Harry hasn't spoken to Draco for a whole week.
He'd purposefully ignore and avoid the blond at every chance he had, taking different routes in the hallways, moving seats in potions, and not even giving Draco a second glance when he fainted from lack of sleep in charms. It was like some kind of punishment, it was as if the boy with the brilliant green eyes was telling the boy that everyone hated that he was disgusting, that he never wanted to kiss him, that he didn't want to see him. And it was killing the boy with silver eyes.
He hadn't been to The Great Hall in days, but in all honesty, he wasn't feeling at all hungry. Lessons felt thousands of years long, and the classrooms seemed dull and the people were too loud. And Harry wouldn't look at him. He wouldn't even talk to him. It was as if the kiss had never happened, and everything was as it was before. Yet it felt as if his life had been flipped upside down and shaken. The golden trio were complete again, and Weasley wouldn't stop throwing snide remarks at him, shrieking with laughter when Professor McGonagall gently chastised him for actually falling asleep in class.
It was so humiliating. But, to be fair, Draco had done almost exactly the same thing just about a two years
ago. So who was he to talk? He probably deserved it. And, as usual, Harry watched on, taking it all in, and not saying a word. So instead, the blond spent almost all his time in the back of the library, or sitting outside, hiding in the shady bits of the field, watching as an unruly boy with jet black hair threw his head back, laughing at a joke a nameless face made, until Granger of all people sat right next to him, dropping her lunch unceremoniously on the grass.
Draco stared at her incredulously. "Don't look so shocked, Malfoy, or Draco - I can call you that right?" The blond nodded slowly, still slightly dazed. Hermione (or granger?) smiled softly at him, worry shadowed in her soft features. He looked up, catching Harry's eye, and for a split second, the other boy's mask fell away, and he looked more vulnerable, maybe even jealous. But then again, Draco was so desperate of one sign that Harry didn't completely hate him, that he had probably imagined it.
Hermione, despite the blond's lack of response, continued to chat about anything and everything, while Draco stared blankly at the grass, murmuring a vague response every now and then. Eventually, the bell signifying the end of eighth year break rang, and Granger stood up, her chestnut brown hair swaying slightly. She shot him a brief smile before going to join a group of her jostling friends, and disappeared into the crowd.
As the sky darkened and the sun hid beneath the clouds, Draco struggled to his feet and slipped inside, unnoticed by the few people left sitting on the dry grass. And then turned the corner into the hallway, and saw something he probably wasn't meant to see.
It was Harry and Granger, no surprise there, but Potter looked mildly irritated, and Granger looked downright annoyed. "I don't know what you're playing at, but stop. You've never liked him before, so why are you acting like you do now?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "Well what about you, Harry? You've been ignoring him for over a week, and suddenly I'm not allowed to talk to Draco at all - as if that makes any sense. Get over it." Harry narrowed his eyes menacingly, and if he was angry before, he looked even angrier now.
"Look, you don't have to be so difficult about everything. Malfoy isn't into you, he never has, he never will be. He's more-"
"Interested in you? So it's jealousy that's making you scream at me like a deranged lunatic. And it's Malfoy now, is it? You're so childish, Harry Potter. Why don't you just swallow your pride and admit you like him?" Harry stood still for a moment, hesitating while Hermione stared him down. Eventually, she just rolled her eyes and vanished around a shady corner, and the other boy stared after him. Pressing his back against the cold stone wall, Draco could feel his heart beating wildly beneath his school jumper.
The golden boy was actually jealous? And it was because of him! It was because of him. So why wasn't he happy about it? Why does it feel like the wrong sort of love?
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Sorry for the short and late chapter. I have like a thousand late assignments due. I'll do better next chapter.
-R🧚
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I kissed a boy (drarry)
FanfictionDISCLAIMER: I kind of don't like this fic, so read at your own risk 😭 --------- Harry Potter was a saint - or at least that's what it looked like. Nothing he did was ever remotely wrong or laced with bad intentions. Everyone said it, the image of p...
