For Drarrelie.
The giftee requested the following to include at least two characters and on prompt:
Characters - A Drarry story would be most appreciated, and I'd love me some Hermione and/or Luna and Theo and/or Blaise with that, not necessarily shipped in any combo, but mainly as friends to the boys...
Prompts - Mistletoe, Secret Santa, Pining, Fluff
I hope you enjoy your gift, Em! Happy holidays, dear!
"Oh, who the fuck put that up?"
Harry whipped around quickly, following Theodore Nott's offended pointer finger towards the entrance to the eighth-year common room where a sprig of mistletoe hung waiting to catch them all off guard. He had to work to contain the soft smile tugging at his lips, the visual echo of a soft memory. "Haven't the foggiest." Harry shrugged and turned back to his History of Magic homework in a way he hoped exuded casualty.
Unfortunately, Harry was a bloody disaster of a liar, which Hermione was all too kind to point out for the study group. Even though all of the Slytherins hardly knew Harry in the slightest, Theo, Blaise Zabini, and Daphne Greengrass all nodded along just as naturally as if Hermione had simply stated the weather.
"And what would make you think I was lying?" Harry countered, frustrated at his betraying, squeaky voice.
For a long moment, Hermione merely gave him that quiet, judgy look she was so fond of. Like she was assessing if enlightening him was even worth her time since the answer should be so obvious. "Nothing," she finally said with a dismissing wave. "But, Harry, you really should know…I don't approve of your scheme."
"I don't have a scheme!"
Hermione ignored his protest, too busy apparently consulting with the Slytherins by way of cryptic eye contact. Daphne lifted one too-skinny eyebrow. Theo huffed a disbelieving noise which felt far more insulting than any actual insult could have. And Blaise… Well, Blaise was still actually trying to cram despite the distraction of the mystery mistletoe.
"I don't have a scheme," Harry made sure to reiterate, taking Blaise's cue and slinking further down into his side of the sofa with his textbook. Except, his eyes couldn't quite focus on the words or even what page they were supposed to be on because he did, indeed, have a plan in the works which required his attention. Not that he would go so far as to call it a scheme… That sounded a tad too menacing for the romantic gesture he was attempting to make. Although, he had rarely done anything but scheme when it came to the Marauder's Map. And, seeing as it was currently folded open to show the corridor leading to their common room…
Perhaps it may have been a scheme, after all.
Of course, no one was going to let it go that easily. Daphne abandoned her studies, throwing her books onto the floor with a loud slap and point-blank asked, "I take it, then, that you hopelessly — and obviously I might add — pining after Malfoy's scrumptious-yet-grumpy little arse was supposed to be a secret?"
If there was ever a reason not to 'make nice' with the Slytherins (as Hermione was so determined to do), this was it. This was the only reason that mattered. Nosy, self-righteous pricks they are…
"Oh, don't guffaw at me like that, Potter. You're the least subtle thing on the planet," Daphne continued, pulling her hair down from its messy bun before raking it back up again. "For the record, I am totally on board with the whole thing. Boy needs a proper snog, if you ask me. And the two of you really do have that tragic enemies-to-lovers thing going on that's so hot."
"Daph's not entirely wrong," Blaise agreed without looking up. "Draco's wound tighter than a goblin's purse strings. A little surprise snog could probably do him some good."
"I think we're forgetting," Hermione cut in, her voice dripping in rationality, "that Malfoy is more likely to hex Harry than to allow himself to be completely ambushed with a non-consensual kiss."
The Slytherins shared a look before shrugging in a way that very much said it was a risk they were willing to take.
Truthfully, Harry hadn't thought far past his grand romantic gesture. He hadn't considered repercussions. He supposed it was likely Draco might whip out his wand the instant he attempted anything (and not in the sexy euphemism way), but it was also likely that he wouldn't. They had grown close since the start of term, moving swiftly from simply tolerating one another to actually enjoying being in one another's presence. And they were in that situation often seeing as they now shared a dorm room with the small number of other boys in their year who had been too caught up in the war to finish their seventh year.
For Harry, their friendship was starting to mean something more, and he held out hope that Draco felt the same way. Hence the reason for the stupid mistletoe and his stalking Draco on the Map with much the same level of obsession as in their sixth year. He wanted to make a grand gesture because he couldn't fathom just being out with it like a flippant revelation. The potential of this meant far too much.
"He won't," Harry muttered more to himself than the others. "Hex me, I mean."
"Guess you'll get to test that theory." Theo leaned across the space between his overlarge armchair and the sofa, jabbing a stubby finger at Draco's swiftly moving marker on the Map. As panic spread across Harry's face, Theo leaned back and rested into Blaise with a bemused smirk.
Practically every ounce of conviction left Harry's body in one cold rush as he scrambled to his feet. He'd been planning this for weeks and thought he was completely ready by now. But, in that moment, his legs were so unsteady he felt he could fall over and his hands were shaking and his breath was ragged and…
And the entrance to the common room was opening! Which meant there was no time to be flustered and Harry had to act now.
The result was far less than sweet or graceful. In his haste, Harry tripped over his own feet and stumbled head first into the wall just inside the entrance.
"Potter?"
Harry was glad to be facing away from Draco, and everyone else for that matter, in that instant. His face had never felt hotter in his life and would give anything to be literally anywhere else. For a long moment, he remained where he was. The wall felt grounding and solid beneath his hand, stabilizing him while his head spun with all of his options.
He could run. This choice would require no rushed excuses and called to him with its security.
He could stay and explain himself. This would certainly be the most embarrassing option. Especially since he would have to be out with his whole plan to accost Draco at the door with a kiss…
He could lie. He could simply say he was on his way out the door and tripped. It would be more of a half-true, really, and would certainly save him a modicum of face.
Or, he could go through with his plan…
Really, all Harry had to do was turn around and…and do it. Draco was clearly standing there; Harry would recognize his name on this particular man's tongue even if he were half a room away and Draco whispered it under his breath. And he had to be close; Harry could practically feel him standing there. It could be just that simple.
They were already under the mistletoe…
Before he lost his nerve, Harry pushed off the wall and spun on his heel. His fingers formed fists in Draco's robes, tugging him forward roughly and practically smashing their mouths together.
As far as first kisses went, it could have been more romantic. But Harry had made his decision and he had to live with it. A notion which certainly felt easier once Draco went noticeably less stiff beneath him, his hands settling just so on Harry's hips.
Somewhere in the distance, Harry could hear wolf whistles and other raucous cries of excitement, but all that mattered was that Draco's lips tasted of the beef stew they'd had for dinner. And that he smelt sweet like sweat. And that he was pushing up into the kiss with a soft, undignified mewl. And that this kiss, this kiss he had been so nervous about, felt like the happy ending they both deserved.
