A/N:

Written for LiveJournal's Harry/Draco Fluffy Halloween Fest 2012, based on the following prompt:

The ghosts throw a party and each invite a student "date"/"guest". One of the boys (Harry or Draco) goes with myrtle, and the other boy is strangely jealous.

So, H/D fluff coming forth, beware! MWAHHAAA! Well, at least I think there's fluff there, after other things. Isn't there? O.O Thanks to StellarCentric for her wonderful help with the grammar 3 and to Jolandina for being patient and saying all those encouraging words 3

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Potters, not me. I'm just playing with them. Don't sue!

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Scared, Malfoy?

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It was nightmarish, that's what it was, Draco was thinking as shuffled sulkily along the corridor towards the warmer and nicer parts of the Hogwarts Castle. What had he been thinking of, accepting Moaning Myrtle's invitation to the ghosts' Halloween Party? Well, maybe it had something to do with the words Potter had thrown in his face.

"Scared, Malfoy?"

The most remarkable thing was that the words had sounded off. There had been a strange note in them, under all the astonishment: jealousy.

Suddenly Draco heard rhythmic thumping and glanced swiftly over his shoulder: one of the Headless Hunt participants was riding along the hallway, his head under his arm.

"Ho, boy! Do not go, the party has just begun!"

Draco knew it was futile, but still he sprinted, trying to outrun the ghost. The transparent horse beat him in no time, and the ghost riding it threw his head at Draco. It whooshed through him, sending shivers along his spine. It felt like dipping in icy water, and Draco yelped. He tried to fight the panic and kept on running, his heart beating in his ears.

The ghosts had started their game almost immediately after Myrtle's arrival with her date, and Draco was already chilled to the bone. He had counted fifteen bulls eyes right through his torso, before he had a chance to make it out of the dungeon. As Draco reached another passing, he glanced over his shoulder. The ghost had disappeared. Draco's lungs were raw from panting, and he halted, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. It had been a cold October, and the castle walls felt almost frosty. Draco shuddered and sneezed loudly.

"Jesus, Malfoy."

Draco's gaze snapped at Potter standing maybe five feet from him.

"Potter," Draco spat out, panting and wide-eyed. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," Potter said mildly, drawing his wand out. Draco stiffened. "Relax, it's just a warming spell. I happen to know how cold it is down at the dungeons."

Instantly, Draco felt the glorious heat seeping through his trembling body; his feet weren't cold anymore, his fingers were prickling as they thawed quickly. He rubbed his hands over his face, not daring to look at Potter. What was this about?

"I didn't mean to force you to accept the invitation," Potter said.

Draco snorted.

"I mean it!" Potter declared, his voice much louder this time. "I was just surprised, and maybe I wanted to..."

Draco looked up and fixed his stare at Potter's sincere face, not daring to hope.

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"Well, it's the truth," Potter huffed, looking at his feet. He shook his head before gazing back at Draco. "Listen, I know that we're not exactly what you might call friends—"

"That's one way to put it," Draco sneered.

"—but, I mean, is it really so hard to be civil?"

"You're the one who called me a coward," Draco snapped, straightening his robes.

"I know. I'm sorry," Potter mumbled.

Draco blinked once, twice. Had Potter just apologised him? Really? He did look sincere, and his eyes didn't waver. Nor did he crack a smirk, or act anything like he used to. Or was it just because he wasn't flanked by his underlings? Was this how Potter behaved when he was alone with someone?

Still, Draco didn't answer, just nodded minutely, not bothering to emphasise whether it was for forgiveness or acknowledging the words. He didn't even know it for sure himself.

Potter sighed, and took a step forward. Draco froze to the spot. The hallway was totally deserted — it was just the two of them. No one else around, just Draco and... Potter.

"You know, maybe we started off the wrong way," Potter wondered, offering his hand. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

Draco stared at Potter's hand. Was he really serious? It was the thing Draco had dreamed about during all these years. Yes, he had been eleven at the time he had tried to befriend Potter, and his reasons then had been very different. Back then, Draco had wanted to show off. He had wanted to be able to introduce the famous Harry Potter as his friend. He had wanted to ride along Potter's fame.

But now, it was because of something else. Now he wanted to be Potter's friend, because of the frigging crush he had developed. It was ridiculous, but Draco didn't know how to get rid of it. And now, Potter was offering his hand.

It didn't matter what conclusion he was about to draw, really, because without permission, his arm straightened up and he shook Potter's warm hand, before loosening his grip to indicate that the handshake was over on his part. Potter didn't let go, though.

"I really want to get to know you better," Potter hesitated. "I mean, now that Hermione and Ron have that relationship going on, and I don't really have too many good friends."

"And you thought of starting with your enemies?" Draco quirked his eyebrow. Potter's fingers rested on his wrist, and Draco really liked the feeling. The whole situation felt bizarre; it was so close to the scenarios he had fantasised about that Draco wondered if he was dreaming.

"We are past being enemies," Potter said gravely.

"Maybe you're right," Draco mused. After all, his mother had saved Potter.

Potter's palm brushed against Draco's, and Draco felt beads of sweat form on his upper lip. Potter was so close. His eyes didn't waver from Draco's, and even his breathing sounded louder than usual. Draco wondered what Potter was thinking about, holding his hand for so long. He didn't want to ask, though. It could break the spell.

"So, friends?" Potter whispered. His eyes shone bright in the flickering torch light, and Draco had to swallow; his mouth was flooding with saliva.

"Sure, why not?"

Potter's answering grin was wide. Finally, he let Draco's hand go, but instead of backing away, he started to lean in. For a glorious moment, Draco thought that Potter was going to kiss him. His eyelashes fluttered, but he dared not close his eyes. Now Potter was so close that Draco could smell him. He could see the shadow of stubble in his jaw. The chapped lips that were partly open. But in the last possible moment, Potter tilted his head and whispered in Draco's ear:

"See you after the feast."

~o~

End Notes:

You know what to do ;)