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The day started off like any other. The usual murmur of students filled the halls of Hogwarts, with footsteps echoing against ancient stone as everyone made their way to classes. But today, there was something different in the air—an electric energy that hadn’t quite taken shape yet, but could still be felt bubbling in the air.
It wasn’t until halfway through the morning that people began to notice what was going on.
Ginny Weasley, with her fiery red hair and trademark confident smirk, was drifting through the corridors alongside none other than the Slytherin seventh year, Pansy Parkinson. The two had never been what you’d call “friendly.” They weren’t even usually seen in the same part of the castle unless one of their unlucky Gryffindor or Slytherin friends had been paired up for a particularly dreadful assignment-and even then, between those groups it was sure to end in chaos and several hospital wing trips. But today, there they were, laughing together, heads close as if sharing secrets, whispering words only they alone understood.
Whispers sprang up in their wake. Gryffindors glanced up from their textbooks with raised eyebrows. Hufflepuffs stopped mid-conversation to stare. Ravenclaws looked up from their reading to gawk at the two. Even a few Slytherin’s snooty demeanours were shattered, replaced with faces of pure shock, watching the unusual pair with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
Ginny and Pansy paid no attention to the gawkers. In fact, they seemed to be reveling in it, their heads up high. They moved through the crowd like they owned it, their confidence radiating outward as they handed out small slips of, at first glance, raggedy parchment to bewildered classmates,who simply took them in shock.
Draco Malfoy, lounging by the windows near the Charms classroom before his lesson, raised an eyebrow as they approached him. Pansy gave him a wicked grin, the kind that told him she was absolutely up to something. She extended the piece of parchment with a little flourish, as if she were offering him something far more valuable than a half-burnt and creased scrap of paper.
"Draco," she drawled, barely containing her amusement. "Be there, or... well, don't. But I promise you’ll regret it if you don’t."
He took the snippet, and opened it up. After a quick scan of its contents, he looked up, bemusement flickering in his gaze. "And what exactly is this?" Draco questioned the two. Ginny chimed in, her eyes bright with mischief. "A celebration of, let’s say, newfound freedom. No house rivalries. No professors. Just students, a bit of Firewhisky, and some… interesting games.”
Draco smirked, folding the invitation and tucking it into his pocket. “I suppose I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Ginny said with a wink, before moving on, her arm linking with Pansy’s as they continued down the hallway.
Across the corridor, Harry had been watching the whole exchange, unable to tear his eyes away from Ginny and Pansy. The sight of them together was… unexpected, to say the least. The hot-headed Gryffindor and the icy Slytherin? It was a combination that somehow made sense and yet didn’t at all. He couldn’t help the way his heart sped up slightly in fear as they neared him.
“Harry!” Ginny greeted with a suspiciously wide grin, handing him a folded piece of crumpled parchment. “We’d be honored if you’d grace us with your presence,” she added, suddenly slipping into an airy, posh voice, as though suddenly moving up a class and handing Harry and invitation to a ball, rather than a scrap of paper acting as such. Harry almost would’ve made a reference to Cinderella, if he wasn’t so confused.
Instead, Harry took the slip of parchment, looking between Ginny and Pansy with an uncertain smile. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trap?”
Pansy rolled her eyes,suddenly dropping her prim and proper demeanour just to judge him. “As if we’d go to all this trouble just to prank you, Potter. This is about fun—something I’m pretty sure even you could use a little more of.”
Blushing slightly, Harry tucked the invitation into his robe. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”
As Ginny and Pansy moved on, Hermione and Ron, who had been gotten their invitations just before him, exchanged puzzled looks.
“This is… unusual, isn’t it?” Hermione whispered, walking to stand closer to Harry, Ron in her wake. Her eyes were still following the duo, now an invitation to a slack-jawed Seamus.
“Understatement of the year,” Ron muttered, his brows knitted. “Since when do Slytherins and Gryffindors throw parties together? And since when are Ginny and Parkinson… friendly?”
Hermione watched as Ginny and Pansy shared a laugh, their eyes lighting up as they plotted something that was clearly going to be memorable. “Maybe things are changing,” she said thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Or maybe they’re just finally realizing that life’s too short for rivalries.”
Across the hall, Ginny handed an invitation to Luna Lovegood, who accepted it with a serene smile. “This sounds delightful,” Luna said dreamily, glancing at the parchment as though it were a rare treasure.
“It will be,” Ginny promised, her cheeks faintly pink as Luna gazed at her with a strange intensity.
Pansy cleared her throat, nudging Ginny slightly,seeming a little more than peeved that she was no longer getting the attention she assumed she deserved. “Come on, Weasley. We’ve got a whole castle to invite,” she said, suddenly tugging along Ginny, who let out a small shriek.
The two girls continued their journey, passing out invitations like candy, each one accepted with a mix of shock, curiosity, and excitement. By the time they’d made their rounds, nearly everyone in their year—and a fair few from other years—was clutching a little piece of parchment with details of the party. They didn’t say what exactly would happen at this party, but that only made the mystery more tantalizing.
As Ginny and Pansy finally retreated from the crowd, disappearing around a corner, the students left behind buzzed with speculation.
“Do you think it’s real?” Lavender Brown whispered to Parvati, who was practically bouncing with excitement.
“Real or not, we’re going,” Parvati replied, her eyes glinting. “A Slytherin-Gryffindor party? This could be legendary.”
In the middle of the crowd, Harry clutched his invitation, heart pounding as he thought about the night to come. He couldn’t shake the image of Ginny and Pansy’s shared smiles, their arms brushing as they walked together, both looking so sure of themselves. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe things were changing.
And as he glanced across the hallway to where Draco was leaning against the wall, staring intently at his own invitation, Harry felt a rush of anticipation he couldn’t quite explain.
—
Draco Malfoy leaned back against the cold stone wall, twirling his wand with an air of indifference as he watched Pansy Parkinson struggle with an enormous, enchanted banner. The banner was charmed to sparkle with silver and green lettering, but it had a mind of its own and refused to stay straight, drooping lopsidedly each time she tried to pin it in place.
“Honestly, Draco, are you going to stand there all day and smirk, or are you going to help me?” Pansy snapped, huffing as she prodded the rebellious fabric with her wand.
