Disclaimer: yah yah yah. Not mine.
A/N: ehehehehee. This one was thought up whilst doing the ironing. What amazing inspiration, eh? Mind you, I am amazing. So.
A deep breathe. Music thumping away in the background. A step forward.
"Would you care to dance?"
A blink. A pause. A peer up from behind a bottle of butterbeer.
"I probably would care."
Another pause. Another blink, but from the other this time.
"Care what?"
"To dance."
Eyebrows raised. A smirk that would've suited the other boy better,
"Is that a no?"
"Is that a chair?"
A pause.
"Yes. It is."
Another pause.
"You won't dance?"
"I don't come to balls to dance."
Eyebrows shoot up even higher. The old sarcasm returns, and the old names.
"The what do you do, Potter?"
"Socialize"
A big pause. A deep breathe. A step forward.
"Alright then. Would you care to socialize?"
A wider smirk, almost a smile though he never smiles at this boy.
"No."
Get up. Stroll away, idly swinging the still half-full bottle. Footsteps. A grab at a swinging arm.
" Why. Not?"
A slight smile.
"I don't socialize with people who don't know me."
A deep breathe. Hold the arm even tighter, nails digging in. A hiss in the other boy's ear.
"I do know you."
A pause. A blink. Continue, gabbling to try and get it all said and done with.
"I know how your favourite colour is green but you're scared to tell your friends because Weasel would get annoyed and Granger would laugh. You have a little toy dog that you've told nobody about and you keep it under your pillow. It used to be called Jack, but now you call it Sirius.
I know that when you're stressed you like to sit by the lake and listen to your own breathing. I know how you used to have nightmares about giant teddy bears coming to eat you. I know you're terrified of strawberries, but wouldn't admit to it if anyone asked you.
I know you hate mushrooms, but eat them just to prove you can. I know how sometimes you miss the spiders in your cupboard.
I know the scars they never ever remember, from all the times you ever fell. I know how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, but nobody ever notices because your glasses get in the way.
I know how once, in the holidays, you magicked your eyes blue for a dare, and felt so bad about it afterwards when you looked in the mirror and didn't see your mum, you cried.
I know you, Potter."
A pause. A blink. A hesitant smile, and the eyes crinkle at the edges. The grip tightens, and is returned. Repeat, in a whisper that tickles his ear.
" I know you, Harry Potter…."
Lips touch, softly and briefly. A smile. A reply.
"I know."