The night was still young and the drinks were still flowing freely in the Gryffindor common room. Laughs echoed through the room, a celebration that the Slytherin's were undoubtedly not participating in. Earlier in the day Harry had narrowly beat Draco in retrieving the snitch, tying up the game last minute and pulling Gryffindor into the lead. From there he had been carried to the common room where merriment and ruckus ensued.
Although all his housemates were whole-heartedly celebrating, Harry managed to slip away into a seat near the fire, drowning out the party going on around him. Absent-mindedly swirling the drink in his hand, he contemplated the events that had taken place that day. Sure he was thrilled to have won, everyone enjoys winning. But today's game was not quite the same as the others.
During the match he began noticing things that he never had before. As he was narrowing in on the snitch, his eyes fell upon Draco and he noticed how the sun glinted off his golden locks. As they began racing neck and neck for that tiny golden ball, he noticed just how muscular Draco really was under those robes as he clutched his broom. When they both dove in an attempt to win the game, Harry noticed Draco's subtle but masculine scent as he whizzed past.
Just as Harry began to think about just what these ponderings could possibly mean to him, a small female form plopped into his lap. A drunken Ginny plastered a sloppy kiss on his face, murmured a goodnight, and staggered to bed. Harry watched her wobble up to the girl's dormitory with a perplexed look on his face.
The other boys had always fawned over Ginny. Telling Harry how lucky he was to have bagged a girl with such a nice figure and an amazing personality on top of it, always joking how he better wife her as soon as he got the chance. With Ron always joking about how he could not wait to be Harry's brother in law. Harry however had always chuckled these comments off. Harry of course cared for Ginny, the only issue he realized was the fact it was not a particularly romantic form of caring.
Harry was beginning to feel the effects of the drinks he had had that night as he gazed into the fire. As he watched it dance and crackle in the hearth thoughts of Draco from that day continued to weave in and out of his head. His mind eventually wandered to after the game in the locker room when everyone was freshening up and he began to nod off.
Suddenly he was jolted out of his musings by a drunk looking Ron. The common room was nearly empty and the fire had died down to only coals. Soon a disapproving Hermione mumbling about drunken idiots joined him and being old enough to make it to bed alone, together they helped Harry up into his bed.
As Harry got in bed he realized just how cold the room was. Despite cocooning himself in his quilt he still felt the draft, and he shocked himself when his mind wondered whether or not Draco would keep him warm. A now sobering Harry quickly shook the thought from his mind and closed his eyes. Hopefully the morning would bring clarity rather than a hangover.