Chapter Text
Draco vanished the last pizza box from the kitchen with a sigh of relief. When Harry had suggested moving into Number 12 after graduation — A gap year Muggles calls it. We’ll just… take time to be young. Say yes. It’ll be no fun without you. — it hadn’t taken much to convince Draco. After all, how hard could it be sharing a house with your three best friends, your childhood crush, and his six closest friends?
Honestly, it hadn’t been as hard as he thought it’d be. As he trudged up the stairs to the living room, Draco began to think it would have been easier if it’d only lasted one year. Instead, 12 became a catch-all house, a safe place to land for anybody that needed it. He had to admit it wasn’t exactly a bad thing, it just — well, it didn’t help him get over his crush on Harry. Neither did the parties that kept being thrown. He’d learned the hard way he couldn’t get too drunk or too high around Harry. When Draco’s inhibitions lowered, so did his ability to not act stupid. And Harry Potter had been bringing out the stupid in Draco since they were eleven.
In the living room, Nirvana blared from the wireless on the mantle, and dark, moody lights throbbed to the beat. As Kurt Cobain sang about some heart box, at least forty of their closest friends danced along, arms waving in the air. No, living here wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be, but watching Harry dance with yet another person who wasn’t Draco was. He looked like a daydream with his curls clinging to his neck and his eyeliner smeared. Sometime during the night, he’d lost the flannel he’d been wearing, leaving Harry wearing only his sweat-damp undershirt and denims that had no earthly right to be that tight. Forget daydream, Draco thought, he looks like sin.
“Hey,” Blaise whisper shouted in his ear. He smelled like cherry vodka but it was a nice break from the bitter, musky odor of Dean’s bong. The music changed, the beat picking up, and Blaise pressed into his space. “Come on! It’s been ages since you’ve had fun, babes. Relax…” Draco rolled his eyes, but let his friend pull him out into the crowd. He dropped his head back on Blaise’s shoulder and moved with the beat. Draco didn’t know how long he spent dancing in Blaise’s arms, but it was long enough that he was sticky with sweat and that his feet hurt. Opening his eyes, Draco met Harry’s stare. Impulsively, he stuck out his tongue. Harry quirked an eyebrow and mouthed, “Blaise? Really?”
Draco snorted. As if he had any right to judge Draco for having a little fun. Not when Harry had one hand tucked in a new guy’s back pocket and the other in his waistband. Ignoring the death glare being sent in his direction, Draco tugged on Blaise’s hand, “Let’s get out of here, ya?” They didn’t make it to the hall before Blaise was all over him. Hand threaded through his hair, lips roaming his neck, his other hand unbuttoning Draco’s shirt. As soon as they were out of the living room, Blaise pulled back laughing, “Hope he enjoyed the show. Come on, I got some Snowy Owl Moss upstairs.”
When they reached the fourth floor, Blaise led him into one of the extra guest bedrooms. Theo, Pansy, and Neville were already on the bed, legs tangled, passing a Thai stick around. Draco toed off his boots before transfiguring an extra pillow into another mattress. Pansy produced another stick from somewhere — Draco really didn’t want to know where — and he flopped down next to Blaise. They passed the moss back and forth until the sounds from the bed became too loud to ignore any longer.
“You know,” Blase groaned. “I’d forgotten how gross they are.”
Draco propped himself up on his elbows, “Try sharing a room with her. I woke up the other night to these sounds. Spit roast via floo is not the alarm I had set.”
Blaise rolled off the bed, laughing so hard he choked, “You can’t be serious?!”
“Unfortunately. I’m the most single I’ve ever been and my roommate can’t not get laid.”
“You need to get laid.”
"What I really need,” Draco said, in between inhales, “is a new roommate.”
“Why not both?” Blaise was suddenly serious. “I need to move out of the villa and you need to forget that twerp downstairs…”
He had a point. Not about moving out of the villa. That was just stupid. Hell, Draco would move in there if Mrs. Zabini would let him. It was nicer than all of the Malfoy properties, including the chateau in France. Those sheets… Ok, he was getting distracted. A new roommate would be nice. And Blaise was… taking off his shirt?
“What are you doing?”
“I just thought I could remind you how good we were together,” Blaise dragged him closer. “You know if we had been together.” Somewhere the countdown to the new year started, but Draco was too focused on his shirt getting unbuttoned.
Ten, nine, eight…
“You know they say whatever you’re doing when the clock strikes midnight is what you do all year.”
...seven, six, five...
“If I say yes, will you bring your sheets with you?”
Blaise leaned forward, nose bumping Dracos, “Babes, I’ll bring them even if you say no.”
...four, three…
“Yes.”
...two…
Fuzzy from the Snowy Owl Moss and giddy about his new sheets, Draco pressed forward, closing the space between them. The kiss was soft, sweet. It was hot chocolate after a snowball fight, the perfect cup of tea.
...one…
The door slammed open, startling a squeak out of Draco. Blaise took the opportunity to slip his tongue in Draco’s mouth, deepening the kiss. Draco forgot all about the door and the squeak and the three on the bed to focus instead on the feel of Blaise’s hands on his hips. When he finally pulled away, Blaise smirked down at him, “Yes?”
Laughing, Draco mimicked, “Yes.”
A throat cleared impatiently and Draco was abruptly reminded of the slamming door. Like a kneazle that got the flobberworm, Blaise looked altogether too pleased with himself. Shooting a shit-eating grin at whoever was in the door, Blaise rolled off of Draco, making no effort to hide just exactly how much he had been enjoying their kiss. He winked at Draco as he sat up and began to shrug his shirt back on, “Happy New Year, Harry Potter.”