“Can’t I do both?” Draco drawled, raising a perfectly shaped arched eyebrow. But despite his words, he flicked his wand with a lazy flick, and the banner obediently stretched itself out, floating effortlessly into place with not a wrinkle in sight. “Happy?”
“Thrilled,” she muttered, though he could see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to avoid my wrath tonight.”
“Terrifying, truly,” Draco replied, letting his gaze drift around the common room they were transforming for the party. It looked worlds different than the usual Slytherin meeting place—a bit more Gryffindor than he’d prefer, with its brighter lighting and lack of oppressive green. But Pansy insisted that this space would be “inclusive,” so here they were, hanging up silver streamers and hiding the skull-shaped ornaments usually lining the walls.
At that moment, Blaise Zabini strolled in, hands in his pockets, wearing his customary look of detached amusement. He took in the decorations with a glance before his eyes settled on Draco, glinting with mischief.
“Why, if it isn’t Draco Malfoy, Master of Banners,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do than lurk around, Blaise?”
“Not at all,” Blaise replied, flashing a grin. “Watching you play decorator is the highlight of my evening.”
“You haven’t seen the highlight yet,” Draco shot back, folding his arms. “Wait until we break out the house-elf-charmed punch bowl. Should knock the Gryffindors on their collective arses in no time.”
“Not all of us are here to poison the guests, Draco,” Pansy interrupted, tossing him an exasperated look before narrowing her eyes at Blaise. “Besides, where were you half an hour ago? I asked for help hanging the lights.”
Blaise shrugged, infuriatingly casual. “I was… otherwise occupied.” His smirk widened, daring her to ask more.
“Let me guess,” Draco said, unable to resist. “Planning on finding yet another excuse to hang around Lovegood? My cousin, may I add.”
Pansy laughed at that, giving Blaise a nudge with her elbow. “Oh please, you’re as transparent as that love potion you almost spilled on her last week. Blaise has been staring at your cousin like she’s a particularly challenging bit of magic he can’t quite figure out,” she added, addressing that last snide comment to Draco, who knows of Blaise’s concentration on magic he doesn’t understand. After
all, Draco was there (or forced to be there, as he continues to claim) for the entire 16 hours it took for Blaise to perfect a singular charm just a few days ago. Let alone all of the 24-hour study sessions he has attended.
Blaise scoffed. “Lovegood’s intriguing, yes, but unlike some people, I don’t obsess.”
Draco gave a mock gasp. “Blaise Zabini, admitting he has a fascination with a Ravenclaw? Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Oh, please,” Blaise countered, smirking. “If we’re talking about obsessions, why don’t we talk about the reason you keep adjusting that perfectly fine hair of yours? Someone might think you’re hoping to impress a certain dark-haired Gryffindor.”
Draco’s expression didn’t waver, but he could feel a blush creeping up his neck. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” turning away and crossing his arms hastily, hoping to cover up his pounding heart as though it may give him away.
“Right,” Blaise said smoothly, rolling his eyes in the most exaggerated way possible. He began walking up slowly into Draco’s eye-line. “And Pansy here has no idea what I’m talking about when I mention her collection of lipstick, now does she? How many houses do you want to wager she’s done her rounds in now?”
Pansy flushed pink, though her eyes gleamed with something like challenge. “At least I don’t try to hide it. Besides, even I can admit that some Griffindors are… intriguing. That’s one better than Draco over here,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Would you like to talk about your secret interest in Gryffindors too?”
“Oh, don’t turn this on me, talk to Blaise instead about his incredible talent of pulling people from every house,” Draco retorted, looking pointedly at Blaise, who was trying to appear unbothered but was failing spectacularly, preening at Draco’s failed insult, “I don’t feel like talking about love. Let me do the banners while you two chit-chat like old ladies.”
“Fine, fine, continue sulking over the love of your life,” Blaise said sarcastically, poking Draco’s face while strutting over to Pansy. “Yes, I may have noticed that some Gryffindors have a certain… appeal. Not that I’d admit to having a thing for Potter, though I can’t exactly blame anyone who might.”
Draco almost choked on thin air, snapping around from the now (once again) fallen banner. “Potter? You think about Potter?”
“I thought you didn’t want to be part of the conversation, Draco?” Blaise’s grin was pure devilry. “But, come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed he’s… well, pretty annoyingly fit in that I-don’t-know-what’s-going-on way.”
Draco snorted. “Please. If I did think Potter was attractive—which I don’t—it would hardly be because of his obliviousness.”
Pansy’s eyes were practically dancing with glee. “So, you admit to liking him, then?” Suddenly she mock-gasped, fainting dramatically into Blaise’s unbothered arms while fanning her face with her right hand, her left pressed to her forehead. “Our boy is all grown up, ready to admit his want for Potter to dick him dow-“
“Okay.” Blaise dropped her suddenly, one of his hands going to his hips while the other pinched the bridge of his nose. However, despite his display of annoyance, Draco could tell he was enjoying Pansy’s show, more specifically the rise out of Draco she was causing.
Draco scoffed, feeling the heat continuing to rise to his face. “Don’t be absurd. I simply meant that if I were to… hypothetically find him… interesting, it would be due to other qualities. His determination, perhaps. Or the fact that he never knows when to give up.”
“Oh, Merlin,” Pansy said with a sigh. “You’re absolutely gone for him, aren’t you?”
Draco looked at her, scandalized. “I am not! Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at girl Weasley. If anyone here is gone, it’s you.”
Pansy shrugged, a small smirk on her lips. “Maybe I am. But I’m not the one pretending to be above it all, Draco. Besides, you’re awfully defensive for someone who claims they don’t care.”
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. He wasn’t defensive, he told himself; he just didn’t appreciate being teased. He certainly didn’t appreciate the way that Blaise’s comment had made him remember how Potter’s green eyes had met his in the hall just last week, unwavering and annoyingly intense.
“Whatever,” he said finally, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “Believe whatever ridiculous theories you like. I have better things to worry about.”
“Like what?” Pansy asked, grinning.
Draco sniffed. “Like making sure this party doesn’t devolve into utter chaos.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Draco, you know it’s going to be chaos. That’s the whole point.”
