25 HarryxDraco Drabbles
By Yiji
Drabble 3 : Lame Excuses
As Harry missed his mouth again that breakfast and copped a cheekful of oatmeal, he continued to plaster his attention on the Slytherin table. Or rather, the platinum-haired inhabitant of the particular table. As he did every morning, the Boy Who Lived racked his brains to try and formulate some semblance of an excuse to get up close to the other boy without giving any of his true intentions away. Not to the object of his affection, nor to anybody else who might've been watching.
There had been a close call with Ron. His flame-haired friend had seen Harry practically bore holes into their 'rival's' back the other day in Potions. Of course, he'd gotten away on the lame pretext that he thought he'd seen some pickled slug on the other boy's sleeve. Of course, Ron had a good snicker at that, and left him to it. Hermione had snorted only loudly enough for him to hear, but he knew she knew the real reason behind his staring. She probably had for a while now; nothing could escape that powerful noggin of hers.
And so now Harry had exactly six minutes left to make up a random (and plausible) excuse for making some sort of contact with Draco (not Malfoy anymore- at least, not in his inner monologue) before the Slytherin left the hall and would be out of contact for the rest of the weekend. Unless he went out of his way to search the castle for Draco. But then that would just look suss.
Nah.
He could say that there was a feather stuck in his hair from the morning mail. Then he'd be able to see if his hair really was as soft as it looked. Ugh, maybe not, he heard that Draco was very fussy about his hair. He wouldn't want to mess it, anyway. Maybe he could 'accidentally' brush shoulders with him on the way out of the hall. After all, ever since Harry had returned from the holidays taller and with broader shoulders, Draco's sleekness and suppleness did nothing more that increase the nerve-endings on whatever part of his anatomy happened to be in contact. The shoulder… oh that would be nice. Too bad that the 'accidental brushing' could initiate a fistfight.
Darn. Back to the drawing board.
Too late Harry spotted Draco rise from his seat, wave off his usual crowd of followers, and exit the breakfast hall. Wiping the remainder of his badly-aimed breakfast on the tablecloth, he muttered a quick excuse to Ron and Hermione, before tripping over his feet twice in succession (which was by no means an easy feat) and managed to stumble out of the hall and down the corridor, sprinting fast as he tried to catch up, rounding the corner and- smashing straight into Draco.
"Ow! Potter! What the hell?" Draco shouted, trying to regain his composure even though he had given an obvious squeak of surprise. Harry had wanted to say sorry, apologise profusely and maybe melt into the floor with embarrassment. Instead, he grabbed Draco's tie, pulled him closer and trailed a long, languorous lick along Draco's bottom lip. When the other boy said nothing (the no-emotion-whatsoever-registered-on-his-face kind of nothing), Harry quickly released the green and silver tie and blurted the first thing that came to mind.
"You still had jam on your mouth from breakfast."
Damn. If that hadn't been the lamest excuse used to date, he didn't know what was. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have a chance to melt into the floor (as he so wished for at that moment), because Draco was pulling him into a mind-blowing, devastatingly good kiss that drove all the air out of his lungs.
"So did you," the blonde replied with a wide smile, and Harry couldn't help but grin back. Maybe his excuses weren't as lame as he thought. They seemed to work, at least.