potter is the way

Some confessions are louder than others

A short Drarry. Enjoy. 

Hermione was a smart girl.

She knew it, her teachers knew it, the whole damn castle knew it. She was quick-witted, intelligent, and, most of all, observant. Hermione Jean Granger noticed and put things together that others simply missed.

…For example.

Hermione noticed the way that Harry Potter was becoming unhealthily obsessed with Draco Malfoy. She noticed that he didn’t always speak of his Slytherin counterpart in venomous tones anymore, either.

Hermione also noticed the way that this very same Draco Malfoy was constantly staring at her dear friend in class, like he was trying to burn holes through Harry’s poor skull.

She thought she might know what was going on, even if the involved parties did not.

Unfortunately for most people, Hermione Jean Granger also had no qualms about interfering where she thought her meddling might be beneficial.

Draco didn’t feel right.

He set the goblet of pumpkin juice down, wondering if maybe he was getting sick. He wouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like he wasn’t under an exuberant amount of stress or anything.

Kill Albus Dumbledore, Draco. I want it done before the year is complete.

No big deal. Just your normal, run-of-the-mill command from your typical, mass-murdering master.

Draco shuddered, pushing his untouched plate of food away from him. Crabbe eyed him confusedly. Considering that this was the manner in which Crabbe looked at most things most of the time, Draco was hardly bothered. “I think I need to lie down,” he muttered. “I’m—I’m skiving off Charms. Tell Flitwick I’m sick.”

He didn’t wait for a response before standing. Draco grabbed his bag and was halfway down the table when he abruptly collided with someone.

“Hey—what the hell, Granger!”

Draco’s bag fell to the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. Hermione Granger stepped away demurely, making Draco scowl even further. It was like she had run into him on purpose! “Watch we’re you’re going, you stupid—”

“Watch your mouth, Malfoy.” Ron Weasley instantly stepped in, his hand hovering over his pocket where he assuredly kept his wand. Because it was never just one of them, was it? The Golden Trio was infuriatingly inseparable.

“Ron…” Granger hissed the word like an owner might scold a dog. And just like a dog, Weasley lowered his hand and stepped away, though he kept his furious glare fixed on Draco.

Perhaps Draco would have been the one to draw his wand instead, if his attention hadn’t been so suddenly and horrifically derailed.

“Here, just—”

Potter was bending over and—and touching his things, and—

Some part of Draco’s mind knew that this should have bothered him very deeply and on many different levels, but it didn’t.

It was like the entire Hall just melted away into oblivion. The Headmaster he was supposed to be murdering, the faculty and staff, the countless students who were about to bear witness. They all faded into nothing as Harry James Potter handed him a stack of books and quills.

“—just take your stuff, Malfoy, and—”

“I love you.”

There was a short pause in which absolutely no one breathed. Draco thought that Weasley might have scoffed something incredulous, but he wasn’t listening.

He wasn’t paying attention to anyone else.

Harry’s beautiful, green eyes widened in shock before his lips parted and he laughed, breathy and flustered. “Ex…cuse me?” he said in a high, concerned tone. “What—”

“I love you,” Draco repeated. The entire table filled with Slytherin students behind him turned in their seats. The whole Hall seemed to be fall silent, but Draco hardly noticed. “I love you, I-I think I have for a while, I just—I never realized it before right now.”

Harry’s face slid into one of downright disbelief. Draco knocked the books from his arms which he had just gathered up for him so that he could grasp Harry’s hands. “I love you, you gorgeous, reckless idiot. I love you. I love you!”

He was shouting. Harry turned a brilliant shade of red, seemingly paralyzed by Draco’s very loud and traumatizing confession. Draco decided that it felt good to shout. “I love you!” he yelled again, laughing. Giddy with emotion, he turned towards the Hall at large and declared, even louder:

“I love Harry Potter!”

Then, without even thinking it through, Draco turned his attention back to the stunned boy in front of him and crashed his lips over his, passionately kissing Harry Potter for the entirety of the school to see.  

…Maybe it was just the drama of the moment, but later, when Draco found himself in Slughorn’s office with various antidotes being shoved down his throat, he most definitely recalled that Potter had kissed him back.

“You were certainly under the influence of something, my boy,” Slughorn confirmed morbidly, once Draco felt that he was himself again. Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his mortification swiftly turning into rage. “But you should be right as rain, now!”

…Not that being cured of his temporary ailment could possibly undo the damage that had been done.

Draco was furious, venomous, murderous. Potter had used a love potion on him! Surely in some ill-conceived attempt to figure out what he was working on; Potter had been tailing him for weeks, now…

And he’d shouted he loved him, in front of the entire school… And kissed him…

Fuming, Draco set off to find Potter without so much as a ‘thank you’ to Slughorn. “That bastard,” he seethed under his breath. “I’ll kill him, I’ll—oh, for fuck’s sake, Granger! Watch where—”

“I did it.”

For Hermione Granger had just turned a corner, walking right into him—again—like she had just been waiting outside of Slughorn’s office for him to emerge.

“—you’re—what?

“I slipped you the potion,” she said quickly. She had both of her hands raised on either side of her face, looking defensive. “It was me.”

Draco stared, dumbfounded. Unlike Potter, he was not inherently terrible at potions (the fact that Potter had become so inexplicably skilled at the subject this year was clearly just favoritism on Slughorn’s part… the old walrus), and therefore was very distraught at what she was saying. “But… but if you brewed the amortentia, then—”

“It wasn’t amortentia,” she said huffily, like Hermione Granger would never stoop to such things. “It was a confidence elixir, Malfoy. A potion to boost your assurance exponentially. It’s related to Felix Felicis, though not as powerful. You should look it up. Anyway, I thought you could use a bit of… encouragement.”

She smile brightly before sauntering off. Draco watched her go, far too stunned in that moment to say or do anything.

“Oh.” She stopped suddenly, looking over her shoulder with a sly smile on her face. Draco was very glad that the hallway was empty. “By the way… he’s obsessed with you.”

Then she left, a bit of a bounce in her step.

Draco hated that, rather than continue to be furious or thirsty for vengeance… Well, he just couldn’t stop smiling.

You guys remember when Stephanie Meyer said Edward would kill Harry Potter or something because vampires are super fast?

And then Harry Potter fans got annoyed and started coming up with ways Harry would absolute kill Edward?

Well those were essentially “Batman with prep time” arguments.

Except they were more like “Harry potter could win…with prep time.”

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.