Chapter Text
Draco POV
Harry crowds Draco’s space, the proximity to the taller boy making his breath hitch.
“I’ve been thinking about you for so long, Draco. It’s driving me crazy.”
Draco instinctively backs away and feels his back hit the wall.
“W-Wot?”
The seconds tick by slower and slower as Harry leans down and whispers into Draco’s ear.
“Wake up.”
Draco raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“I said wake up.”
Draco looks confused after being ripped out of his slumber.
“Finally. You sleep like a bloody log.” Crabbe huffs before sauntering away.
Draco fully sits up, disgustingly aware of the cold layer of sweat encasing him and drops his face into his hands. What the bloody hell just happened? He thought. Why was that orphaned bloody stupid idiot face in my dream?
Goyle popped his head into Draco’s dorm. “Crabbe says to hurry your twink arse up.”
Draco glared at Goyle as his head disappeared back through the door. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying not to dwell too hard on the poorly timed twink comment. His tie was nowhere in sight, and his vest lay discarded under his bed out of reach. He grumbled in annoyance and buttoned up his shirt halfway, grabbing his cloak before rushing out into the hall to meet Crabbe and Goyle on their way to breakfast.
“Mate, where is your uniform?” Crabbe said, eyeing his lack of a tie and vest.
“Mcgonagall is going to take lioke 20 points if she sees any more of your bare chest during breakfast,” Goyle adds, noting his mostly unbuttoned shirt.
Draco scowled and speed-walked up the stairs. He stopped at the top with the onset of an idea and turned to face Goyle.
“Give me your tie, then.”
Goyle gave him an unsure look.
“Since you’re so worried about it,” Draco added.
Goyle reluctantly undid his tie and handed it over. Draco slung the tie over his shoulder as they strutted into the cafeteria.
Harry POV
Harry was attempting to absorb as much of Hermione’s and Ron’s argument as he could without offering any of his opinions to fuel their disagreement. He knows better than to get involved by now. He huffed and stabbed a few of the pancakes on his plate that were basically drowning in syrup.
“You know,” he started, the sarcasm brewing the back of his throat, “If you guys got divorced, I don’t know if I’d feel happy or sad.”
They looked at him blankly. “We’re not married,” they said in unison.
“Yet, somehow,” Harry strained a smile and gave his pancake another stab, “you two fight like a couple in the midst of an annulment.”
Ron gave him a funky look. “What’s gotchuh panties in a twist?”
Hermione, to Harry’s delight, slapped Ron upside the head at the mention of panties around her food.
Harry didn’t quite know what was causing his annoyance.
Well, he did, but it was completely beyond him to admit the fact that couldn’t stop catching himself looking (staring) at Draco Malfoy. And it really didn’t help his case when Malfoy came striding into the cafeteria looking like he'd just come back from a quick shag in a broom closet.
Harry’s gaze dragged over his askew blonde locks and fluttered down to where he hadn't bothered to button his shirt up to. His tie lay neatly slung over his shoulder and his robe sat tucked under his athletic arm. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Harry was having immense trouble tearing his eyes away from the veins running up from Draco’s knuckles and spanning his forearms.
A shame they hate each other.
“EARTH TO HARRY” Ron bellowed. A few Gryffindors turned to look at them with amused expressions on their faces.
“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.” (He really hadn’t). He was glad something had diverted his attention from the white-blond hair a couple tables over.
Ron looked unconvinced and Hermione craned her head confusedly to see what (or rather who) he had been ogling.
“Anyways,” Ron started, “I’ve been trying to get a date to the Yule Ball, but nobody wants to go with me. I swear girls are so bloody difficult. It would be so much easier to be a girl and get to go with a guy, we’ve got less standards,” Ron jokes. “Anyway, are you having any luck, Harry?”
“Hm? Oh, erm, no, no. I haven’t really tried.”
Harry’s gaze somehow slid back to the table a few meters away where Malfoy just happened to be the centerpiece in his line of sight. Harry hypnotically watched Draco knot the tie gracefully around his collar and effectively seal off the window to his sternum.
Mcgonagall, who had been glaring daggers at Draco to fix his uniform as per usual, averted her menacing gaze and returned to eating her beans on toast.
Now that Harry thought about it, Draco was looking a bit more on edge than usual. The pre-Christmas quidditch championships between Gryffindor and Slytherin were approaching fast and tensions between the two houses were a bit higher than normal. Harry had also gotten word that Filch was planning on moving a few of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws into the dungeons with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs for construction in the dorm towers. (Thanks to a ‘small’ prank by a certain pair of Weasley twins, most of the towers were missing a roof or two.)
(And possibly a few walls.)
Harry watched as Malfoy sneered at Crabbe and Goyle for something they said. He always looked positively rotten with evil when he talked to those two, and it suddenly dawned on Harry that they looked as if they were most certainly plotting something wicked.
Crabbe muttered something to Malfoy, whose eyes swung abruptly upwards and locked onto Harry’s face as it slowly heated up with annoyance. Not much to Harry’s surprise, Draco’s gaze radiated hatred that Harry could feel burning him up even more. Malfoy had so much animosity for practically everyone that Harry decided not to take his hateful glare to heart.
Merlin knows Harry hated that boy enough for the both of them.
He was finally able to avert his eyes from the Slytherin, dropping his gaze to the food he’d been pushing around his plate for the better part of the last couple minutes. He could still feel Draco’s gaze burning a hole into his head, but tried to ignore it.
That day, Malfoy must have sneered at him 12 more times than usual, which only further validated Harry’s suspicion that he must be plotting something against Gryffindor. Harry was certain that Draco was making sure Harry knew that whatever Harry overheard at breakfast was none of his business, (even if in reality he couldn’t really hear anything, let alone Ron screeching in his ear).