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* Draco and Harry sitting side by side at a party*
Draco: It’s hard to know when I’m drunk.
Harry: ...
Draco: I mean, maybe I talk much more than usual, but nothing more.
Harry: …
Draco: * gives a sip of his firewhiskey*
Draco: By the way, do not tell Harry that I’m drunk.
Harry: …
I’ll Stay
Just another Drarry thing I wrote because @theperksofbeingatotalnerd gives amazing prompts that I can’t seem to be able to not write
It was a bad idea. It was a terrible idea. But Pansy was handing him a new shot, his week had been awful and Potter was looking indecently edible from the other side of the crowded bar in his dark red t-shirt and black pants, which did nothing to placate the fire in Draco’s stomach pit, a fire that could rival with the one that his last vodka shot had burned through his throat.
He should say no. He could still refuse the little glass Pansy held in front of him and go home, pretend he never saw Potter there and that he definitely didn’t care. But then Potter looked at his way, all strong jaw and deep green eyes. Draco downed his second shot.
____________
He wasn’t sure anymore if the heat he was feeling was due to the alcohol in his veins or the pair of eyes that seemed to follow him all night. He could feel them every time he turned to the bar or when he talked to Pansy (who was becoming rapidly tired of trying to pry his attention from another person) but, once he looked at Potter, the man was always talking to somebody else or not even facing him.
“Draco, you’re not hearing a single thing I’m saying. Again.” His friend complained next to him.
“I’m sorry, Pans. I think I’ve drank my limit and I’m really tired so-”
“Just go talk to him, Draco. He hasn’t taken his eyes of you all evening and neither have you.” She said, a fond (although a bit exasperated) smile etching her features.
Draco was shocked for a moment, but his eyes still roamed to where Potter was standing, nursing what seemed like a glass of firewhiskey in his hand while talking to the Weasel.
“Don’t be daft, Pansy. He doesn’t…” He trailed off when he saw the girl dressing her jacket. “What are you doing?”
Pansy rolled her shoulders once and pulled at the lapels of the black leather jacket. Getting on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair lightly, a gesture she knew that wasn’t welcome.
“I’m going home, darling. And you are going to get over there and talk with the object of your dirty dreams.” She winked.
He did wish Potter only frequented his dirty dreams. That would be easy to explain. Him appearing in his daydreams however…
“Pansy, don’t you dare leave me he-”
With a pop, his friend was gone and Draco was left leaning on the counter, slightly tipsy (not enough to cloud his better judgement, but definitely enough for him not to risk losing a limb if he tried to apparate) and staring dumbly at the spot Pansy had occupied a few seconds ago. She couldn’t be serious about Potter, right? Just because they were partners now, it didn’t mean the gorgeous git actually wanted to… to what? Snog him? Fuck him? Date him?
Yeah, right Draco. The blonde thought to himself. That only happens in your regular dreams.
Still, there was something keeping Draco from going home right that instant. He couldn’t quite place it, though. He wasn’t sure if it was the tiredness he felt, like he didn’t have the energy to stand on his own slightly wobbly legs, or if it was the tingling he felt all over his body whenever Potter was near him. It was quite strange. The feeling of having all his body radiating heat but still feel like he couldn’t walk away even if he wanted to.
The problem was… Pansy be damned but she was right. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Not when Potter was still there, so near but oh so painfully far away from Draco’s reach.
And so, he asked for another firewhisky. And he stayed.
____________
Ok, he was officially pissed. Pansy had left an hour ago and in that hour alone Draco had drank three more glasses of firewhisky and two tequila shots. All of those, allied to the few more drinks he had had with his friend, left the blonde in a quite unsteady state and feeling like in a haze. All his thoughts kept rushing to the front of his mind, one in front of the other, crashing and tumbling back to his subconscient, only to repeat the motion over and over again. Draco felt like he couldn’t grasp any of them, like trying to catch water only to have them sliding through his fingers. He wasn’t, however, drunk enough to not realize what those thoughts were about. Or rather, who.
