"I still don't understand how Slytherin won," Ron was moping in the Gryffindor common room. "I mean, Harry. You were inches from the Snitch for most of the game - how did it even happen?"

Harry shrugged. "Bad luck?" he suggested.

Draco was in the Slytherin common room at their party and Harry was moping a little too, although less because of the loss and more because he didn't like to be away from his boyfriend if he didn't absolutely have to be.

Ron, on the other hand, would be miserable for days about the result. He was a very sore loser, Harry had grown to expect that from him.

"We'll win next time," he offered, and Ron frowned.

"I bloody hope so," he said despondently. "I might just go to bed."

"Ok," Harry tried to mask his excitement; he knew this meant he could go and gatecrash the serpents' party.

Hermione had been in bed pretty much immediately after the match ended, looking somewhat peaky, so Harry was under no obligation to stick around in the Gryffindor Common Room any longer.

"Sleep well, mate. Try not to worry about it," he advised his friend.

"I'll try," Ron nodded.

"I might pop down to see Malfoy in a bit," Harry said with a forced casual tone to mask his excitement, and Ron nodded politely like he believed the nonchalance.

"Night then. Have fun."

"Yeah, night, mate. Will do."

No sooner had his best friend left the room before Harry made his way at a speed walk to the nearest boys' bathroom, to change into the outfit he'd chosen earlier and had in his kit bag. 

The dress code for the evening (Slytherin parties always had a dress code) was simply monochrome, and Harry had originally considered going for Gryffindor scarlet but decided it was a little inflammatory for a Slytherin party.

Instead, he had opted for fitted black trousers that actually belonged to Draco and therefore needed rolling twice at the bottom, a chunky belt and soft black sweater.

Hopefully silver won't count as breaking the monochrome rule, Harry thought, as he slid a little hoop into each pierced earlobe (Dean's handiwork from last term; he was becoming quite a talented piercer), and then eyed his appearance in the mirror with appreciation.

His dark hair was still slightly damp from his post-match shower, which had sadly been taken in the Gryffindor block because Ron had needed more emotional support than expected over the narrow loss, and Harry ran his hands carefully through it to push it back the way Draco liked it.

"Perfect."

Harry could hear the pounding bass of the music in the basement growing louder as he hurried towards the Slytherin domain, and his heart rate picked up to match.

Draco's down there there, he thought, I'm going to see him in less than a minute. Fucking hell.

He hadn't managed to speak to his boyfriend since the brief moment at the end of the match where all team mates shook hands, but he'd seemed excited then and had held onto Harry's hand a lot longer than necessary.

Harry wondered idly what he'd be wearing. Something gorgeous and expensive, no doubt.

He got to the Slytherin portrait guarding the common room within a few minutes, gave the questionable password of "Potter's gay", and was granted admission to the party, which was absolutely thriving. That was one thing about the Slytherins; they knew how to have a good time when they wanted to - and they had the money for it, too!

The 'wealthy, old-money Pureblood' cliché was one of the many accurate stereotypes associated with Slytherin students. This meant they were usually pretty well accustomed to having the best of everything, and had the finances to throw the biggest parties in the castle, complete with high-quality speakers and expensive cocktails. Entry to a Slytherin party was very exclusive as a result and considered quite a valuable event by students of other Houses.

Unless, of course, you were fucking the Slytherin Seeker and your name was the password to their Common Room. Then you could do whatever you liked.

And it didn't take long for Harry to find the Seeker in question across the room, where he was the centre of attention as always.

"Chosen One!" Malfoy called gleefully over the music when he spotted Harry. "You came!"

He was holding a crystal goblet containing a vivid green cocktail to match his outfit, and he had the look in his eyes which strongly indicated to Harry that the drink was taking effect.

And of course, as expected, he looked like an angel.

He'd swapped his sweat-soaked jersey and breeches for voguish emerald silk trousers and a loose cashmere sweater from Yves Saint Laurent that Harry remembered him getting in London at the start of term. Draco hadn't even looked at the price tag before folding it over his arm to buy, but Harry had noticed it cost more than all his own clothes put together.

