𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

When Harry ran after Draco at ten forty nine in the morning the day after New Year's, he wasn't sure if he was entirely conscious.

All he knew was that one minute, he was having a rather sentimental conversation with Draco about one thing or another, and the next thing, there was a palm on his cheek and a pair of lips on his own.

He didn't get the chance to register what had happened until he was already running.

Draco Malfoy had kissed him. And then left. And he was going after him. Why?

Was Draco even aware of what he had done? Is that why he left so soon? Did he not mean it?

Harry slipped through the entrance to the Slytherin common room just as it was about to close. It had been years since he'd been inside, and he almost missed the feeling of sneaking around, being on some kind of mission.

He hadn't been able to see the direction of which Draco went. He did, however, see a narrow hallway tucked away in a corner that led to a descending staircase into some cold and dark depths of the dungeon.

Seeing no other option, he climbed down the stairs. The sound of his shoes hitting cold stone echoed around him, sounding more menacing than not. He couldn't fathom how the Slytherin children were able to stand being in such an environment for so long.

At the bottom, the hallway spit into two. One way for the boys, and one way for the girls. He distantly heard a grunt or a groan of some sort down the left hallway, making his decision much easier.

After many closed and abandon doors, he finally came to one that had a light peering out from underneath the door frame.

He leaned his head up against the door, searching for any sound or movement—anything to let him know for certain that this was Draco's door.

Looking back, it may have been a smart idea to consider just what he was going to say and do once he opened the door. But nothing was in his mind in that moment except for Draco Malfoy.

There was a faint scratching coming from inside, like a quill on paper, or nails on a tiny chalkboard.

He opened the door. Draco dropped his quill.

He stood up from where he had been leaning over the side of his bed, a book open to a page with rushed and messy writing all over the surface.

He looked directly into Harry's eyes, terrified. Harry stared back. He felt that no particular emotion he could think to present would be entirely correct, so he chose to take action instead.

With his back straight and a confident stride, he approached Draco, who only grew more terrified.

When Harry made a move to grab his shoulders. He flinched, as if expecting something more violent. But Harry didn't stop.

He tugged him closer and in one swift movement, he was on the tips of his toes and kissing him.

Draco took a moment to react, but fell into the action with a sigh of relief. Harry smoothed his shoulders down as Draco brought his hands up to his cup his face—thumbs caressing his jaw, fingers fiddling with the stray hairs on the back of his neck.

If the world hadn't already ended for them once or twice, Harry was sure it had in that moment. He was so far gone that he had no idea what was happening, other than that whatever it was, it was okay.

This is it, played through his mind over and over in a chorus of joyful voices.

It was Draco who pulled away first. He held Harry's face in his hands with utmost care and just looked, as if Harry were the sound of one of his melodies played on an un-tuned piano and he no matter what else, he just couldn't stop paying attention.

"One moment, please," he spoke out, almost breathlessly.

Harry stood still in his place as Draco turned away, picked up his quill and scribbled something out on a new page in his book.

January 2, 1999, 11:02 am.
The day I died, and we finally began to exist.

Harry scrunched his nose when Draco turned back to him. "That's disgustingly cheesy," he said.

Draco laughed, "Yeah, well, this is a cheesy moment. I need to document it accurately."

Harry rolled his eyes as Draco's hands made their way to his shoulders and upper arms. He looked up and smiled, possibly the most genuine smile he had ever seen on a person before.

Harry felt the need to say something, something to acknowledge what had happened or anything that would bring clarity.

"Sorry," had left his mouth before he could stop it.

"Pardon?"

"I sort of just... barged in here. I think I caught you off guard."

Draco only laughed, as he often did whenever Harry said something he found particularly stupid. "It's payback. I most certainly caught you off guard first."

"I suppose, yeah."

Draco rolled his eyes, still smiling, and leaned in once more.

Harry obliged gratefully as their lips met, curving in the most smooth and non-combative pattern. There was nothing rushed or needy about it. It was only them—two boys in a dingy dungeon, sharing what would soon become both boy's happiest memory.

Perhaps they would fall asleep that night, no thoughts about the past, not a single one about the future. They wouldn't think about the following week when all of their fellow classmates came back; smiling and cheerful from the fresh holiday season.

It would be just as they had always been—just them, and no one, and nothing else. Maybe forever, maybe just the night.