---

Sex with Potter was always rough. All claws and teeth – a hand wrapped around Draco’s neck, fingernails on Draco’s hips, and Potter’s filthy mouth panting against Draco’s ear.

“I fucking hate you, Draco.” 

Satisfaction bloomed within Draco at the frustrated expression plastered upon Potter’s face, knowing he’d been the very cause of it. 

~

They had been in the Ministry Gala not even an hour before, with Potter’s green eyes piercing through Draco from across the table. Draco made sure they’d been seated right across from each other, so he could slide his socked foot up Potter’s leg. 

Potter ignored him at first, but there was no mistaking the tightening of his fingers around his glass. He tried to close his legs a short moment after Draco settled his ankle against Potter’s knee, but Draco thought quicker than him, sliding his foot right on Potter’s wool-clad crotch, trapping it between Potter’s thighs. 

“The wine is exquisite, Minister,” Draco praised, licking his lips as Potter let out a soft gasp when Draco pressed his foot more firmly against Potter’s clothed cock. 

“I’m pleased to hear it suits your fine taste, Mister Malfoy.” Shacklebolt smiled proudly. “I hope you’ll be as delighted with our dinner. I especially picked out the most luxurious Jamaican dishes, and I plan on developing a trade of goods between my home country and Wizarding Britain this year.” 

“I’m sure the dinner will be just as ravishing,” Draco drawled, eyeing Potter before he made a show of closing his eyes in delight when the first dish was served in front of them. 

Draco settled his foot on Potter’s inner thigh for the entirety of their meal, brushing his heel against Potter whenever he spoke to someone else at the table. Potter tolerated it, until Draco dragged his foot along the length of Potter’s entire cock, now fully hard. 

Potter visibly jumped, earning him looks from almost everyone around the expansive dining table. 

“Alright, Harry?” asked Weasley, glancing suspiciously at Draco before turning his gaze back at Potter. 

“Yeah,” Potter said, breathless. “I just need some air. If you’ll excuse me.”

Potter left the table without another word, and Draco followed halfway through his meal, as to not be too suspicious. 

He found Potter outside, hidden behind the grand oak tree Draco was certain was older than the both of them combined, a cigarette between his lips as he leaned against the brick wall. 

“Took you long enough,” Potter spat, flicking off his fag and crushing it beneath his boot. 

Before Draco could come up with a snarky remark, Potter crossed the space between them, latching is hot, wet mouth against Draco. Out of habit, Draco slot his knee between Potter’s legs. 

But Potter seemed to have a different idea, backing Draco to the wall and snogging him senseless until Draco had to pull away to catch his breath.

“Potter–” 

Without another word, Potter flicked his hand, and a silk magically appeared around Draco’s wrists, tying them together and pinning them in place above his head.

Oh. 

“If you’re going to act like a cock-hungry whore, you’re going to get treated like one.” 

Draco barely had any time to grasp what was happening when Potter knelt before him, hurriedly unbuckled his belt, and pulled his trousers down along with his pants. He inhaled a sharp breath when the cool autumn air hit his cock. 

Potter made a show of mouthing at Draco’s tip, lapping around it like some – well, some cock-hungry whore, but Draco was too occupied with the velvety warmth of Potter’s mouth to make his point. 

“So big,” Potter moaned. “So fucking perfect for me. You like this, hm?” He took Draco even deeper, only pulling off to spit on his palm and wrap a first around the base of Draco’s cock. “You like my throat around your dick? Tell me you like it, Draco.” 

“I love your mouth,” Draco gasped when Potter started fucking Draco’s cock into his mouth hungrily, desperately. “I love it when you suck me off like you’re made for it, Harry.” 

They only called each other by their names whenever they fucked. It was not something they particularly agreed on, but neither of them had complained in the past six months, and Draco hadn’t exactly thought of calling Potter by his first name outside of their rendezvous. 