Pansy smirked. “And you know that no matter how much you protest, you’re hoping a certain Gryffindor will be at the center of it all.”
Before Draco could come up with a suitable retort, Blaise leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t worry, Draco. If things get out of hand, you can always ‘accidentally’ tell Potter that I may or may not have found him mildly attractive at some point.” His eyes sparkled. “Who knows? He might surprise us both.”
Draco’s lips twitched, caught between amusement and horror at the thought. “You slag.”
Blaise shrugged. “And what? You, my friend, are in denial. Just admit it—you want him there tonight.”
Draco rolled his eyes, but as he glanced around the decorated room, he couldn’t quite suppress the little flutter of anticipation that curled in his chest. He could blame it on the atmosphere, the planning, the prospect of chaos. But, if he was honest, he knew that part of him was already counting down the minutes until Potter walked through the door.
He just hoped his friends wouldn’t make him regret it.
—
Harry paced around his dorm, heart pounding in a way he hadn’t felt since his last Quidditch match. It wasn’t the party that had him on edge; he’d been to enough of those, even if they were usually just the after-celebrations of Gryffindor victories. No, this felt different. Maybe it was the idea of Gryffindors and Slytherins willingly gathering in the same room—without hexes flying. Or maybe it was because of who he knew would be there.
Draco Malfoy.
Harry caught himself in the mirror as he tugged on a slightly wrinkled fancy shirt, wondering for the fifth time if he was actually looking forward to seeing the Slytherin. There had been something unreadable in Draco’s expression when he took that invitation from Pansy earlier. Not his usual sneer, but something more… intrigued. Harry didn’t want to think too much about why that look had made his heart jump.
“You’re going to wear that?” Ron’s voice broke through his thoughts as he entered the dorm, eyeing Harry’s black button-up shirt (which he saved for special occasions only) with an exaggerated grimace.
“It's just a shirt, Ron,” Harry replied, shrugging off the comment. “What are you planning to wear, then?”
Ron held up a slightly oversized green jumper, clearly knitted by Mrs. Weasley, emblazoned with his initial in bold, orange yarn. He looked down at it, then up at Harry with a sheepish grin. “It’s comfy, alright?”
Harry snorted, unable to help himself. “Well, if you’re trying to be a walking Weasley advertisement, I’d say you nailed it.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “I’d rather have people think of Gryffindor than, you know, who you might be dressing up for,” he added with a knowing smirk.
Harry went slightly pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, turning away from Ron and tugging on his collar. But before Ron could tease him any further, Hermione entered the room (Harry had never loved her more, it was getting harder to hide his blush).
“Hurry up, you two!” she said, adjusting her hair in the mirror. “We don’t want to be late. Luna and Ginny are meeting us by the courtyard.”
Ron glanced at Hermione, a soft smile creeping onto his face as well as a blush as he took in her slightly-more-polished-than-usual appearance. Harry caught the look and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, would you two just get a room already?” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard.
Hermione’s cheeks went pink. “Excuse me?”
“You’re always looking at each other like that. It’s embarrassing,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, though he couldn’t help but grin. “You’re practically broadcasting it to everyone in the school.”
Ron cleared his throat, ears turning red. “Shut it, Harry,” he mumbled. “Just because you’re the only one who doesn’t have someone doesn’t mean—”
Harry cut him off with a laugh. “Alright, alright. But seriously, let’s get going.”
They grabbed their invitations and made their way down to the courtyard, where a small crowd had already started gathering. Luna was there in a sparkling robe adorned with what looked like miniature constellations, her hair done up in an elaborate twist that defied gravity. Ginny stood beside her, effortlessly cool in a leather jacket that had probably once belonged to one of her older brothers, now charmed with bright red and gold patches.
As they all exchanged hellos, Fred and George arrived, each carrying a suspiciously bulging backpack.
“Looks like the party has arrived!” George announced, slinging his arm around Ginny’s shoulder. “And by the looks of things, the supplies we’re bringing are about to make tonight very interesting.”
Fred winked, patting the strap of his bag with a grin. “Fear not, dear friends. We’ve brought enough Firewhisky to knock out half the Slytherins—and maybe a few of the Gryffindors, too.”
Luna tilted her head with a serene smile. “You know, you could probably lighten your load by about half if you left out the Firewhisky. Alcohol is only one way to see the stars.”
Ginny snickered. “Yes, but I think Fred and George are aiming to make a few stars dance in front of everyone’s eyes tonight.”
Fred grinned, then leaned in conspiratorially. “And we’re not stopping at just Firewhisky. We’ve got a little extra.” He tapped his backpack knowingly, and a bottle filled with a mysterious, shimmering liquid peeped out for a second.
Ron squinted. “Is that…?”
“Truth Serum!” George confirmed with an evil grin. “A mild dose, mind you—just enough to make a few confessions slip out here and there. Nothing dangerous, but just enough to keep people honest.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to spike everyone’s drinks?”
“Of course not,” Fred said, feigning innocence. “We’ll be subtle.”
“Just think of the possibilities!” George added, gleeful. “Repressed secrets… hidden crushes… forbidden passions! You know, all the usual teenage hormone-induced stuff.”
Ron looked somewhere between horrified and thrilled. “Mum is going to kill you if she finds out.”
Fred shrugged. “We’ll take our chances. Besides, a bit of honesty never hurt anyone.”
Ginny rolled her eyes but seemed unable to hide her smile. “If anyone’s getting into trouble tonight, it’s probably you two.”
“Likely,” Fred agreed cheerfully. “But it’ll be worth it.”
As the group started making their way down the hall toward the party’s location in one of the old, unused common rooms, Harry found his gaze drifting to the folded invitation in his pocket and the image of Draco’s unreadable face from earlier. He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the thought.
“Harry?” Hermione asked, noticing the faraway look on his face.
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” he said quickly, brushing it off. But as they walked, he couldn’t shake the inexplicable feeling of excitement mingling with nerves.
Would Draco even be there? And, if he was… why did that matter so much?
