Title: What Happens in the Cloakroom… Part 4/4
Author: sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco (implied Ron/Pansy, Hermione/Ginny)
Rating: PG-13 (sorry!)
Length/Word Count: Series, 1655 words for this part.
Warnings/Content: implied frotting and other sexual themes, a little bit of fluff (okay probably more than just a little bit)
Summary: Something warm uncurled in Draco's stomach. He was sure it was just the alcohol.
Notes: Final part to the Cloakroom series. Thanks to torino10154 for the inspiration! Unbeta'd so please forgive and/or point out any typos/errors. Thanks! <3
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world I did not create. No copyright infringement intended.

Link to Part 1
Link to Part 2
Link to Part 3


What Happens in the Cloakroom… Part 4

The party was in full swing by the time Draco arrived, fashionably late of course. He shifted his bottle of wine--a host gift, as any good guest would never arrive empty handed--and shrugged off his cloak and scarf, hanging them on a nearby hook. Pansy extracted herself from Weasley’s lap and glided over, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors.

“I knew you’d come,” she said, kissing his cheek. He could smell alcohol on her breath; clearly she’d been here for some time already.

“I need a drink,” he replied. Potter appeared out of nowhere then, fingers curled around a glass of brown liquid. The ice clanked together as he extended his hand.

“Whisky. I’ve got Champagne too, and butterbeer if you want--I can get you something else, oh...you brought wine?”

Draco accepted the glass, ignoring how his skin tingled when his fingers brushed over Potter’s. He downed half of it in one go.

“Yes, here,” Draco said once he’d swallowed. Potter’s lips turned up at the corners as he took the bottle. “It’s not for now. Just...it’s a dessert wine. Best with chocolate, but I suppose you could drink it with any pudding.” Draco wasn’t sure why he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth from moving and spitting out the most ridiculous things. He took another large swallow of whisky.

“Thanks...I’ll save it. For something special.” Potter smiled softly and something warm uncurled in Draco’s stomach. He was sure it was just the alcohol.

“Harry--can you help me? I think I’m a bit short-” A voice called from the kitchen--Granger’s, Draco thought. Potter gave an apologetic shrug and excused himself, and Draco let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He glanced around Potter’s flat and was surprised at the decor. He’d anticipated some kind of gaudy Gryffindor monstrosity, with gold statues of lions and plushy couches of the deepest red. It was a rather ridiculous assumption--it wasn’t if Draco’s house was covered in silver serpents either--but regardless, he hadn’t expected this. It was comfortable, with plenty of cozy furniture in shades of blue and grey, the walls light and painted in the same palate. The place was filled with pictures, some lining the mantle, two or three on each end table and a whole sideboard covered with them.

Draco took up residence in a corner, adjusted his robes and tried not to feel like he was vastly out of place. He was saved from his awkward shuffling by an older Weasley he didn’t recognise (he assumed the family association from the hair alone). They stuck to safe topics like the weather and the latest Quidditch stats, but the conversation soon dried up and Draco found himself alone again.

He peered around the room. As it got closer to midnight, he could see most guests coupling off. Pansy was back on Ron’s lap, giggling about something or other; he’d wondered how Granger faired with this new development, but saw her cuddling with the Weaslette on the sofa opposite. He supposed she must have not been too upset then.

Draco emptied his drink, and finally spying a means of escape, decided he could do with some air.

~

Harry watched Draco edge around the outskirts of his other guests and disappear through his balcony doors. He took a deep breath, grabbed a pair of champagne flutes, and followed a few moments later. He lingered in the doorway, Draco not having sensed him yet, and just watched the moonlight fall over Draco’s features. Draco was tense, Harry guessed with the way Draco’s lips were tight at the corners, his shoulders and back stiff. There was nothing Harry wanted more at that moment than to just slide up behind him, squeeze his shoulders, then wrap his arms around Draco’s waist until Draco relaxed in his embrace.

Too soon for that, he thought. Harry was more likely to be met with Champagne thrown in his face, so instead he coughed to announce his presence, and when Draco didn’t object, walked over to his side.

“Here,” Harry said, setting a flute on the railing where Draco stood. “Thought you might want some. For midnight.”

“Right.” Draco nodded. He curled his fingers around the glass, but otherwise didn’t move. “Trying to get me drunk, Potter?”

“Maybe.” Harry offered a smile. Draco’s eyes flicked to his lips and Harry allowed himself to hope. “You mind if I stay. It’s getting a bit...”

