Drarry Oneshots

Drunken Heart

For the best reading experience, please listen to Lovers Rock by TV Girl.

This oneshot takes place in 8th year. Mentions of alcohol.

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Graduation. Well, technically it was supposed to be last year, but then it went all to hell. At least we ended up making it this. I was in the corner of the Grand Hall, for all the house tables were placed elsewhere for the major party and ceremony.

I lost dozens of friends to the war. Yes they're all fine, but they never really were friends. Like Crabbe and Goyle. When we were "friends", they were basically known as my goons, for they only followed me around every step I took and followed along with every single thing I said. Their father were friends with mine and then our pretend bond was there. When the war finally ended, their parents ended with a lifetime in Azkaban. Crabbe and Goyle finally morphed into a better person, both mentally and physically. They ended up being friends with a group of eight-year Ravenclaws.

My attention came back into focus when someone crashed into me, slamming my hip right on the table. A loud "thud" could be heard even with the blaring music, and the drinks that were placed just broke, with the whisky and wine splashing around on the floor. I toppled onto the floor, and once I realized what just happened at that moment I put my hand on my face and pulled downward, as a sign of frustration. Not only did I cause a huge amount of attention all over myself, but to make matters worse I drenched my outfit. I basically looked like a wet dog that had a large intake of alcohol.

I was pretty tipsy at that moment, for when I was peacefully chilling in my corner, minding my own business, I carried a few drinks here and there. That's why I was near that damn table in the moment. Timing is so great at times, isn't it? I was still on the floor for a while, feeling dumfounded and I was just, I guess staring in the middle of nowhere, because Potter, with his stupid saviour complex of his, knelt down to me and reached out his hand for me to grab.

"Are you all right?" Potter questioned, his green eyes scanning me, checking if there was any blood. "I wasn't looking where I was going." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away, with a smug smile on his face.

"I'm fine, no need to get so worked up over it," I spoke, and I stood up, disregarding Potter's hand. He nervously pulled his hand back to it's respectful friend. I chuckle. After an odd, awkward moment of silence, with only the chatters from the crowd and upbeat music blasting being heard, I reached out my hand. "Care for a dance, Potter?" I asked, smirking subtly. Potter took my hand (God damnit they were so smooth and soft, I was going to kneel down on my knees and pray the Lord for such hands to feel that way).

We moved onto the dance floor, and he pulled me by the waist, for we just stupidly joined in the middle of a slow dance. I put my arms around his neck and you could see my nervousness from the other side of the world. The only thing positive was that Potter was so dense, he did not notice anything out of the ordinary at all. To be frank, I still don't understand why he asked for us to dance. Seeing feelings of happiness and joy portraying from his bright emerald eyes. Oddly enough, I felt safe being wrapped in his arms, our bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. To make matters worse, I was drunk as hell, and my brain was not thinking correctly. After a few moments, my face leaned closer to his, my eyes following down to his lips and then back up, seeming to ask for permission. He licked his lips and moved one of his hands to the back ofmy jaw, stroking my cheek while learning in. I felt my face begin to heat up, the light trace of blush beginning to deepen. Potter, too, has blush beginning to grow from the tips of his ears.

We pressed our foreheads together, I felt his sharp intakes of breath and I felt completely insane. I had no idea what in the hell we were doing, nor did I really understand. Didn't we hate each other, not even a few months ago? Sure, we had a truce, and we got out of each other's hairs, but we weren't even friends still, and now we're maybe kissing? I toss aside my overthinking, and I begin to pay attention to the movements and rhythms of our bodies moving against each other.

My eyes, which have seemed to be looking at the floor, moved upwards to look at his lovely eyes. I'm probably just saying this from the whiskey. Nothing else. He was looking at me, too. Potter smiled genuinely, the smile going all the way up to his eyes. Our foreheads still together, Potter began to talk again.

"Can I kiss you?" He said in a hushed tone, scanning my eyes for any kind of answer. "Because us staying just like this and us dancing is going to kill me very, very soon."

I chuckle. This is so dumb. He's probably drunk as fuck, too. But may as well make the fun out of the developing situation. I nod, and he presses his lips next to mine. It feels so perfectly fitted, like a puzzle piece with only one part missing, filled with a kiss. Damn, it just felt so right and so amazing My urge to keep kissing him only kept growing, and we both completely stopped swaying our bodies. It was just me and him, against everything. We continued kissing, with heavy breaths, and he licked my bottom lip. I groaned, letting him put his tongue in.

Realizing what just happened between us, Potter seemed to have panicked and pushed me away. He looked shocked, confused and a variety of emotions I couldn't even pinpoint on. Dumbfounded of everything in that moment, I just watched him run away. I was drenched in alcohol, my mind a confused mess, and my drunken heart aching.

How do people enjoy these kind of things?