It was now hanging beautifully off Draco's shoulders as if it had been designed for him personally, the front tucked faux-carelessly into the buckle of his belt.

The slightly effeminate look of the trousers and the gleaming silver rings on his fingers, and the way his blonde hair was growing out slightly longer than he normally kept it, was extremely attractive to Harry. Androgyny had always been a good look on him, but then again, what wasn't?

The serpent-adorned rings on the middle and first fingers of Draco's left hand had been presents from Harry for their first anniversary, and he was glad Draco liked them so much because he'd worked so hard to find the perfect ones.

"I couldn't have chosen better myself," Draco had declared delightedly upon receiving them, a compliment which remained with Harry for quite some time as he knew Draco had excellent taste.

Harry was far from the only one who'd noticed how ethereal Draco Malfoy was looking that evening, however.

Draco had been surrounded by a huge group of adoring Slytherin girls when Harry had walked in; Astoria Greengrass, clad all in black lace, was practically sat on Draco's lap while she giggled and told him how wonderfully he'd played that night. Harry shot her an icy glare. Slimy little Third year.

It was clear that Draco didn't have eyes for anyone other than Harry now, though. He'd shaken off the crowd the second his boyfriend had appeared, and was yet to take his eyes off him.

"I see you bothered with the dress code, Potter," Draco noted, strolling lazily over to stand almost chest to chest with him. "Decent of you."

From this distance he could force Harry to tip his chin up to look at him, something which always made Draco feel powerful and Harry feel weirdly turned on.

"I always bother with the dress code," he replied indignantly. "My conforming to dress codes for Slytherin parties is how we got together, you idiot."

"Watch your tone, Potter," was Draco's drawled reply. "Do you realise this entire party is being thrown just for me? Show some respect."

Harry's heart felt like it had dropped right down into his crotch. Why was it so hot when Draco spoke to him like that?

"Are you even going to offer me a drink?" he asked after a second, cursing the little voice crack that revealed how intense Harry was finding it to be so close to his boyfriend.

Draco grinned. "Scared, Potter?"

"No, I just really fancy you and you're very close to me," Harry admitted. "Now get me a fucking cocktail, you brat. You know what you're doing."

A few lurid and very alcoholic green drinks later, Harry's head was pleasantly swimming. He was having a good time, as was Draco, who was even more in demand than usual.

"Draco-o-o, we want to talk to you," Pansy Parkinson called in a sing-song voice from across the room at one point late in the evening, and the group of girls around her burst into giggles. "Come over here!"

"Now?"

"Yeah! Potter doesn't mind if we have our turn with you, does he?" she asked sweetly. "He's had you for aaaages, it's really quite selfish."

Harry frowned. "Potter does mind, actually," he grumbled, "Potter's his boyfriend." But Draco was already sauntering over.

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly he was received by the girls, who instantly clamoured around him for his attention, though Harry couldn't really blame them. Draco was radiant and he couldn't take his eyes off him either.

He wondered what the girls wanted, other than to eye-fuck his boyfriend. The music was still pounding so he couldn't hear what was being said, but he could see a lot of whispering and giggling on the girls' parts, and the occasional manicured little hand on Draco's arm or chest.

Judging by the smirk Draco threw back at him, he was actually encouraging this behaviour from the girls, presumably because he liked when Harry was jealous. It was fucking working.

The final straw, however, came when Pansy tried to run her hands through Draco's hair. To his credit, Draco leaned out of her way (evidently that was a step too far for him too; no one grabbed the Malfoy hair and got away with it), but the damage was done and Harry stormed over.

"Think that's enough 'talking' to Draco now," he snapped, placing a possessive hand on his boyfriend's abdomen as if he could physically shield him from the female attention.