Well, it was all Potter’s fault anyway. The specky git and his stupid kindness, and the stupid unkept black bird’s nest that he called hair, and his stupid gorgeous body, and the stupid sexy laugh that warmed his heart, and the stupid soft voice every time he says good morning when he arrives (late obviously) to their office. And… and… and the simple and easy way he made Draco fall head over heels for him.
Now, here he was, utterly drunk and still unable to look away from Harry Potter, that was currently…
Wait. Where was he? He was just there, right next to Longbottom and talking to Lovegood. Draco remembered because he had been wondering how someone could look so stunning leaned casually on a table and-
“Hi, Draco.”
The Slytherin jumped from his booth, head snapping to his left, from where the heavy voice had come. Green bright eyes met him and he found his mouth dry, throat working soundlessly at the sight in front of him.
“I… I was over there and… and I saw you here by yourself so I thought I might come and offer you a drink?” Harry stuttered, a light red staining his cheeks. Draco wondered why Harry wouldn’t just take his shirt off if he was feeling so hot.
Trying to stay calm and work through the Gryffindor’s words, he stretched his hand to get hold of the counter, aiming for a more relaxed position. However, in his alcohol induced state, he failed the counter rather spectacularly, his weight sending him tumbling straight to the floor.
Suddenly, Draco felt strong arms circling his waist, keeping him from falling face-front with the floor. Next thing he knew, he was being gently pulled into a vertical position again and he found himself staring at the curve of the raven’s neck, hands planted in the broad chest.
It all happened too fast. The skin under his long fingers was warm, even with the fabric separating them; the remains of man’s cologne and firewhisky couldn’t mask the musky unique scent of Harry, that washed over Draco’s senses leaving him even more unstable and with his head spinning; the desire of burying his face in the Gryffindor’s neck became almost unbearable and he could almost swear that the arms holding him tightened for a flick of a second. Only if he could… “Malfoy?” The voice was soft, a calm question but the blonde was so absorbed in his new-found desire of tasting the bronzed skin in front of him that the sound of his name was quickly lost in the noise around them. “Draco?” He asked again, this time a bit more questioningly. At the sound of his first name leaving Harry’s lips, the Slytherin was finally able to shake out of his stupor, finally looking up to meet the green eyes that searched his face. ”I’m going to let you go now, ok?” He wanted to say no. He wanted to scream it. He wanted to stay just a bit longer held by the strong arms that circled him, losing himself wondering how would it be to be held like this every day. He couldn’t however. So, gathering whatever was left of his dignity, he stepped back, out of the other’s embrace. Clearing his throat, Draco finally spoke: “I’m fine, Potter. Err… Thank you. The floor was… slippery.” The arched eyebrow that Potter exhibited told him that he didn’t believe him for a second.
“I am perfectly able to stand on my one, Potter. It’s not my fault people spill their drinks to the floor.”
“The only person in this spot was you all night, Malfoy. And you didn’t spill any drink, much to my surprise.” He argued, eyebrow still in place.
“Why, Potter, you’ve been watching me that intently?” Draco tried to make his heart not to stop at the idea.
Harry’s cheeks became crimson for the second time that night and he spluttered a little before being able to form a coherent answer.
“I just meant… you were here since I arrived and the floor isn’t wet.”
Draco looked at the floor, realizing how dry it was. Not even Longbottom would slip there. “Oh. Right.” He mumbled, scratching his head and still looking down, a bit lost.
Harry must have taken pity on him, because he just chuckled (Merlin, even his chuckle is sexy, Draco thought to himself) and waved a hand dismissively.
“Look, Draco, it’s fine. I just came here to ask if you wanted to have a drink with me but it’s pretty obvious you’ve had your fair share of them tonight.”
Oh, this was not good. The blonde could already feel his drunk brain preparing to do something really stupid and really, really reckless. And wasn’t that saying something considering who he was talking to.
“Don’t make assumptions about me, Potter.” He almost spat.
“I wasn’t! Besides, there’s nothing wrong in drinking a little too much some-”
“I’ll take you up in that offer.” Draco interrupted, not giving it a second thought.
“You… You what?”