Potter’s eyes, lightning green and striking, stared through Draco as he opened his throat a bit more, taking Draco deeper than he’d ever taken him. Draco shut his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowing as Harry’s name fell from his lips. “Harry, god, don’t stop. Fuck – fuck --” Pleasure rose from the depths of him, his knees growing weak, mouth going slack, and fingernails digging through his own palms.

On the brink of Draco’s orgasm, Harry pulled off, and the pleasure stopped. 

Draco opened his eyes to find Potter wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, tucking Draco back into his pants and smirking devilishly as he rose from the ground. 

“Don’t like the taste of your own medicine?” Potter smirked. 

“Fuck you, Potter.” 

“With pleasure.” 

~

The Apparition to Potter’s flat made Draco dizzy, as though he just downed an entire bottle of whiskey. Upon trying to balance himself, he realised Potter didn’t even bother to untie his wrists. Draco shut his eyes and braced himself to fall face flat on Potter’s hardwood floor, but Potter wrapped a steady arm around his waist, unabashedly pressing his fucking crotch against Draco’s arse. 

“Bend over.” Potter’s breath was hot against Draco’s ear. 

“What?” Draco asked, bewildered. “Right here?” 

Without another word, Potter vanished both of their clothes with a flick of his wand. Draco shivered, gooseflesh rising on his skin as Potter’s magic wrapped around him like an intoxicating curse.

Potter placed a firm palm on the back of Draco’s neck, guiding him to the red velvet couch and bending him over. 

“Draco –” 

Draco smirked, cheek against the cushion as he looked back at Potter smugly. He arched his back even more, relishing the surprise on Potter’s face as he eyed the plug nestled into Draco’s hole. 

“Draco,” Potter sighed. He reached for the base of the plug, pressing a firm finger against it and pushing it back. Draco closed his eyes, breath hitching as pleasure jolted within him. He knew there was no other way to end this night than to fuck Harry – or rather, be fucked by Harry, so Draco got himself ready earlier that evening by fucking himself with his fingers at the thought of Harry. Both for the intent of preparation and because he knew Harry would like it. 

“Fuck me, Harry,” Draco panted. 

Harry was already hard, pre-come glazing the tip of his pink cock. He pumped himself a few times, gaze never leaving the sight of the plug in Draco’s arse. Draco’s mouth watered at the sight. He wanted Harry to fuck him now, the desperation nearly all-consuming.

But Harry had different plans. He pinched the base of the plug between two fingers, pulling at it before letting go with only the tip in, and letting Draco’s body pull it back. 

“Oh.” The protest was at the tip of Draco’s mouth, but pleasure and want only kept building up within him. So, he resorted submitting rather than complaining. “Oh, Harry.” 

“Yeah?” Harry hummed, fucking the plug slowly into Draco. “You like that?”

Draco closed his eyes, mouth going slack as he tilted his hips higher. He could come like this – untouched, only by the mercy of his plug and Harry’s fingers. “Hmmpphhh – Harry, fuck, fuck, fuck —” He was close again, cock sensitive from rubbing against the velvet couch. He thrashed under Harry, whimpers falling from his lips like a whispered prayer, a promise, a curse – begging for Harry to let him come. 

Without warning, Harry pulled the plug from Draco’s arse. Draco gasped. He could feel himself gaping and dripping from the lube, his hole desperate to be fucked. 

Harry shifted above him, dipping the cushion with his weight. Draco braced himself to be filled by Harry’s cock, but something wet, hotter, and softer pressed against his hole.

The moan that spilled from Draco’s mouth would’ve embarrassed him if it weren’t for the scorching pleasure soaring through him like lightning blazing through a sky. Harry’s mouth kissed Draco’s hole, tongue prodding at it like Draco was something to devour. 

Draco had never come from rimming before. No doubt, it was pleasurable to him, and it aroused him to the point of neediness, but he never found it to push him over the edge. It was a pleasure that crossed the line but not quite enough to finish him off. 

