Funerals and Weddings
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
63
Views:
24,928
Reviews:
272
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
63
Views:
24,928
Reviews:
272
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Ch. 29: Quidditch
For disclaimer, summary, story codes and other information, please see the prologue.
Chapter the Twenty-ninth: Quidditch
Two days later
14 December
It was the final Quidditch match of the term: Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. It was supposed to have been Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, but Snape had demanded the match be rescheduled due to the fact that almost half the team was not fit to play. As far as Harry and the other Gryffindors were concerned, only one of the slippery Slytherins had a legitimate excuse: Keeper Blanton, whose grandmother had died at the ripe old age of 136. Blanton had gone home to attend the funeral. As for the other Slytherins, Goyle was laid up in the hospital wing with what appeared to be elephant tusks growing out of his nose (no one knew how it had happened and Goyle wasn’t saying) and Malfoy was…sick. Harry was beginning to think that perhaps the boy had some bizarre recurrent illness, because Malfoy looked just like he had in late October: he was pale to the point of translucency, had huge dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and he seemed to be in a perpetual daze, often falling asleep in classes and meals. Ron joked that he didn’t see how having elephant tusks made Goyle unable to play—he could use his tusks instead of a Beater’s bat and do just as poorly as he usually did.
So the match was against Ravenclaw, who actually had a fairly good team this year. Not as good as Gryffindor’s, but good enough so that the match wasn’t a rout. Harry had only spied the elusive flutter of the Golden Snitch once during the match and it had quickly disappeared. When the score was 230-110 in favour of Gryffindor, he spotted it again.
The tiny Snitch hovered near the Gryffindor end of the pitch, above the Keeper’s head. As Harry was about half-way down the pitch when he saw it, he casually began a lazy loop towards the Keeper, all the while “looking” for the Snitch in other directions. His ploy was working, as the Ravenclaw Seeker was circling lazily opposite him. He kept one eye trained on the sneaky Snitch, however, as he neared the end of the pitch.
The Snitch chose that moment to dizzy itself in a series of loop-de-loops before plunging towards the ground. The Ravenclaw Seeker shot off after Harry in pursuit. Harry dodged Chasers and Beaters as he closed in on the Snitch. The Snitch made a sharp right turn, dove again, then shot straight back up into the air and the thick of the game. The Ravenclaw Seeker almost fell off her broomstick trying to keep up with the Snitch’s antics, but Harry had no such problems and gained on the golden orb.
Harry knew it was dangerous to shoot straight up through the middle of the match—he could hit or be hit by a Chaser or Beater or bludger very easily—but he had to trust the Gryffindor Beaters to do their job and protect him. Skimming past a bludger on his left and the Chaser it was aimed at on his right, Harry reached out his hand…closer, closer…he was almost there…
Wham! Something or someone smashed into the end of his broomstick and almost dislodged Harry. He utilised the Sloth Grip Roll to keep himself astride his broomstick. Amazingly, the Snitch hadn’t gotten too much farther away. But the Ravenclaw Seeker had gotten closer.
Harry pushed his broom to the limits as he raced his opponent for the Snitch. Almost there…Harry scooted forward as far as he dared and stretched out his hand. Almost…closer…three metres, two metres…almost…one metre…
Triumph! Harry’s fist closed around the wiggling Snitch and the crowd went wild. It was always the same for Harry—while he was in the moment, he completely tuned out the shouts and cheers of the crowd. The second his fingers closed around the Snitch, it was if his hearing suddenly turned back on and the roar of the audience would reach Harry in a wave that he could swear buffeted his broom like a gust of wind.
Holding his fist aloft, grinning maniacally, the blast of sound had just reached Harry’s ears when something else reached his head: a Bludger.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Draco was ill; his unwanted dreams were depriving him of sleep and he was unable to eat. He could hardly hold his head up but he gritted his teeth and joined the other Slytherins in the Quidditch stands. Blaise had argued with him, telling him to stay in bed and rest, but Draco was determined. Thank the gods that Snape had gotten the match rescheduled. Draco didn’t think he could hold onto a broomstick long enough to get off the ground, much less challenge Harry Potter as Seeker. But he wasn’t going to miss this match if he could help it.