He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. He could still ask the bartender to let him use the floo to call Pansy. He should just leave.
“I’ll have a drink with you.”
But he had been making all the wrong choices all evening. Why stop now?
Harry’s eyebrows shot in bewilderment, a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. Nonetheless, he signalled the bartender, asking for two more glasses of the wizarding drink. He looked at Draco once again, still the same expression etching his features. His bloody gorgeous features.
“Draco, are you sure? It’s fine if you want to call it a night.”
“I already told you I’d have a drink with you. Besides, I haven’t drank that much yet.” Ok, he was lying. But it wasn’t his fault anyway. Not when Harry’s eyes were finally set on him. Only him. Also, the sound of his name leaving the Gryffindor’s mouth still made funny things to his stomach. “I’ll stay.”
______________
The moment the words had left his lips, Draco had thought he made the wrong decision. But then Harry had smiled. A slow, tentative smile painting his filled lips, that quickly turned into a full force grin and oh, oh Draco was so lost. He would never know why the prospect of a few more minutes of talk and drinking with him would make Harry so happy. So wonderfully bright. But he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t complaining then, and he isn’t complaining now, as the gryffindor talks about everything and nothing at all. He can’t quite catch everything the man is saying. His alcohol drenched brain doesn’t allow him to. He doesn’t care either. Watching Harry so loose and carefree is enough. He doesn’t even care about the fact that he had embarrassedly admitted he actually enjoyed watching those cartoon muggle movies with his cousin. What were they called? Kidney? Fisney? Oh, yeah, Disney!
No. He really can’t regret the moment he decided he would stay.
Only if the man in front of him would let it be forever…
The blonde shook his head, trying to vanish the wildling thoughts in it, but he quickly stopped as the world swayed in front of him. He was starting to have troubles staying up right. He just hoped Harry wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want to leave yet.
“Are you ok, Draco? I think you’ve really drank your limit.”
Nice moment to stop being oblivious, Potter.
“I’ve told you I’m fine.” Draco managed to assure, although he finally pushed the glass away from him.
The man considered him for a moment before seeming to decide it wasn’t worth the fight and launching himself in the conversation as easily as he slipped out of it. Draco was able to focus on what he was saying. For about thirty seconds. Soon, he found that not having a drink to cradle between his fingers left his hands free to touch anything. He started by intertwine his fingers, willing to keep his hands still. He looked at Harry’s face once again and he noticed the man was still rambling about something he wasn’t really hearing. However, his eyes quickly focused on the movement of the red lips. Well, not exactly the movement but rather how much he would like to run his thumb across the bottom lip and maybe his tongue after. Then his eyes followed the sharp line of the jaw, covered by a light stubble that he wondered how it would feel rasping his skin. But where he truly lost it, was when his eyes skimmed the broad chest that he had been held against just an hour ago. His brain was to foggy, his hands were free without him even noticing it and the desires he’d been trying to contain for months now hit him full force.
Shaky fingers left the safety of the counter in front of him and Draco stretched his arm, his fingertips softly colliding with Harry’s chest in a feather caress, only the tissue separating they’re skins. The man’s breath hitched (when had he stopped talking?) and soon the Slytherin’s hand was completely flattened above the raven’s muscles. Draco didn’t think Harry was even breathing.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He should step back and flee away from there. Except, his brain didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. The only thing that mattered was the man in front of him, the warm skin beneath his and the fact that he was desperately in love with Harry Potter and he had to be drunk to even admit it to himself. He was crazy, he was out of his mind. It was a weakness.
But Harry had always been his weakness.
And the touch was so personal. So intimate. He would hate Draco in the morning. Hell, he would hate himself if he was able to remember it. However, touching him so closely right now made him wonder…
“… how would it be to be close to you.” Draco whispered. He didn’t realize the words weren’t said in the privacy of his own mind.
Harry gasped, and Draco was able to feel it through his hand. It felt wonderfully. He was still dozy from the feeling when he felt the man in front of him step forward and circle his waist with a strong arm, pulling him closer. All too suddenly, the gryffindor’s face was right beside his, barely touching him but not quite. Draco shivered as the lips he had been admiring a few moments before brushed his ear in a quiet whisper.