As they reached the doorway to the common room, they could already hear the murmur of voices and laughter on the other side, and the familiar buzz of a pre-party atmosphere filled the air. Fred and George exchanged gleeful grins as they adjusted their bags, each clearly thrilled at the chaos they were about to unleash.
“Here’s to an unforgettable night,” George said, raising an imaginary glass.
And as Harry pushed open the door to the party, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into something much more than just a night of drinks and laughter.
-
The Slytherin common room had never seen a night like this.
Students from every house were milling around, looking a little out of place as they navigated the space where green-tinted torchlight usually cast a gloomy glow. Tonight, though, the room was brightened by silver lanterns and strings of fairy lights, courtesy of Pansy’s insistence on “making it less… intimidating.” And for once, the Slytherins didn’t seem to mind opening their doors to Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs alike— anything for a good party.
Ginny Weasley was taking it all in with a grin as she
nudged Pansy, who stood beside her with her arms crossed, smirking like she owned the place. In a way, she did. Pansy had orchestrated the party and had personally “convinced” (blackmailed) several prefects into looking the other way. She had a reputation for getting what she wanted, and tonight was no exception.
Over in one corner, Dean and Seamus were trying to coax a Ravenclaw into telling them about the latest Quidditch rumors, while Luna stood nearby with a vague smile, as though the whole scene were exactly what she expected. On the opposite side of the room, Hermione was engaged in a polite, if somewhat strained, conversation with a Slytherin girl who was explaining the “subtle superiority” of potions brewed under a full moon.
The atmosphere was awkward, true, but there was some sort of excitement as well. Even in the tentative glances exchanged between students who usually wouldn’t be caught dead talking to each other, there was a sense of curiosity, of possibility. No-one knew how this was going to go, and they all wanted to watch this play out.
Fred and George Weasley, however, had no interest in anything tentative. They strolled in like they owned the place, each with a backpack that was suspiciously full and bulging at odd angles.
“Oi, Fred,” George said, pulling a bottle from his bag that looked like it might have come from Professor Slughorn’s private stores. “Think they’d notice if we added a bit of ‘enhancement’ to the drinks?”
“Doubt it,” Fred replied with a mischievous grin, giving a dramatic wink to a nearby Hufflepuff who looked half intrigued, half horrified. “In fact, I think it’s practically our duty to make sure everyone has a good time. Isn’t that right, Pansy?”
Pansy glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “As long as it doesn’t turn them into toads, Weasley. I didn’t throw this party just to have to clean up a mess of Transfiguration gone wrong.”
Fred placed a hand over his heart, pretending to look offended. “Perish the thought.”
Ginny snickered beside him. “Honestly.” He added to his twin’s comment, a hand over his heart as though pledging allegiance.
“Juuuuuust trust us on this,” George replied with a grin, uncapping one of the bottles and adding a few generous glugs to the communal punch bowl, where a shimmering pink liquid now swirled enticingly.
Pansy exchanged a conspiratorial look with Ginny, who had been her partner in crime for most of the night. “Alright,” she said, raising her voice so that it carried over the murmur of conversation. “Can everyone gather around for a minute? Yes, even you, Zabini. I promise this will be worth it.”
Slowly, students began drifting over, clustering around the punch bowl and eyeing the suspicious-looking drink. Harry stood near the edge of the crowd, Ron and Hermione at his sides. Across the room, Draco leaned against the wall with an air of practiced indifference, though his gaze kept flicking over to Harry every so often. Their eyes met briefly, and a shiver ran down Harry’s spine, even as he forced himself to look away.
When the room was mostly quiet, Pansy and Ginny exchanged a glance, and Ginny cleared her throat, taking a step forward.
“Welcome, everyone!” Ginny began, her voice bright and cheerful. “Pansy and I are thrilled to see you all here tonight. We figured it was high time Hogwarts stopped acting like a bunch of houses at war and started acting like one big, happy, chaotic family!”
Pansy’s smirk widened, and she folded her arms, stepping up beside Ginny. “And if any of you think you’re above that kind of ‘unity,’” she said, her voice dripping with mock menace, “just know that we have ways of encouraging participation. Fred and George have generously agreed to provide us with a little… incentive.”
The Weasley twins waved, grinning like madmen as a few students gasped, clearly catching sight of the mass amount of bottles in their hands.
“Besides,” Ginny continued with a mischievous glint, “inter-house unity is a wonderful excuse to, you know, get to know each other a little better. And, just to be clear, all types of ‘unity’ are encouraged tonight.” She winked, her gaze lingering on Pansy, who met her eyes with a smirk and the barest hint of a blush.
There was a ripple of laughter, and a few students exchanged nervous glances. Seamus muttered something to Dean, who flushed and pretended to be fascinated by the floor. In another corner, Luna was watching the whole scene with a dreamy expression, as though they were all part of a delightful play.
“Now,” Pansy said, holding up her own cup of punch, “let’s all raise a glass, shall we? To breaking boundaries and, um.. expanding horizons.”
“To inter-house unity!” Ginny chimed in, lifting her cup.
As everyone echoed the toast and took a drink, Harry took a cautious sip from his cup, the sweet, fruity taste quickly warming him from the inside out. He absentmindedly looked up, catching sight of Draco, who was watching him over the rim of his own cup, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Harry felt his stomach do a small, traitorous flip.
Before he could overthink it, Hermione nudged him. “See?” she whispered. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Everyone just… being here together.”
Harry nodded absently (everyone knew about Hermione’s constant quest for equality) though his gaze kept drifting back to Draco, now engaged in a riveting looking conversation with Pansy. The room was buzzing now, laughter and chatter filling the space as the drinks did their work, loosening inhibitions and sparking conversation. People were mingling in ways they never had before, Slytherins laughing with Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws debating loudly with Gryffindors.
Fred and George, meanwhile, were flitting around the room, topping off cups with suspiciously cheerful grins. Seamus, now looking particularly flushed, was trying to convince Dean to join him in a dance, much to Dean’s embarrassment and, judging by his shy smile, secret delight.
As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew warmer, charged with an undercurrent of excitement and something else—something electric. The drinks flowed freely, and laughter echoed against the stone walls as house rivalries melted away.