Until the moment Harry inserted a single finger alongside his tongue, pumping slowly until he was knuckle deep. Draco wanted to cry from it. He was certain he’d do anything just to come – he’d live and die and go to the ends of the earth if it meant Harry made him come by his tongue and finger. There wasn’t anything Draco wanted more. 

But like all the pleasure brought by Harry tonight, he pulled away, leaving Draco panting, desperate, wanting, on the verge of madness from it all. 

Draco was limp and boneless, sedated by being brought to the edge, as he let Harry turn him over to his back. 

“Fuck you, Potter,” he said weakly. 

“I fucking hate you, Draco,” Harry said. Both of them knew it didn’t matter if they hated each other or not – not when Harry was finally pushing inside Draco with a punched out gasp. 

The tension coiled within Draco like a whirlwind brewing through a thunderstorm. A tear rolled down his cheekbone when Harry’s cock slid inside of him, overwhelming relief rushing through him. Harry started moving, slowly and earnestly at first, like Draco was delicate and untouched. Like he was someone in need of softness. 

Sex with Potter was always rough. All claws and teeth – a hand wrapped around Draco’s neck, fingernails on Draco’s hips, and Potter’s filthy mouth panting against Draco’s ear. 

But sex with Harry – his Harry, was always gentle. Soft lips mouthing at the intricacy of Draco’s silver scars; calloused palms caressing the expanse of Draco’s body; lightning green eyes rolling back from pleasure. 

Draco didn’t know who he wanted more. But he’d always been a selfish man, unashamedly so. He decided he wanted to have them both. 

With what was left of his strength, he hiked both of his legs up and settled them atop Harry’s broad shoulders. Harry opened his eyes, mouth slightly agape in surprise as Draco gazed up at him in challenge. 

“Fuck me like you hate me, Potter,” he said through clenched teeth. 

Harry let out a breath, eyes darkening as he held Draco’s calves on his shoulders, hips pistolling into Draco like he was being paid for it. He fucked and fucked until Draco was reduced into aching hunger, his mouth only ever knowing how to moan Harry’s name. 

Above Draco, Harry was a powerful storm blazing through his violent desire. He was anger and rage and fire bursting into flames – a feverish desperation clinging to Draco’s bones. Draco wanted only to have him – all of him – both Potter and Harry. He thought he could die from it and live for it. He would kill for it. 

He opened his eyes just in time to marvel at Harry in all his orgasmic glory – mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed as he pumped his hips harder and faster. Like he was desperate for this as much as Draco was. Like there was nothing he craved more than being inside Draco. 

It hit Draco when Harry opened his eyes in post-orgasmic haze, starlit emerald eyes telling more than words ever could. 

I hate you; I hate you; I love you. 

ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (E, 21k)

“They just… they want to satisfy an itch, Potter. It’s not… It’s not really the same.” Harry pressed a kiss on Malfoy’s lips. “They don’t want to wreck you like I do, you mean.” “Yes.” “Do you want to be wrecked, Draco?” “Fuck, yes,” Malfoy groaned. “By me? Or by anyone?” “By you.”

Just a trial run (E, 9k)

“You had a fantasy about paying to have sex with me?” Potter asked, frowning. Draco snorted. “No, just having sex with you in general. Potter’s eyes glazed over. “How – How old is this fantasy?” Draco took a sip of his drink. “Quite old.” “You wanted to fuck me at Hogwarts, Malfoy?” Draco’s eyes were on him, appraisingly. “Isn’t that what that was all about?”

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (E, 6.7k)

Harry’s face grew warmer, his heartbeat picking up. Malfoy reached out and put his hands on Harry’s hips, pressing against him, his front to Harry’s back. “I bet –” He kissed Harry’s neck. “I bet I could turn you around, tug your tie just slightly, and you’d fall on your knees for me.” Harry shut his eyes, not even bothering to hide the small noise that escaped him. “Yeah,” he said. It was true anyway. He tilted his head a bit, baring his neck for Malfoy, and Malfoy’s hands tightened on him. “I’d do that.”

