Harry Potter oneshots

By The Fire- Drarry

"No! I have no idea what you're on about, but I do NOT have a boyfriend!" Draco cried dramatically, grabbing his bag and storming out of the Great Hall.
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Draco got ready for bed, and once again grabbed a spare blanket, soft and worn after many years of use. He waved goodnight to Blaise before heading down to the common room again, this time ready to snuggle up against the furnace that was Potter.

When he entered, he saw Potter laying on the couch, sipping his cocoa and staring into the fire. Draco padded over, laying down on the couch next to Potter, and snuggled up against him until they were a jumble of limbs with Draco's blanket covering them. Draco took a sip of his cocoa, before moving into a comfortable position of his head in the crook between Harry's neck and shoulders, with his legs intertwined with Potter's.

"Mal- Draco?"

"Mmh?"

"What are we?"

"Mmmmhh. Two tired men who need to go to sleep. One is much much prettier than the other."

"I mean....what is this? What are we doing?"

"Potter. Can we discuss life's philosophies and whatever questions you have tomorrow? I'm going to sleep now, and I need my beauty rest."

Harry nodded, smiling softly. "But you have to call me Harry." He whispered, pressing a kiss against the Slytherins brow. Draco hummed a little, before completely succumbing to the bays of sleep. Harry lay there for a couple moments longer, trying to find meaning in the butterflies in his stomach, but he too drifted off, the warmth of the fire and the boy wrapped around him forming a cocoon.
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Draco woke up the next day to a pair of emerald eyes watching him. He felt a soft smile play onto his lips and he let it, happy that he was happy. "Harry, we should probably move before people start to come down."

Despite this statement neither boy seemed eager to move, so they lay there, content in each other's warmth, until the sun began to rise, painting the common room in a golden light. The boys reluctantly untangled themselves, promised to meet again the next night before disappearing off into their separate rooms, ready to face the inquisition that awaited them.
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"Look, Mione, nothing happened I'm fine!" Harry said, chewing on a piece of treacle tart. Hermione glared at him, smacking the tart out of his hands. She plopped a vine of grapes onto his plate.

"You are going to eat those grapes, or so help me Harry James Potter, you will be grounded!" She said grumpily, upset that she hadn't been able to force where he had been all night out of him. After he had gotten back, she had tackled him in a hug, demanding to know where he'd been, and 'did he know how worried she was?'.

Harry did as he was told, feeling as though he had pushed her patience enough that day. He had just swallowed his last one when a letter fell onto his bacon.

Harry,
Don't forget the hot chocolate tonight, and bring whipped cream! I may or may not have stolen your Weasley sweater that's knitted like a jersey. It's very soft, and smells exactly like you. Don't. Fucking. Forget. The. Whipped. Cream. Or. I. Whip. You.
See you tonight.

Ron glanced at the letter, chewing on a pancake. "So Harry, who's this kinky bastard sending you letters telling you not to forget the whipped cream or he'll whip you?"

Seamus and Dean took a seat across from Ron and Harry. "What's this about whipped cream and whipping?" Seamus asked amusedly, grabbing some treacle tart for himself. "Does Harry here have a secret kink?"

Harry blushed crimson, muttered some excuses, and pulled his bag over his shoulder, quickly heading out, feeling Hermione's eyes boring holes into the back of his head.
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Draco sighed, and once again tried to tune out the incessant babbling of Pansy. "Pans, nothing happened. We drank hot chocolate and fell asleep."