If I didn’t have twelve hundred ideas for longer fics already this would be one. So instead it shall have to be a snippet of what it could be, with invisible beginnings and ends you’ll have to imagine for yourselves.
Harry frowned. He was certain he had left it hanging over the end of his bed. He knelt down and looked under the bed just in case but there was nothing, not even dust bunnies thanks to the diligent house elves.
“Neville, have you seen my hoodie? The red one I was wearing yesterday?” Harry asked.
“He’s down in the common room,” Neville said, not bothering to look up from his little windowsill garden.
Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What?”
“Malfoy’s down in the common room,” Neville said absently. He glanced up at Harry’s prolonged silence and shrugged, “Who else would take it?”
“Thanks,” Harry said hurriedly, heading out of the room and down the hallway to the common room.
Sure enough, there was a red-clad figure laying on one of the couches by the fire. He was slumped down so his neck was at an awkward angle he’d come to regret later, hood pulled up and hiding most of his ridiculous blond hair, sleeves pulled down over his fingers. He had a book balanced on his chest about three inches from his face. Harry rather suspected that Draco was in dire need of a pair of reading glasses but would rather die than admit it.
Harry walked over, stopping in front of the couch to demand, “Give it back.”
“No,” Draco said flatly turning a page and squinting at the tiny type.
Harry sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair, “Come on, all the rest are being washed.”
“I know,” Draco said smugly.
“You’re the worst, why are you like this?” Harry groaned.
Draco twitched an eyebrow up, “Have you met my father?”
Harry frowned and grabbed the bottom of the hoodie Draco was wearing.
“What are you doing!” Draco sputtered, his book falling on his chest as he grabbed Harry’s wrists, pushing back down.
“Taking. my. hoodie. back,” Harry said through gritted teeth.
He pushed up harder and Draco pulled down. The book slid to the floor with a thump. Harry climbed onto the couch, a knee between Draco’s legs. The hoodie along with Draco’s shirt rode up his chest as they struggled. Draco raised his free foot and braced it on Harry’s shoulder to shove him back and Harry furiously leant against it. Until Draco’s foot slipped and Harry tumbled onto Draco in a heap that left them both breathless.
“Fuck,” Draco groaned, “Are you made of lead, Potter?”
Harry tried not to laugh, he really did, but Draco’s pouty frown pushed him over the edge and he started laughing so hard he had to hold onto the couch to keep from falling off.
Draco rather unsuccessfully fought down a smile, “Arsehole.”
Sitting at a small table nearby Ron groaned, “Merlin, they’re doing it again.”
Hermione smiled fondly, her chin propped on her hand, “I think it’s cute.”
“This is torture. I’m going to the library,” Ron said, shoving his parchment in his bag, “They don’t even realise, how do they not realise?”
“I’ll come with you,” Hermione smiled, twirling her wand and sending all her books and parchments neatly into her bag, “They’ll figure it out eventually.”
“And then they’ll be worse!” Ron grabbed his bag, “You know they will be!”
Hermione smiled and took Ron’s arm, “You’ll be fine, I promise.”