Draco dozed off a few times during the match, but would awaken whenever the crowd cheered for a goal. Of course, he wanted Gryffindor to lose (right now Gryffindor held first place to the Slytherin’s second) but he couldn’t help admire Harry on his broomstick. When he was playing against him, Draco didn’t have the luxury of simply watching Harry as he manoeuvred around the pitch. Damn, the boy was good. Draco would never admit it to anyone, but Harry Potter was a damn good player. He made difficult moves look effortless and always managed to look graceful, even with his unruly black hair flopping about in the wind.
Draco could sit and look at Harry straddling a broomstick all day: strong thighs gripping the shaft of the broom, long fingers grasping the wood, brilliant green eyes searching, always searching for the elusive Snitch. And though the team robes prevented Draco from seeing it today, from watching Gryffindor practises he could visualize the way Harry’s tight arse looked when he flattened his body along the length of his broom’s handle. Draco shifted uncomfortably. Just watching Harry was making him hard.
Then a thunderous roar from the crowd around him let him know the Snitch had been caught. Draco looked up in time to see Harry lift his clenched fist high over his head. At the same instant, he saw a black blur speed towards the oblivious Seeker then smash into the back of his head.
Draco couldn’t help it; he gasped along with the rest of the crowd as Harry was thrown from his broom and started to freefall towards the ground. Luckily for Harry, three Chasers--two Gryffindor and one Ravenclaw—moved quickly and managed to snatch the unconscious boy out of the air; the two Gryffindors supported his weight while the Ravenclaw hovered below him as an additional safety net until they reached the ground. Then the teams and the crowd surged forward and Draco lost sight of Harry.
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Harry awoke with a pounding headache. A cacophony of voices surrounded him. He slitted open one eye and saw a haze of white. Cracking open the second eye and tilting his head a bit brought more white, then a blurred mass of black and gold and scarlet into his field of vision. A familiar scolding voice cut though the cotton in his head:
“If you lot can’t keep it down, I’ll have to ask you to leave. Mr. Potter needs his rest!”
Ah, Madam Pomfrey. The hospital wing. That must mean that the black, gold and scarlet mass was the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Couldn’t he please play just one match without ending up in the infirmary? Harry sighed to himself.
Harry opened his eyes all the way and coughed to let them know he was awake. A red, gold and black blur topped with orange moved closer to him.
“Oi, mate, you’re awake! How’re you feeling?” asked Ron.
Harry rolled his eyes, then decided that was a bad idea when it caused his head to pound even harder. “Like I’ve been hit by the Hogwarts Express. Where are my glasses, I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Language, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice came from Harry’s left and she handed him his glasses.
“Sorry,” Harry apologised with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t realise what I was saying.”
Madam Pomfrey nodded her acceptance. She’d certainly heard much worse from the mouths of injured patients before!
“Here, Mr. Potter, drink this. It should relieve the impressive headache I’m sure you have,” she said, handing him a clear blue potion. Harry downed it gratefully. It didn’t taste too horribly.
“Now, I’ll give you five minutes with your friends here, then I’ll be back with a sleeping potion. You need a good long rest, then you should be as good as new,” the matron said as she took the empty phial from Harry. “And for heaven’s sake, keep your voices down!”
Harry looked at his teammates properly for the first time, noting that Hermione was with them as well.
“So, what happened this time?” he joked.
Ginny grinned. “Oh, nothing much, just a bludger to the back of your head.”
“Oh, is that all?” Harry smiled weakly. “On purpose or an accident this time?”
Ron answered. “Accident, mate. Ravenclaw beater had hit the bludger about a second before you caught the Snitch and you managed to catch it with your head before anyone else could. Bloke feels bad, though; told me to pass on his apologies and to let you know he didn’t intend to whack you like that after you’d caught the Snitch.”
Harry sighed and gingerly felt the back of his head. “S’alright. Didn’t think a Ravenclaw would have done it on purpose. Listen, guys, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m really knackered…”
“Of course you are!” Hermione said. “We’ll leave you to sleep and come back to see how you are after dinner, all right?”
“Yeah, great,” Harry said. “Thanks.”