Draco had moved to stand near the fireplace, his gaze still fixed on Harry, a glimmer of challenge in his eyes. Harry felt his pulse quicken, his feet carrying him closer almost without his permission. They didn’t speak, but their eyes met again, and this time, the silence between them felt full of something unspoken, something neither of them seemed willing to break.
Ron noticed Harry’s distracted look and snorted. “Are you really going to spend the whole night staring at Malfoy?”
“I’m not staring,” Harry said, though his voice was a bit too defensive to be convincing.
“Oh, please,” Hermione murmured, sipping her drink with a knowing smile. “You two are practically radiating tension. Just talk to him, Harry.”
But Harry just rolled his eyes, determined to ignore the comment—and Draco. Which would have been easier if Draco hadn’t chosen that exact moment to raise his glass, giving Harry a look that could only be described as daring.
Around them, the party had taken on a life of its own. Ginny was leaning close to Pansy, whispering something that made the Slytherin girl laugh and blush. Meanwhile, a few Ravenclaw girls were giggling as Luna, with her trademark dreamy smile, seemed to be giving an impromptu lesson on the art of wandless spell-casting, much to their wide-eyed admiration.
But Harry was only half-aware of the chaos unfolding around him. His focus was on the smirk playing at the corner of Draco’s lips, the glint in his eyes that seemed to say, Come on, Potter. What are you waiting for?
And for once, Harry didn’t know the answer.
He wandered through the thickening crowd, the buzz of the party filling his head as laughter and clinking glasses echoed off the stone walls. The room had grown warmer, everyone shedding their usual reservations with each sip of Pansy and Ginny’s spiked punch. For once, it felt like Hogwarts’ unspoken boundaries were disappearing into a haze of chatter, drinks, and maybe a bit of smoke curling up from a suspicious-smelling cauldron Fred and George had set up in a corner.
He caught sight of Dean and Seamus, who were currently embroiled in a slightly too-intense discussion with a Slytherin about Quidditch tactics. From what Harry could tell, it was equal parts friendly and tipsy competitiveness. Luna, meanwhile, had somehow procured a giant, pink flower crown from somewhere and was delicately placing it on Ginny’s head, both of them giggling and getting redder as Ginny tried to keep a straight face for Pansy, who pretended to scowl but couldn’t quite hide her dreamy smile.
The scene was lively, and Harry felt himself beginning to relax as he took it all in. He even managed to laugh when Ron—who’d clearly had a bit too much punch already—nearly tripped over his own feet, his face a little too close to Hermione’s shoulder. She helped him up, giving him a patient look and murmuring something about taking it easy, though her hand rested on his arm a bit longer than necessary.
Harry shook his head, grinning, and let his gaze sweep the room once more. But just as he turned, he collided straight into someone’s chest.
“Oof—sorry!” he started, looking up. His apology died in his throat as he met the unmistakable storm-gray eyes of Draco Malfoy, who looked down at him with a smirk that was at once insufferable and oddly endearing.
“Potter,” Draco drawled, crossing his arms as he steadied himself. “Can’t stay away, can you?”
Harry’s cheeks burned. “In your dreams, Malfoy,” he shot back, though the words came out weaker than he’d hoped. The scent of Draco’s cologne—some sharp, woodsy scent—lingered in the air, and Harry felt himself get a little dizzy in the scent of him.
Draco’s eyes flicked to where Harry’s hand had landed, momentarily gripping his sleeve to steady himself. He arched an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were desperate for my attention.” His voice was low, almost teasing, and Harry felt a strange jolt in his stomach.
“Desperate?” Harry scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly. “From you? Not likely.”
Draco tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Right, of course. That’s why you’re blushing so furiously right now.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Unless you’re catching a fever, Potter?”
Harry swallowed hard, his mind whirling as he struggled to come up with a retort that wouldn’t sound as flustered as he felt. The truth serum was clearly infecting his as all her could think to say was out of the question. But before he could respond, Seamus came practically barreling into them, eyes bright with mischief and the definite gleam of drunken boldness.
“Oh-ho!” Seamus crowed, eyeing the two of them with a grin that spelled nothing but trouble. “What’s this, then? Potter and Malfoy, caught in a little… rendezvous?”
Harry quickly stepped back, flushing. “NO! No no. It’s nothing. We just… bumped into each other.”
Seamus let out a loud laugh. “Oh, sure. And I’m a Professor of Charms!” He looked back and forth between them, his grin only widening as he leaned in conspiratorially. “But you know what I think? I think you two could use a little more bonding time. How about a game?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, his usual air of aloofness faltering as he glanced at Seamus with a hint of interest. “A game?”
Seamus nodded, crossing his arms. “Oh, not just any game, mate. A drinking game. You two, head to head.”
Harry looked at Draco, caught somewhere between disbelief and something he couldn’t quite name. “You really think Malfoy could handle it?” he asked, hoping the taunt would make him sound more confident than he felt.
Draco’s eyes flashed, his smirk returning in full force. “Please, Potter. I’d drink you under the table without breaking a sweat.”
“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Seamus raised his voice so the silent room could hear, clearly delighted. “Alright, then! The rules are simple. We take turns downing drinks until someone gives up. Last one standing wins—and I’d better see some commitment.”
Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked back at Draco, the unspoken challenge in his gaze making his pulse race. He could see the same glint of determination in Draco’s eyes, and he knew there was no way he was backing down now.
“I’m in,” Harry said, lifting his chin slightly.
Draco gave a short, mocking bow. “As am I. Try to keep up, Potter.”
Seamus beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “Brilliant! Everyone!” he yelled, as though no-one was listening in the whole time. “Listen up! We’re starting a drinking game over here. Potter versus Malfoy, round one!”
There was a sudden explosion of cheers and laughter as students swarmed around them, eager to witness what promised to be a memorable showdown. The energy in the room crackled with excitement, and before long, cups were being handed out, filled to the brim with something that smelled far stronger than Pansy’s punch.
“Alright, alright,” Seamus said, holding up his hands to get everyone’s attention. “But this isn’t just a two-person thing. If anyone else wants to jump in, let’s hear it!”
One by one, hands shot up, cheers ringing out as students volunteered. Dean stepped forward with a laugh, clapping Seamus on the back. “I’m in, too!”
