Third Person POV:
"Just so you know, Malfoy," Came the warning voice of Hermione as she stumbled towards the portrait. "do not expect for him to be thrilled when he sees you, and if you once again dare to do something like that or hurt Harry in any way, the consequences won't be pretty." She shot him a disappointed glare before mumbling the password underneath her breath. Draco stood there as the door opened, ignoring what Granger had said because there was only one thing on his mind—and that was to fix things before it's too late.
"Good luck," Spoke the Gryffindoor girl as she spun on her heels. "you'll need it."
***
As soon as Draco stepped foot in, there was when the hesitation began to pile up.
What the hell am I even going to say?
This really is not my thing.
He scratched his head before wondering his gaze upon the Common Room. There were barely any students fortunately—although he could quite see Seamus or Dean by the fireplace. They did not tear their eyes away from the homework in between their hands, perhaps not even aware of the Slytherin's presence, and Draco was ashamed to say that he was pretty thankful for that—he just wants to do what he came here to do and get this over with.
Draco's POV:
Granger told me he'll be in his dorm, so with that being said, I made my way up there.
Knock... knock... and knock...
My knuckles collided one last time with the wooden door, however the echo remained hanging in the air, leaving me with no response whatsoever. Therefore, I decided to take matters into my own hand and simply go inside.
With a twist in the door nob and a slight push, my gaze landed on a fully red and orange dormitory first, and then, my eyes began rummaging for a certain somebody but unfortunately, Harry was nowhere to be seen.
Or so I thought...
"Leave."
It was an unexpected appearance to be honest—my eyes were about to widen at the sudden, familiar tone.
I spun around slowly, hands in my pocket, so that my sight met with whom I came here to see.
Not responding, I permitted myself to observe his not-so-well state that formed a pit in my lower stomach.
Harry was a complete mess.
He was wearing his normal uniform, however, it looked like he had slept in it for a whole week. Most of the upper buttons were undone, meanwhile his sleeve was halfway rolled up—not in a tidy way.
I didn't get the chance to look further since my gaze traced its way up to his worn out face.
Although his hair was always messed up, at that moment it was twice more. Dark circles underneath his tired green eyes were pretty visible to me—let alone they still would be to a person standing ten feet away. While that bright olive skin of his that used to shine regardless any aura, has now turned as pale as snow...
and his smile that used to light up an entire hall, has now faded into an emotionless expression along with his face.
"Listen, Potter," I began, watching him stand beside the doorway of the washroom. "I came here to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about." He muttered, acting completely oblivious. "Now leave."
I sensed my anger piling up by the second. Inching a bit closer, I opened my mouth to protest. "There obviously is a lot to talk about and you know it."
To my astonishment, he completely disregarded my words as he began walking towards the bed. He sat down, not uttering anything before looking up at me with an expression that was no where near explainable.
"Fine," I continued in a low tone. "if you want to act like this and not speak to me at all, then alright, I'll talk."
I really was stupid to believe that he was going to say anything back, so with that being it, I irritatingly sighed before proceeding.
"About the other nigh-"
"Don't."
My eyes shot up to meet with his, frustration and befuddlement stirring inside me. "Oh so now you can talk, okay." I said sarcastically.
"Fuck off." He spat, his face forming into a frown. "And if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure I asked for you to leave."
"No." I argued back in a cold tone.
He did not answer to that, in fact he only remained shooting daggers at me with his gaze—eyes full of hatred.
"You know what, fine." He whispered but firmly. "Ten minutes, Malfoy. You have ten minutes to explain your utter bullshit."
I took in a small gulp, still standing where I was, not bothering to shift anywhere.
"I wasn't- thinking, Potter. I really messed up-"
"Yes, yes you did."
"Let me finish god damn it." I rolled my eyes. "It was a mistake- I mean- why would I even hook up with Astoria bloody Greengrass- i-it was most definitely because of the alcohol or something."
"Oh okay," He spoke, suddenly in a sarcastic joyful tone. "Let's blame all of this crap on the heavy drinking, got it."
"Would you shut the fuck up and listen to me for a second?" I spat, clearly on the verge of giving up.
Harry got off of the bed onto his feet slowly, but it appeared to be a pretty rapid action as he was now standing face to face with me—chest rising slightly up and down.
"You know what I think, Malfoy." He began, holding up a finger and pointing it at the area between my shoulder and chest. "I think that no, you and Astoria's incident was not a mistake," He paused, allowing me to observe the hidden pain in his eyes that finally broke apart since his green orbs started to be appear watery. "but perhaps what we had, indeed was... or at least according to you."
I may have not felt it but my heart skipped a beat at that last sentence.
Does he really think that?
Was it a mistake?
No.
No, it wasn't.
Harry James Potter is the first best thing to ever happen to me in my tragic lifetime.
But I'll never admit that...
or at least not yet.
I snapped myself back into reality, swallowing harshly. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I asked, clearly acting oblivious since I knew exactly what he meant.
"Was it all a joke to you, Malfoy?" He spoke, voice cracking slightly. "Was this all one of your stupid games to humiliate me? To lead me on?"
"No- Harry, how could you think th-"
"You're right," He cut me off—his face features suddenly softening. "How could I think that? You made it so believable. Malfoy- you literally sa-sacrificed your life-" He now cut his own self off, clearly on the verge of breaking down.
I wanted to slap myself since I remained utterly silent—but the thing is, I really did not know what to even say at that moment.
"Harry I-"
"And with that being said, we're back on square one. Since this, whatever we had going on," He uttered, motioning his hands along the space between us. "was nothing serious to you. So I'm assuming you do still hate me, Malfoy—just like all those years."