Truth be told (E, 2.3k)

Malfoy smirked. “Really, Potter. I should have guessed you just wanted to be fucked.” He slid a hand under Harry’s shirt and a moan escaped Harry’s throat. “You do, don’t you?” “Yes,” Harry groaned. “I thought we’d already established that.” Harry was on bloody Veritaserum, had just spilled his guts in a room full of Slytherins, and it was all Hermione and her stupid inter-house parties’ fault.

At wand point (E, 2.8k)

Harry’s mind went hazy, sluggish. “Blackmailing me, Malfoy?” Malfoy smirked. “It’s not blackmailing if you offer, Potter.” He leaned in slightly, lips almost brushing Harry’s, and murmured, “You are offering, aren’t you?” Harry wanted to pull him into a kiss, wanted to drop to his knees and mouth him through his trousers right there and then. Instead, he said, “What if I am?”

Imperio (E, 3.8k)

Malfoy caught Harry’s hair and yanked it back hard, still panting against Nott’s cheek. “What is it? Tell me.” “I don’t like it when you kiss him,” Harry said obediently, because he didn’t, even though he was too turned on and blissed out to find it really upsetting. “Oh?” Malfoy said, sounding delighted, and then laughed and pulled Nott into a furious snog again, Nott’s cock brushing Harry’s parted lips. Harry swallowed at the sound of their moans. “Like this?”

Good (E, 300)

“So good,” Draco murmurs, stunned and a little breathless, lips dragging over Harry’s jaw. “Are you always this good, Potter?”

Why (E, 100)

“This is fucked up,” Draco says, and Harry bites down on his thigh. “Why?” “Fucking hell, Potter,” Draco whines. Harry adds another finger. “Yesterday, we weren’t even on speaking terms.”

Under the Invisibility Cloak (E, 100)

“Shhh.” Draco flicked his thumb. “You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

You can, now (E, 100)

“Like that,” Ginny murmured. “Open your mouth. You’ve wanted this for so long.” Harry whimpered. He let Ginny guide his head forward, let Draco’s cock slide past his lips. “You’ve wanted him all along, haven’t you?”

i.

Everyone knew. They never said anything, of course, but it was no secret. On nights when Draco didn't make it back to the Slytherin Common Room, nobody wondered where he was. He was safely tucked away in bed next to none other than Harry Potter, staring at the ceiling and fighting off feelings of remorse.

He had done a lot of things in his life; a lot of things he regretted terribly. More than that, though, he knew there were a lot of things that were going to be asked of him— things that would take away what little humanity he had left. Fear consumed him and he was suddenly freezing, despite the heavy blanket thrown over him and the warm body pressed to his side.

Draco begins to wonder how it is that the Chosen One could possibly love him— him, the antithesis of everything Harry stands and fights for.

Just as these thoughts are starting to overwhelm him, he feels himself being pulled to his left. He turns his head to see green eyes staring back at him from under a mop of sleep-mussed hair. Harry hoists himself a little higher in bed and pulls Draco the remaining distance to his chest, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and running his other hand from the top of Draco's head to down between his shoulders in a slow, soothing motion. Draco lets out a shaky breath and buries his head in Harry's chest without a word.

It always happens like this: Harry wakes up just as Draco is about to be consumed by his negative thoughts and his fears (Draco has no idea what wakes Harry every time but Merlin's Beard is he always thankful for it), pulls him close and just whispers quietly to him.

"It's alright," Harry murmurs against his ear, the soothing motion of his hand not wavering. "Stop being so hard on yourself. You're not a bad person."

"Yes, I am." Draco chokes out, his words thankfully muffled by Harry's shirt.

"No," Harry coos, tightening his grip around his lover's shoulder, "You're not. You're a good person and I promise you, we will get through this together."

