Disclaimer: Harry and Draco belong to the ever-divine, fantabulously spifftacular J.K. Rowling. She's said she doesn't mind if we play with them. Scholastic and other publishers have a claim as well, as do Warner Brothers; and Warner Brothers don't like us to write this sort of thing. I've written it anyway, but please, WB, don't sue me. I promise I haven't got anything you want.
Warning: This fic is slash. If you don't know what that means, it means boys kissing other boys (and, in many cases, doing more) and liking it. A lot. If that offends you, sod off and read something else. Shoo.
Author's Note: This fic is dedicated to Mr Harry Potter, who turns twenty-two - well - has already, really, as it's after one a.m. GMT. (A/N within A/N: I tried and tried to post this last night, dammit!) Happy Birthday, Harry. This is my first finished Harry Potter fic (though perhaps it's more of a ficlet), as well as my first HP/DM slash. I'm so very proud.
"What are you doing here?"
He was beautiful, there in the moonlight, standing over the small hill of presents to which I had come to add. Those ridiculously endearing glasses slid down his nose, and he raised an annoyed hand to shove them into place.
"I, Potter?" I climbed carefully through his open window, pulling my Nimbus 2001 in after me. "I am here to wish you a happy seventeenth birthday.
"Oh, right," he said.
"I've brought you something."
"Yeah, Avada Kedavra on the end of a ready wand, I'm sure."
"Potter!" I gasped, feigning shock. "I'm - well, not quite shocked or appalled, but certainly deeply offended that you believe I would come here to kill you."
"All the evidence says you'd love to do it." He glared at me. "You do, after all, hate me."
"Oh, no, Potter." I grinned my best shark-like grin. "You're the one of us doing the hating."
"Whatever, Malfoy - clearly - "
"I tried," I continued, "to be your friend. You snubbed me."
He stood with his mouth open for a moment, then shut it. "I never thought of it like that - you were insulting Ron - "
"He'd just laughed at my name, Harry, which I happen to like very much."
He seemed annoyed by how reasonable I sounded. "Cut the crap, Malfoy. Why are you here?"
"I told you, I've brought you something. Hang on a minute - " I did not blush as I held out the small velvet box; that is an unsubstantiated rumour. "Happy birthday, Harry."
He didn't take it. "How do I know it isn't cursed?"
"Oh, honestly, Potter." I opened the box myself. "Anyone would think you were a Slytherin." I offered it again.
He gasped, staring at the gold and silver ring inside. He didn't know it, but the sentence "Je t'aime beaucoup, mon amour" was inscribed around the inside.
"I hope you like it," I said. "That is, I spent rather a lot of money and I wouldn't like to think it had been wasted - "
"It's beautiful," he said quietly. "Malfoy, why on earth would you give me something like this?"
I looked away. "I should think it was obvious."
There was an awkward silence.
"Well," and I cleared my throat, "again, happy birthday, Potter - "
"Malfoy - "
" - if you don't like your gift, I'm very sorry you haven't any taste - "
" - wait - "
" - and I suppose I'll see you at school - "
" - Draco - "
I turned. His eyes were shining, somehow green in the nearly colourless darkness.
He was standing very close to me.
"Thank you," he whispered.
I smiled.
"I am sorry," I found myself saying, "for the record - about how I've behaved."
"Draco - "
I shook my head, closing my eyes briefly. When had my arms gone around him? "If you continue to say my name in that tone, I can't be held responsible for my actions."
He smirked, the infuriatingly adorable prat. Leaned his forehead up against mine.
"Draco," he wispered, almost against my lips, and I kissed him fiercely.