Title: Sweet Intoxication
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: FRMT
Summary: After returning for their eighth year, Harry and his friends discover that, not only do they have to share living space with the other houses, but they have to put with their company for a party each week. Thanks to Dean and Seamus' intervention, alcohol is introduced into the mix and everything becomes more than bearable.
Author's note: This was written in response to a challenge over at HP-intoxicated


Harry leant back against the table he was standing in front of and surveyed the room. It was the third week they had been back at school and he'd already wished he hadn't let Hermione talk him into coming back for their eigth year.

Not many of their year had returned after the war and, as a result of the depleted numbers, Headmistress McGonagall had decided that it made no sense for the older students to have to spend all their time holed up in their respective houses with the lower years. She had given them a seperate common room and new dormitories where the rules were a little more relaxed than in the rest of the school.

The only downside to their newly awarded freedom was that all the eigth years were in the same living area - including the few Slytherins that had survived the war and been brave enough to go back to school.

While Harry had no problem with the Slytherins coming back to finish their studies - clean slate and all that - he could have done without having to put up with Draco Malfoy again. When Harry had visited Malfoy Manor after testifying that Draco and his mother had saved his life - thus saving them from spending the rest of their lives in Azkaban with the other Death Eaters - he hadn't expected that they would be crossing paths again so soon. He had merely hoped to return Draco's wand to its rightful owner and be on his way.

Of course, Harry mused looking across the common room, that plan hadn't exactly panned out. Draco Malfoy was sitting near the fire in a large armchair that didn't look like it should have been big enough to hold two people, yet somehow seemed to fit both Draco and Theo Nott with no issues.

Harry took a drink of the beer that was in his hand and forcebly pulled his gaze away from the pair of Slytherins, looking at the rest of their year that were gathered around and talking amongst themselves. It amused him to note that the houses were still standing with each other; despite McGongall's instructions that they were to at least try to get to know the others. Harry actually suspected that she had orchestrated the entire common room and dorm sharing for that sole purpose.

An elbow connected with his ribs and Harry winced, turning his head to glare at whoever had distracted him from his observations. It turned out that Hermione was standing beside him, a glass of something pink in her hand and Harry briefly wondered how Dean and Seamus had managed to sneak in as much alcohol as they had; he doubted McGonagall would be happy to learn that most of the eight years would likely have a hangover in the morning.

"Cheer up, Harry," she chided, taking a small sip of her drink and smiling at the taste; apparently it tasted nicer than it looked. "It's a party," she reminded him as if he could have forgotten. "You're supposed to be having fun."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm people watching, Hermione. That's more fun than getting drunk and having a roudy party."

Before Hermione could open her mouth to respond, an arm was thrown around his neck, almost knocking the beer bottle out of his hand in the process. "Did I hear you right, mate?" an Irish accented voice practically slurred in his ear. "What's the point of coming to a party if you're not going to get completely trashed?"

Hermione scoffed and shook her head, the sleek curls - having put herself through the same torture she had during their fourth year - bouncing with each movement she made. "You know, you're doing nothing to help the stereotype that the Irish are all drunks."

Seamus merely grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "You should have a go at dancing, Harry," he continued as though Hermione hadn't interrupted in the first place.

Harry scoffed. "No thanks," he muteered, chuckling when Seamus muttered something about suiting himself before moving off to the next person who wasn't dancing - which was most of the other students, Harry noticed. He had no desire to experience a repeat of the mess that had been the Yule ball during their fourth year.

Ron appeared at Hermione's side and slipped his hand into hers, pulling her away from Harry and onto the makeshift dancefloor without saying a word; although, he did send a wink and a knowing grin in Harry's direction before carefully twirling Hermione around and pulling her into his arms.

The corners of Harry's mouth turned up in a small smile as he watched the pair of them dancing and laughing a few feet away. While he didn't begrude his friends being happy - god knows they deserved it after eveything they had been through during the war - he did find himself wishing that he could experience the same level of contentness his friends had.

For a few weeks after the end of the war, he and Ginny had tried to give their budding relationship a chance to get off the ground. But, after several failed attempts to be anything more than friends, Ginny had called time on them and they had gone their separate ways, but had still remained friends. In the months that had passed since then, Harry had found himself thinking a lot about his own feelings.

At first he had toyed with the idea - the slightly horrifying possibility - that he could be gay. He had found himself observing others of the same sex in the great hall, until he discovered that none of the people around him stirred up feelings; sexual or otherwise. In the end, he had simply come to the conclusion that he simply wasn't attracted to anyone, regardless of their sex.

Finishing off his drink, he put the bottle down on the table behind him and stood upright, stretching his neck with a wince when it popped. He was going to go to bed. He hadn't been in the mood for a party to start with and had only attended after days of prodding from Hermione and the constant nagging that had accompanied it.

Harry considered telling his best friends that he was leaving, but changed his mind when he saw how engrossed they were with each other. It wasn't fair for him to interrupt them. The few students that were blocking his path between the 'dance floor' and the corridor that lead to their dorm room parted like the red sea and Harry wondered if how he felt about the party was as obvious on his face as he presumed.

