Chapter Text
When Harry returns to his dorm in the middle of the night, his robes still dripping, he has a bit of explaining to do. Ron pulls him out into the common room immediately, without a word. He forces Harry into a chair and casts a warming charm. Harry hadn’t even realised he’d been shivering.
“Are you okay, mate?” Ron asks, taking the seat opposite.
Harry really wants to say yes. And go to bed. He shakes his head.
“What happened?”
Harry hesitates. He isn’t sure Ron has pieced together his rather obvious feelings for Malfoy yet. “I kissed Dra – Malfoy.”
“You kissed – bloody hell.” Ron sighs. “We need Hermione. Hold on.” He casts a patronus to wake Hermione. Harry doesn’t even have the energy to be impressed.
Hermione appears at the top of the stairs minutes later, hair wild, arms crossed. “Ronald Weasley, it’s past midnight. What – Harry?” Her face softens and she descends the stairs to reach them both, staring down at Harry with concern. He must look terrible.
She casts a drying spell, and another warming spell that by far surpasses Ron’s attempt. Harry instantly feels better. He wishes there was a similar spell for his heart.
“He kissed Malfoy.”
Hermione takes a seat beside Ron. “Was it any good?”
“Hermione!”
Hermione ignores Ron and leans in to Harry. “Well, was it?”
Harry nods. At least for him, it was.
Clearly noticing Harry’s vacant gaze, Hermione’s face begins to look skeptical. “Are you two dating now?”
Harry shakes his head.
Hermione’s eyebrows knit together, her mouth becomes small. “Do you think you’ll kiss again?”
Harry shakes his head again. “He said he didn’t want to. Ever.” The words sting him a second time as he repeats them.
“That bloody twat,” Ron spits, standing up. “Who does he think he is? Like he’s going to do any better than the chosen one. He’ll regret that. Want me to go make him regret that?”
The thought of Ron going after Malfoy isn’t completely unwelcome. There’s a part of Harry that’s angry with Malfoy, angry that Malfoy put so much into that kiss only to reject Harry. That part of Harry is very eager for revenge. But the rest of Harry, the larger part, is sad. And very much in love with Malfoy.
“Just leave him. Maybe if I give him some space, he might – maybe he just doesn’t want me. I thought even now, he’d still feel the same. I still feel the same. But he doesn’t. I love him. And he doesn’t.”
Harry blinks as fast as he can to hold back the tears he can feel at the edges of his eyes. He’s not going to cry over Draco bloody Malfoy.
“You love –“
“Ronald,” Hermione interrupts with a warning glare at Ron. She turns to Harry. “He must still feel something. He kissed you back, didn’t he?”
Harry nods. He remembers it vividly.
Hermione gives Harry a gentle smile, it’s probably supposed to be comforting. “Give him space if you think that’s what he needs, but don’t give up, Harry. We all know Malfoy isn’t the most straightforward person. It’s probably going to take him a little longer to make sense of his own feelings for you.”
Harry wants to believe it. More than anything.
Malfoy seems to be adamant on making Harry think he is ignoring him, without actually properly ignoring him. Harry might usually be an oblivious fool, but since his attention is focused on Malfoy whenever he is within visibility, it’s quite easy to notice the way his eyes drift over to Harry every so often, always disguised with a reason – a turn of his head as he coughs, a roll of his neck as he stretches, a twist of his torso as he itches the middle of his back. They’re all novice moves that Harry is very familiar with.
It’s particularly infuriating because Harry can’t even call him out on it. He knows if he does Malfoy’s just going to deny it and push Harry away again. But it doesn’t make sense! He doesn’t feel the same way Harry does. That’s obvious. But he feels something. Maybe it’s only small but it must be there. Or why else would Malfoy have kissed him like that? Why else is Malfoy watching Harry from behind his Defence Against the Dark Arts book, attempting (and failing) to be discreet?
It’s all Harry can take. He stands up and strides towards Malfoy, ready to yank that stupid book from his hands. But he hasn’t been paying attention to class. So, when the rest of the class also stand up and start pairing off, he’s not exactly sure what is happening. But Malfoy must. Because he groans as Harry approaches him and tries to shove him away.