“Will you dance with me?”
Draco could only nod.
It was a dream. It had to be a dream. Because there was no way that the Saviour, the Boy-Who-Lived, his long-time crush, was holding him through the crowd as they made their way to the dance floor. Once they arrived, had the centre of it, bodies dancing all around them and the music ringing in his ears, Harry held him even closer, their fronts completely flushed together. Wobbly legs, that Draco couldn’t blame on alcohol anymore, did little to support his weight and so he let Harry hold him, not sure he could stand on his own. Harry started to sway and move against him, taking Draco with him and, bloody hell, they might never talk again after tonight but for now… for now Draco had this and Merlin be damned if he was letting go of it.
Dancing with Harry was surprisingly easy. The man knew how to move (Well, what a shock! The git was good at everything.) and the confidence with which he swayed his hips against Draco’s could rival the one he had while riding a broom. Damn, it was intoxicating. Draco knew what he wanted to ride after seeing that. Harry held him song after song, leading them and humming lightly. They’re eyes never met, though. Their cheeks remained pressed all the time, their breaths damping the hairs next to their ears although none of them talked. After some time, Harry started to show the first signs of fatigue. His breaths were coming out sharper and they were dancing slower than the beat of the song. Draco was also starting to feel the effects of the night and the alcohol on his body, his head becoming hard to hold upright. So, since nothing would actually make him regret this tomorrow, he lowered his head onto Harry’s shoulder, his lips dangerously close to the man’s neck. One movement from him and he could suck a purple bruise into the dark skin. The raven, on the other hand, faltered a step when he felt the blonde’s head on him, and he really must have been tired because he was angling his hips slightly away. The Slytherin however, was not ready to let it end already so, summoning the last of his strengths he pulled Harry back to him and…
Oh.Oh.
Mother of Merlin.
Potter had an erection. Harry was hard. He was hard while dancing with Draco. He was hard because of Draco. He wanted Harry for ages and Harry wanted him back.
“Shit.” Harry gasped, closing his eyes as their hard-ons rubbed together. “Draco, I-“
The man lost his ability to speak when moist lips made contact with the warm skin of his neck, an angry red hickey already being formed between Draco’s teeth. Once he let go of the skin, his tongue lapped the same spot he had just marked.
“Fuck!”
Draco didn’t even hesitate. “Get us out of here.”
“Draco, I don’t think you should-“
“Now, Potter.”
Obeying, probably for the first time in his life, Harry took his hand and tugged him all the away to the door, only sparing a moment to throw some galleons into the counter to pay for the drinks. When they finally made it through the door, they were both breathless and Draco’s fingers were itching to touch Harry again. He launched himself at him, only the wall keeping them from falling to the cold floor. In that moment, with Harry’s back against a brick wall and Draco’s front glued to him, they stopped. Their lips were hovering millimetres away and the blonde knew that, if that gap disappeared, there was no turning back. It only took him a glance at the bright green iris, almost inexistent because of the blown pupils, to make his decision. He closed the remaining distance between them.
Harry’s moan the moment their lips touched made Draco feel goosebumps all over his skin. The raven kissed him like he was drowning and Draco was air, it was amazing! Better than Draco had ever imagined. It felt so natural, like they had been kissing for years now. He knew that this would probably be over before the morning arrived, because Harry might want him, but Draco wanted all of him, so he let himself enjoy everything he could while he had it.
All too soon, the Gryffindor was gently pulling away and running his thumb through the blonde’s cheek bone, watching him so intently Draco could see the fire in his eyes.
“Merlin, you’re beautiful. I’m so sorry I never told you.” Harry whispered.
“Please.” Draco whimpered “Take me home.”
“I… I don’t know where you live.” He answered, confusion marking his features. Draco rolled his eyes exasperatedly.
“Yours. Take me with you.”
“But I…”
“Harry, please.” He pleaded while sucking a new bruise in the other’s collar bones.
“Ah, shit. Hold on to me.”