I fixed my glare at him more firmly then ever, holding my fists tight, suddenly tearing my soft expression off. Taking a few slow steps forward until our noses were merely brushing, I smirked, watching him furrow his brows in disappointment.
"You see," I muttered. "maybe I do hate you, Potter. Perhaps I do hate your cluelessness, your annoying sass, your stupid glasses, your frustrating voice."
To my surprise, he did not back away as I spoke those words, as if he waited for me to proceed. "But if someone else who's not me, ever dares to touch or hurt you any way—their end will indeed be on my hands."
I could sense his breath hitch, he wanted to say something but it seemed as if my severely close presence was overwhelming him, even though it's not the first time.
"But that's—"
"Ignorant. Toxic. I know." I cut him off, suddenly walking forward so that he backed away, until he sat down on the bed—with me towering over him. "But the thing is, Potter," I grinned. "you love it."
Harry's POV:
How could I let it proceed to this?
This is all happening way too fast.
How is he so sure of this?
Do I really love it?
My head was spinning, trying to eliminate all the thoughts from my head—the ones that fantasised about what I yearned for him to do to me....
and now I just answered my own question.
I do.
"Tell me, Harry, am I wrong?" He asked, making me flinch as he slowly cupped my face between his fingers, making me look him dead in the eyes.
I wanted to shake my head as a no really bad—I was not going to let him have the satisfaction. He came here to apologise (if that's still what's going on), and now I can't fucking control my desires as I'm under the effect of him.
"No answer," He smirked, looking down at my lips and then up to meet my gaze. "i'll take that as a yes then."
A small gasp escaped my mouth but it was immediately silenced when his lips suddenly crashed with mine.
It was soft but at the same time passionate—angry. I wasted no time in surprise, and kissed back immediately, creating a pattern that lacked sync. If there was something flowing freely through that fuelled kiss, it would be greed; we both seemed to be eager for more, trying to give the kiss more depth.
My mind was repeatedly disregarding the thoughts that were saying this is wrong—but hey, this happened almost every time he kissed me, so fuck it. However this does not mean I fully forgive him... yet. It all comes down to what happens or how he acts tomorrow.
Third Person POV:
Every action led to another; now Harry was seated on the blonde's lap, and Draco couldn't help but try to bring the boy even closer, which was nearly impossible as they were too close—no space for thin air in between them, all while Harry's hands frantically ruffled the back of Malfoy's hair.
The tip of Draco's tongue traced Harry's lips as they pleased, facing no competition.
The brown-haired boy's breath echoed louder through the room as they parted for air, his chin resting on the top of the mess of blond hair.
Draco's lips dived down, caressing the skin of Potter's neck with wet kisses all over.
Unbuttoning one another's shirts, leaving them both shirtless, even though the cold breeze sent shivers down their spines.
Malfoy settled on Harry's adam apple, taking the flesh in his teeth in a gentle bite the slowly grew hungrier, leaving behind a mark of deep red, which he eyes with pride.
"So," He slowly ran his thumb over Harry's bottom lip, which had grown more tender from that kiss. He slid two of his fingers into Harry's mouth, who welcomed them in and began sucking, his mind drifting elsewhere. "Be a good boy and do as you're told?"
It sounded more like a command, and Harry, so heavy with desire, could only offer a nod.
Draco captured Harry's cheeks with a tightening clench of his fingers and pulled him by the face, Harry's body felt massless. His lips crashed on Potter's again, with so much force this time that Harry was sure his jaw would soon turn into dust under Draco's firm grip and from the way their jaws collided.
No chance was given to Harry to return the favour; he was thrown back to the bed rather harshly, lying there helpless as Draco crawled on top of him, his hands pressed by Harry's sides.
The brown-haired boy threw his legs around the Slytherin's waist, allowing Draco to bury his head in his Harry's neck, finishing what he started earlier, earning himself a few hushed moans from the boy beneath him. At first, Potter could hardly feel the cotton soft lips nibbling on the skin just underneath his ear.
"I only want you, Harry." He mumbled in between the kisses.
Harry was blushing uncontrollably ay those words, but he couldn't say anything back as Draco was pleasing him so much he couldn't talk.
He could feel the blond also getting harder against him, his hot and heavy groans against Harry's neck signalled that he was feeling far too good. The Gryffindoor felt trapped, this was rather torture, Draco was very slowly—painfully slowly, drawing him to his edges. He couldn't take it, he had come to a conclusion that Malfoy liked it rough, but never did he imagine it would be this rough.
Draco helped himself for one last suck on the spot before he looked up, admiring the two marks he left, one right in the centre of Harry's neck and one where his jaw and ear met—both filled him with the triumphant of joy of thinking that the boy was all his.
With a trail of quick kisses He drew his way down to Harry's chest, before descending with more that made the Gryffindoor continually flinch under the effect of touch. Draco hadn't given himself the chance enough to take his fullest of how perfect Harry looked just there, squirming under Draco's fingers.
The perfection of the sight was beyond anything he'd ever imagined in any of his daydreams; Harry's skin felt like a cloud under his fingertips—touching it felt close to touching nothing.
"Still hate me, huh?" The brown haired boy managed to whisper, even though it was pretty hard when he was on the verge of moaning Draco's name.
The Slytherin left no response, he only smirked pleasingly, before shifting a bit further to grab his wand. He pointed it to the door and flicked it, mumbling something under his breath, but Harry could hear almost perfectly.
"Muffliato."