“No, not you. Anyone but you.”
Harry looks around in confusion and then up at their teacher, Professor Varas. She is smiling at Harry. “Good idea, Mr. Potter. I think the two of you will be well-matched.”
Harry turns back to Malfoy. His confusion must show on his face because Malfoy sighs as if dealing with a child and explains. “You’ve just nominated yourself as my dueling partner, Potter, without my permission.”
Professor Varas addresses the class. “Please begin when you and your partner are ready. I shouldn’t be hearing any verbal spells except the odd Protego, but it’s best if you also practice this non-verbally. Remember, you shouldn’t just be shouting the spell in your head. You need to recall the feeling of that particular spell and summon it from yourself, from your wand. Be gentle with each other!”
Before Harry can even raise his wand in preparation, he is thrown backwards by a silence force. Instinctively he points his wand at Malfoy to disarm him, but Malfoy throws up a silent shield charm and then throws something else back Harry’s way. Harry dodges the spell’s path as he pulls himself up from the floor.
He and Malfoy stare at each other for a moment, both wands raised and at the ready. And then they’re off again, casting, twisting, dodging, shielding. The challenge is that Harry has no idea what spells he’s avoiding and shielding, no idea what kind Malfoy is sending his way. No idea the consequences if he’s too late to defend himself. It’s intimidating. But also, a little thrilling.
Professor Varas is right. Malfoy does seem to be the perfect match for Harry. He’s quick. When Harry hesitates, Malfoy is already spells ahead. When Harry pummels him with his full force, Malfoy dodges effortlessly, as if already knowing where Harry will aim. But although Malfoy seems to move at ease, he’s doing quite a bit of it, tiring himself out. Harry knows if he can just keep the duel running for as long as possible, Malfoy will slow down and leave an opening.
Sure enough, Harry witnesses Malfoy start to slip up, he’s still dodging Harry’s spells but the misses are near, the movements only just fast enough. He summons his remaining energy and uses it full force to attack Malfoy with spell after spell, needing only one to break through and hit him. And yes – there it is – right in the chest. Malfoy is sent careening up and backwards. Now Harry just has to disarm and – but no, Malfoy’s about to hit the ground and Harry reacts instinctively, forgetting about the duel and casting a cushioning charm on the floor before impact.
He moves to check on Malfoy but in his hesitation, he has underestimated his dueling partner. In less than a few seconds, his wand lurches out of his hand, and he is forced to the ground, red ropes of smoke twisting around his body and holding him in place. He has lost.
Harry looks up to find Malfoy staring down at him in anger, which doesn’t seem to make sense considering the circumstances. Malfoy releases Harry from the spelled smoke and throws Harry’s wand to the floor, before striding from the classroom.
Harry hastily picks up his wand and stumbles to his feet to follow, dashing out of the classroom, hoping he can still catch up.
He does.
Malfoy turns to face him in the corridor, his face a familiar scowl. “What did you do that for? You let me win.”
“I didn’t let you. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Malfoy’s eyes close a moment and he lets out an angry sigh before replying. “It’s a duel, Potter. We’re supposed to hurt each other.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Harry can’t understand how that could have angered Malfoy. “Why are you being like this?”
Malfoy rolls his eyes. “I don’t bear you any bad will, Potter. Just don’t give me any special treatment.”
“What do you mean by that?” Harry asks.
“Don’t hesitate in a duel just because you think you care for me.”
Harry blinks. “I do care for you.”
Malfoy laughs, and the sound reverberates unkindly in Harry’s ears. “Merlin, Potter. You probably still think you love me as well.”
“I – “ Harry hesitates, his stomach twisting into a thousand impossible knots – “I do love you.”
Malfoy stops laughing. His face turns hard. “You don’t love me, Potter. You don’t know me. You have a fantasy of me but it’s not real. You’re in love with him.”
“But he…I mean that was you. A part of who you are.”