The Gryffindors left and Harry swallowed the sleeping potion Madam Pomfrey brought him without protest. He drifted off to sleep, glad that if he had to get hit by a bludger, at least he had caught the Snitch first.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Harry awoke later, a little disoriented. He lay still, trying to remember why he wasn’t in his own bed in the Gryffindor Tower. Oh, yes. Quidditch. He remembered his friends visiting briefly and eating a little dinner before taking more potions and falling back asleep again. So why was he awake?
A stealthy sound from across the room caught his attention. Ah, perhaps whoever was tiptoeing around had awoken him. He figured it to be Madam Pomfrey going about her business. Cracking open one eye, he noted the darkness of the ward. Only a few dim torches burned.
“That’s funny, it must be quite late. What’s Madam Pomfrey doing wandering around in the dark?’ Harry wondered, shutting his eye again. The sleeping potion made his head feel pleasantly fuzzy and he found he really didn’t care what Madam Pomfrey was doing. ‘Probably checking another patient,’ he decided.
He’d almost fallen asleep completely again when he felt the presence of someone standing next to his bed. The haze that passed for his brain at the moment assumed it was Pomfrey and he didn’t bother rousing himself.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Draco dismantled the locks and wards on the door into the hospital wing as quietly as he could, taking mental note of what they were so he could replace them on his way out. Slipping inside, he stood silently in a shadow, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. After a few moments, he crept slowly forward to the single occupied bed in the infirmary.
Draco had worried all afternoon about Harry. Was he all right? He cursed the fact that he couldn’t just go visit the Gryffindor; it would look odd. He’d been relieved when he’d seen Harry’s pals chatting animatedly at dinner; surely that meant Harry was OK. More relaxed, Draco had gone to bed early, hoping for a nightmare-less sleep. He still resisted taking sleeping potions; as bad as the nightmares were, he didn’t want to knock himself out in case he had a useful vision.
He’d slept well for a few hours, then had awoken panting in the aftermath of an amazing orgasm. The Dream. Well, if he had to be woken by a dream, Draco was glad it was that one. After cleaning himself up, he’d tried in vain to go back to sleep but The Dream had put Harry in the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Giving up falling back to sleep as a bad job, Draco decided to make a midnight visit to the object of his dreams.
Now he was standing next to Harry’s bed, watching him sleep. He looked so peaceful and…young. Innocent. ‘Do I look that innocent when I’m asleep?’ Draco wondered. ‘Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have those horrible glasses on. I wish I could see his eyes now, when they aren’t behind those thick lenses.’
Draco had no idea how long he stood there watching Harry sleep. He couldn’t explain why, but it was soothing to watch Harry’s chest rhythmically rise and fall as he breathed. Starting to feel sleepy himself, he decided it was time to return to his dormitory. He started to turn, but an overwhelming urge overtook him and he was too tired and too relaxed to fight it. Draco stepped closer to Harry’s bed and bending low, brushed a whisper-soft kiss across Harry’s slightly parted lips.
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Harry’s potion-numbed mind was dimly aware of the person standing next to his bed, but as the person wasn’t setting off any instinctual alarms of danger, he ignored them. It wasn’t until he felt a soft sensation float across his lips that his mind woke up a notch or two more and he truly realised he wasn’t alone. Slowly, his dull brain roused itself into action and he opened his eyes just a fraction. By the time he did, the person who had been standing next to his bed was across the room and opening the door to leave. As the mystery person slipped through the doorway, a shaft of moonlight briefly illuminated their white-blond hair.
Harry’s eyes popped wide open in shock. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? No, it couldn’t have been. What would Malfoy be doing in the hospital wing in the middle of the night? But no one else had hair that colour, that beautiful, silvery white-blond. It had to have been Malfoy. But that meant…Harry lifted his fingers to his mouth. He knew he hadn’t imagined it. He’d just been kissed by Draco Malfoy.
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A/N: Now I know what Rowling means when she says it’s difficult to write Quidditch scenes! Rest assured, that will be the only one in this fic! So…what did you think of Harry and Draco’s first kiss? Good? Too fluffy? Tell me, I really want to know what y’all think! Thanks for all the terrific reviews—I never dreamed so many people would like my fic!
