All in the Cards
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
AN: Done for the Candyland Pairing Challenge Game on HPFC.
Although technically speaking they didn't ever plan to meet up like this, in the unspoken rules of their nighttime escapades it was Harry's turn to sneak into the kitchens and bring the hot chocolate and snacks out to the Great Hall.
Justin was lying on the Hufflepuff table with impunity, easily identified by his curly hair, which always stuck up even worse than Harry's after he'd been sleeping on it, and the pale flash of his bare feet where they were dangling over the edge of the table.
This whole unspoken tradition had started up during the last month of their second-year when Justin was still having nightmares about his petrification that left him unable to fall back asleep.
Harry, who'd always had regular nightmares—and who'd nearly died down in the Chamber—could definitely understand how the image of that monstrous basilisk rearing up would stick with you, and not in a good way, had offered to keep Justin company since they were both awake.
And so their little routine had been born.
Harry wasn't exactly sure what was prompting Justin to continue their nightly meet-ups, since the cheerful boy had confessed mid-way through third year that he almost never had the terrifying nightmares that were keeping him awake before. But Harry, who was still a chronic insomniac, was grateful that Justin kept sneaking out of Hufflepuff after hours to meet up with him.
And now here they were nearly four years later.
"Brought you hot chocolate and some of that lemon cake stuff you like," Harry said, hopping up next to Justin on the thick oak of his house table, "The house elves saved what was left over from dessert for us."
Justin tilted his head back to grin at him properly, "Thanks Harry, you're the best."
Harry felt his heart flutter for a beat at that smile before leveling out again, and took a sip of hot chocolate, hoping to hide the sudden flush that'd risen to his cheeks.
Recently it had become more and more obvious to Harry just how amazing Justin was, he was really handsome and nice and so friendly, once they'd gotten past the misunderstandings of their second year, and just how much Harry liked him.
Every crooked smile sent his heart into contortions in his chest and he'd been captivated to the point of obliviousness by the plays of light over the swooshes and whorls of his curls more times than he cared to think about in the last year or so.
It was like everything that he already liked about Justin was suddenly that much more.
And Harry would be the first one to admit that he didn't have even the foggiest idea of what to do with that.
"Wanna pick up where we left off?" asked Justin, brandishing a deck of well-worn muggle cards and a tiny stub of candle.
"Sounds good," agreed Harry, "It was 4-3 right?"
"Yep," agreed Justin, popping his 'p' energetically and sitting up, crossing his legs lotus-style and bouncing his knees in excitement.
"And you won the last one so it's my deal."
Harry set about shuffling the cards, trying to not pay any particular attention to the occasional knock of Justin's knee against his and concentrate on the game.
He'd lost their last round mainly because he'd been too busy staring at Justin's mouth to pay attention to the cards he was putting down. Though Harry maintained that it was totally unfair for Justin's nervous tick to be chewing on his decadently full lower-lip like that.
A couple of hands in Justin drew a card from the deck, and flashed Harry a mischievous grin. Harry's heart leapt somewhere into the region of his throat and he suddenly had a hard time swallowing.
"Hey Harry, why don't we make this a little more competitive, yeah?"
"What did you have in mind?"
Harry was pleased that his voice sounded normal. Hell, at the flash of that smile Harry was glad that he'd managed more than a strangled croak at all.
"Whoever loses the next hand has to do a penalty of the other's choosing, sound fair?"
"Penalty? Like a dare?"
"Basically, yeah. What do you say?"
Harry glanced down at his cards, he didn't have a terrible hand but he didn't have one he exactly felt comfortable about betting with either. With Justin's grin so tweaked to the mischievous end of the spectrum it was probably a bad idea—but what the hell, Harry was a Gryffindor, it was practically in his job description to take stupid risks.
"Alright," Harry agreed, taking a long draught of hot chocolate—now more like thick chocolate milk—and wishing for a bit of firewhisky since the chocolaty beverage wasn't cutting it as liquid courage.
The hand played out pretty closely for a while and Harry thought he might have a chance to take it from Justin, that the Puff had gotten a bit cocky with one good card.
Basically as soon as he'd had that thought though Justin laid down a fatal blow that neatly won him all his tricks in one fell swoop and left their score at 5-3.
"You knew there was no chance I was going to win that hand, didn't you?" sighed Harry.
"Very astute of you," grinned Justin widely tucking his hands under his butt and leaning backwards on them.
"Alright then," Harry said, running a hand through his hair, "Spit it out, what do you want so badly you had to hustle me for it you shameless card-sharp."
Before Harry had time to reach his vision was filled with golden whorls and twists and there was a soft, warm, and slightly raw pressure against his mouth.
Harry flailed slightly and tried to get his bearings a bit, not having expected that at all. Instinctively his hands shot out to steady himself on Justin's knees, and he closed his eyes, returning the kiss as best as he could with what limited experience he had to draw on.
Distantly he realized that Justin was shaking slightly under his hands, faint tremors that would have had his knees knocking together if he'd been standing upright.
Still, Harry couldn't believe his luck. His heart felt like it had grown wings and was now attempting to fly straight out of his chest and tingles spread all through his body when he dared to reach up and tangle a hand in Justin's hair, discovering that, yes, in fact, it was a soft and plush as it looked.
Finally they had to part for air, and to rest their jaws a bit.
"Not much of a penalty, was it," Harry managed to retort, breathing heavily, his fingers not relinquishing their grip on Justin's hair.
"Guess not," agreed Justin, beaming from ear to ear, "But I'm not complaining."
"Neither am I," said Harry, towing him in for another quick kiss.
"Loser of the next hand plans the first date?" suggested Justin, cocking his head to the side in question.
"You're on," agreed Harry eagerly—never mind that he had as little idea about what to do for dates as he did about what to do when you had a crush—he found it didn't matter who won the next round, he was flying far too high to care about anything beyond Justin's foolish grinning and the slightly bruised feeling of his lips.
Which was probably why Justin won the hand, again.