Hexed

Harry sighed. Quidditch had been tough as per usual, but their game against the Slytherins was just the last straw. Having the crowd sing "Weasley Is Our King" didn't help anything either – Ron was just as nervous as his first game of their 8th year, not two weeks ago, and he had let in not one, but seven goals. Harry shuddered at the dramatic lost they would have suffered, had Harry not caught the snitch seconds before Malfoy snatched it.

Malfoy. It was his fault that the Slytherins sang that song that put off Ron, and it was his fault that Ron felt so self-conscious on the Quidditch pitch. He marched out of Gryffindor common room, one thing on his mind. Malfoy.

Draco sighed. The Gryffindor Golden Boy had not talked to him in two weeks, and two weeks' worth of insults were bursting to get out. He had to taunt him – about his friends, about their pathetic win, about his stupid hair, and his stupid eyes, and his stupid glasses, and that stupid way he grinned with only his friends…

Shaking himself, Draco rushed out of the Slytherin common room, one thing on his mind. Potter…

The two ran into each other on the fourth floor hallway. It was a hallway that held a secret passage that led right to the Slytherin common rooms, but Harry supposed he wasn't to know that. That was information privy to only the Slythergits, and those who wielded the best map known to wizard kind – the Marauder's Map.

Draco fell backwards, landing on his ass, while Harry fell onto his knees.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

"Just the person I wanted to see." They said in unison.

"What?" they asked, again in unison.

"I want you to stop that stupid song the Slytherins were singing today at Quidditch." Harry said, his eyes practically glowing with anger. He had recently become quiet when angry, and this was a sure sign that he was about to explode.

"Even if I could stop them, I wouldn't. It's beyond amusing, watching Weasel fail miserably game after game!" Draco smirked, and watched as Harry grew more and more silent.

"Malfoy, I'm warning you. Stop the song, or you'll wish you had never run into me." Harry glared with cool anger.

"Oh?" Draco's smirk only deepened.

"That's it!" Abandoning his wand in his pocket, Harry punched the blonde-haired boy in the face. Shocked, Draco paused. He touched his nose gingerly.

"Am I – am I bleeding?" Draco said, looking curiously at the blood dribbling out of his nose.

"Yes. You are. And now we're even. You'll also stop those gits from singing that song, understood?" Harry glared at his nemesis, slightly guilty about breaking Draco's nose.

Draco nodded absent-mindedly. He slowly picked himself up, and watched the Golden Boy saunter away.

The next Quidditch game, the Slytherins were silent, under threat of Draco Malfoy. They did not know why, they just knew that if anyone started singing "Weasley is Our King" that they would quickly be receiving one of Draco's stinging curses.

Ron managed to save some goals now, no longer thoroughly embarrassed enough for the whole of England. He even managed to save a spectacular goal in which he had hit one of the Hufflepuff beaters in the head with the quaffle. Gryffindor once more had won the match, and they cheered loudly as everyone left the pitch. Harry spotted Draco as he was exiting, and nodded a thank you.

Draco smiled for the rest of the day.

A month had passed, and Draco began to miss the Golden Boy again. He had not taunted, hexed, teased, bullied or even talked to the Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die in four weeks, and for some reason, Draco felt like he would implode if he didn't talk to him soon. Even if it was just to say hi. Gathering up what little courage Slytherins possessed, he exited his Slytherin dorm room with one thing on his mind. Potter.

They ran into each other this time in the charms corridor on the third floor.

"Potter."

"Malfoy"

"You know, we really need to stop running into each other like this." Harry said, rubbing his forehead which hurt with a dull ache. Expecting some response like "Well you should watch where you're going, four-eyes" or something equally as lame, Harry was surprised when Malfoy apologised.

"Sorry."

Harry could not believe it. Does not compute, system failure, unknown text, not a language Harry knew. Malfoy…. Apologising.

Harry's face must have betrayed the shock.

"Yeah, I know. I don't understand either. Sorry, anyways." Draco dusted himself off, and headed towards the library, leaving a gaping Harry in his wake.

Wait, Malfoy apologised… again?

Draco smiled for a week after that. He had shocked Harry. The glee that had consumed him only astounded his fellow Slytherins. Draco was never happy. Oh, of course he showed some joy when they won the Quidditch game, and yes, I suppose he was a little excited around Christmas-time, but Draco had never been so truly and utterly happy before.

It was weird, to be honest.

Harry could not wait until he could talk to Draco again. This he found very odd. Of course, he was simply curious. It was nothing more than that. Why had Draco apologised? And since when had Harry called Draco, Draco? He had been Ferret, or Malfoy as long as Harry could remember. And why did Harry constantly think about him? Like the day before, in potions? Why had Harry not been able to keep his eyes off of the way Draco bit his lip while he poured the salamander blood into their potions? And why was it haunting Harry now?

Harry picked up his books and left the library, one thing on his mind. Draco..,

This time it was the second floor corridor outside their Transfiguration classroom. They collided once more, just as they were about to enter their class.

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

"Sorry for running into you… again." Draco said, as he gingerly rubbed his aching arm. He had crashed into the stone wall after hitting Harry's rather large head.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn't looking where I was going." Harry apologised.

