The first time was unplanned. He looked up at me from under that damn tree, his hair sticking up like always. I wanted to be the one making it look like such a fucking mess. I wanted to run my hands through that horrible messy hair of his and to kiss him, and for him to kiss me back.
I don’t know what made me break just then. Maybe it was the way that he bit his lip in slight confusion as I lingered for a moment longer than usual without insulting him. Maybe it was just because I simply could not hold back any longer after all these years. Either way, I broke. As he stood to confront me (probably expecting to be hexed), I took him by the shoulders and pulled him close. Before I could think or her could react, I kissed him. It almost seemed as if he was kissing me back for a moment, that all of my hoping and fantasizing could be brought to reality. Of course, nothing like that could ever happen to me. He quickly shoved me away, his face contorted with confusion and anger.
“What the fuck, Mal-”
His green eyes, his fucking beautiful bright green eyes, went blurry for a moment. He sat back down against the tree. As he refocused, he narrowed his eyes at me.
“What are you looking at, Potter?” I managed to snap at him bitterly, hoping that I didn’t look flustered.
“Sod off, Malfoy.” He spat back, turning back to his book.
The second time happened with intent. After I realized that I could hypothetically continue to snog Potter every time we were alone together, I decided to seize the opportunity before Christmas break ended and everyone got back.
This time, I stopped him in the corridor outside of the Gryffindor common room.
“What do y-”
My lips were already on his, taking all I could out of the moment in the split second before he could push me away again.
I briskly walked around the corner. He would not even remember seeing me this morning.
That night, I lay awake trying to recall every detail of the kiss, of Harry fucking Potter’s lips. I’m nearly positive that it was just my foolish desire screwing with my mind, but it felt almost like he relaxes, even if it was just for one second before I wiped his memory.
But no, that’s not possible.
By the fifth time, it was almost a habit to sweep him away in the corridors.
By the tenth time, it was simply second nature once I neared him.
By the twentieth time, it had become an addiction. In only three days, everybody would be back and it would be nearly impossible to get Harry alone ever again.
I had only one thought in my mind: “I am completely, hopelessly in love with Harry Potter, and I am completely, hopelessly fucked.”
I find myself drawing my mind the moment I see him leave the library. (He’s been spending quite a lot of time in there lately. I wonder what he’s up to.) He looks unusually determined, however. I’ll just walk by this time and pretend to be on my way to- I don’t know, it’s not like I expect him to interrogate me or anything.
“What are you up to, Malfoy?” Potter asks accusingly as if it’s against the rules to stroll the castle.
Or maybe he is planning to interrogate me.
“What’s it to you, Potter?” I reply, continuing to walk. He grabs my shoulder before I pass him.
“Maybe I don’t want to be snogged and obliviated every day.” He said, raising an eyebrow.
This could ruin me.
I don’t even want to think about how many years in Azkaban this will be, obliviating Harry Potter, kissing him, at least 25 times, without his consent.
But why does he look so damn amused? He probably can’t wait to see me behind bars.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter.” I growl, glaring at him. His hand is still on my shoulder. I don’t move.
He holds up a book, “Memory Games: Recognizing and Curing Minor Obliviation”.
“I think you do know what I’m talking about, Draco.”
“You can’t tell anyone, Potter. This could ruin me. Please, I’ll- I don’t know, just-”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.”
This takes me completely by surprise. Why wouldn’t he want me arrested, humiliated, ruined? After all, we’ve always been enemies of a sort.
Damn my nervous stutter.
“Well, I said I didn’t want to be snogged and obliviated, but I wouldn’t mind just knocking off the memory-wiping part.”
Is he saying that he wants to kiss me?
“So I wouldn’t mind if you kept it up, minus the obliviating part of course. How does that sound?”
I’m frozen. Harry wants to kiss me. He wants me to kiss him. I want to say something, but I’m just gaping like a bloody fool. His hand drifts down my shoulder and he takes my hand, lightly tugging me just a little bit forward. I’m so close I can feel his breath on my face. He closes the distance between us and suddenly I can move again. This time, it feels so much nicer. I have time to feel his lips on mine, to feel him softly kissing back. It’s not rushed and forceful like all of the other times. It’s slow and soft and filled with emotion. As he pulls apart from me, I gasp quietly. Of course since my emotions are such a fucking mess today, this causes me to blush and I’m sure I look like an idiot.
“It sounds wonderful.” I say, smiling uncontrollably.
“Wonderful.” He replies, leaning back into me.