And to Lilith leFey: Actually, most people agree that Hogwarts is likely in Scotland, although to my knowledge Rowling has not confirmed this. There are lots of websites out there that put Hogwarts in Scotland, so that is where I placed it as well. Check out www.hp-lexicon.org if you want more information. It’s a FANTASTIC Harry Potter site that I couldn’t live without! Thanks for the review!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter the Twenty-ninth: Quidditch
Two days later
14 December
It was the final Quidditch match of the term: Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. It was supposed to have been Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, but Snape had demanded the match be rescheduled due to the fact that almost half the team was not fit to play. As far as Harry and the other Gryffindors were concerned, only one of the slippery Slytherins had a legitimate excuse: Keeper Blanton, whose grandmother had died at the ripe old age of 136. Blanton had gone home to attend the funeral. As for the other Slytherins, Goyle was laid up in the hospital wing with what appeared to be elephant tusks growing out of his nose (no one knew how it had happened and Goyle wasn’t saying) and Malfoy was…sick. Harry was beginning to think that perhaps the boy had some bizarre recurrent illness, because Malfoy looked just like he had in late October: he was pale to the point of translucency, had huge dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and he seemed to be in a perpetual daze, often falling asleep in classes and meals. Ron joked that he didn’t see how having elephant tusks made Goyle unable to play—he could use his tusks instead of a Beater’s bat and do just as poorly as he usually did.
So the match was against Ravenclaw, who actually had a fairly good team this year. Not as good as Gryffindor’s, but good enough so that the match wasn’t a rout. Harry had only spied the elusive flutter of the Golden Snitch once during the match and it had quickly disappeared. When the score was 230-110 in favour of Gryffindor, he spotted it again.
The tiny Snitch hovered near the Gryffindor end of the pitch, above the Keeper’s head. As Harry was about half-way down the pitch when he saw it, he casually began a lazy loop towards the Keeper, all the while “looking” for the Snitch in other directions. His ploy was working, as the Ravenclaw Seeker was circling lazily opposite him. He kept one eye trained on the sneaky Snitch, however, as he neared the end of the pitch.
The Snitch chose that moment to dizzy itself in a series of loop-de-loops before plunging towards the ground. The Ravenclaw Seeker shot off after Harry in pursuit. Harry dodged Chasers and Beaters as he closed in on the Snitch. The Snitch made a sharp right turn, dove again, then shot straight back up into the air and the thick of the game. The Ravenclaw Seeker almost fell off her broomstick trying to keep up with the Snitch’s antics, but Harry had no such problems and gained on the golden orb.
Harry knew it was dangerous to shoot straight up through the middle of the match—he could hit or be hit by a Chaser or Beater or bludger very easily—but he had to trust the Gryffindor Beaters to do their job and protect him. Skimming past a bludger on his left and the Chaser it was aimed at on his right, Harry reached out his hand…closer, closer…he was almost there…
Wham! Something or someone smashed into the end of his broomstick and almost dislodged Harry. He utilised the Sloth Grip Roll to keep himself astride his broomstick. Amazingly, the Snitch hadn’t gotten too much farther away. But the Ravenclaw Seeker had gotten closer.
Harry pushed his broom to the limits as he raced his opponent for the Snitch. Almost there…Harry scooted forward as far as he dared and stretched out his hand. Almost…closer…three metres, two metres…almost…one metre…
Triumph! Harry’s fist closed around the wiggling Snitch and the crowd went wild. It was always the same for Harry—while he was in the moment, he completely tuned out the shouts and cheers of the crowd. The second his fingers closed around the Snitch, it was if his hearing suddenly turned back on and the roar of the audience would reach Harry in a wave that he could swear buffeted his broom like a gust of wind.
Holding his fist aloft, grinning maniacally, the blast of sound had just reached Harry’s ears when something else reached his head: a Bludger.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Draco was ill; his unwanted dreams were depriving him of sleep and he was unable to eat. He could hardly hold his head up but he gritted his teeth and joined the other Slytherins in the Quidditch stands. Blaise had argued with him, telling him to stay in bed and rest, but Draco was determined. Thank the gods that Snape had gotten the match rescheduled. Draco didn’t think he could hold onto a broomstick long enough to get off the ground, much less challenge Harry Potter as Seeker. But he wasn’t going to miss this match if he could help it.