“Count me in,” Ron said, despite Hermione’s resigned sigh beside him.
Even Ginny raised her hand, giving Pansy a sly grin. “We’re not letting the boys have all the fun, are we?”
The crowd burst into cheers as Pansy joined in, and soon, more and more students were shouting, eager to throw their hats—or rather, their cups—into the ring.
Harry glanced at Draco, catching the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, the glint in his eye that said he was just as ready for this as Harry was. For a brief, electrifying moment, it felt like they were the only two in the room, locked in this silent battle of wills and pride.
Then, with one last round of cheers and chants of “Drink! Drink! Drink!” the game began.
Cups were raised high and drinks were knocked back with reckless abandon. Harry and Draco were front and center, locked in a fierce staring match as if to prove that the first to break eye contact would lose.
“Round one!” Seamus called out, clearly relishing his role as ringleader, and with a quick nod, he passed two shots to Harry and Draco.
The crowd held its breath as the two locked eyes, raised the strongest drinks Harry had ever had, and swallowed in one go. Harry barely managed to keep his face impassive, though he felt the warmth of the drink settling in his stomach. Draco smirked, his gaze never leaving Harry’s, daring him to falter.
“Think you can keep up, Potter?” Draco taunted, eyebrows raised.
Harry scoffed, though he felt his cheeks warm. “I’ll be here long after you’ve given up, Malfoy.”
“Doubtful,” Draco replied smoothly, his tone deceptively casual. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to impress me.”
Harry felt his face grow hotter but kept his voice steady. He was almost sure that he had been given a shot of pure truth serum- all he could do was hope that he could ignore the growing desire to speak his mind. “In your dreams.”
“Potter, we both know my dreams are far more… interesting than this.”
Harry could feel his face growing redder and redder, and was glad when Seamus loudly announced, “Next round!” and handed out another round of shots, this time for the brave souls still in the game, including Dean, Ginny, and an unsurprising number of Hufflepuffs who’d rallied to the challenge.
Drinks downed, people cheered, and another round went on without anyone backing out, though Ron was already looking bleary-eyed and slightly wobbly. Luna handed him a brightly colored charm necklace “for stability,” which he accepted with far more dignity than it deserved.
As the night went on, the room began to spin with laughter, confessions, and moments of pure, unfiltered honesty, no doubt helped along by the Weasley twins’ strong concoction. Somewhere across the room, Dean and Seamus exchanged a glance that seemed to linger a moment too long before they disappeared from sight. When they re-emerged, their faces flushed and shirts a little rumpled, the room burst into cheers, and Seamus tried—and failed—to look casual as Dean laughed and shook his head, throwing an arm around Seamus in camaraderie.
“Go, Dean!” someone shouted, and Seamus threw his arms wide. “That’s right, folks, drink up for love!” he called out, and everyone did, laughing.
Meanwhile, Ginny, at the center of a group of friends, suddenly lifted her cup. “I have an announcement!” she declared, eyes shining with both mischief and something that seemed oddly freeing.
The room hushed, and Ginny took a deep breath. “I’m a motherfucking RAGING lesbian!” Ginny proclaimed, throwing her arms out and laughing as the room erupted in cheers.
Before anyone could respond, someone shouted, “Crowd surf her!” and Ginny, caught up in the thrill of the moment, laughed as her friends lifted her above their heads, passing her over the crowd. Luna and Pansy stood nearby, both watching with identical looks of awe, though Pansy’s face turned scarlet the moment she caught Ginny looking at her. Luna just gave a dreamy smile, nudging Pansy with her elbow as if to say, There she is.
Harry watched the scene, grinning to himself as people cheered Ginny on. When she was finally lowered back to the ground, at least five people rushed forward with confessions of their own—several from girls, including a Slytherin seventh-year who muttered something about “always having thought you were… brilliant.”
Pansy, seemingly unable to stop herself, stepped forward as well to confess, only to immediately burst into tears when she tried to speak. Ginny patted her shoulder, reassuring her as she sobbed, “I don’t even know why I’m crying! I just—you’re so beautiful, Weasley, it’s really unfair!” She sniffled dramatically, and Ginny wrapped her in a hug, looking both flattered and bewildered.
A moment later, Luna quietly leaned in, whispering something in Ginny’s ear that made her blush from her neck to her ears, the color even more vivid than her hair. Ginny let out a laugh that sounded a bit too loud, and Luna simply smiled, looking at her with unmistakable fondness, her face just as red as Ginny’s.
At some point, Mcgonagall has stumbled in, bleary-eyed, to the shock and horror of all the student. The room went quiet. She looked around in tired annoyance before saying to the quiet room in her suddenly quiet and annoyed voice, “Please keep it down. I am trying to sleep.” She grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey before leaving to cheers and excitement at basically being given permission to carry on.
All the while, Harry tried to ignore how the sight of everyone pairing up—or at least trying to—was making him all too aware of Draco, who had yet to let his gaze wander from Harry. They were on their fifth or sixth round, and neither was showing signs of giving up, though Harry was beginning to feel the heat of each drink in his veins.
“Getting tired yet?” Draco asked, his voice slightly lower, a touch rougher than before. There was a hint of color in his cheeks, and Harry wondered if it was from the alcohol or something else entirely.
“Not even close,” Harry replied breathlessly, though his voice betrayed him by cracking slightly.
Draco’s smirk widened. “Oh, really? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re… distracted.” His eyes flicked pointedly toward Harry’s lips.
Harry’s heart did a backflip, and he struggled to keep his cool. “As if you’re not distracted yourself.”
Draco suddenly leaned in, his eyes now very clearly on Harry’s lips.
“Oh, Potter. Please,” Draco whispered under his breath, his eyes now leaving Harry’s lips to look at him dead in the eyes.
Harry felt his face go suddenly hot, his mind racing for a response that wasn’t “I want you now now now now.” The room seemed to close in around them. But before he could reply, Seamus reappeared, catching sight of their standoff with gleeful amusement.
“Looks like we’ve got a couple of fierce contenders here!” he shouted, clapping them both on the back. “But don’t think we haven’t noticed the lingering looks and banter, lads. If one of you doesn’t lose soon, we’re all going to assume you’re in love,” he teased, sending another wave of laughter through the crowd.
