Do not own a damn thing besides a carton of eggs and an old road bike, certainly not Harry Potter. The song is "Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional.
Draco Malfoy was experiencing an emotion that he was entirely unfamiliar with… his hands were sweaty, his breathing was irregular, and he kept running fingers through his silky white-blonde hair. He was nervous. And if anyone noticed they would be hexed into oblivion.
Tonight was the night that his band preformed at the beginning-of-the-year dance in front of all of Hogwarts. It was seventh year. His last year. And so, he had decided to get something off his chest for once and for all.
Thoughts of the Golden Boy had harassed Draco for years. At first, the associated emotion was hate and annoyance, but that was until the incident in sixth year that changed everything. It was such an innocuous moment, but it changed the blonde's life forever.
******FLASHBACK
The pressure had finally caught up with Draco. His father's expectation, his logical disagreement, the knowledge that the entire school outside of his house thought he was something he wasn't... he needed a cigarette. That's how he found himself perched on the edge of the Black Lake during the almost-warm April twilight, chain-smoking for all he was worth.
The sound of a match striking startled him from his thoughts. He turned toward the noise seeing none other than the Boy Who Could Do No Wrong lighting a cigarette of his own. Draco's jaw dropped in shock and he couldn't resist from laughing out loud at the look of relief that crossed his enemy's face with the first drag. It was Potter's turn to be startled, and he jumped slightly when he spotted Draco. Something he couldn't recognize flooded his chest when they made eye contact and Har- no, Potter's emerald eyes bored into his.
"Didn't realize the Golden Boy chose to tarnish his precious lungs," Draco calmly said.
Harry smiled good-naturedly, making Draco's breath catch once again.
"I'm sure what you don't realize about me could fill books Malfoy," Potter replied.
"So while we are out here, can we just put that aside and enjoy the night and a cigarette?"
"Are you proposing a smoking truce, Potter?" Draco asked, shocked and slightly hopeful.
"Sure. I'll even make a deal. I like to talk and smoke. So a question for a question?" Harry tried.
Draco snorted, "So you want me to not insult you but also have civil conversation? Potter, are you sure that's just a tobacco in there?"
Harry just shrugged. "Yeah, it was an attempt to drop the stupid grudge we've been holding for six years. But if you aren't interested, I'll leave." As he made to get up, Draco's arm shot out against his will, keeping Harry in place. A surge of power rushed through Draco's finger, as if he had just touched a contained spell. Both boys looked down at their arms in shock. When Draco finally spoke, he merely said "Stay."
And thus the boys began talking. They talked and talked. Trading questions, jokes, concerns, secrets and stories, emboldened by the new setting and the sensation of too many cigarettes. Harry conjured a muggle radio to play softly next to them. They lounged comfortably, legs brushing under jeans and arms just touching as bits of electricity raced back and forth between them.
At one moment, Harry glanced down at his watch, and exclaimed "It's so late!"
At the same moment, it begin a light drizzle, wetting the grass and the path up toward the castle as the boys hurried for shelter, laughing. The gates up to the main castle were locked, and in a fit of playfulness, Draco hopped them like a child, and quickly let a laughing Harry in from the other side.
As they turned to go separate ways in the castle, Harry simply reached out and put his hand on Draco's cheek for a moment. Once again, the surge overwhelmed Draco. Then Harry turned to go and Draco couldn't stand it. He crushed Harry against him and kissed him as if Harry held the last breath of oxygen on the planet. When they broke apart, they were both shaking. They looked into each other's eyes, trapped, before they heard footsteps.
Harry whispered urgently, "let's not get busted," before they took off in separate directions.
Draco crawled into bed silently, hoping his roommates wouldn't notice. He was almost asleep when he heard Crabbe whisper, "hey, did you get some?" He snorted, and turned over, not even dignifying the question with a response, but looking forward to Harry's face the next day.
Draco was not so lucky, however. The next morning, Death Eaters raided the castle before Draco had even stumbled out of bed. His father was among them. He materialized at Draco's bedside and held out his hand.
"It's time Draco, come," he said in his cold voice.
At that moment, everything clicked for Draco, he looked into his father's blank eyes and simply said "I am no longer yours." And then he ran. Straight for the fight.
After a long, confusing battle, a still fell over Hogwarts as Harry and Voldemort faced each other for what became the final time. Draco stood watching, digging his fingernails into his arm, chanting "Live Harry live Harry live Harry" over and over.
Harry miraculously did just that. In a flurry of motion, Voldemort was defeated, an extended summer holiday was made, the wizarding world celebrated, and Draco lost Harry in all of the excitement. Over the summer, Draco wrote about ten thousand attempted letters that never quite said what he needed to. So he simply waited to see Harry once more in September and distracted himself with his friends and their music.
*****8END FLASHBACK
So now it was September. He hadn't seen Harry on the train as he had arrived early to set up with the band. In any minute, the curtains would draw back and Harry would be out in that crowd. Draco shifted restlessly once more, tugging the collar of his tight black t-shirt. Pansy hit his arm from his side. He turned to look at her, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle- the rest of his band.
"Stop fidgeting," she hissed, "it will be fine, Draco, fine!"
