Author Notes: This story is written for the "Box of Chocolates" Valentine's Day Challenge at the Review Lounge. It had to include a box of chocolates, and optionally includes hair, a kiss/hug and hand-holding. This story is slash- Harry/Draco.
Better Fanfic Through Betas: Edna- Missy Padfoot. Send her some love and check out her stories :)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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Potter-
I'm bored. Vince and Greg are eyeing Millicent, Millicent's eyeing Pansy's huge slice of cake, Pansy's eyeing me, and I can only look absolutely horrified at the First Years who are the only ones getting any action at this damn table.
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Draco, tell Parkinson to eat her cake before Bulstrode steals it. And are you telling me that Crabbe and Goyle's love for Parkinson is greater than their love for food? It's decided. The apocalypse is coming.
If you still want your entertainment, keep watching those Firsties in their unsubtle groping. You'd probably get off on it. You can tell your admirers about it and earn yourself some pretty cash; you probably got more Valentines than me this year. It escapes me why though, since you still look as pointy as ever.
I'm being blinded by the light reflecting off this stupid confetti. Remind me again why it's falling and congealing in my pumpkin juice?
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Potter, you're an infernal being. Don't you know you're the only one in this school with a snowy owl? My housemates have snapped out of their reverie when they found your bloody owl swooping down with the letter. Borrow Weasley's if you must.
I think it's impossible for anyone, including that boy she's currently attached to, to get off looking at Vince's sister. I have enough money to buy myself some proper clothes. Haven't you heard that rags and drags are out this season? I always thought that my lack of curves was one of the primary reasons why you're attracted to me. Call me hot now and you might be forgiven.
The red and pink sparkles are the material representation of the clichéd love and adoration that young heterosexual couples suddenly feel on Valentine's Day. Surely you haven't missed this fact for the past seven years?
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You should be thanking me that Parkinson isn't fluttering her eyelashes at you anymore. You seriously didn't tell her you were gay yet? I want to be there when you do; I can bring some popcorn and enjoy the show.
And haven't you heard that it's unnatural to spend this much time on your appearance? Though you may lack the curves, thank Merlin, you probably spend more time on your hair and face and clothes than a normal girl. But you look alright afterwards.
Sod it, you look bloody gorgeous and you know it. But you're still pointy.
Are you saying that only straight people can love?
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Of course I didn't tell her I'm gay, you idiot. She'd start crying and going on about how I led her on and how our love was meant to be… And she's also a blabbermouth and I don't want this going around all of Slytherin House. Wouldn't do much good for my reputation. And is popcorn another one of your horrible Muggle habits?
See Potter? If that's the reaction I get from others, then it's all worth it. Except for the pointy comment; you take that back! My features are refined.
You are seriously turning mental. Look at the straight Granger-Weasley relationship. Hand holding, hugs, study dates, and declarations of love and devotion. They'll probably get married one day and have many bushy red-heads. Spare me.
We don't hold hands, hug only as some odd form of foreplay, and declare nothing, except maybe the time of our next meeting. We snog. And have sex. Good sex.
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What's your reputation now then? And popcorn is a delicious snack which is perfect to munch on when viewing entertainment, such as you coming out to your friends.
Fine, I'm taking it back, but only because I know I'll regret it otherwise.
Their relationship isn't as horrible as you make it out to be. They like it and feel comfortable with each other. It's about spending quality time together and sharing secrets and just being with someone you love. What's so bad about that?
You don't think we're anything more than that? And we don't hug during foreplay… it's more of a kind of afterplay. What would Slytherin House say if they knew the great Draco Malfoy liked to cuddle? - - - - -
My reputation is one of a sexy and charming Slytherin. Since when is someone coming out as gay a bloody show with tickets? If you think it's that entertaining, why don't you do it yourself? I would gladly watch. And maybe I'll even eat some of this Muggle food you're so fond of.
You're odd. If knowing people's secrets is what makes your life worthwhile these days, I guess I can tell you a secret on this forsaken holiday bent on making people happy.
Your horribly messy and unruly hair has grown on me, and I actually find it quite endearing. Don't let it go to your head.
If you ever mention the cuddling to anyone, I will cut off your bollocks and feed them to the Giant Squid.
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Charming? The only ones who think that are probably your little admirers, who don't see past your face and trousers, which by the way, are way too tight to be worn in public. And I get the point. No show, no popcorn.
So all these times when you were teasing me about it, you actually liked it? I seriously can't believe it. Draco Malfoy secretly lusts after my hair. I'm grinning like a fool and Ron's asking who's put that smile on my face. I should tell him it's you just to see his reaction.
You're quite creative with your methods of torture. Just goes to show how charming you truly are.
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Potter, I told you not to let it go to your head.
I'm still bored. My room in 10 minutes?
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I'll be there.
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Harry finished writing his letter, blew off the stray confetti and attached it securely to one of the school's barn owls. It flew off before he even had a chance to tell the owl the recipient of the letter, and it quickly became lost in the sea of screeching owls.