Draco lets Harry's comforting words lull him to sleep.

ii.

"You know, you sure spend an awful lot of time with Potter now," Pansy drawls, leaning her elbows on the table and staring at Draco over her plate of breakfast. Draco doesn't know what to say in response to that, so he sneers instead. "Are the two of you dating now?"

"I—" Draco stops and thinks for a moment. Were they dating? They studied together, they went to Hogsmeade together, they shared a bed, for Merlin's sake, but they had never actually discussed whether or not they were dating.

Pansy, seeming to understand where Draco's thoughts were taking him, raised an eyebrow, "You haven't talked about it? What do you do when you're up in Gryffindor tower all night, then?"

Memories of the previous night flash through Draco's mind. He knows Pansy is thinking of something much dirtier, but he lets her keep her images. Telling her what actually happened somehow felt wrong— like he would be letting her in on one of their most intimate moments. Harry always told him there was nothing to be ashamed of, but Draco still wasn't willing to share that soft side of Harry with anyone else.

"Oh look," Pansy leans back, "Here he comes now. Looks like you'll finally get your chance."

As if on cue, Harry walks up to the table, rucksack slung over one shoulder, tie crooked. "Ready to go? We need to work on our Herbology assignment."

Professor Sprout, seeming to have a sense of humor, had paired the two up for a Herbology project in which they were charged with raising a plant together. "Sure," Draco muttered, grabbing his own rucksack, shooting Pansy a final look and trailing Harry out of the great hall.

iii.

They had been sitting in silence in the library for twenty minutes. Harry, to his credit, was at least attempting to work on the Herbology assignment. Draco was staring blankly at his book, mind wandering frequently back to what Pansy had said. How had he never thought to clarify this with Harry?

"Potter, are we—" He began, only to cut himself and turn slightly red.

Harry looked up from his book, green eyes questioning. "Malfoy?"

For a long time, Draco had bristled every time Harry referred to him by his last name. It still made him feel like they were enemies. He had said so to Harry at one point and Harry was more than willing to give Draco a try, but that felt even more wrong to both of them and Harry kept slipping up and saying Malfoy anyways, so they had agreed to just stick with what they knew.

"That is, er, I was wondering..." Draco averted his eyes back to his textbook, the intensity of Harry's stare making him more nervous than he already was. "You know, we spend a lot of time together and we do all these things, but are we, you know... dating?"

Harry’s eyebrows rise in surprise and Draco curses himself for asking. He should have just left it alone, but now he’s gone and spoiled a perfectly good thing. Typical.

“Well, yeah.” Harry replies, sounding amused. “At least, I thought we were.”

This time it’s Draco’s turn to look surprised. He clears his throat and meets Harry’s gaze head on. “Yes, well, so did I. I was just… checking.”

It starts as a small tilt of his lips but soon Harry isn’t just smiling, he’s outright laughing. Laughing so loud a few people glance their way in the library and shush them. Harry clamps a hand over his mouth and tries to muffle his laughter while Draco stares on, a mixture of anger and bemusement at his apparent boyfriend’s laughter.

Finally, when Harry composes himself again, he reaches out and grabs Draco’s hand on the table. Draco considers pulling it away, but they’re dating and everyone already knows anyways, so there’s no reason for him to. “I’m sorry,” Harry says, the smile still on his face, “I just thought it was one of those things, you know? That went without saying?”

“Right, right,” Draco replies, “I knew that.”

And that was that.

iv.

Except, that wasn’t that.

Because, even though Harry said they were dating and seemed completely okay with the fact that it was unofficially official, Draco isn’t okay with that. He is dating Harry bloody Potter, and Harry deserved the best. So, he had began planning almost immediately and now his plan was ready. His only problem was getting Harry to go with him, but he had an idea for that, too.

“Hey Potter,” Draco calls as he caught up to Harry in one of the hallways.

