Luck of the Irish
Harry/Draco, Seamus [PG, 947 words]
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and co own everything. I'm writing for fun and not for profit.
A/N: Repost, unbeta'd, and written for hp_may_madness using the prompt: take a chance on me. Also, I admit this is a bit unorganized, something to get me back into writing after being sick for a while.
Summary: Harry wants to get lucky so he kisses the only Irish person he knows, with interesting results.
Luck of the Irish
"Potter, why in the hell did you think kissing Finnegan would be a good idea?" Malfoy says, following Harry to a table in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, away from all the rowdy people so they can talk, even casting a Silencing charm for good measure.
"Because he's Irish and it's St Patrick's Day? I don't know, I was desperate!" Harry feels his face heat up, and he would rather be home in bed right now after a long shift, but Malfoy insisted that they go out for drinks and he could never say no to him.
"But Finnegan of all people? He's uncouth, clearly drunk off his arse, unrefined-" Malfoy sat in the chair as he continued, knees almost touching Harry's, and Harry fights the urge to fidget in response. It's not easy when Malfoy riles him up so.
"Hey, don't speak about my friends that way, Malfoy! Besides, why do you care?"
Malfoy arches an eyebrow at Harry's outburst. "I don't. It's just that I need my auror partner sane and ready in case anything happens and you kissing Finnegan is clearly a sign that you've gone mad."
Of course, Harry thinks, because it can never be anything else. He hides his disappointment with a sip of his drink and says, "The most people will be at this time of day is drunk, which isn't a crime in itself, last time I checked. However, if anything were to happen, you'd happily throw the book at them."
"Why Potter, is that a compliment? I'm flattered." Malfoy grins at him and Harry looks away, rolling his eyes.
"I don't see how you should be worried; you've been receiving all sorts of offers today- including three marriage proposals," Harry mutters under his breath, but Malfoy still hears him and laughs.
"What, Daphne and her sister? Forget about them, they don't have a chance with me. However, you as the hero should be the one beating them off with a stick and yet you resort to Finnegan? Out of all of the blokes you could have kissed, why him?"
Harry blushes, and not for the first time he ponders the brilliance of walking up to Seamus in the Ministry canteen and kissing him. Oh, right. He was being followed by strangers with requests to kiss him and he wanted it to stop. He knew Seamus wouldn't take it the wrong way and indeed Seamus had winked at him before proclaiming to the crowd that it was a kiss for good luck.
Harry only wants to kiss Malfoy and perhaps do something more. Except if he said that to Malfoy, he would most certainly be laughed at.
"It's St Patrick's Day and I wanted to get lucky and he's the only Irish person I know. Short of kissing a leprechaun, that is. Besides, between the whole 'Kiss Me I'm Irish' and "Luck of the Irish,' I got confused and panicked." Harry's rambling and he know it, but all he can hope for is that Malfoy thinks he's tipsy already.
Malfoy snorts at the remark, saying, "You know, if I were drunk enough, I'd almost believe that. But that makes no sense." He shakes his head points to Harry's outfit of a t-shirt and trousers, all charmed green and says sarcastically, "You've clearly made the effort and dressed to pull tonight. And yet with everyone drunk, you've still no takers."
Harry puts his head down on the table and groans. "Don't you think I know that? Hermione says I'm not forward enough, and that I'll always be alone if I wait for the person I want to make the first move." He sits back up and throws back the last of his drink.
"So who has caught the attention of the Boy Wonder?" The way Malfoy says it casually, as if they are the best of friends discussing Harry's love life, makes Harry forget that Malfoy's just his work partner and he responds with a soft, "you."
Harry's eyes grow wide as he realises what he just said. He can't look at Malfoy now, because he doesn't want to see the rejection that will without a doubt be there. Instead, he just reaches inside his pockets and throws coins on the table, mumbling out apologies as he pushes through the crowd. He's out the door and running to the Apparition point when something catches on the back of his shirt and he's pulled around.
"Look at me, Harry," Malfoy says, and the use of his first name is enough to make him comply.
"What?" Harry whispers, looking up and seeing Malfoy give him a very serious look. It's the kind that he has when he's speaking to Minister Kingsley, but with Harry, there's no politeness, but something akin to desire. His eyes are silver in the moonlight, and it makes Harry catch his breath, especially with the next words.
"Take a chance on me."
"What?" Harry repeats, because right now his heart is beating wildly in his chest at the words he's waited so long to hear.
"You heard me. If you meant everything you've said, then find some of that Gryffindor courage and do something about it."
Harry searches Malfoy's face, doesn't want this to be the result of being drunk, but his eyes are clear and there's only a faint smell of alcohol on his breath that mingles with the evening air.
"Okay, Malfoy, I'm going to kiss you now."
And when Malfoy finally kisses him back, Harry throws his arms around his neck, sliding his fingers through the soft blond hair. The shamrock he had been holding in his hands all day falls to the ground, forgotten.