Draco dozed off a few times during the match, but would awaken whenever the crowd cheered for a goal. Of course, he wanted Gryffindor to lose (right now Gryffindor held first place to the Slytherin’s second) but he couldn’t help admire Harry on his broomstick. When he was playing against him, Draco didn’t have the luxury of simply watching Harry as he manoeuvred around the pitch. Damn, the boy was good. Draco would never admit it to anyone, but Harry Potter was a damn good player. He made difficult moves look effortless and always managed to look graceful, even with his unruly black hair flopping about in the wind.
Draco could sit and look at Harry straddling a broomstick all day: strong thighs gripping the shaft of the broom, long fingers grasping the wood, brilliant green eyes searching, always searching for the elusive Snitch. And though the team robes prevented Draco from seeing it today, from watching Gryffindor practises he could visualize the way Harry’s tight arse looked when he flattened his body along the length of his broom’s handle. Draco shifted uncomfortably. Just watching Harry was making him hard.
Then a thunderous roar from the crowd around him let him know the Snitch had been caught. Draco looked up in time to see Harry lift his clenched fist high over his head. At the same instant, he saw a black blur speed towards the oblivious Seeker then smash into the back of his head.
Draco couldn’t help it; he gasped along with the rest of the crowd as Harry was thrown from his broom and started to freefall towards the ground. Luckily for Harry, three Chasers--two Gryffindor and one Ravenclaw—moved quickly and managed to snatch the unconscious boy out of the air; the two Gryffindors supported his weight while the Ravenclaw hovered below him as an additional safety net until they reached the ground. Then the teams and the crowd surged forward and Draco lost sight of Harry.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Harry awoke with a pounding headache. A cacophony of voices surrounded him. He slitted open one eye and saw a haze of white. Cracking open the second eye and tilting his head a bit brought more white, then a blurred mass of black and gold and scarlet into his field of vision. A familiar scolding voice cut though the cotton in his head:
“If you lot can’t keep it down, I’ll have to ask you to leave. Mr. Potter needs his rest!”
Ah, Madam Pomfrey. The hospital wing. That must mean that the black, gold and scarlet mass was the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Couldn’t he please play just one match without ending up in the infirmary? Harry sighed to himself.
Harry opened his eyes all the way and coughed to let them know he was awake. A red, gold and black blur topped with orange moved closer to him.
“Oi, mate, you’re awake! How’re you feeling?” asked Ron.
Harry rolled his eyes, then decided that was a bad idea when it caused his head to pound even harder. “Like I’ve been hit by the Hogwarts Express. Where are my glasses, I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Language, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice came from Harry’s left and she handed him his glasses.
“Sorry,” Harry apologised with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t realise what I was saying.”
Madam Pomfrey nodded her acceptance. She’d certainly heard much worse from the mouths of injured patients before!
“Here, Mr. Potter, drink this. It should relieve the impressive headache I’m sure you have,” she said, handing him a clear blue potion. Harry downed it gratefully. It didn’t taste too horribly.
“Now, I’ll give you five minutes with your friends here, then I’ll be back with a sleeping potion. You need a good long rest, then you should be as good as new,” the matron said as she took the empty phial from Harry. “And for heaven’s sake, keep your voices down!”
Harry looked at his teammates properly for the first time, noting that Hermione was with them as well.
“So, what happened this time?” he joked.
Ginny grinned. “Oh, nothing much, just a bludger to the back of your head.”
“Oh, is that all?” Harry smiled weakly. “On purpose or an accident this time?”
Ron answered. “Accident, mate. Ravenclaw beater had hit the bludger about a second before you caught the Snitch and you managed to catch it with your head before anyone else could. Bloke feels bad, though; told me to pass on his apologies and to let you know he didn’t intend to whack you like that after you’d caught the Snitch.”
Harry sighed and gingerly felt the back of his head. “S’alright. Didn’t think a Ravenclaw would have done it on purpose. Listen, guys, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m really knackered…”
“Of course you are!” Hermione said. “We’ll leave you to sleep and come back to see how you are after dinner, all right?”
“Yeah, great,” Harry said. “Thanks.”
The Gryffindors left and Harry swallowed the sleeping potion Madam Pomfrey brought him without protest. He drifted off to sleep, glad that if he had to get hit by a bludger, at least he had caught the Snitch first.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Harry awoke later, a little disoriented. He lay still, trying to remember why he wasn’t in his own bed in the Gryffindor Tower. Oh, yes. Quidditch. He remembered his friends visiting briefly and eating a little dinner before taking more potions and falling back asleep again. So why was he awake?