He could just barely make out Draco sitting at the Slytherin table, turned sideways and apparently deep in conversation with Zabini. He looked up at the owl's arrival, unfolded the letter, read it, and without making any signs of acknowledgement, slipped it into his robe pocket. He smiled at Zabini and said something Harry couldn't hear before walking out of the Great Hall.
Although everyone would be too busy to notice if Harry left at the same time, he decided to wait five minutes before making his subtle exit. Growing impatient after only four, he stood up, leaving his numerous Valentines piled around his uneaten food.
"My head's spinning and I feel ill," he announced to his friends. Ron nodded and continued chewing, but Hermione looked up at him worryingly.
"It's not You-Know-Who, is it Harry?" she said, her voice immediately sharp. She wrenched her hand free of Ron's, blushed, and stood up too. "You need to tell Dumbledore! He said to come to him whenever your head is—"
"It's not Voldemort, Hermione," Harry sighed. "It's just all the noise; it's just getting to me, that's all. Now, sit back down and eat your cake."
Hermione watched him suspiciously for a moment, making sure he wouldn't faint right there on the spot before taking her seat again. "But if it gets worse," she warned, "be sure to go to Madam Pomfrey."
Harry rolled his eyes but called out an affirmative to satisfy her. She seemed pleased with his response and grabbed Ron's hand again. Ron promptly proceeded to drop the buttered toast on his lap.
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Harry never truly appreciated the dungeons so much as that day. He inhaled the air, slightly musty, but still better than the hot and sticky perfume-infested room that he just left. The pressure of the air surrounding him from all sides decreased with every step he took until his headache all but cleared. He took his carefully folded Invisibility Cloak out from his bag and wrapped it around him. Harry shivered suddenly; he should be used to the sudden drop in temperature, but it still struck him as an uncomfortable surprise every time he went down into the dungeons. He pulled the cloak closer to his body, but the thin material didn't provide any warmth.
He stopped by a familiar stretch of wall and whispered, "Snakes for the Cup." Harry suppressed a sigh at the typical Slytherin password, but luckily the concealed door swung open to reveal the practically empty common room. A boy one year below Harry, whose name he didn't know, was sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. Harry just walked past him, taking great care to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. He was poised to knock on the door but decided to walk right in; he was, after all, expected.
Just as he was about to grasp the handle, the door swung open. Draco was lounging on his bed, his wand still pointed at the open door. "Well come on," he said impatiently. "You're late."
Harry glanced down at his watch; he was two minutes early. Not wanting another argument with Draco, he just walked across the room, trying not to step on the many robes and books scattered all over the floor, until he was right in front of him. Draco didn't move from his stretched out position except to look up at Harry, and shut the door with a movement of his wand. "You came."
"I always do," Harry said simply. "You're much more entertaining than opening those damn Valentines. Do you know that I got over twenty identical ones, all with that rhyme from our second year?"
"His eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad," Draco sang, horribly off-key in an attempt to sound like a winged dwarf. "I disagree though," he said, propping himself up on his elbow and staring intently into Harry's eyes. "I think they resemble avocadoes."
"Avocadoes?" Harry repeated. "That has to be the first time I've heard that one."
"Well if you don't like originality," Draco trailed off and moved into a sitting position. "I guess I could describe your eyes as iridescent emeralds, glistening as the sunlight is reflected off their smooth facets, speckled with flecks of—"
"Alright," Harry interrupted, laughing. "I think I prefer the avocadoes."
Harry made as if to move, but Draco reached for his hands and laced their fingers together. Slowly, he brought both of their arms back, leading Harry closer towards him. He only stopped once Harry had no choice but to straddle his legs.
They stayed in that position: Harry breathing warm air onto Draco's cheek and Draco leaning in to Harry's neck. "We're holding hands," Harry whispered teasingly, stroking the back of Draco's hand with his thumb.
Draco immediately wrenched his hands free, glared, and shifted his hips in an attempt to dislodge him. Harry merely laughed and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck for balance. "And now we're hugging," he murmured, his breath tickling Draco's ear.
"Get off, Potter," Draco said sharply. When Harry didn't budge, Draco sighed and reached behind him for a rectangular box wrapped in red, glittery paper, 'Happy Valentine's Day' scrawled on it in shimmering letters. He offered it to Harry, who took it with a smile on his face. Draco supported him, letting Harry have full use of his hands to unwrap the box.
"You got me a present," Harry said ecstatically.
"Of course I didn't," Draco replied, stamping out Harry's momentary happy. "Pansy got it for me today, and I thought it'd be a waste to eat all by myself. I wouldn't want to ruin my figure, since I know you like me gorgeous like this."
"I do," Harry hummed, attempting to keep the smile on his face. At least with the Dursleys, he knew not to expect a present; they didn't play games, pretending to give him a gift and dangling it in front of his face, before telling him it's something completely different. He tore off the rest off the rest of the wrapping paper, opened the box, and popped the first piece of chocolate in his mouth.