Harry turns to look at him, his two best friends flanking him. They still couldn’t go a full day without antagonizing each other— Draco suspected they never would be able to— and that worked perfectly for him. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“I saw you try that spell in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Pretty Pathetic, I’d say.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry challenges, taking a step towards him, “And you think you could do it better?”

“No, I know I could.” Draco remarks, his infamous smirk adorning his lips.

“Why don’t you prove it then, Malfoy?” Harry snaps. He is closer now and Draco can see that it is friendly rivalry reflecting in his eyes, not the old hatred. Still, Harry couldn’t turn down a challenge when presented with one.

“Fine,” Draco says. “Tonight. Room of Requirement.”

“Why there?”

“So that way nobody else has to watch you get your ass kicked.”

Harry chuckles dryly, “You just don’t want anyone else to see you lose,”

“We’ll see, Potter. When you’re limping tomorrow, they’ll know who won.”

“You’re on,” Is all Harry says before stalking off again.

v.

The hallway is cold, and Draco paces back and forth in front of the door to the Room of Requirement. The doorway had appeared for him after a few moments, but he refuses to enter without Harry. He had sent Harry a note in their Potions lecture to specify the time. Draco had come a few minutes early but Harry is still a few minutes late.

Finally he comes marching down the hallway, wand in hand. Draco is relieved to see that he is alone.

“Ready to lose, Malfoy?”

Draco doesn’t say anything. Instead, he steps aside and gestures to the doors with a flourish. Harry squares his shoulders, throws the doors open and barges in. Draco follows him in and nearly runs headfirst into his back when Harry stops suddenly. The doors swing shut behind them and fade back into the wall.

“What is all this?” Harry asks, looking around.

The room is simplistically beautiful— and stereotypically romantic. The lights are dim, save for the candles that filled the room with beautifully flickering light, and rose petals are scattered all over the ground. Sitting in the middle is a table, decorated with a simple red tablecloth and a vase of roses in the middle. Two chairs sit in front of two plates of delicious looking food, and two goblets sit next to the plates, filled with wine.

Draco reaches out and grasps Harry’s hand, “This is all for you.”

“For me?” Harry asks, turning to stare at Draco with wide green eyes, “But why?”

Instead of answering right away, Draco leads Harry to the table and they take their seats at opposite ends. Draco looks across the table at Harry and thinks for a minute that he’s so lucky— and it’s such a rare thought that it startles him.

How is he lucky? He’s indebted to Lord Voldemort, cursed more people than he would ever like to admit, and likely going to die at a very, very young age. And yet, somehow, he had won the heart of the Chosen One— the hero of all heroes. He somehow managed to get Harry Potter to sit across from him in the Room of Requirement and stare at him with loving green eyes over a romantic candlelit dinner. That’s how he’s lucky.

Corralling these thoughts, Draco finally speaks. “I know you’re fine with how things are, Potter. But I wanted to do it right. I wanted it to be officially official.”

“Wanted what to be?” Harry presses.

“Us,” Draco answers honestly. “I want to officially ask you and so I’m bloody well going to.” Their eyes lock across the table, “Harry Potter, will you be my boyfriend?”

Even in the candlelight, Draco sees the way Harry’s eyes water. “Yes,” He whispers breathlessly.

And Draco is instantly on the other side of the table, hands gripping Harry’s face and kissing him because now they are actually dating. Harry Potter, his boyfriend. Harry is laughing and kissing him back and for a moment, Draco has never been happier.

Finally they separate and eat the meal laid before them. They talk idly over dinner and Draco realizes how nice it is just to be close to someone. As they head to the door, however, Draco stops Harry.

“If you ever tell anyone about this, Potter,” He warns, and Harry grins, “I swear to Merlin I’ll hex you.”

Harry only replies with a kiss before they slip back into the real world.

vi.

