A Simple Game

"It'll be fun."

Ron's earlier words echoed in Harry's head. The black-haired boy sighed miserably as he looked around the crowded room, full of laughing seventeen and eighteen-year-olds.

Graduation was that afternoon. Now the Hogwarts class of 1998 was celebrating their new-found freedom in the Patil's restaurant in Hogsmeade, conveniently cleared of customers (and chaperones) for the occasion.

The night started out innocently enough. Pumpkin juice all around, the WWN softly filtering through the loud chattering of the graduates. Harry was talking to Neville while Ron and Hermione shamelessly made out at one of the tables. Soon, dancing started up. People paired up, and Harry had noted some inter-House couples with interest. Well, he thought to himself, Houses are fairly obsolete now, aren't they?

The dancing grew wilder, Butterbeer- with an extra helping of beer- was passed around, and before anyone knew it, Justin Finch-Fletchley was standing on a table balancing a plate on his head. The plate eventually fell, the music was shut off, and people started to feel a bit bored.

Until Seamus's brilliant idea.

"How about," he had shouted in that recognizable Irish accent, made thicker by the alcohol, "a bit of Truth or Dare?"

Blank looks from the non-Muggle-borns stared back at him, while groans from others rang through the air.

"Such a childish game," Lisa Turpin protested in a haughty voice.

"And what better night to celebrate being children before we have to go out into the"- here Seamus made a face- "real world?" He proceeded to instruct the room on the rules of the game. Upon figuring out the most common dare of the game, a few of the former Slytherins whined about having to kiss "Mudbloods", and were thoroughly yelled at by the rest of the room until they shut up and pouted together in a corner.

"I don't want to do this," Harry whispered to Ron. "Could end up badly. Unwanted…actions, and the like." Ron snorted.

"It's graduation night, Harry! Comes but once a lifetime! It'll be fun!" Harry threw his hands up in the air and gave in.

Before five minutes was up, the floor was cleared, robes were discarded in a pile by the door in favor of the more comfortable underlying Muggle clothes, and everyone was smushed into a misshapen circle.

And it began.

Harry had been right to be worried. He was chosen the most often. By picking truth every time, the whole class now knew he had a secret fetish for pale skin, that he was a virgin, that he had kissed Hermione once, that yes, Voldemort was quite frightening indeed, that his scar was real, and that he wouldn't go out with Millicent Bulstrode. He had been quite frightened when she had asked him that- the eyebrow waggle she directed at him sure hadn't helped.

As he stared at Terry Boot and Parvati Patil kissing tentatively at the other side of the room, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that at least no one had asked just whom he had a crush on.

Harry stole a glance at the object of his affection, currently reclining against the wall, legs out in front, one pale hand thrown lazily across his most-likely-very-expensive-and-probably-tailored-just-for-him-dark-grey-cashmere-sweater-covered stomach. Yes, his. Draco's.

Harry sighed to himself, raking his fingers back through his hair. He'd had this obsession with Draco ever since mid-sixth year. He came to this realization smack dab in the middle of a Quidditch game, and nearly fell off his broom in the process. Ever since then, the blonde had tormented him with every glance, every word, every brush of robes while walking past. No more, Harry had firmly been telling himself for the past few months. Hogwarts is over, and you'll never see him again, so get over him already! It proved to be an impossible task.

"I choose…Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, after being forced to lick Dean Thomas on the cheek, much to Ron's anger. Harry jerked in surprise and looked up.

"Truth."

"All right then." Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully, an evil glint in her brown eyes. "What House was your current crush in?"

Harry stared at her. Why would she ask about the House, and not ask who- he froze. Hermione winked. And Harry realized that she had figured out it was Draco, and was teasing him with this knowledge. Harry glared at her.

"Slytherin."

Murmurs burst out all around the room, high shrieks and giggles coming from a few of the Slytherin girls. If only they knew.

Harry quickly chose Ron, and upon his choosing to take a dare, made him kiss Hermione. Everyone in the room groaned at the easy task, but Harry was already off in thoughts of his own. Damn Hermione and her meddling. Now the curiosity of everyone in the room had been sparked, and he would certainly next be asked who his crush was.

Soon enough, his name was called once again by Lavender Brown, always the gossip-monger.

Harry knew what she would ask him if he called truth.

"Dare," he proclaimed confidently, sure he was safe.

Lavender grinned through a mouth heavy with smeared lipstick. Harry's stomach clenched in sudden fear.

"I dare you," she said in her high sing-song voice, obviously enjoying this moment, "to kiss- and I mean, like, a real kiss here, not, like, a little peck thing- the person you like, like!"

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

This was worse.

This was much, much worse.

He stood up, wiping his trembling and clammy hands off on his jeans. The room went dead quiet. On shaky knees, he slowly walked over to where Draco sat in between Pansy and Blaise.

It would be so easy just to kiss one of the girls, Harry thought to himself. Fake the kiss, and tomorrow you can say you were drunk. Pansy's not bad, she has nice hair- you can ignore the nose. Just lean down, right now, give her a big old kiss on the lips, and go back to your seat. Girls aren't all that bad…

He sank onto his knees in the space between Pansy and Draco. Draco wasn't even looking.

Pansy regarded Harry with calculating green eyes, set deep in her pug-nosed face. And as Harry stared back, he came to the realization that he couldn't do it, he couldn't keep up this façade anymore. He couldn't keep lying to everyone. And…what the hell? Graduation night, right?

Harry closed his eyes. He opened them. He took a deep breath. He then placed his hands on Draco's face- oh, it was so smooth, so soft, so perfect. Draco's eyes locked on his, wide with astonishment.

Harry placed his lips gingerly over Draco's.

For a terrifying, heart-stopping, horrible moment, Harry thought that Draco was going to push him away, gagging and yelling and breaking Harry's heart.

The terrible moment ended when Draco's arms slid around his waist, pulling Harry closer to his chest.

The world didn't disappear, as Harry had played it out in all of his fantasies. Instead, his world became. It became Draco's lips gently pressed against at his own; it became Draco's hands moving into his hair; it became the sensation of Draco's body pressed against him.

Eventually, the two boys came up for air, grinning madly against each other's lips, foreheads touching.

And then, the situation sneaked up behind Harry and plonked him in the head.

Harry turned around, his hands falling into his lap, panting slightly, every nerve in his body tingling.

It was a very odd sensation to have forty pairs of eyes upon him in such a compromising position. Every single person stared at the couple in shock.

The silence seemed to stretch for hours, becoming unbearable, becoming screaming, becoming-

"It took you two long enough," Hermione said loudly, rolling her eyes and leaping up to get a drink.

Harry looked at Draco, Draco looked at Harry, and they expressed in smiles what did not need to be said.