and apparently they weren't helpful

I’m assuming everyone here has seen those posts about Draco and Harry in the middle of kissing or being intimate or what have you, and one of them pulls back to say “you’re so gay”…. The intention in these posts is always for the ironic humour, because “we’re all here for the Drarry and of course they’re fucking gay! What world do you live on?”

I feel like I’ve just been hit by a bus, but what if that was the point? 

Thanks to The Daily Prophet, there are rumours about Harry’s sexuality everywhere, and Draco’s Next Big Thing is to determine if The Boy Wonder is interested in outies instead of/as well as innies so he can humiliate Harry.

He makes a point of flouncing by Harry in the hallways, of being extra provocative when occasion calls for it (read: always), and saying inappropriately sexual things. Harry, of course, is bothered by it, but mostly really confused, and the only real effect Draco’s prancing around has is everyone at school talking about how gay he probably is, which is… well. Not wrong, per se, but not the goal of this little exercise at all.

I imagine Draco would probably get really frustrated after weeks of no progress with his plans. Then one night, he happens across Harry on his way back to the Gryffindor tower after detention, and he’s just simmering in his frustration, boiling over in how Harry has foiled his plans every single time, and it’s just not fair because… because… well, it’s just not fair!

The next thing Draco knows, he’s pinning Harry to the wall and aggressively kissing the living daylights out of him. To his immense surprise–and unexpected delight!–Potter’s just as vehement about sticking his tongue down Draco’s throat as he is down Harry’s.

It’s so unexpected, he forgets why he’s doing this in the first place: gets carried away trying to memorize the exact feeling of the roof of Harry’s mouth, of being kissed senseless. It takes him a minute to get his higher functions back, but when he does, he wrenches himself away. They’re both flushed and panting; Harry’s eyes are so bright he looks almost fevered, and as he watches, Harry licks his lips. Draco wants to groan because that’s obscene. Obscene and entirely intentional, and all he wants to do is swoop back in, kiss that cunning out of Harry’s head until all he can do is pant and beg–

But he has a point: Draco’s here for a reason, he’s something to say, and by Merlin is he going to have the last word if it kills him, so he leans in, gets extra close to Harry’s ear, revels in the way the boy shivers, and breathes:

“You’re so gay.”

And then he walks away, as hard as it is, as much as he doesn’t want to, he leaves Potter dishevelled and kiss-bruised against the wall.

“Bisexual, actually,” he hears Potter say when he’s a few steps away. He probably wasn’t meant to hear it, but he snorts anyway, doesn’t turn.

“Tell yourself whatever you like, you’re so gay for me, Potter.”

Potter doesn’t refute that.