Draco's abs felt hot and firm under his soft green sweater. Harry couldn't work out if it was that or the alcohol that was making his head spinning; Draco and Firewhiskey had both long had a similarly intoxicating effect on Harry.

"Hello, baby," Draco crooned, "You look hot."

This, Harry knew, was Draco's way of signalling to the girls to back off, and Harry felt grateful for the unexpected level of affection. It didn't appear to have had the desired affect, however - rather the opposite; now the attention was on both boys and it was certainly  clear what was on Pansy Parkinson's mind, if not everyone else's.

"I wouldn't mind being in the middle there," she volunteered with a crude grin, and her friends laughed like it was the most hilarious thing they'd ever heard.

"Fancy that, boys?" she asked, blatantly arranging her white satin dress to show as much cleavage as possible. "I reckon there's enough of you both to go around." More shocked giggles.

"Careful what you wish for, Pansy," Draco grinned, slapping Harry suddenly on the back. "There might be a bit more to go around than you expect with us, if you know what I mean."

"I don't mind if you don't," Pansy replied, unfazed. "My mother taught me how to share."

"Yeah? Well, good for you, Pansy. My mother was murdered," Harry replied, irritated, and Draco choked loudly on his drink. The girls looked aghast and it felt as though the entire room had frozen.

"Fucking hell, Harry, that was a bit dark," Draco tried not to laugh as the pair made a swift exit to lean on the banister outside the Common Room.

"Did the trick though," Harry said airily. He'd helped himself to a couple more cocktails and an entire bottle off the table as they went, and was in the process of consuming them all.
"She was being such a predator. I hate people talking about you like that. Only I'm allowed to fancy you."

"Good luck with that, sweetheart. Everyone fancies me," replied Draco airily. "Now pass me that fucking bottle."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Potter."

There was a pause, a swig, and then, "Are we going to bed now then?"

Harry thought about it. He took a long sip of his own drink and then eyed Draco with an impish grin. "Depends," he replied.

"On what?"

"On whether you can get it up after all these cocktails," Harry grinned, ducking the playful cuff round the ear he earned for the comment.

"Of course I can get it up, you cheeky git," Draco scoffed. "I'm a Malfoy. Have I ever failed you before?"

"No, baby."

"Getting it down has been more of an issue today after how you've been," he glared. "Insufferable prat."

"You've not exactly made it easy for me either!" Harry protested, but his complaints died out pretty quickly as Draco drew himself up to his full height and pressed a hand against the wall behind Harry's head.

"Don't be such a brat, Potter," he breathed in Harry's ear.

His body was now deliciously pressed against Harry's, so close that each could practically feel the other's hip bones through their trousers. Dior Sauvage wafted out of the pressure points on Draco's neck and it briefly occurred to Harry that Draco's cologne might be nice to drown in.

"I've been waiting for this all day," he whispered, and Draco pulled him eagerly down to the Slytherin dorms.

***

"Don't you have Quidditch practice tomorrow, darling?" Draco smiled mischievously, once it was over and the boys were lying happily back on the sheets. "Have fun riding that broom."

Harry paused, when whipped his head round to stare at Draco, slightly panicked. "Fuck, I do have Quidditch practice tomorrow!! Draco!"

"It's fine, sweetheart. It'll be funny," Draco replied, and Harry huffed.

"Maybe for you, you prick."

But let Draco pull him to his chest in a tight embrace, and swiftly felt any irritation leave his body. There was only space for immense love and post-orgasm sleepiness inside Harry when his boyfriend cuddled him like this, and the two drifted off blissfully to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Little things such as Quidditch and being able to walk without limping were worries for another time.

________________________________

a/n:
hope you enjoyed this one, thank you so much for reading!!

i'm planning on elaborating on the story of how drarry got together at that party in another chapter bc it's a cute story in my mind! and it'll give the opportunity to see cute angsty pre-couple drarry which is always fun🤍

leave a favourite if you'd like something like that, hope you enjoyed this chapter!!

~ paradisedraco