Draco was more than happy to obey. Harry tighten his grip on him and apparated them straight to his flat. Draco only had a moment to take in the dark hall where they were before his legs lost all the strength they had left. Apparition seemed not to be a good idea for someone as drunk as he was. Harry, always being the saviour, caught him before his knees even hit the dark wood floor. Suddenly, it all felt so surreal that Draco giggled. And once he started he couldn’t stop. He laughed as Harry hoisted him up, shaking his head with a fond smile playing on his lips. He was still laughing, his full body leaning on Harry for support, when the man crouched without a warning, picking up the slender man easily in a full bridal style. Draco squealed in surprise and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck when he started to move.
“Potter!” He hissed “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you to bed” He answered promptly, kissing the small pout in Draco’s bottom lip. “Someone, which means you, drank too much tonight. You can barely stay upright, and I saw how much you had drank with Pansy before I arrived. Not to mention the hysterical laugh.” He smirked.
“So, you were watching me all night.” Draco drawled smugly while Harry pushed the bedroom door open with his foot.
The raven sighed sadly, and Draco frowned, suddenly worried.
“Draco, I’ve been watching you since we were eleven. And since you stepped into our now shared office with your irritating pride and confidence and that beautiful face. You have me since that day.”
“Wha- Harry, I… What do you mean?”
The Gryffindor snapped his fingers, and Draco watched as the blanket in the man’s bed backed up, revealing clean, white linen where he lowered Draco carefully. He had to admit it felt good to finally lay down in a comfortable bed. Harry made to step back but the blonde grabbed his wrist, not letting him move anyway further.
“Where are you going?” Draco asked desperately. It didn’t make any sense.
“To the living room, so you can sleep. You’re going to have a major headache tomorrow.” Harry answered neutrally, not quite meeting his eyes. It pained Draco, feeling him so distant when moments before he had him so impossibly close.
“Why?” He pushed, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. Bloody alcohol and its ability for making him such a sappy mess. “Aren’t you going to have me?”
Harry’s eyes snapped to his at that, wide and disbelieving. “I would never do that in the state you’re in Draco. You can’t make your own choices like that. You don’t really want this.”
“You’ll always be my choice, Harry.”
None of the man dared to breathe. They both stared into each other’s eyes, grey into green and green into grey, both searching for something that none of them knew if it was there.
Harry eventually sat in the edge of the bed, close enough to Draco’s hips that he could feel the waves of warm coming from his skin. He rubbed a hand through his face, sighing. When he finally looked again to the grey eyes, Draco could see the indecision swimming in the green. The hand that had previously rubbed so vigorously his face, hovered a little above Draco’s before cupping his cheek oh, so lovingly, and brushing a thumb through the soft marble skin. Harry lowered himself so they were face to face, the blonde’s head still comfortably nested in a pillow. Their lips brushed, as if the raven was asking for permission, and Draco nodded, just once. The kiss was chaste and brief, nothing like the one they had shared outside the crowded club, but it still warmed him inside.
“If you don’t hate me in the morning, we’ll talk. Yeah?” Harry whispered, just a little bit above Draco’s lips.
“Yeah.” Draco breathed, too tired to ask any more questions. They could wait for the morning.
When Harry made to leave again, the Slytherin combed a hand through the black mess in his head and looked straight into his eyes, shaking away the tiredness he felt so Harry could see how much he wanted it.
“Stay.” He pleaded.
The man wavered for a moment before making up his mind.
“Ok. I’ll stay.”
Harry tucked himself under the blanket and pulled Draco against him. “Forever if you’ll have me.”
“I do.”
Magic Tricks - Drarry
A/N: soooo, I'm like /kinda/ buzzed, but not entirely. and I just wrote this, and it might be very bad, but I hope you like it
“WE’RE PLAYING THIS!” Draco exclaimed loud enough to make Harry tumble off of his bed in sheer surprise as Draco obliviously waved around a box of playing cards in the air.
“Merlin, Malfoy. Lower your voice would you?” Harry gasped, clutching at his heart as Draco swayed and turned towards him with an exaggerated eyeroll.
