Bets Off
"I bet Ron a galleon Katie will kiss Tom in the next three minutes." The group of eighth years glanced towards the corner of their joint common room that contained both Katie Fingle and Tom Dalen and set off multiple timers. The motely group were playing a betting game with simple rules: someone bets another person, or the rest of the group that something will or won't happen within a time limit of three minutes. It wasn't the most intellectually challenging game, but it relaxed them after long days of studying, despite the slight tensions between members of the group. As was said earlier, they were a real mix of students, who will be listed here: There were the Gryffindors (Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger (that was a shock to them too), Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, and Parvati Patil) the Ravenclaws (Sophy Fingle, Padma Patil and Zacharias Smith) the Hufflepuffs (Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Justin Flinch-Fletchey and Cormac McMillan) and of course, the Slytherin. None of Draco's 'friends' had returned to Hogwarts that year, leaving him on his own surrounded by lions, badgers and eagles. He was profoundly lonely and so had been driven to 'hang-out' with the annoying war hero people.
Ron groaned. It was a good bet, and he had no intentions of raising the stakes. Katie and Tom had been snogging in the corner for almost three hours now. They waited about twenty seconds before their lips restarted their hoovering and Parvati smiled in victory. It had been an easy bet, but she was in need of the money. Her birthday was coming up and she still needed to get her sister a present.
Draco was rather bored with this round, the most interesting bet was originally for eighty galleons. Fingle bet Potter that he wouldn't tell them all why had turned her down when she had asked him out last week. He had straight up refused, simply explaining he was in no way in need of the money. Looking disgruntled, she paused for a moment, then raised the stakes with a vicious smile. "Fine. I bet eighty galleons, plus both my Potions and Herbology marks for the NEWTs. If you tell, I'll study hard. If you don't I will deliberately achieve Ts in both." For anyone else, the choice would have been a no brainer. But stupid Harry Potter, with his hero complex and strange need to save everyone, including (especially) from themselves, just couldn't make that decision. He squirmed in his seat, then took a deep breath and sat up straight. "I'm gay." The uncouths around Draco dropped their jaws. What? Could they simply not believe their manly hero was homosexual? Draco had always suspected (and secretly taken comfort in) the idea that Potter was gay. When Draco had discovered he was gay before fifth year he had panicked, but after watching Potter's pitiful attempts at romance with the sickeningly soppy Cho Chang he had realised that he really wasn't the only one. Of course, he hadn't discussed it with Potter - why would he? But he was reassured by the presence of another gay male in Hogwarts.
"Well," Draco drawled "that went better than when I told my friends." The group's heads swiveled on their various necks and they stared at him like he had recently grown a second head. "When you told your friends I was gay?" Draco smirked at Potter's ridiculous question.
"No, you idiot, why would I tell them that? Personally, I'm suprised no one else noticed - I thought it was obvious after fifth year, and then definitely after sixth. I meant, when I told my friends that I was gay." The mudbl-Granger's eyes lit with understanding. "I always wondered why Parkinson complained so much when it took you an inordinate amount of time to get changed after playing quidditch. I used to hear about it almost every arithmacy lesson. She was obviously jealous" Ah, it was refreshing to talk to someone with at least one modicum of intelligence. "Very. It got extremely annoying." according to the stares, a third head had just popped out of his shoulders. "but I always assumed you enjoyed the attention." Yes, many people had. "It was tolerable at first, but after a couple of years it became immensely irritating. Eventually, her simpering smiles and limpet impersonations became plain amusing." The group seemed to digest that then Finnegan interrupted "Harry, I believe it's your turn to place a bet." Harry nodded, then smiled. "Justin, I bet you one favour, of any kind, that Malfoy won't have the nerve to come here and kiss me in the next three minutes." The group smiled, that was Justin bound into life service until Harry picked out something he wanted doing. Or maybe not. Draco stilled in his armchair (the only green chair in the entire room) then lifted his eyes to Flinch-Fletchey's. To everyone, not the least Potter's, he rose from his seat. "Move over then, Potter." The unit froze. "Or do I have to move you over myself?" Potter shifted awkwardly to the far end of the sofa he had previously been the sole occupant of.
Draco descended to the Gryffindor's level then turned and leant towards him. The breath was stolen from the room as their lips met. At first Draco was conscious of both the avid stares of the bystanders and Potter's frozen lips, before that stupid, amazing, idiot of a Gryffindor relaxed into the kiss.