Harry spluttered, and Draco looked away for the first time, though he didn’t seem nearly as thrown by the comment as Harry was.
“Is that right, Potter?” Draco asked, finally recovering, his voice a lazy drawl. “Are you going to be the one to fold, then?”
“Not likely,” Harry retorted, his voice steadier than he felt.
But just as he was about to raise his glass for another drink, Draco leaned in, his voice a murmur just above a whisper. “Too bad, then. Because if I’d known you were going to be this stubborn… I might have just kissed you already.”
Harry froze, his hand faltering just enough for him to spill a bit of his drink. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel Draco’s gaze on him, unrelenting and unwavering.
“Oh, looks like someone’s finally broken!” Seamus called out triumphantly, grinning as he raised Harry’s arm in victory. “And there you have it, folks—Malfoy wins!”
The crowd erupted into applause, people laughing and cheering as Draco smirked, giving Harry a lazy wink and blowing him a kiss, which made his stomach flip. As the cheers died down, someone raised another toast, and everyone’s cups were lifted once more, the laughter echoing through the common room.
Ginny was dancing wildly with Luna and Pansy looking more carefree than Harry had ever seen her. Perhaps it was because she’d been able to get that confession off of her chest. Dean and Seamus were slow-dancing in the background, arms slung around each other, looking embarrassed but pleased. They were whispering words to eachother that only thry could hear, but it was doing a good job of getting both of them redder and redder. Harry really didn’t want to go back to the dorm tonight in fear of seeing something he wished he didn’t. Ron, in a rare moment of abandon, clinked glasses with Hermione, both of them laughing so hard they were nearly doubled over.
The night was chaotic, filled with confessions, laughter, and that unmistakable, joyful freedom of people finally being true to themselves. And amidst it all, Harry glanced over at Draco, catching his eye across the room as they both gave in to rare, genuine smiles.
Somehow, in the mess and mayhem, it felt like something had shifted between them, even if neither of them was ready to say it out loud just yet.
-
The night was already wild, but it seemed George Weasley had other plans to push it even further. His cheeks were a brilliant shade of pink as he leapt onto a chair, nearly knocking over a group of startled Hufflepuffs as he shouted above the chatter, “Alright, listen up, you lot! Time for a real game… Spin the Bottle!”
A loud cheer went up as George located a dusty, empty butterbeer bottle and threw it on the floor in front of him, letting it wobble and roll for effect. “Gather around, brave souls! Only those still on their feet—or close enough—can join!”
Harry was standing nearby, a little dazed from the previous drinking game, but he immediately spotted Ron and Hermione making their way over, exchanging nervous but amused glances. Seamus, Dean, Luna, and a still-blushing Ginny joined the circle, along with a handful of others who seemed both intrigued and slightly terrified. At the edge of the circle, Draco sauntered over, Blaise trailing behind with a dramatic sigh.
Harry’s stomach flipped as he realized Draco was going to join the game, but he didn’t have long to dwell on it as George hollered, “Let’s get started, but fair warning—no cheating with Charms!” He glanced pointedly at his sister, who gave him an innocent look, but her wand was very subtly tucked behind her back.
The bottle was spun for the first time, landing on none other than Ginny herself. Half the room visibly brightened, especially several girls who had clearly been nursing a bit of a crush.
“It’s just a game,” Ginny muttered, eyes flashing with excitement despite herself. But as the bottle spun, a shimmer of magic seemed to tug it in several directions before landing squarely on Pansy, whose eyes widened in shock, her face quickly turning scarlet.
“Pansy Parkinson!” someone squealed, and Ginny stifled a grin, shuffling forward to plant a quick, almost shy kiss on Pansy’s cheek. Pansy immediately started blushing, and Ginny laughed, giving her a wink. “If I didn’t know better, Pans, I’d say you wanted that bottle to find you.”
Pansy scoffed, and the group laughed, the atmosphere growing lighter with each spin.
The bottle passed on, finding random classmates, but each time it spun, another girl inevitably tried to nudge it toward Ginny, only for Fred or George to catch it. “Oi, no cheating! Absolutely no love spells on my sister!” Fred roared, half-amused, half-deadly serious, his protective big-brother instincts showing as he tried to block each subtle attempt.
Meanwhile, Ron was visibly sweating as he watched the bottle spin back toward him. He leaned over to Harry, muttering, “This can’t end well…”
And he was right. In a sudden spin, the bottle stopped, pointing directly at… Dean Thomas.
Ron’s face went from pink to deep red, and Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, either to hide her laughter or her shock. Dean blinked, caught off guard, but shrugged and leaned in, clearly just embracing the chaos of the night.
“Come on, Ron,” Seamus teased, “don’t leave him hanging.”
With a loud, exasperated groan, Ron leaned forward, eyes squeezed shut, and pecked Dean quickly on the lips. The room exploded in hoots and cheers, and Dean leaned back, laughing even as Seamus, next to him, rolled his eyes.
“Aaand that’s my cue,” Seamus declared, and without warning, he grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him over to sit on his lap, where he stayed for the rest of the game, Dean looking flustered and amused as he tried to keep his balance.
Ron, now sporting the same shade as his hair, shot a scowl at Seamus but was too dazed to say anything. Hermione, meanwhile, was sporting a strange expression, as though she had just had a huge realisation, patting Ron’s shoulder in sympathy. Suddenly, she looked fierce, grabbing Ron’s hand and dragging him out the room. Harry inwardly winced.
The bottle continued to spin, leading to increasingly loud cheers and laughter as more and more people’s crushes, secret admirers, and best friends found themselves in awkward kisses, flushed cheeks, or awkward embraces. Someone had cast a spell that sent harmless sparks flying each time the bottle stopped, which added to the chaos.
Finally, the bottle slowed and stopped, pointing directly at Harry.
There was a murmur of excitement and anticipation as everyone waited to see who Harry’s turn would land on. With his heart pounding, Harry reached out and spun the bottle, feeling more self-conscious than he ever had. It spun and spun… and spun some more… before finally, it came to a slow, wobbly stop—pointing directly at Draco. Because of course it did.