“So was the Draco Malfoy who tried to kill you. If your boyfriend’s a part of me, then so is he.” Malfoy hard face drops now, the harsh lines giving way to something much sadder. I’m not the good guy you think I am.”
“Yes, you are.” Harry finally understands, the knots in his stomach begin to unravel. Why didn’t he see it before? “This is why you’ve been pushing me away. You don’t think you’re good enough.”
Harry can see in Malfoy’s face that he’s right. He takes a step forward wanting to comfort Malfoy, but Malfoy steps back at the same time, quick as he was during the duel.
“You can't have it both ways. If you choose to believe in the good in me, then you also believe in the bad.”
"There's evil inside of you, inside all of us,” – Harry knows that more than most – “but it’s our choices that make us who we are. I watched the good and evil sides of you fight and it was your good side that won. That's who you are.”
Malfoy looks past Harry’s shoulder, avoiding his eye. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re in love with someone else. You’re not in love with me. As I really am.” Malfoy takes a shaky breath. “I’m not perfect like him.”
Harry supposes Malfoy has a point. Perhaps he doesn’t know this Malfoy well enough to truly be in love with him yet. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to. That doesn’t mean they should give up before they’ve even begun. He stares at Malfoy intently, and waits until Malfoy finally returns his gaze before speaking.
“Then let me fall in love with you,” he asks. “Give me a chance. I don’t want you to be perfect. I want the competitive Draco Malfoy, the quick-witted Draco Malfoy. I want the Draco Malfoy who isn’t afraid to duel me. the Draco Malfoy who will kick my ass in Quidditch. I want the Draco Malfoy who challenges me, the Draco Malfoy who calls me out on my shit. I want all of you.” He drops his voice to a whisper, conscious his voice has been raising with every word. “Let me fall in love with all of you.”
“You won’t,” Malfoy says, his eyes falling to the floor, voice breaking.
“I might.”
Malfoy scoffs. “Very convincing, Potter.” He looks back up at Harry, his hard face returning. “I know what you want.”
Harry almost laughs in disbelief at Malfoy’s stubbornness. “Haven’t you been listening? It’s you I want, irrational, competitive, arrogant prat that you are. I want you.”
Harry means to go slow now. He wants to hold up Malfoy’s chin, and run a hand through his hair. He wants to lean in slowly and feel Malfoy’s breath on his lips before he goes in for a gentle kiss. He wants to make Malfoy see how much he really does care for him, exactly as he is.
But Malfoy’s quicker. His hands reach out and yank Harry’s head towards him, crashing their mouths together before Harry even knows what’s happening. It’s like the Quidditch pitch all over again, but this time there’s no gentle lead in, just Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy clinging onto each other in wild desperation, lips moving in perfect jagged time.
Harry swears he can feel pelts of rain falling down upon his back again, despite the tall Hogwarts ceiling above them. It makes him forget where he really is, makes him forget that anyone could stumble upon them in this corridor. So he allows himself a little recklessness. Allows himself to be lost in his passion for Malfoy. And Malfoy gives as good as he receives.
Harry ends up - much to his delight - pressed up against the wall of the corridor, one of Malfoy's hands gripping onto his shirt as if he might rip it off at any moment and the other in Harry's hair. And his mouth, merlin, Malfoy's mouth, crashing down on Harry's again and again.
Everything feels right.
When their lips finally release each other, Malfoy is panting openly into Harry’s neck, letting Harry hold him up. And that gives Harry more satisfaction than the kiss itself.
“Does that mean you’ll let me fall in love with you?” Harry asks softly into Malfoy’s ear.
There’s a small pause before Malfoy responds. “Fine. But you better hurry up.”
“Wh – “
“Because I’m already in love with you.”
Harry’s heart beats a little louder. “You’re in love – “
“So, it’s only fitting that you catch up quickly,” Malfoy mumbles into Harry’s neck, starting to shower him with small, gentle kisses.
Harry has to stifle his laughter. Falling in love with Draco Malfoy? He can’t think of anything simpler.