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Truth or Dare had been a very bad idea.
Draco had known that it would be from the very beginning of the night, from the moment that those cursed words had passed Pansy’s lips.
He also knew that Friday Nights were a mandatory part of 8th year bonding. Thus, he had no choice but to file into the common room and plop down beside Pansy and hope to Salazar that he didn’t end up having his name drawn very often. (They put everyone’s names in a bowl to keep things random and fair.)
By an hour and a half in Draco had only had to go once and it had been Pansy who gave him his dare. He’d just started to relax a little bit, laughing as Weasley dared Zacharias Smith to stand on his head for thirty seconds.
He should have known better than to think that he was going to be lucky tonight (or ever) because as soon as Smith righted himself, he reached into the bowl and pulled out Draco’s name.
A feeling of dread settled heavy in Draco’s gut. “Truth,” he spit out quickly, hoping to just get this over with.
Smith pretended to ponder this for a moment, then a malicious glint appeared in his eye, “Who do you think is the most attractive in the room?”
Draco was not ashamed of being gay, he couldn’t imagine that any of his housemates didn’t know. He was, however, embarrassed of his stupid crush on Potter. But honestly? Who could blame him?
Over the summer Potter had shot up so that he was very nearly taller than Draco; his shoulders had broadened; his hair had grown out so you could see that it was actually rather lovely, shiny, dark curls; and he looked fucking gorgeous. Sometimes, Potter would pull his hair back into a loose bun, a few curls still framing his face, Draco’s throat would go dry at the back, and he lost track of thoughts and sentences.
Still, the crush was ridiculous.
“No cheating, Malfoy,” Smith called. “You know what happens if you cheat.”
Draco did know what happened if you cheated, you got little boils across your forehead that spelled “liar.” He tried to very quickly think of a way out of this; was there a partial truth that could satisfy the question? After another heartbeat he sighed and murmured, “Potter,” as softly as he could possibly manage.
“Louder,” Smith said with a smirk that suggested he had heard just fine, “So that everyone can hear.”
“Fine,” Draco said, squaring his shoulders, he refused to give the other boy the satisfaction of his embarrassment. “The same person that literally everyone who is into men would say,” he added haughtily. “From a purely aesthetical standpoint, it’s obviously Potter.”
He thought he managed quite well under the circumstances and he worked very hard to keep any hint of blush from his cheeks.
It seemed that Smith gave up after that and everything moved on with only minimal whispering. Draco very pointedly did not look over at Potter, Weasley, and Granger.
Two minutes before ten, two minutes before they would be free of this forced bonding, Potter’s name got drawn.
“Dare,” the other boy said, licking his lips nervously. And oh, that was interesting, Draco couldn’t help but wonder what secrets the other boy was hiding that he didn’t want to pick truth.
“I dare you to…” Fae Dunbar started before giggling. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but only just. “I dare you to kiss the person you think it the prettiest,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
Disgusting.
He looked down at his lap and pretended to suddenly be interested in a loose thread on the sleeve of his robe. He very much did not want to watch Potter snogging someone, it made something churn uncomfortably in his stomach.
There was a collective gasp and Granger muttering, “Honestly, Ronald, you shouldn’t even be surprised.” And Draco glanced up, thinking he ought to see what all the commotion was about and then froze completely when he saw that Potter was kneeling in front of him, looking strangely uncertain.
“Errr,” Potter said, scratching the back of his head, “Can I kiss you?”
Draco looked around, sure that he was missing something because there was no way that Potter was sitting in front of him asking him if it would be alright to kiss him. No. Way. “Me?” he asked incredulously.
Potter pushed his glasses up on his nose, “Well, Fae did say prettiest, I’m not sure who else I ought to kiss.”
“You want to kiss me?”
“Very much, actually,” Potter replied and Draco heard the room break out in sharp whispers.
“Well I suppose there’s not much choice,” Draco replied.
Potter’s brow furrowed, “Well I wouldn’t kiss you if you don’t want me to.”
“You have to,” Draco informed him, “Boils remember?”
“Better boils than forcing someone to do something they don’t want to,” he said before leaning back and starting to move away.
“Wait!” Draco called, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “It’s fine, I don’t mind if you kiss me.”
“Yeah?” Potter asked.
He nodded, feeling a flush spread down his neck and to his chest.
“You’re sure?” he asked, as he leaned in closer, mere inches from Draco’s face.
In lieu of answering, Draco leaned forward and pecked Potter’s lips. Before he could get very far away, though, Potter cupped his cheek and gently led Draco’s mouth back to his once more, kissing him softly and sucking lightly at his bottom lip.
He let out a little sigh and clasped his hands in the front of the other boy’s jumper, holding on tightly.
A catcall broke through the fog of delight that had settled heavily over his brain and he broke off first.
Harry surprised him by resting their foreheads together for a long moment, in spite of all of the noise erupting around them. He seemed perfectly content to ignore them as he leaned back slightly after a moment and asked, “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
Before he could think better of it, Draco nodded.
“Finally,” Hermione sighed as Pany grumbled, “About fucking time.”
Harry laughed as he pulled back and gave Draco a radiant smile, one big enough to make his dimple stand out, and Draco knew he was a goner.
As the other boy slid in next to him and took Draco’s hand in his, Draco thought that he might have gotten lucky tonight after all.