Author: Emmie
Title: Things I Know
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-ish
Continuity: Doesn't matter
Author's note: Sappy Valentine's fic. Yay.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
It started, as nearly everything between them did, with an argument; an argument that started, as nearly everything had been lately, with sex. An everlasting cycle of fighting and fucking that propelled itself on and on. It was as they were gathering up their clothing from the floor of tonight's broom closet that Harry began this round.
"Valentine's Day is coming up, you know."
Draco paused in buttoning his trousers to fix him with a withering stare. "Your powers of observation astound me, Potter."
"Prat," Harry said with no real animosity, pulling Draco into his arms. He tried to ignore the stiffness of Draco's body, his unwillingness to respond. "So, I was thinking -"
Draco pulled out of the uncomfortable embrace. "Thinking what, Potter?" he asked, glaring so hard Harry almost wished he had never opened his mouth in the first place.
"I was thinking we could...er," he glanced around, "come out of the closet. So to speak."
Draco gave a short, derisive laugh, a sharp and bitter sound. "And what? You going to be my Valentine, Potter? Going to profess your undying lo-" And then he caught sight of Harry's eyes.
"Oh, no, don't look at me like that, Potter, don't tell me -"
"What?" Harry interrupted, the playful note gone from his voice. "Does it bother you so much that I might -"
"What bothers me," Draco snapped, "is that you're deluding yourself. You're going to ruin what we have here with your percieved emotions."
"And what, exactly, do we have?" Harry asked, beginning to get angry.
"Sex," Draco replied simply, fastening his robes and turning to go. Harry grabbed his arm, spun him around.
"I love you."
Draco looked at him, sneering, but under that a flash of something that might be sadness.
"Potter, you don't even know me."
And he departed, leaving Harry to finish dressing slowly, thinking that over. Anger quickly faded and by the time he left the closet (giving Draco adequate time to get far away, lest someone actually see them near one another), he was grinning broadly.
This, Draco love, is how great ideas are born.