Drarry Oneshots

Eighth Year [Part Three]

Posted: December 10, 2020
AO3 Rating: Explicit
[Smut starts after the second break (•••••), after the Quidditch match, if you want to skip it]

The Eighth Year students aren't allowed to participate in school Quidditch games, but that hasn't stopped them from forming their own teams and playing Professor McGonagall-sanctioned games on Thursday evenings.

They have just enough people interested in playing for two teams, and two talented Seekers who have set their intense school rivalry aside for the most part, with one exception: Quidditch.

"The Falcons are going to crush you tonight, Potter," Draco leans over and hisses in his boyfriend's ear at the end of breakfast. "That Snitch is mine."

Harry grins and turns to peck him on the cheek before spinning around on the bench, standing, and turning to leave. "I doubt it. The Owls are on a three week winning streak. Soon to be four. But I am looking forward to seeing that arse in Quidditch leather again." He winks to punctuate his uncharacteristically suggestive words, and Draco is stunned speechless.

"Good luck tonight, Malfoy." Ron laughs, following his best friend as Harry tries to strut away in his best imitation of a young version of his father. That is, until an amused voice calls him back.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"Your bag, darling."

He turns around to see Draco holding his schoolbag up by the strap, a teasing smirk on his face.

Harry sighs and walks back, confident persona shattered, reaching out for the strap. "Thanks."

"Ah ah." Draco holds the bag out of reach.

"What?" Harry sighs.

Draco's eyes get a wicked glint in them and Harry groans internally, but all Draco does is touch an index finger to his cheek and tap it expectantly.

Harry relaxes and leans forward to kiss his cheek again, but Draco turns his head at the last moment and kisses him full on the mouth in front of the entire Great Hall. He resists using tongue, but it's a near thing. The kiss is still drawn out and plenty hot. When he pulls back, Harry looks slightly dazed.

"Gross," Ron mutters. "If you let that git distract you like that, Harry—"

Harry shakes his head to clear it and takes his bag from Draco with a smile and another kiss. "Thanks. Good luck on your Arithmancy exam this afternoon."

Draco softens despite himself. "See you at lunch?"

"Nah, told Hermione we could run a practice duel for our Defense N.E.W.T....Dinner?"

"I promised Blaise we'd grab something from the kitchens and review for Potions," Draco groans.

"Don't sound so enthusiastic, Draco. I might think you actually like me," Blaise drawls from Draco's other side, eliciting an amused cackle from Pansy.

"Right," Harry frowns. "I guess I'll just see you out on the pitch, then."

Ron rolls his eyes and puts an arm around Harry, turning him around again and leading him away. "You two are positively repulsive, you know that?"

Harry just laughs and gives Draco one more longing glance over his shoulder. "I know."

•••••

Several hours later, the two teams meet on the Quidditch pitch to the roar of their usual crowd.

Ron and Draco, the appointed captains since this whole arrangement had been their idea in the first place, shake hands.