Draco took a deep breath. It would be fine. He had made a point to look stunning, keeping his short hair messy and just falling in his eye, wearing his favorite all black jeans and t-shirt, and a pair of Converse, his new favorite muggle shoes. "Just breath," he reminded himself, as he swung on his guitar. And then, the curtains opened.
Draco's silver eyes swept the crowded, happy hall, all of whom were looking up at him with equal parts curiosity, interest, and distrust.
He cleared his throat, "Hi everyone, we're the Survivors. You know us all so I don't think we need any introductions," he said with an arch of his eyebrow.
The crowd chuckled a bit, and seemed to relax. The concert began. The band was well put together and talented, so the Great Hall was up and dancing, swaying, and enjoying the music before too long. Draco knew he could sing, and he was proud of his band. He constantly surveyed the crowd for Harry. He saw him standing exactly where he expected- near the middle of the Hall, directly between Hermione and Ron, staring a Draco with an expression he had never seen before. Saving the best for last, Draco waited until the prime moment to sing his song to Harry.
As the students and teachers cheered from their last long, Draco took a big gulp of water.
"This next song is our last song tonight. It means a lot to me personally," he said. "It's for a certain person who changed my entire life in one moment. He knows who he is."
The crowd drew a collective breath on the Slytherin outing himself, even though many had ideas about his sexuality for years. He smirked and began playing as the whispers died out. And then he sang with all he had, letting the song wash over him.
"Breathe in for luck.
Breathe in so deep.
This air is blessed, you share with me.
This night is wild, so calm and dull.
These hearts, they race, from self-control.
Your legs are smooth, as they graze mine.
We're doing fine.
We're doing nothing at all."
Draco saw Harry's face focus on him once more, brightening somewhat at the lyrics. Draco's heart inflated at the very sight of the innocent hope on Harry's face.
"My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.
So won't you kill me?
So I die happy.
My heart is yours to fill or burst,
to break or bury, or wear as jewelry.
Whichever you prefer."
He kept eye contact with Harry, who stared back with bright green questioning eyes.
"The words are hushed, "let's not get busted."
Just stay entwined here, undiscovered.
Safe in here from all the stupid questions.
"Hey did you get some?"
Man that is so dumb.
Stay quiet, stay near, stay close, they can't hear.
So we can get some."
Full comprehension was slowly dawning on Harry's face. He seemed completely transfixed by Draco. So Draco sang on.
"My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.
So won't you kill me?
So I die happy.
My heart is yours to fill or burst,
to break or bury, or wear as jewelry.
Whichever you prefer."
Taking a breath for the last stanza, he poured every emotion he had left into the last few moments.
"Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember.
Always remember the sound of the stereo.
The dim of the soft lights.
The scent of your hair, that you twirled in your fingers.
And the time on the clock, when we realized "It's so late!"
And this walk that we share together.
The streets were wet, and the gate was locked,
So I jumped it, and let you in.
And you stood at the door, with your hands on my waist.
And you kissed me like you meant it.
And I knew...that you meant it."
With that, the song ended, and the entire Hall erupted in cheers and applause. Draco's bandmates and friends bowed, enjoying the attention, but Draco was scanning for Harry once again. He had disappeared from the crowd the moment the song ended. Draco looked away, and squeezed his eyes shut to keep back the tears. He jumped off the stage and stormed out into the August night, leaving the cheering students behind him.
"Fuck!" he hissed, as he kicked at a rock on the path down to the lake. He walked stiffly, hardly noticing the warm air caressing his cheeks or the clear starry sky. "I should've known," he muttered, "fucking Boy who Lived over and over what the hell would I be to him?"
Draco began wondering if he had misinterpreted everything. His heart continued to break. Without even noticing where he was going, he headed for his smoke spot at the Black Lake. Still muttering, he yanked a cigarette out of the crumpled pack, distractedly jamming it into his mouth, searching for a match.
The sound of a striking match near his face startled him, much like that night months ago.
"Need a light?" softly asked a familiar voice.
And then Draco found himself face to face with the object of his affections.
"Hi," said Harry shyly, as Draco just stared, cigarette forgotten. "I figured you'd know to come right out here."
"Wha-" spluttered Draco, as Harry moved closer.
"Your song…" Harry started, "it was beautiful. You…you were beautiful." Harry blushed furiously, but continued talking. "I'm sorry I didn't write this summer, but I just didn't know what I could possibly say and then I thought I had maybe made it all up but then that song it made me think that maybe, maybe you felt it all too and so I just came out here and I hoped that you would come if only so I could tell you that I missed you and I am sorry, sorry and I think, no I'm really sure that I am in love with you so if you could like me a little bit too that would be great but…"
Draco had enough, and he grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt, pulling the other boy toward his mouth and crushing their lips together, effectively cutting off all further ramblings. It was everything the first kiss was and more. The same burst of fire, but at the same time, it was home.
When the two boys broke apart once more, Harry smiled happily into Draco's eyes, slumping contentedly into his arms. Draco breathed in deeply, savoring the unique smell that was Harry.
"I love you, too, you babbling idiot," Draco breathed into Harry's shoulder. As he felt Harry chuckle with relief, he pulled him tighter, deciding that maybe this was the best day of his life instead.