightly tanned skin – probably from quidditch – and dark glossy hair was the first things that attracted his attention. Long and dexterous fingers gripped their quill and sharp emerald eyes scanned the potions textbook that rested on the table. Shadows, made by the fire, danced over their face, making it soften and etched out the graceful curves with sharp relief.
When they turned to look at his face, Draco's eyes automatically swept to their lips. Slightly open and tinged pink from being nibbled on, they looked inviting and very attractive.
"Something wrong?" they asked, tilting their head slightly in a vaguely inviting manner.
Clearing his throat and flicking his gaze to the fingers that still rested on his thigh, he raised his eyebrow mockingly. "I should be asking you that question," he said, lowering his gaze to the hand again.
They just smiled gently and started to pull their hand away, almost as if it was painful to do so.
Huffing in irritation, Draco just grabbed the hand – feeling the callouses on their fingers and palms – and pulled them forwards, raising his other hand to their face.
Cupping their cheek in his own calloused palm, he looked deeply into the emerald irises then swiftly leaned forward and pressed his lips to theirs.
"You are such a bloody girl, Harry. Stop with the subtle touches and just DO something already."
Harry Potter just grinned and then sighed, shaking his head in mock sorrow.
"Shut up, Draco," he murmured, pressing his lips to the Slytherins.