“Oh, Hogwarts, thy hallowed halls.” Draco says dramatically as they walk through the corridors. “How I have missed thee.”
Classes won’t start until tomorrow, and already, Harry’s been accosted by both Creevey brothers, a myriad of grateful Slytherins whose parents have returned to them in various states of house arrest, as well as pretty much every Gryffindor he’s ever interacted with.
On the train, Draco had literally hissed at Romilda Vane like a cat. She was so confused, she let Harry get away.
When Harry had checked in with McGonagall, she’d given in to an uncharacteristic display of emotion and told him she’s happy he’s back from the dead. Harry had agreed, and she sent him on his way with his class schedule.
“It hasn’t even been a year.” Harry points out with a smirk. Their joined hands swing between them, and Draco does a complicated thing with his feet to twirl under Harry’s arm like they’re dancing.
“Last year doesn’t count. I barely had the capacity to enjoy any aspect of school.”
“Which is only disappointing because you’re the prince of the swots.”
“School is fun, Harry. You’re incorrect on this one, sorry.”
“School is fun when you’re bloody brilliant, you mean.”
“You are brilliant.” Draco says, charitably, but when Harry looks into his face, he can see that Draco means it. “You just dislike deadlines and busywork.”
“Yeah, that’s school.” Harry shrugs. “You think I’m smart?”
“Of course you’re smart. If you weren’t smart, you’d be dead several times over by now.”
“I was dead for a while.”
“Yes, but it didn’t stick. You found your way out.”
“Huh.” Harry says, lifting his arm so Draco can spin under it again. His uniform robes flare out around his legs. Harry directs Draco’s momentum into a wall, where Draco’s shoulders land with a dull thump.
“Harry.” Draco breathes, tilting his chin up. Harry bends to kiss him - just a peck at first - and Draco sighs into it.
“Yes, bun?”
“We’re in a fucking corridor.” Draco murmurs, even as his leg twists around Harry’s and he arches away from the wall and into Harry.
“We should snog in an alcove, for old times’ sake.” Harry says, tipping Draco’s face to the side with two fingers and nosing at his neck. “You smell good. You always smell so good.”
“Or…” Draco begins, gasping as Harry nips at his earlobe. “Or… we could… Harry, please- Harry- we could… we…”
Harry hums, smiling against Draco’s throat as Draco’s hips twitch up. Draco’s hard .
“What was that, bunny?”
“Go to the Room.” Draco finishes in a rush, his head falling against the wall, eyes shut and cheeks rosy.
“You want to go to the Room?”
“Just for….” Draco says, and licks his lips. Harry kisses him again, and Draco’s body melts, knees buckling, until it’s only Harry keeping him from sliding down the wall into a puddle on the floor. Draco’s whine is so light and desperate, Harry can’t help but rock their hips together in response.
“For old times’ sake.” Harry whispers, surprised to hear how hoarse he is already.
Draco nods quickly, slowly straightening up, and they take the stairs two at a time, passing a handful of their baffled classmates on their way to or from the dorms.