It was tentative, a first exploration. Their lips wove around each other cautiously, not sure how to proceed but knowing their was much to be gained if this was continued. After timeless moments, Draco became curious. Slivers of that pure heaven that was the taste of Potter had crept into his mouth and he wanted more. He quickly darted out his tongue to sweep it across Potter's bottom lip. There it was, that mix of marzipan, icecream and the happiness you only find in the places you explore by yourself. It was sweetest heaven, pure sin, and *very* addictive. To Draco's surprise, his absorption of the taste of potter was interrupted. More suprising was that the interruption came in the form of potter's tongue making a path leisurely across Draco's own lips. Eager, he opened his mouth to allow entrance and was immediately swamped by blissful heat. Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips more firmly into harry's however, fate was cruel. After what seemed like millennia, but at the same time nanoseconds, hands yanked on their shoulders and pulled them simultaneously apart, and off the sofa.
Draco looked and met the intense shock of the entire room. It seemed that during their, ahem, session, the entire common room had turned to stare at them, uncomprehending. Unwilling to stare down the only people who could possibly refrain themselves from punching him into oblivion, he turned his gaze to an endearingly red-faced Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. With his ice-cool gaze melted ever so slightly, he inclined his head and stood up. Potter rose with him, and together they strode out of the common room, pausing only outside the entrance to link hand.
Draco tugged on Potter's hand and half guided, half dragged the raven-haired young man to a spot on the outside the forest, a place he had disappeared to frequently during sixth year. The blond collapsed onto a log and pulled his companion down with him. "What was that?" Harry sounded ever so slightly confused "Pot-Harry, that was called a kiss." A slightly below standard smirk shield Draco's uncertainty. In all reality, he wasn't sure quite what to call it. "I knew that. I just didn't expect you to actually do it, I mean, you're Draco Malfoy - Slytherin Sex God and resident Harry Potter nemesis. You're not exactly the first guy I'd expect to snog me." "Really, it was your idea. Considering your taunt, it's almost like you wanted me to do it. So why wouldn't I?" "Hmmm, let me think. Oh yeah, WE HATED EACH OTHER FOR NEARLY SEVEN YEARS AND HAVE ALMOST KILLED EACH OTHER REPEATEDLY!" "But we saved each other too." A silence hovered over the grounds. "And anyway, I don't think I actually ever hated you. Was annoyed, amused, irritated, disgusted, jealous, and still slightly stinging from the pain of rejection yes, but hate? Not so much." "Oh. It's just I always presumed...well, at least after The Bathroom Incident." "The Bathroom Incident? Merlin, I can even hear the capital letters. I mean yes, I didn't like you at all in sixth year, but all that happened then was you walked in on me crying and we had a fight over it. Nothing much." "Nothing much?" I sliced you skin in multiple places and you almost died of blood loss. If that's nothing much, what's a lot?" "A lot is the crucio I sent at you first. I don't think I've ever quite forgiven myself for that." "I have. Forgiven you, I mean. You were upset and not thinking straight, then I came in and acted all aggressive. It wasn't completely your fault." "Really, you forgive me?" "Really." Another silence descended, this one more peaceful. After several minutes of staring out into the lake, Potter timidly broke the silence. "So. What are we going to do?" "About what Harry?" "Well, you fucking snogged me in front of the entire eighth year, I think that's up for discussion. So why did you do it?" Draco sighed and glared momentarily at his Italian leather shoes (even now, Malfoys always had the best) "Ilikeyou," he mumbled. "Pardon?" Harry teased "I said, I like you. A lot." Draco glanced up, then shot his head back down. What happenned to the proud Slytherin? He was acting like a Hufflepuff. "Really?" A tremor shook Harry's voice. "You're not joking?" "No Harry, I'm not joking." Harry seemed to ponder this for an indeterminable moment, before a wide grin split his features.
"Well then, what are you going to do about it?" The golden Gryffindor took on a strangely Slytherin tone. "Wh-what do you you mean?" Draco didn't allow that flirty tone give him a false sense of hope. "I mean, are you going to sit there, or are you going to actually do something?" "Like what?" "Well, you could try and kiss me again, that might be a suggestion." A small smile began to crease Draco's face. "And if i did?" "Well, that's something you'll have to find out, isn't it?"
Draco, a lot more nervous this time, leant towards Harry. His heart fluttered (yes, actually fluttered - what was happening to him?) as Harry swooped in and captured his lips.
Their second kiss was very similar to their first, but still completely different. There was the same initial jolt as their lips met, and the same sweeping passion that washed over every particle of their bodies. But there was no rush, no pressure. The joining was slow and measured, but no less enjoyable for it.
They broke apart slowly, resting their foreheads together. "For real?" the raven-haired man asked. "For real." Draco assured. And it was. Nothing had felt so real in his life.