Title: First
Author: Eblis
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Completely pointless and totally sappy. Harry/Draco and fluff, all in the same fic—who would've guessed?
"I used to hate you, you know."
Harry had been caught reading an issue of the Daily Prophet (containing yet another scathing article about 'The Boy Who Lived') in Snape's class, and received yet another detention from the disagreeable teacher. Draco, too, had a detention, for "provoking" Potter with said article. Their detentions were on the same day.
Snape, being the sadistic prat that he was, had assigned them both the same detention, knowing that they were less than fond of each other. It hadn't occurred to him that most of their animosity had been eaten away, though neither Harry nor Draco were looking forward to the evening ahead.
They had just arrived in the classroom, exchanging no more than polite nods, and had immediately started their work. In the minutes following, Harry and Draco would sometimes catch each other's eye, followed quickly by averted glances and slightly pink cheeks. During those moments, a piece of their resolve weakened.
Draco said something, and Harry reacted. Neither knew what the other said, or why, but it hardly mattered. What mattered was that they were said, and there would be no compromises.
It happened quickly; one minute they were silently sweeping and organizing random items on separate sides of the room, and the next, they were flying at each other.
And they were kissing.
In retrospect, Harry knew he should've seen it coming. During their Sixth Year, the animosity between them had been eaten away, and the only rivalry they shared was on the Quidditch field.
And there had been—signs. Some lingering touches when passing quills, concealed looks in between classes—those kinds of things.
Pulling back, Harry breathed hard and stared at Draco. Getting over his shock, he could not quite help the small, pleased grin that was appearing on his face. Somehow, he thought, kissing Draco was not as bad as he would've expected before they'd established their unspoken truce.
Draco gave him a small grin in return. As if they had reached a silent agreement, they both resumed their work, pausing only to sneak not-so-subtle looks at each other from the corners of their eyes.
Three hours later, finally finished, Harry smiled in spite of himself. Draco, too, looked pleased. Gathering their things, they made to leave.
"Well, that's that," Harry said cheerfully.
"What, no good-night kiss?" Draco answered playfully as Harry was exiting.
Harry stopped mid-stride, and turned to stare at Draco, eyes intense. "Would you like one?" he asked softly, pulling closer. It was yet another crack in their already unstable resolve.
Looking suddenly breathless, Draco nodded slowly.
Harry was now so close that their noses almost touched; staring into Draco's eyes, he said, softly, "I used to hate you, you know."
Whether it was a last ditch attempt at preventing what was going on between them, or merely a sentence reflecting the sudden change in their relationship, neither of them knew, and probably didn't care. Soon their thoughts were focused only on each other, and their good-night kiss became lengthy. The only sound in the room was their muffled breathing.
It was Draco who finally pulled away reluctantly, looking rueful. "I have to go," he whispered.
Harry nodded, and watched him open the door and leave, listening quietly to his soft footsteps.
Sighing, he got up and gathered his things. "It's been a strange day…" he said slowly, thinking aloud. He grinned unconsciously when a mental image of Draco appeared in his mind, his hair tousled and face flushed. "A good one, though." He said fondly, thinking of the blond Slytherin.
"Yes, it was definitely a good day," he said decisively, closing the classroom door behind him and starting for the Gryffindor Tower.
In his dormitory, Harry offered no explanation for the silly grin on his face or his uncharacteristic silence. When people asked him what was wrong, he merely shrugged, and smiled, his thoughts clearly somewhere else.
Instead, he crawled into bed and remembered the taste of cinnamon and pine, and fell asleep to the unexpectedly warm pair of stormy gray eyes.
Finis
Ahhh, the fluff. The unbearably sappy fluff! Well, I've had zero inspiration lately and I felt like posting a fic, so I dug this out of my computer and decided to post it. Review? Constructive criticism is appreciated, so criticize away:)