Without saying a word Draco plopped himself onto Harry’s bed, leaning lazily against his pillows. His eyes were hooded and he had a stupid, dazed smile on his lips and rosy cheeks.
How Draco had managed to find his way back to their dorm after getting so wasted was beyond Harry, but he was reasonably annoyed by it. He just wanted to go to bed but now he had to play babysitter to his former-enemy-now-roommate, Draco Malfoy.
“Exploding Snaps.” Draco insisted, nodding to himself. He opened the box of cards and turned it over, watching with delight as the cards fell out into a messy pile on Harry’s bed. “Get up, Potter!”
“Those are muggle cards.” Harry sighed, exasperated as he stood up and brushed himself off before sitting on the foot of his bed, annoyed that Draco had now taken up his personal sleeping area. All he wanted to do was sleep. “You can’t play Exploding Snaps with them.”
Draco’s expression faltered and he pouted, staring inquisitively at Harry, “Why not?”
“Because they neither explode nor snap.” Harry rolled his eyes.
And then, something entirely unexpected happened.
“Malfoy?” Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, sitting up straighter, leaning in slightly. “What? What is it? Why are you doing that?”
Draco didn’t respond. Instead he continued to rub at his face, shake his head, and mutter absolute gibberish to himself in a desperately sad tone.
“Malfoy!” Harry huffed, reaching forward, grabbing Draco’s wrists, and pulling his hands from his face. His eyes widened. “Why are you crying?”
“You think I’m so STUPID!” Draco exclaimed dramatically. He tried to throw his arms up into the air, but he was restrained by Harry’s hands on his wrists and, instead, he did a weird sort of spasm. “I am not a muggle! I do not understand some things sometimes, but that’s okay! I don’t have to be PERFECT! I don’t need your sodding APPROVAL!”
“Jesus Christ.” Harry muttered to himself, releasing Draco’s wrists to rub at his temples in exhaustion. When he found out that he and Draco Malfoy would be rooming together their eighth and final year at Hogwarts, he certainly had not expected this. “You’re wasted, Malfoy. Just go to sleep.”
“I’M NOT TIRED!” Draco shouted, sounding uncannily like a toddler, in Harry’s personal opinion. Draco pushed the pile of cards at Harry, not noticing as several fell to the ground and under the bed, “I want to play with these! Make them magic!”
“Fine.” Harry huffed, picking up the cards and shuffling them into an orderly pile, “But it’ll be muggle magic.”
Draco blinked at him. “What?”
Harry didn’t answer, instead he pushed the deck of cards towards Draco. “Pick a card.”
Draco looked skeptical, but he did, pulling a card from the deck with far too much dramaticism. “I have picked a card.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “Look at the card. Remember it. Put it back in the deck.”
Draco grumbled something, but did as he was told. Harry organized the deck of cards, shuffled it once, and then picked the first card on the pile and handed it to Draco. “Is this your card?”
Draco’s eyes lit up. “How’d you do that? What spell did you use?”
“I didn’t use a spell. It’s muggle-magic, not wizard magic.” Harry explained, struggling to refrain from rolling his eyes again, “Now will you go to sleep?”
“Do it again.” Draco demanded, crossing his arms like a snob, scrunching up his face, “You’re cheating, I don’t believe you.”
“Fucking hell.” Harry groaned, but splayed out the playing cards once more and tilted them towards the Slytherin. “Pick a card.”
Draco did and the process was repeated.
“Is this your card?” Harry asked with clear boredom in his voice.
Draco’s brow furrowed and he frowned unhappily. “Yes, but you’re cheating! You’re just holding onto the card when I put it in!”
“No, I’m not.” Harry huffed. “I’ll prove it to you. You can hold the entire deck.”
Draco considered this for a moment, and then nodded. He selected his card, returned the card to the deck he held, and then handed the cards back over to Harry.
“Is this your card?” Harry asked, holding up a card.
A smug smile overtook Draco’s face. “No!”
“Is this your card?” Harry asked with faux-dramaticism.