“Coupley in there?” Draco finished with a slant to his lips.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted with a shrug, though he found his mouth just wouldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t realise he was outright staring until Draco raised an eyebrow.

“What? Do I have something-”

“No, no-” Harry waved Draco’s concern off, a slight heat flushing his cheeks. “I’m just-” Harry paused for a breath, then scraped his teeth over his lower lip--a bad habit he’d developed when he was particularly nervous about something. He caught Draco’s eyes darting to his mouth again, and that bolstered Harry’s courage.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“So you’re not the only sad wanker without a date on New Years?” Draco snorted. Harry shook his head. He set his flute down next to Draco’s and hesitantly brushed his fingers over Draco’s arm. When Draco didn’t pull away, Harry slid his hand down and skimmed his thumb over Draco’s knuckles. Draco’s breath sped up; Harry inched closer.

“Was hoping--” The words tangled themselves on his tongue and Harry took another deep breath and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. “I was hoping you’d be my date.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Harry spied the flecks of blue dotting the grey of Draco’s eyes he’d admired so many nights ago at that fateful Yule Ball. He gave Draco as much opportunity to turn his head or pull away as Harry’s patience would allow, and when he didn’t, Harry leaned over and kissed him.

Draco’s lips were cold, but soft, and parted easily under Harry’s. He tasted like whisky and groaned into Harry’s mouth when Harry darted his tongue out to chase the flavor. A jolt went down Harry’s spine and suddenly his hands were everywhere, pulling at Draco’s robes, sliding beneath fabric to seek out the heat of Draco’s skin. Draco’s fingers combed through Harry’s hair and they stumbled until Harry’s back hit the balcony doors. Harry broke their kiss with a gasp, and Draco started to pull away, but Harry grabbed his waist to keep him from escaping.

“Potter-” Draco rasped. Harry could see the fear in his eyes, and he slid one hand up the curve of Draco’s back, hoping to soothe him.

“Look...you can blame tonight on the alcohol if you want, but--don’t run away. You don’t really want to...do you?”

Harry searched Draco’s eyes as they flicked this way and that, but were soon back, seemingly unable to resist Harry’s gaze. Draco’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips. Harry bit back a groan.

“The punch wasn’t spiked that night, was it?” Draco finally whispered. Harry shook his head. He did his best to still his body, though he ached to yank Draco even closer and press their hips and thighs together, seek out Draco’s hardness with his own. But he waited, mouth dry, for Draco to decide what would happen next.

Harry could hear the muffled sound of the party at his back and a strange sort of deja vu overcame him. But this time, they were counting backwards to one; it was almost midnight, and Harry knew exactly how he wanted to start off the new year.

Draco’s mouth hovered closer. Harry curled his fingers into Draco’s skin, imagining round marks of red marring the pale.

“Your guests won’t mind if I steal you the rest of the evening, will they?” Draco’s breath ghosted over Harry’s lips.

“No,” Harry murmured. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. Draco’s nose butted against his own and he caught a gleam in Draco’s eyes before his own fell closed.

Three....Two...One!

“Happy New Year,” Draco whispered. Their mouths met again, just a teasing brush of lips until Harry tugged Draco into a deeper kiss. But Draco cut it off way too quickly and Harry couldn’t stifle his disappointed whine.

Draco laughed, throaty and deep, head thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing. Harry leaned forward and licked a wet stripe along his neck, effectively turning his laughter into a startled gasp.

“I only stopped to ask you if perhaps you’d like to take this to your bedroom?” Draco said breathily. “You Gryffindors are so needy.”

“Shut it.” Harry said, though he answered with a cock of his head toward the other end of the balcony where a matching set of doors led into his bedroom.

“Make me.” Draco tugged on Harry’s wrist and Harry spun him around instead, pining Draco against the wall with his hips.

“You know they say you’re supposed to start the new year out the way you want to end it,” Harry said after a searing, but again too-short rough kiss. He grabbed both of Draco’s hands and pushed them over his head, delighting in the way Draco arched against him.

“So you’re saying I have a whole year of fighting and fucking with you to look forward to?” Draco panted. He wiggled one hand free and grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair, yanking him forward for another kiss.

“Sounds good to me,” Harry managed to rasp before their lips crashed together. Draco turned the tables once more and somehow Harry was the one pinned against the wall, but he didn’t mind. Eventually, he figured they’d make it to his bedroom. But they had plenty of time for that now. Harry was done running away from this, and he knew Draco was too.

It was a brand new year.


-Fin-







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