Harry’s already going to be late to class. He’s in the bathroom, washing his hands in a rush when he hears the door shut and the unmistakable sound of a spell being cast. He glances up in the mirror just in time to see Draco turning away from the door and walking further into the bathroom.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, “We’re going to be late to Transfigurations. McGonogall’s going to kill—”

Draco doesn’t pause or slow down at all. He continues striding into the room confidently, roughly grabbing Harry’s shoulders and throwing him against the nearest wall. Harry opens his mouth to protest but is met with a searing kiss instead. Draco presses firmly against Harry, his hands holding Harry’s head in place as he continues to press kisses against his lips and jawline. Harry instinctively reaches up and laces his fingers through the silky blonde locks. Draco always complains when Harry plays with his hair, insisting that he has to look presentable since Harry’s hair is always an incorrigible mess.

Finally, there’s enough of a break that they can talk, “What’s this about?”

Draco meets his eyes, “I know you told Granger and Weasley” he says.

Harry freezes for a moment before smiling sheepishly, “Honestly Malfoy, you couldn’t expect me to not tell anyone.”

“I believe I promised to hex you if you told anyone, did I not?” Draco pulls away just as suddenly as he arrived, flourishing his wand. Harry faintly hears the door click open. “You better watch your back, Potter.”

vii.

The rest of the day goes on without event and Harry forgets completely about the threat of a hex looming over his head. He hustles out of his last class of the day, nearly darting through the hallways to get to the Great Hall in time for dinner. He’s not particularly hungry— he had a free period just two hours previous and ate then— but he doesn’t want to miss the daily routine of eating with Hermione and Ron.

He’s just about to enter the Great Hall when he faintly registers a voice calling his name. Before he has a chance to figure out what words follow his name, his feet freeze to the ground and he nearly topples forwards. He pinwheels his hands for a moment before stabilizing and looking around.

Across the entrance is none other than his blonde boyfriend, wand out and smug grin on his face. “I thought I told you to watch your back, Potter.”

“Malfoy!” Harry roars, pinning the boy with a malicious look. “Undo the hex right now.”

But it’s too late. Students are gathering and chuckling at the Boy Who Lived. Draco crosses the hall slowly, circling around Harry as if to admire his handiwork. Harry is outright fuming by the time Draco comes to a stop in front of him, smug grin having spread even wider across his face.

“Aren’t you going to head to dinner, Potter?” Draco drawls, laughter lacing his voice. “Oh, wait.”

“Let me go, Malfoy.”

“No,” Draco says, before adding, “But maybe I’ll feel more generous after I eat.”

He turns to head to dinner and Harry all but growls after him. “If you don’t let me out, Hermione will when she comes along.”

A moment passes before Draco backtracks and leans in so close to Harry that his lips are brushing his ear. “No, Potter, she won’t. I’ve had a little chat with Granger and I think you’ll find that you’re at my mercy tonight.”

A slew of negative phrases runs through Harry’s mind but Draco has already retreated into the Great Hall and taken his seat, preventing Harry from using any of them.

viii.

It took Draco nearly an hour to finish eating and exit the great hall. In that time, Harry had come up with his revenge and was nearly giddy to use it. Nearly the entire student body had walked past him, a few offering to free him from the hex but he always refused. If Malfoy wanted a public battle, he was going to get one. Harry would absolutely rise to that challenge and he intended to win.

“Well, would you look at that,” Draco drawls as he finally exits the great hall at last, his tie hanging a little looser around his neck. Harry refuses to focus on that, “So much for being Mr. Popular, huh? Not a single person bothered to undo this hex on the Chosen One.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, trying his absolute best to bite back a grin. “I guess nobody likes me as much as you do.”

Instantly, Harry sees the color draining out of Draco’s face. His pale hair and skin make his eyes pop out even more than usual. “Surely I don’t know what you mean, Potter.”

“Oh give it up, Malfoy, the whole school knows we’re dating.” Harry replies breezily, reaching forward to try and grab a handful of Draco’s robes.