"Good?" Draco asked, eyeing Harry as he closed his eyes and moaned. He merely nodded and ate yet another piece. "Just wanted to make sure they weren't poisoned."
Harry's eyes flew opened, glaring at him accusingly, but Draco just shrugged. "You remember how it was last year with Weasley? I didn't want to find myself suddenly enamoured with Pansy."
"So I'm your test subject?" Harry retorted. "So you share some chocolate with me, which was a present for you from someone else, just to make sure there wasn't something in it?"
Draco nodded slowly. "But you're seriously making it out to be worse than it actually is.
"What if they had some kind of deadly poison from Voldemort?"
"Why would the Dark Lord want me dead?" Draco said irritably. "And stop looking at me like that."
"Well, don't you care if I suddenly fall head-over-heels with Parkinson then?"
"Obviously," Draco replied, then grinned lasciviously. "The only thing I want to share right now is this chocolate, and you certainly aren't chocolate."
Harry sighed, but knew that was the closest to an apology he would get. "So, do you want some of this chocolate or not?" He ate a piece himself, and offered another to Draco.
Draco had other plans; he moved his hands up until they were around Harry's neck and drew their two bodies together. He stopped when their mouths were just barely touching, ghosting over each other. "I knew you liked sharing."
It was enough for Harry, who dropped the chocolate still in his hand onto the bed so that his now free hand could be brought to Draco's face. He brushed the blond fringe out of his eyes, licking his lips as he did so, and Draco gave in.
He pushed his body forward and crushed his lips to Harry's. Harry's mouth was slightly parted and Draco used this to his advantage. There was no hesitation; he deepened the kiss, his tongue caressing Harry's, his fingers entwined in his hair and urging him closer. Letting his eyes drift closed, he slowly explored Harry's mouth, tasting the exquisite flavours of chocolate and Harry himself.
Much too soon for Harry's liking, Draco pulled back.
His face was slightly flushed, his lips were swollen, his pupils dilated, but Draco made no other signs acknowledging what just happened. "I like it," he said, reaching for the fallen sweet on the bed.
"So happy Valentine's Day, by the way," Harry said, his arms still loosely wrapped around Draco's waist.
Draco snorted. "I told you what I think of that, didn't I?" His expression also turned to one of bliss as he tasted the sweet goodness. "Pansy sure knows how to pick out good chocolate."
"Do you honestly think that? Do you seriously think that only straight people can love?" Harry asked, staring intently at him, willing him to say something different than his usual predictable response.
"How can gays love?" Draco asked rhetorically, licking the chocolate off his fingers. "We can't do all the normal things. It's physical, isn't it?"
"If I were a horrible kisser, would you just move on to someone else?"
Draco contemplated this. "No," he said slowly, and Harry brightened. "There aren't that many gay guys at Hogwarts, and if you were that much of a hopeless case, I could probably teach you." He smirked up at Harry. "But luckily you're not, so we don't have to worry about that."
"So what we have is purely physical?"
"Potter," Draco said, "we don't have anything between us. We're not in a relationship."
"I know," Harry lied, hurt to hear it but expecting nothing else. "But don't you sometimes just want to be around me because you like me?"
"You mean like your brilliant wit?" Draco asked. Harry nodded. "Maybe. I guess you're starting to grow on me."
Harry smiled brilliantly at him; it was the first admission Draco had ever made that they were anything more than horrible enemies.
"I think this love nonsense Granger and Weasley are spewing is really getting to you," Draco said, snorting. "Do you want to lie down? You might just remember that you kept me up most of the night."
Harry got off him and smirked. "You mean you want to cuddle?"
"Shut up," Draco said, flushing slightly, but he made no comment to prove otherwise.
"Are you sure Crabbe and Goyle won't just barge in here at any time?"
Draco threw a pillow at his head. "Way to ruin the mood."
"There was a mood?"
"Stop asking bloody questions! And don't smile at me like that—it's highly disturbing. "
"Won't anyone be bothered by us sleeping through the middle of the afternoon?"
"They'll be busy with their latest love conquests. Now just close the damn curtains."
Once the curtains were firmly closed, Harry lay down under the covers next to Draco. His cold feet sought out Draco, who immediately recoiled with a hiss.
"Your feet stay on your side," Draco said as Harry snickered.
"If you want me to hold you, you're damn well going to put up with my feet." Draco sighed, but this time allowed Harry to rub his feet against his. Harry smiled, satisfied, and encircled Draco's waist with one hand. With the other, he reached up to stroke his hair. It was soft beneath his fingers, as always.
"Draco?" he whispered into his ear. "Happy Valentine's Day." Draco merely grunted.
"Draco?" he said again, poking him sharply in the side.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Potter," Draco finally said. "Now hold me, you sodding fool."
He sighed contentedly as Harry moved closer against him. Draco relaxed, his breathing becoming deeper and more rhythmic as sleep took over him.
Harry pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Draco's cheek before he too drifted off to sleep.