Harry sat alone in the Gryffindor Common Room with Magical Incantations II open in his lap. He had a quill - which occasionally had to be dipped back into the ink bottle set on the small table to his right - and a roll of parchment paper on one side of the book, furiously scribbling down notes. He was upset because his invisibility cloak had been stolen from the boys' dorm earlier, and though Ron had been understanding about it ("Don't worry, we'll find it, Harry! Then we'll make whoever stole it sorry they messed with you," he said excitedly, and Harry could see he wished it was Malfoy or one of his stooges, though he didn't say it aloud), Hermione hadn't been as accepting ("Well, there's no use looking for it; no one will admit they've stolen it, let alone that they've used it. Better do some studying, Harry," she had advised, before walking off with an armful of books). The cloak was very valuable, and something sentimental - it had been given to him as a Christmas present from Dumbledore, though once it had belonged to his father, James Potter.
In fact, Harry was so lost in his work that he hadn't noticed the owl at the window until it started tapping its beak against the pane. He looked up and spotted Hedwig with a letter attached to her leg by a forest green string; he let the owl sit there a moment before he closed up the book, with his notes still inside, and set both the quill and book on the tableside. Harry moved over to the window and opened it, the cold winter air nipping at his face and snowflakes drifting in lightly, taking the letter from his owl. Hedwig was petted and given an owl treat, then sent away back to the infirmary as Harry opened the letter; the orderly hand writing on the parchment was one he didn't recognize, and it wasn't signed, though his jaw dropped a bit as he read on.
Potter, meet me outside the Gryffindor Common Room entrance ... I know where the cloak is; come alone, I have it with me ...
Harry read the last line over and over. It must be one of the Gryffindors, but why would they try and send an owl if they could have written a note? Why was Hedwig chosen to deliver the letter? He tried to remember if he'd seen - or heard, if they had his cloak - anyone leave, or someone who hadn't come into the Common Room after dinner, but no one came to mind.
Quickly, he stuffed the note into the pocket of his robe and headed to the Fat Lady's portrait. As he approached, he pushed open the portrait and climbed over the ledge, almost falling out into the darkness from his excitement. He prayed silently to himself that it hadn't been someone's idea of funny, and that no one was trying to get him into trouble. Harry let the Fat Lady's portrait close, and he pushed himself against the wall and let his eyes adjust.
Maybe it had been a dream, a hallucination, but he could have sworn he'd heard someone call his name. Harry closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the portraits either snoring lightly, murmuring to each other, or some were even playing classical music softly in the distance. That's when he heard it again, this time right in his face. Instinctively, Harry jumped as the icy breath hit his face, and his eyes flew open to meet the blue eyes piercing through the darkness at him; Malfoy was inches from Harry's face, the moonlight illuminating small parts of the hall they stood in, with a small smirk on.
"Potter," he greeted him, his voice smooth as velvet, as if he was almost pleased to see him. That's when Harry realized his body was gone, knowing the cloak was draped over Malfoy's shoulders. He gritted his teeth a bit, and felt his cheeks get hot in anger. He should have known it was him.
"What do you want, Malfoy," Harry asked, his voice woven with anger, despair, and dread. He took a step away from the wall, to the right, to avoid Malfoy being in his face. However, this was to no avail, because he caught his shoulders and slammed him back into the wall. The cloak had fallen off of his shoulders to reveal a jet black suit with a dark emerald colored rose on the front; Harry could feel his heart pounding in his ears, his blood boiling against the surface of his skin.
Malfoy's smirk had disappeared and was now replaced by an almost longing look. Harry was confused; didn't Malfoy hate him, just as much as Harry hated him? Malfoy rested his forehead against Harry's gently, closing his eyes. This confused Harry further, until he felt the light pressure on his mind and was shown a flashback of when they had first met. Harry was pulled through several of Malfoy's flashbacks, from when he had picked on him to when he had spoken of him, and also of when he had thought of him.
Harry's jaw dropped slightly as he was pulled back to the present, with Malfoy's hands rested gently on his cheeks. His eyes opened, staring straight back into Harry's, though they were full of pain and sorrow. He didn't understand at all what was going on, and was about to say so when Malfoy suddenly spoke. His voice was soft as he entwined their fingers together absentmindedly.
"I needed to talk to you," Malfoy smiled a bit, but the pain was still in his eyes, "I'm sorry. I apologize for everything, I didn't know how to handle...the new things I was feeling."
"Wha-? What do you mean, the new things you were feeling? Why are you so close to my face? Get off, Draco," Harry spilled all of the questions out at once, squirming to get out of Malfoy's grasp and unlock their hands.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanted to talk with you." Malfoy's gaze fell to the ground between them as he reluctantly released Harry's hand. "I was a jerk, I know - I was more than that."
"Why are you apologizing now? Don't you think it's a little late for that?" Harry stared at Malfoy in shock, wondering what exactly he was planning. He had to be gaining something from this, in order to apologize to Harry.
"I didn't realize until lately that - well, that I kind of --," Malfoy cut his sentence off, daring to lift his head and look Harry in the eyes. He bit his lower lip lightly, trying to spit it out quickly and be done with it. Harry could see the internal fight happening through Malfoy's eyes, but he wondered just what about? He shook his head a bit, not wanting to be caught up at this hour for something so ridiculous, and took another few steps away from him.
"Just give me my cloak back and let me go to bed," Harry said, rather irritably. Malfoy leaned down and snatched up the cloak. He walked to Harry, but much to Harry's surprise, Malfoy wasn't finished yet. Harry's eyes widened in shock and fear as Malfoy hooked his index finger under Harry's chin and lifted his head up a bit.
Harry didn't pull away as Draco's lips pressed to his own. They were soft, warm, and even a bit sweet; he couldn't believe what Malfoy had just done, or that he was even thinking of letting him continue this. Harry wanted to pull away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, as Malfoy slipped his arm gently around to Harry's lower back and pulled him closer. He wrapped his arms gently around Malfoy's neck as he was pulled against the other male's body, turning a bit red as he felt Malfoy's tongue slip into his mouth.
He slid one of his hands up into Harry's shirt in the back, his warm skin against Harry's cooler skin. The other hand snaked up into his hair, holding him gently into the kiss. As they explored each other's mouths, Harry's hands pushed up Malfoy's suit and explored the beautifully soft skin he found. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage eagerly, wondering just how long Malfoy had liked him.
After a few minutes, it was Malfoy who broke the kiss and hid his face into Harry's neck. His long arms were still draped around Harry, embracing him tightly and not wanting to let go. "Potter," he uttered, pausing shortly before he continued, "Harry, I...I love you." Harry smiled as the words finally came out; he closed his eyes and nuzzled the top of Malfoy's head.
"I love you too, Draco," Harry whispered back. Malfoy pulled away enough to kiss him again, and he grinned even bigger against the kisses that were planted on his lips. He hadn't known how much he truly longed for this moment until it arrived, where he was cuddled up with Draco Malfoy, laughing quietly and talking through the night. It seemed worlds away suddenly, that they had ever really hated each other, and the possibility of it even being real felt extremely low; after all, they were at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where nothing is what you expect it to be.