I wrote this on my phone when I was stuck somewhere for a few hours… thinking about how Draco and Harry are both likely a bit touch-starved and how a relationship could evolve between them based solely on a growing comfort with one another’s touch, comfort evolving into desire…
add it to the endless list of other drarry story ideas I have
Draco wasn’t sure what prompted him to do it.
He had been sitting on one on the small couches, being there mostly, while the party happened around him. He had been nursing the same glass of fire whiskey since the start and was being a good sport, in the hopes that this whole interhouse cooperation thing would extend beyond the confines of this eighth year common room.
Potter collapsed into the couch next to him, sweat beading his brow and making his hair stick to his forehead. He was breathless and glowing from dancing in the center of the room with everyone else. Although calling it ‘dancing’ was a bit generous since it mostly involved jumping and bouncing along to the beat. Probably for the best since Potter hadn’t shown much talent in the way of anything more complicated.
Potter dropped his head back with a happy, tired sigh. A bead of sweat slipped down the curve of his jaw along the taunt tendon lines of his neck. Potter idily reached up to wipe it away before it could come to rest atop his collarbone.
Draco pulled his eyes away suppressing a tsk of disappointment. He wasn’t even sure if Potter knew or cared who he was sitting beside. Draco glanced down where Potter’s hand rested between them, fingers splayed and loosely gripping the edge of the frayed cushion. He glanced over at Potter again, whose eyes were still shut, his breathing gradually slowing from its original frenetic pace.
Draco looked back at everyone dancing, jumping and swaying, the music loud enough to feel on his skin. Soon, Potter would rejoin them or leave for another drink and it would be nothing all over again.
He glanced down, letting his hand slip off his thigh. His fingers brushed lightly over Potter’s, along his middle finger. He expected Potter to jerk his hand away, to move it at the very least, but he stayed and Draco felt emboldened. He traced between Potter’s fingers, mapping the fingers and the delicate webbing between them. He pressed his thumb over the ridge of each knuckle, up the narrow lines of tendons to his wrist.
Draco looked up and Potter was watching him with an expression so focused and intense Draco found himself shivering. He felt Potter’s hand move, turning over, his fingers loosely curling around Draco’s hand. Potter bit his lip, holding Draco’s hand just a little tighter.
Draco let out the breath he had been holding and squeezed back.