There was a collective intake of breath as all eyes turned toward Draco, who was leaning casually against a very put-out-looking Blaise.
“Aw, I wish it was me!” Blaise groaned dramatically, pushing Draco into the circle. Draco stumbled slightly, caught himself, and raised his chin, doing his best to look unfazed. But the faintest hint of pink tinged his cheeks, and he raised an eyebrow at Harry with a look of mock impatience.
“Well, Potter?” Draco drawled, though his voice was barely steady.
Harry swallowed, feeling the eyes of the room on him. It was just a game, right? But as he moved forward, the rest of the party faded into the background, and for a moment, it was just him and Draco in that circle.
He closed the gap, not quite knowing where to look, but he felt the spark of Draco’s gaze, saw the slight tilt of his lips, and before he could overthink it, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Draco’s lips.
Time seemed to stand still, and for a moment, Harry’s heart forgot how to beat. Draco’s lips were soft, slightly warm from the alcohol, and he felt the faint brush of Draco’s hand against his shoulder as if he’d reached out without thinking.
Then they pulled back, blinking at each other as the party around them burst into applause and cheers.
The rest of the group was whooping and hollering, and Blaise was rolling his eyes, though he seemed amused by the whole situation.
Draco met Harry’s gaze, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, Potter,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only Harry could hear, “didn’t know you’d be so… enthusiastic.”
Harry’s face heated, and he shot back, “Didn’t know you’d be so—”
“Fascinatingly delightful?” Draco cut in smoothly, returning to his seat with a smirk.
Draco and Harry found themselves on opposite sides of the room after the game, but neither was really paying attention to the crowd. That kiss from the game—it hadn’t just been a kiss, at least not to Harry. He felt a surge of emotions he couldn’t name, couldn’t ignore, and above all, couldn’t quite forget. And Draco… Draco had just smirked it off like it had been nothing, like it hadn’t sent Harry’s thoughts spiralling, like he was the only one who had been dreaming of this for what seemed like forever.
Harry could only stand there for so long, his mind racing, before his feet seemed to move on their own. He strode across the crowded common room, weaving between clusters of drunken students, until he reached Draco, who was casually chatting with Blaise and trying his best to look as indifferent as usual. Without thinking twice, Harry grabbed Draco by the wrist, tugging him forcefully out of the room and down the corridor, ignoring the suspicious and amused glances from a few stragglers as he went. The minute they rounded the corner and were alone, he turned to face Draco, his eyes blazing.
“What was that?” Harry demanded, pointing a finger at Draco with a mixture of anger and confusion. “The whole thing—kissing me and then acting like it didn’t even happen! Just a game? Really?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Well, wasn’t it?” he said coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was just a silly game, Potter. Nothing more.”
Harry’s frustration grew as he saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at Draco’s lips. He was brushing it off again, the way he always did, like none of it had really mattered. But there was something in Draco’s eyes—something that betrayed him, a flicker of hesitation, maybe even hope.
“Is that so?” Harry said, voice low. And before Draco could muster another snarky response, Harry grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him close and pressing his lips against Draco’s in a sudden, heated kiss.
Draco’s breath hitched as he melted into the kiss. His hand found its way to the back of Harry’s neck, fingers tangling and tugging on his hair, making Harry gasp into Draco’s mouth. This was no game; this was real, intense, and impossible to ignore.
Draco took a shaky breath as they pulled apart, looking half-dazed and completely, for once, speechless. Then, with a grin, he said, “Alright, Potter. You win.”
Harry rolled his eyes, pulling Draco back in, his hands finding Draco’s waist as they stumbled breathlessly backward down the corridor, not wanting the kiss, pushing up closer and closer together. Every time they paused (unwillingly) to take a breath, Draco would give him a smug, challenging look that only made Harry’s desire stronger.
They moved blindly down the hall, nearly tripping over themselves and each other, until Harry spotted an open broom closet down the corridor—a perfect hideaway from any wandering partygoers. He pulled Draco along, who gasped at the tug and moaned slightly at the promise of even more, and reached for the door, but as they opened it, they were met with an unexpected sight.
Ron and Hermione froze mid-kiss, their faces inches apart, both looking equally horrified and completely scandalized at the sight of Harry and Draco standing in the doorway.
“What are you two doing here?” Ron spluttered, his face turning a shade of red Harry had never seen before.
“Oh, we could ask you the same thing,” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow as he gave Ron and Hermione an amused, slightly smug look. “Didn’t know the Head Girl and her Gryffindor Golden Boy were into sneaking around in broom closets.”
“Oh, shut it,” Hermione muttered, although she didn’t look particularly embarrassed. Instead, she gave Harry a knowing smirk, arching an eyebrow as she glanced between him and Draco. “Looks like you’ve found yourself a closet companion too, Harry.”
Harry’s cheeks flared up, but he grinned, squeezing Draco’s waist, which he hadn’t even realized he was still holding. “Looks like I was right though, huh?” he shot back, laughing as he watched Ron shift uncomfortably.
Ron groaned, burying his face in his hands. “We all need to make better choices,” he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He peeked at Harry and Draco, raising an eyebrow in mock annoyance. “But really, of all the people, Harry? Malfoy?”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” Draco said smoothly, flashing Ron an infuriatingly smug grin. “You Gryffindors have no idea what you’re missing.”
“Oh, Merlin, please don’t tell me any more,” Ron said, putting his hands over his ears as though to shield himself from any further mental imagery. Hermione was laughing beside him, clearly more amused by the situation than anything.
The four of them stood there, two couples caught in each other’s arms, each feeling a mix of embarrassment, excitement, and more than a little amusement at the whole bizarre scenario. And then, as if in silent agreement, they all burst out laughing, the tension melting away into shared amusement.
“Alright,” Harry said, still chuckling as he backed out of the broom closet. “Let’s pretend none of us saw anything and all go back to the party before we get any more… ideas.”
“Deal,” Draco smirked, giving Harry one last lingering look before they each went their separate ways, Ron and Hermione still blushing as they returned to the party behind them.
As Harry walked back, he felt a strange, undeniable warmth blooming in his chest. Whatever this night had been, whatever it would lead to, he knew one thing for certain—this was only the beginning.