Hogwarts One Shots

Drarry Shot

Harry Potter stood alone in the shadowed corridor outside the Room of Requirement, his fists clenched at his sides. He had just escaped from yet another infuriating argument with Draco Malfoy-this time about something as stupid as a Quidditch match. The Slytherin had been relentless, taunting him about Gryffindor's loss, pushing every button Harry had, just like always.

He should've walked away. He should've ignored Malfoy. But something inside him-something dark and simmering-kept drawing him back. And now here he was, alone with his own anger, ready to explode.

"Potter." A low voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Harry turned, teeth gritted. Of course.

Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his silver-blonde hair tousled in that insufferably perfect way, as if he were above everyone even in the middle of a hallway confrontation. His grey eyes gleamed, full of that familiar superiority and disdain that Harry had grown to hate, loathe...obsess over.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry snapped, his voice hard.

A slow, lazy smirk spread across Draco's face as he stepped closer, the flickering torchlight casting sharp shadows across his sharp features. "What's the matter, Potter? Can't handle a little loss? Or are you just brooding for fun?"

"Go to hell," Harry growled, taking a step forward, his anger rising with every word Draco spoke. "Why don't you mind your own bloody business for once?"

Draco's smirk didn't falter, if anything, it grew sharper, more mocking. "Oh, but tormenting you is my business. It's practically my favorite hobby."

"Maybe you should get a better hobby, then!" Harry shot back, his face flushing with heat. His pulse was hammering now, and he wasn't sure if it was from the anger or something else entirely. Something that made his skin prickle whenever Malfoy got this close.

"You'd miss me if I stopped," Draco said smoothly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. He stepped forward again, close enough now that Harry could see the faintest flicker of something in his eyes, something that wasn't mockery. "Admit it, Potter. You'd miss me."

Harry blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue. The air between them had thickened, charged with something electric, something almost dangerous.

And there it was again-that infuriating smirk, the one that made Harry want to punch Draco and pull him closer at the same time. He hated that smirk. He hated Malfoy's stupid, perfect face. He hated the way his heart seemed to skip a beat whenever they were locked in one of these ridiculous standoffs.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry finally managed, his voice strained.

"I think you know," Draco said, his tone smooth, almost predatory. He was so close now, close enough that Harry could feel the heat of his breath, see the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Draco's voice softened, turning almost mocking, but with a hint of something else, something that made Harry's stomach twist. "You're obsessed with me, Potter. You've been obsessed with me since first year."

"That's ridiculous," Harry shot back, but his voice sounded less certain than he intended. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he cursed himself for how Draco was affecting him, for how much Draco always affected him.

"Is it?" Draco's eyebrow arched in that maddening way, and then, in one swift movement, he grabbed Harry by the front of his robes and shoved him against the cold stone wall. It wasn't gentle-it wasn't supposed to be-but the sensation sent a shiver through Harry that had nothing to do with pain.

"What are you-" Harry's voice was cut off as Draco leaned in, their faces so close now that Harry could see every sharp angle of Draco's face, the intensity in his stormy grey eyes, and the way Draco's lips were just inches from his own.

"You're obsessed with me," Draco repeated, his voice low and breathless, his hands fisted in Harry's robes. "And maybe-just maybe-you're not the only one."

Harry's mind spun. The words made no sense. They couldn't. Malfoy hated him. Malfoy had always hated him. But then why did his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest? Why was there a part of him that wanted-no, needed-to close that tiny gap between them?

He should shove Draco off. He should push him away and storm out. But instead, he stayed frozen, his hands gripping Draco's arms as if they were the only thing keeping him upright.

"You're insane," Harry breathed, his voice shaking, but even as he said it, something in him cracked open. Something he hadn't wanted to admit, even to himself.

"Am I?" Draco's lips quirked, his voice laced with bitter humor. "Because I'm starting to think we've been playing this game for a lot longer than we realized."

And then, before Harry could respond-before he could even process what was happening-Draco's lips were on his. It wasn't soft, it wasn't gentle-it was fierce, bruising, and full of all the hatred, frustration, and tension that had been boiling between them for years.

Harry's mind went blank. The world around him seemed to dissolve, and all he could feel was the heat of Draco's body pressing against his, the sharp, almost desperate way their lips moved together, like they were both trying to exorcise something they couldn't name.

His hands fisted in Draco's robes, pulling him closer, and for a moment, all of the anger and confusion and years of rivalry melted into this kiss-this sharp, messy, sensational kiss that made Harry's heart race and his head spin.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their chests heaving as they stared at each other, wide-eyed and stunned by what had just happened. Draco's fingers still gripped Harry's robes, his knuckles white, and Harry could feel his own hands trembling slightly where they rested on Draco's shoulders.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, his voice rough, barely audible.

Draco let out a shaky laugh, though there was something unsteady in his eyes, something that mirrored the confusion and shock Harry felt coursing through his own veins. "Well, that was...unexpected."

"Unexpected?" Harry repeated, still breathless, his mind struggling to catch up. "You kissed me, Malfoy!"

Draco smirked, though this time it was less mocking and more...uncertain. "You kissed me back, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but stopped. Draco was right. He had kissed him back. And he wasn't entirely sure what that meant.

There was a long, charged silence between them, both of them still catching their breath, their faces flushed. Harry's heart was still pounding, his mind racing with the realization that had slammed into him the moment Draco's lips had touched his.

Draco Malfoy wasn't just his enemy.

Somewhere, somehow, he had become so much more than that.