All around the two boys, students whispered. Weren't these the two who would hex each other for blinking? For breathing? For existing? And now they were just…. Apologising?

Nodding courteously, both entered their Transfiguration class, not completely unscathed, and not too terribly late.

Draco figured it out first. It was only to be expected, what with his analytical mind and what not. The reason Harry haunted his thoughts, for that was what he did, was not curiosity over what lay beneath the sparkling green eyes, nor was it intrigue as to why he was always running into him. It was because Potter had hexed him, plain and simple. Or maybe it was a potion, slipped into his drink? Draco believed the former, Harry was nearly as bad at potions as Neville was. Draco, enraged, left his common room, one thing on his mind. Harry…

Harry did not understand why he couldn't get Draco out of his head. The way his blonde hair no longer was slicked back, but fell mysteriously over his eyes. The way those stormy grey eyes lingered on the last piece of Treacle Tart… but he never let himself indulge. The way his fingers sometimes danced on a tabletop, as though to play a piano… but did he play? Was Draco musically inclined? What music did he like? Did he have a favourite colour? What did he do in his spare time? Harry wanted to know, all of it, right now. But his irrational thoughts stopped him. Why was he so damned obsessed with Draco Malfoy? For that was what he was, obsessed. There were no other words to describe it. After a lengthy discussion with Hermione, she had said (quite gooely) "Love", but Harry knew better than that. Sure, Harry was not hindered into liking just the female sex, and yes, after a few drunken kisses with Seamus Finnegan, wasn't completely opposed to men, but Draco Malfoy? His brain knew better than that! Quickly making up his mind, Harry marched out of Gryffindor common room, one thing on his mind. Draco.

For once, the two didn't collide. They met each other outside of the great hall, and both looked like they wanted to talk.

"Draco."

"Harry."

"Why did you hex me?" Draco asked finally, after an awkward silence as both realised that they had used their first names.

"I never hexed you! At least not in the past two months…" Harry mused, grinning.

"You must have! It had to be you!" Draco said, half shouting. The only other option his analytical brain had decided was too impossible to be true!

"Why me?" Harry shouted in return, "I've been cordial to you for the past months, not yelling, not hitting, not hexing, nothing! Why are you accusing me?"

"BECAUSE WHY ELSE CAN'T I GET YOU OUT OF MY HEAD?" Draco yelled, the frustration coming out. Draco quickly realised what he had said, but the proud pureblood refused to blush, refused to be embarrassed, and simply stood tall, waiting for the answer. His brain had told him, and thinking upon it, it didn't seem too bad. Falling in love with the saviour of the world might not just be the worst thing Draco had done.

Harry stood, shocked.

"My brain says it's either: a) you hexed me or b) I love you, and I think the former is more likely, to be hon-"

Draco was cut off by Harry putting his finger on his lips. He frowned in frustration.

"Say it again." Harry grinned.

"You hexed me, I knew it!" Draco ranted.

"No, not that, you idiot, the other thing!" Harry smiled.

"I love you? I'm not too sure on that one." Draco mused out loud, but he stopped when he saw Harry's face. He was simply beaming. And that was when Draco realised, maybe his brain wasn't malfunctioning after all.

"Again." Harry asked.

"I love you." Draco said, truth ringing in every word.

"Again!" Harry said. He was simply glowing with happiness, and his green eyes were fixed on Draco's grey smouldering ones.

"I love you, Harry." Draco said again. He smiled too. Not a smirk, or a grin, or even a sarcastic smile. It was a true smile few ever lived to see from the Slytherin Prince.

"I love you too, Draco." Harry said simply. And with that, they kissed. Nothing too scandalous to recount, it was a simple, sweet kiss, as all first kisses should be.

"And that's how your parents met." Auntie Pansy told Harry and Draco's two adopted children. Their daughter, Chloe, ran to her fathers and sat on Daddy Draco's knee. Smiling, Draco hugged his youngest child who, at age 10, was due to go to Hogwarts herself this year. Their son, Daniel, sat on an armchair opposite his parents. He was 16, and his angsty teenage years were yet to pass.

"Who cares." He muttered, as he stalked off to his bedroom, tired of listening to the sappy story he had heard hundreds of times.

"Again, again!" Chloe asked Aunt Pansy, who graciously took the little girl into her arms to tuck into bed with another sweet story.

"She always leaves out the part where I make out with you on the Quidditch Pitch that night, only to be caught by Minnie." Draco grins as he stands up with his husband.

"Yeah, and the part where we get caught in the Astronomy Tower" Harry laughed.

"And the broom closet!" Draco laughed even louder.

"That was your idiotic idea! Honestly, such an stupid move!" Harry sighed.

"Hey! Where's your Gryffindor courage!" Draco teased.

"Yes, I think that was what you said to convince me, now that I think about it!" Harry smiled fondly.

An hour later, the two went to bed, only one thing on their mind. Each other.

A.N

Okay! My first Drarry! Hopefully didn't go too terribly! And the ending is the sweetest cheesiest thing I've ever manufactured. And I've manufactured quite a bit of cheese, thank you very much!