“Yes, that may be but—”

“I guess I should say they assume we’re dating. I don’t think they know about the room of requirement, though. You remember: the candlelight, the flowers, the romantic dinner set for—”

Draco is immediately in front of Harry, faces so close that their noses are practically brushing. At this point Harry can’t stop the grin from spreading across his lips as the crowd of students that has formed around them watches on with unadulterated glee. He can hear the whispers spreading around them now. Harry didn’t care— he was used to being the subject of gossip. He supposed Malfoy was, too, but it seemed to burrow a little deeper under his skin. If Harry had to guess, he would say it was because the rumors about him that normally spread were awful and entirely untrue.

“Don’t you dare—” Draco hisses.

But Harry is undeterred. In fact, it spurs him on. He is nothing if not competitive, after all and Draco, of all people, should know this. “Don’t I dare what, Malfoy? Tell the school how I feel about you? I’ll shout it from the rooftops if I bloody well want to. I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

Draco reaches into his robes and pulls his wand out, hastily muttering under his breath and freeing Harry from the hex. Harry adjusts himself, finally able to move again, but he doesn’t go anywhere. “Just go back to your common room, Potter.”

At this point nearly the entire great hall has emptied out and pooled around them in a large circle. Harry can see Hermione and Ron nearby as well as Crabbe and Goyle no doubt waiting for a command from their fearless leader. It is exactly like so many situations they’d found themselves in before— except this time it isn’t hatred welling up in Harry’s gut. It isn’t animosity, disgust or even disdain. The feeling that was slowly uncoiling inside of him is entirely different.

He looks across at Malfoy and all he sees is Malfoy in the middle of the night, hair messy but eyes wide awake. He thinks of Malfoy smiling down into his textbook after reading a note Harry had sent across the classroom. He thinks of the weight the other boy carries on his shoulders and the way the world constantly and consistently underestimates him. Harry is the chosen one, but he isn’t anywhere near as strong as Draco and he knows it. He looks at the situations Draco has been thrust into and wonders how he would’ve handled them. Surely not as gracefully.

“No,” Harry says in a moment of boldness. The feeling in his gut is slowly seeping into every inch of him, making him ignore the weight of all the stares on his back. He meets Draco’s gaze head on and he can see the question in his eyes, can feel him wondering exactly how Harry is going to embarrass him next. Harry smiles, dropping his voice so that it’s clear it’s meant for Draco and only Draco. “I loved our date in the room of requirement. I love our study dates. I love waking up to you in the middle of the night, Malfoy. I love it all and I’m not going to apologize for that and I’m not going to shy away from that and if you want to hex me again, feel free to do so because I won’t take it back.”

“Potter—”

But Harry isn’t done. “I will say it every day if I have to, but I love all of those things. And most of all, I love you, Malfoy.”

The words slip out suddenly and Harry almost wishes he could take them back, Not because they’re untrue but because he feels like it should have been said more intimately, in private sometime between just the two of them. But then he remembers that he’s Harry Potter and this is his supposed nemesis, Draco Malfoy and, even though he may not like it, he realizes that a public declaration is the absolute epitome of them as people and certainly as a couple.

Draco is staring back at him, shell-shocked, lips parted in surprise. The entry hall has gone silent as they watch on, waiting for Draco’s response. Hair can feel his breath coming is shallow bursts as he waits for some sort of response. As the seconds tick on, he finds himself wishing he were facing a dragon during the triwizard tournament again because that was infinitely less stressful than this.

Finally, finally Draco moves. He closes the already miniscule distance between them and catches Harry in a kiss nearly as searing as the one they’d shared in the bathroom earlier in the day. Harry finally grabs that fistful of robes he’d been reaching for earlier, tugging Malfoy until they were flush together and kissing him back with all the fervor in the world. As Draco threads his fingers into the hair at the base of Harry’s neck, the entire hall erupts into cheers around them and Harry can feel the smile on Draco’s lips as they kiss again.