A stealthy sound from across the room caught his attention. Ah, perhaps whoever was tiptoeing around had awoken him. He figured it to be Madam Pomfrey going about her business. Cracking open one eye, he noted the darkness of the ward. Only a few dim torches burned.
“That’s funny, it must be quite late. What’s Madam Pomfrey doing wandering around in the dark?’ Harry wondered, shutting his eye again. The sleeping potion made his head feel pleasantly fuzzy and he found he really didn’t care what Madam Pomfrey was doing. ‘Probably checking another patient,’ he decided.
He’d almost fallen asleep completely again when he felt the presence of someone standing next to his bed. The haze that passed for his brain at the moment assumed it was Pomfrey and he didn’t bother rousing himself.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Draco dismantled the locks and wards on the door into the hospital wing as quietly as he could, taking mental note of what they were so he could replace them on his way out. Slipping inside, he stood silently in a shadow, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. After a few moments, he crept slowly forward to the single occupied bed in the infirmary.
Draco had worried all afternoon about Harry. Was he all right? He cursed the fact that he couldn’t just go visit the Gryffindor; it would look odd. He’d been relieved when he’d seen Harry’s pals chatting animatedly at dinner; surely that meant Harry was OK. More relaxed, Draco had gone to bed early, hoping for a nightmare-less sleep. He still resisted taking sleeping potions; as bad as the nightmares were, he didn’t want to knock himself out in case he had a useful vision.
He’d slept well for a few hours, then had awoken panting in the aftermath of an amazing orgasm. The Dream. Well, if he had to be woken by a dream, Draco was glad it was that one. After cleaning himself up, he’d tried in vain to go back to sleep but The Dream had put Harry in the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Giving up falling back to sleep as a bad job, Draco decided to make a midnight visit to the object of his dreams.
Now he was standing next to Harry’s bed, watching him sleep. He looked so peaceful and…young. Innocent. ‘Do I look that innocent when I’m asleep?’ Draco wondered. ‘Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have those horrible glasses on. I wish I could see his eyes now, when they aren’t behind those thick lenses.’
Draco had no idea how long he stood there watching Harry sleep. He couldn’t explain why, but it was soothing to watch Harry’s chest rhythmically rise and fall as he breathed. Starting to feel sleepy himself, he decided it was time to return to his dormitory. He started to turn, but an overwhelming urge overtook him and he was too tired and too relaxed to fight it. Draco stepped closer to Harry’s bed and bending low, brushed a whisper-soft kiss across Harry’s slightly parted lips.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Harry’s potion-numbed mind was dimly aware of the person standing next to his bed, but as the person wasn’t setting off any instinctual alarms of danger, he ignored them. It wasn’t until he felt a soft sensation float across his lips that his mind woke up a notch or two more and he truly realised he wasn’t alone. Slowly, his dull brain roused itself into action and he opened his eyes just a fraction. By the time he did, the person who had been standing next to his bed was across the room and opening the door to leave. As the mystery person slipped through the doorway, a shaft of moonlight briefly illuminated their white-blond hair.
Harry’s eyes popped wide open in shock. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? No, it couldn’t have been. What would Malfoy be doing in the hospital wing in the middle of the night? But no one else had hair that colour, that beautiful, silvery white-blond. It had to have been Malfoy. But that meant…Harry lifted his fingers to his mouth. He knew he hadn’t imagined it. He’d just been kissed by Draco Malfoy.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
A/N: Now I know what Rowling means when she says it’s difficult to write Quidditch scenes! Rest assured, that will be the only one in this fic! So…what did you think of Harry and Draco’s first kiss? Good? Too fluffy? Tell me, I really want to know what y’all think! Thanks for all the terrific reviews—I never dreamed so many people would like my fic!
And to Lilith leFey: Actually, most people agree that Hogwarts is likely in Scotland, although to my knowledge Rowling has not confirmed this. There are lots of websites out there that put Hogwarts in Scotland, so that is where I placed it as well. Check out www.hp-lexicon.org if you want more information. It’s a FANTASTIC Harry Potter site that I couldn’t live without! Thanks for the review!
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