Work Text:
“So. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day” Malfoy says and drops down on the bench next to Harry. Ron and Hermione, sitting opposite them, freeze in shock. Harry turns to him, swallowing a gulp of pumpkin juice and says, with complete calm,
“So I hear. Didn’t peg you for the sort to care about such things.”
Ron vaguely registers that there is a disturbing lack of insults, hexes or anything of the sort happening in this moment. He is yet too shocked to do anything to rectify the situation. But, surely, this is not what is supposed to be happening, this early in the morning at that. He turns towards Hermione, partly hoping she will do something about this bizarre, honestly terrifying thing that is happening in front of them, right now. Unfortunately, she too seems to be rooted to her spot.
“I certainly don’t.” Malfoy replies with his patented snobbish sniff, not even turning fully towards Harry, just sort of glaring at the table. “But… it has come to my attention that a rather large number of the bints in this school do care.”
“Um, excuse me. What is happening right now?” Ron asks feebly, once he has regained his ability to move a muscle. He thinks that he should start shouting, spring out of his seat, curse Malfoy, anything. Except that this calm way in which sentences are being exchanged is throwing him off completely, so he only manages the quiet, almost tepid question. He sees out of the corner of his eye Hermione looking on, face still pinched in an expression of half-shock, half-contemplation.
Neither Harry, nor Malfoy seem to hear him.
“You are noticing this now? Have you not been attending this school in the past seven and a half years?” Harry says, now fully looking at the blond Slytherin, face still mostly giving nothing away, except for a slight flicker at the corner of his mouth, suggesting he is repressing a smile.
“Shut up.” Malfoy turns too, and glares at Harry. “On the way to breakfast, I heard no less than three girls announcing their intentions of sending a card, or a gift for the oh-so-brave-and-handsome Savior. ” There is the sneer again. Now is the time. Now, Ron is sure, Harry will finally snap out of whatever daze he is under and hex the git to hell and back.
No. He does no such thing. He just sits there, allowing the little smile to curl his lip.
“Is that so? Wow. Interesting. Anyone I know?”
No, this definitely will not do, Ron decides and clears his throat more forcefully “Harry. Seriously, what the hell is going on?”
“Shush, Ron, I think Malfoy is staking his claim.” Harry says, only turning his chin in Ron’s direction, not taking his eyes off the blond. And, WHAT?
“Although, I am not sure exactly what his plan is. I mean, sure, sitting here, that is already causing quite a bit of a stir,” he makes a vague gesture, encompassing the whispers taking place all over the Great Hall, and continues “but really, if these lovely girls are as determined as you seem to think, I doubt they’ll just forget to send me a card, even with all this fascinating gossip material being generated at the Gryffindor table right now.”
Oh, okay, Ron thinks. He is not exactly sure when Harry decided that they are grown up enough not to hex each other, and is set on the path to destroying Malfoy with sarcasm and wit. Which, if he is being completely honest, is not entirely as satisfying, but he will admit that his best mate is quite good at it, so he supposes he will get behind the plan.
Except that doesn’t explain why Malfoy is not throwing curses. If he hated the Slytherin even a little bit less, Ron thinks he would be concerned about his mental health. The thought prompts him to look over at the Slytherin table, to find Malfoy’s sycophantic lackeys staring bug-eyed over at them. This, at least, makes Ron feel better, because he is not the only one who feels like he dropped into a weird alternative universe this morning.
“I told you to shut up, Potter” Malfoy says and then… Well. Then, Ron thinks, hell freezes over, Dumbledore and Snape rise from their graves and Voldemort reincarnates into a cute puppy. Malfoy kisses Harry.
Not only does he kiss him, but he grabs the front of his robes and yanks him to himself, casing Harry to seek support with one hand on the table and the other tangled in Malfoy’s hair. And they continue kissing, and Harry makes horrible, horrible pleased noise and Ron just sort of dies.
They finally separate with a vomit-inducing smack of the lips. Malfoy pats down Harry’s robes, straightening them out, smirks at Harry and stands up, all the while stealing a pastry from his plate. “How about that claim, huh?”
Harry just blinks and then turns with the biggest smile on his face back towards Ron and Hermione, who doesn’t seem to be breathing exactly as much as Ron himself. The most disturbing out of all of the terribly disturbing events up till now, is that Harry does not seem surprised, just extremely happy, like he has received a cherished, much anticipated gift. As an afterthought he turns around and shouts over the absolute silence that has befallen the Great Hall,
“Oi! Do I have to get you a gift then?”
“Certainly. Something terribly expensive and lavish” Malfoy calls in return, before settling himself in his own seat.
Finally, finally, Ron gets over his shock, splutters, gesticulates wildly, attempts a few questions and settles on
“HARRY, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”