Chapter Text
“You’re blushing,” Luna said, gently placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Which is funny, because you’re the one who invited me.”
“I know,” Harry muttered, sipping his punch and staring at the dance floor where people were twirling in soft pastels. “I just didn’t expect him to show up.”
“Draco Malfoy? He’s allowed to attend, you know.”
“I didn’t mean that I--” Harry groaned, then muttered, “He’s just looking over here like he knows something.”
Luna tilted her head. “Well. He does.”
Before Harry could ask what that meant, a voice far too close--and far too pleased with itself--cut through the music.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the boy who begged me not to leave his bed last weekend.”
Harry choked on his drink.
“Malfoy!” Ron barked from behind him, already halfway out of his chair. Hermione grabbed his arm instantly.
“Oh, please,” Draco said smoothly, not even looking at Ron. His eyes were locked on Harry. “It’s not like I’m telling lies. Am I, sweetheart?”
“Draco,” Harry hissed through clenched teeth, cheeks blazing, “we said we wouldn’t talk about that in public--”
“You said that,” Draco replied, stepping closer, one hand ghosting over Harry’s lower back. “I said I’d try.”
“You didn’t try at all!”
“I’m trying right now. Trying to behave myself. Trying not to drag you out of this sugar-coated disaster and remind you how well you don’t behave when I touch you.”
Harry squeaked and practically jumped three feet away. “You’re insane.”
Draco looked delighted. “Only for you.”
Ron surged forward again. “I swear to Merlin--”
“Ron,” Hermione hissed, digging her nails into his sleeve. “You promised.”
“I didn’t know he’d be groping Harry in public!”
“I didn’t grope him,” Draco said mildly. “Yet.”
Harry slapped his hand away. “Malfoy!”
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t love it. You’re walking around in tight trousers, hair all tousled, biting your lip like you want me to misbehave.”
“I am not--”
“I’m only a man, Potter,” Draco said solemnly, before completely ruining it by leaning in and whispering, “A man who really, really wants to bend you over the Prefect’s desk.”
Harry made a sound that was part gasp, part groan, and part mental breakdown.
Ron actually growled. “Say one more word and I will--”
“Do nothing,” Draco said calmly. “Because I’m not the one keeping secrets from my friends.”
Harry’s breath caught. “Don’t--”
Draco turned toward Ron and Hermione with an elegant shrug. “You lot didn’t know, did you? That your precious Golden Boy is a complete brat in bed. Whiny. Loud. Clingy--”
“I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU,” Harry shouted, shoving Draco backwards, face flaming. “What part of ‘keep it private’ did you not understand?!”
Draco didn’t look the least bit threatened. He looked smug. Dangerously smug.
“Oh, you like it when I talk,” he purred. “You beg me for it.”
Hermione covered Ron’s ears like she was babysitting a toddler.
“Draco, I swear on Merlin’s grave, I will--”
“You’ll what?” Draco said lazily. “Tell them how many times you begged me not to stop? How you bit my shoulder when you--”
Harry slapped his hand over Draco’s mouth, mortified.
“You’re done.”
Draco licked his palm.
“OH MY GOD--”
“Alright,” Hermione snapped, now gripping Ron with both hands as he lunged, red-faced. “We’re going outside. Now.”
“I’LL HEX HIS--”
“Ronald Weasley. Out.”
They disappeared out the ballroom doors, Ron screaming all the way.
There was a long silence.
Harry, still beet red, stood glaring at Draco.
“You’re evil.”
Draco tilted his head. “You’re mine.”
Harry let out a sound halfway between a groan and a whimper. “You said you’d behave.”
“I said I’d try.”
“You flirted with me in front of everyone. Ron almost passed out.”
“He deserved it.”
“You told them I bit you!”
“You did,” Draco said with a grin. “It was adorable. You were desperate. Want a reenactment?”
Harry turned and walked quickly toward the hallway. “I’m leaving.”
Draco followed, hands in his pockets. “I’ll walk you back.”
“No, you won’t.”
“You don’t want to go alone, Potter. It’s dangerous. Someone might corner you in the hallway, pin you against the stone, and whisper the filthiest things you’ve ever--”
“Draco!”
He caught up. Grabbed Harry’s wrist.
Harry turned, breathless and flushed. “Why are you like this?”
Draco leaned in, voice suddenly quieter, closer.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because you make the ugliest shirts look hot. Because I hate how everyone else gets to look at you when you’re mine.”
Harry blinked. The realness in his voice made his chest clench.
“You’re--serious.”
“I’m always serious when I’m in love,” Draco said. “Even if I’m also constantly on the edge of ravishing you on a dessert table.”
Harry bit back a smile. “You’re disgusting.”
“You’re blushing again.”
Harry tried to look annoyed. Failed. “You’re still not getting another dance.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Then I guess I’ll just have to distract you another way.”
And he kissed him.
Messy. Possessive. Full of teeth and hands and way too much tongue for a school hallway.
And Harry?
Bratty, blushing Harry?
Melted.