“Nope!” Draco was grinning. The corners of Harry’s lips twitched upwards into a brief smile before he stopped himself. No. He was annoyed at Draco. He hated Draco. He was just appeasing him.
“Oh, that’s right. It’s because your card’s right behind your ear!” Harry replied, reaching forward past Draco’s ear and drawing his hand back, revealing the Two of Clubs. Draco’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened.
“That’s my card.” Draco’s whisper was barely audible, with an excited, child-like giggle. Harry didn’t notice the smile growing on his own lips as he watched Draco examine the card in disbelief.
Suddenly, he looked up towards Harry with pure, unadulterated admiration. As though he had been struck by a sudden thought.
“You’re magical, Potter.” He breathed a gasp.
Harry tried to roll his eyes and look unperturbed but he felt his cheeks warm up slightly due to the look he was receiving from Draco. “Yeah, and so are you. That’s why we’re wizards.”
“No.” Draco shook his head, a soft and dopey smile on his lips as he continued to stare unabashedly at Harry. “It’s different. You’re magical in your very essence. Not because of spells.”
“You’ve spent too much time with Luna.”
Draco grinned a wide grin before shifting to his knees, leaning forward, and planting a soft but altogether too-wet of a kiss to Harry’s cheek, making the glasses-wearing boy grow a furious shade of red. “I think that’s why I’ve fancied you all those years.” Draco murmured in a daze, distractedly stroking Harry’s cheek. “You’re not like the rest.”
“Er… Anyone can do those card tricks…” Harry stated nervously, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Draco was so close to him. Had he ever been this close before? When they weren’t beating each other to a pulp, that is. “They’re not hard to do–”
“That’s not what I mean.” Draco gave a drunken sigh before heaving forward and practically koalaing himself around Harry, engulfing him in a tight, unprecedented hug, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. Harry found it suddenly very hard to breathe, and not because of Draco’s strong embrace. “I mean, you should hate me, and you pretend to hate me. But you did those tricks to make me smile, because you’re a good person. I wish I was a good person.”
“You’re really drunk, Malfoy. It’s best that you go to sleep.” Harry urged, trying to pry the other boy off of him.
“Good idea.” Draco mumbled into the fabric of Harry’s tee shirt before readjusting very suddenly, pulling Harry along with him as he flopped down across Harry’s bed, curling up against his body. “And you’re such a nice person that you’ll let me stay like this.”
“What does that make you then?” Harry whispered, tentatively wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist. He could manage to do that and preserve his dignity. No one would know. Draco wouldn’t remember. “Forcing me to cuddle with you?”
Draco giggled into Harry’s shoulder. His breath tickled Harry’s neck. “You’re such a twit. Don’t act like you’re not pleased.” Draco kissed Harry’s cheek once more, a sloppy, messy kiss, before burrowing his head back into the crook of Harry’s neck. “I do hear you moan my name in your sleep almost every night, after all.”
Harry flushed crimson.
“But you’re a good person, so I don’t wake you. I let you enjoy whatever dreams you’re having. I just listen. They seem very interesting.” Draco slurred out, grinning into Harry’s neck.
Harry was mortified. Draco, on the other hand, was perfectly content. His breathing slowed quickly and he eased off to sleep in a matter of seconds, leaving Harry snuggled up against his former enemy, his face completely scarlet.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746286
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SEQUEL: http://madfoot-and-poony.tumblr.com/post/169176615566/morning-after-drarry
Draco: In my defense I didn't know there was concrete on the other side of that fence when I tossed Potter over it.
Hermione: You're both idiots and this is why I should never let you two drink alone.
Draco: ...I may only have a couple beers in me, but... I love you, Granger.
Hermione: I'm still on my first. I just think you're nice.
drunk!draco
Draco: You have great eyes.
Hermione: Are you talking about the way they look or my vision?
Draco: Yes.
Draco: On a scale of one to Blaise, how drunk was I last night?
Hermione: Two. Two Blaise Zabinis.
Draco: Oh Granger, thank Merlin it's you! The last three houses I went to were very rude.
Hermione: Have you been drinking?
Draco: Why yes I have... thank you.