The corridor was dark, but Harry was used to that. The lamps were charmed to not light up unless a certain number of students had passed down it, in an effort to be more considerate to the other students that might still be sleeping in the other rooms.

A manual draw atg the beginning on the year had determined that Harry shared his room with Seamus and a Ravenclaw named Matthew. The room was at the end of the corridor and Harry always hated that when he was tired, he always had to walk the furthest out of any of the rest of the male students.

He heard a rustling, followed by a muffled chuckle from his left, and he rolled his eyes. He didn't even bother to look who was kissing who; he wasn't the slightest bit interested in who it was. As he passed, without uttering a word, he noticed a flash of white out of the corner of his eye and felt his stomach tighten inexplicably.

Harry knew who that was; there was only one person in the entire school with hair that colour. Despite himself, Harry turned his head to see if his suspicions were accurate. Through the tiny bit of light that was emitting from under the door to the common room, Harry saw that he had been correct. Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to Harry, pinning someone he couldn't see against the wall and appeared to be kissing them pretty passionately.

"Draco," Theo's voice moaned - he actually moaned the blond's name - and Harry's stomach tightened again at the realisation that they had clearly stolen away together while he had been observing the others in the common room. Not that he was bothered by that fact, Harry told himself firmly. "Don't you think we should do this somewhere else?" he heard Theo gasp in between Draco's ministrations.

Harry couldn't hear Draco's response, but whatever he said seemed to be to Theo's liking as the other teenager moaned loud and grasped at Draco's shoulders, before his lips were captured in a kiss that was powerful enough to take even Harry's breath away. After what felt like an eternity to Harry - how could Theo still breathe? - Draco took a step back and allowed Theo to lead him inside the room that Harry knew belonged to Theo, Ron and a Hufflepuff student he couldn't remember the name of.

Neither of them acknowledged that they had even noticed Harry standing a few feet away from them.

Moving in a kind of daze, Harry slowly moved towards his own room, his feet feeling surprisingly heavy as he went. He couldn't explain why, but he couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen. Something about the way Draco had been pinning Theo to the wall made Harry's stomach twist in a way that was familiar and strange at the same time. Even when Voldemort had been alive, there had been no one who could get under his skin quite like Draco Malfoy; of course that feeling had always been loathing and irritation.

Yes, Harry thought to himself, pulling off his t-shirt and throwing it over the back of the chair that was beside his dresser. That was why his stomach felt so tight. He hated that he had been forced to witness Draco almost molesting Theo where anyone could see.

As he pulled back the sheets of his best, a small voice in the back of his mind asked who he was trying to kid, but he dutifully ignored it.

Harry was awoken hours later by the sound of the door closing and he groaned, cursing whichever idiot - likely Seamus - for being so noisy. He turned his head to the side and squinted at the alarm clock that flittered silently on his bedside table. Apparently he hadn't been in bed hours; it had been twenty minutes.

He screwed his eyes closed, willing Seamus to hurry up and pass out on his own bed. The sounds of someone moving across the room - soft, almost delicate footsteps that were definitely not Seamus' - drew closer to Harry and he frowned deeply, wondering what the hell whoever it was could want when he was clearly trying to sleep.

Harry removed the covers from where he had pulled them over his head and felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of Draco standing next to his bed wearing the same infuriating smirk he always wore whenever he and Harry locked gazes.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Harry muttered, not bothering to extract himself from the cocoon of blankets he had managed to get himself into.

The blond didn't answer immediately and Harry was about to force himself to kick the other teenager out when he finally did speak. "I know you saw me with Theo," he said softly, so soft that Harry almost didn't hear him at all.

Harry swallowed nervously and licked his lips - when had they gotten so dry? "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," he mumbled. "I saw you sitting with Nott in the common room earlier if that's what you mean."

Draco rolled his eyes and took a step closer to the bed. "Don't try to act dumb, Potter," he instructed. "You were in the corridor earlier; I know you saw us kissing." Harry didn't speak - he didn't know what to say and he wasn't sure he'd be able to trust his voice even if he did. "What I want to know is why you were watching us in the first place."

"You're drunk, Malfoy," Harry managed to stammer, all the while averting his eyes.

Draco took another step closer. "Malfoy's don't get drunk," he whispered, bracing himself against the side of Harry's bed with his left knee. "I might have had a few beers, but I'm more than aware of what I saw. Tell me, Potter," he continued, running his index finger over the pattern on Harry's duvet as he spoke. "Did you like what you saw?"

Harry snorted and finally pulled a hand out from under the blankets. "You really are drunk, Malfoy, if you think I'd enjoy something like that." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak and unconvincing.

Through the moonlight that was coming through the windows where Harry had accidentally forgotten to pull the curtains he could see the smirk on the blond's face transform into something far more terrifying. A true smile. "Oh, I don't think you'd enjoy watching," he corrected Harry in a tone that scared him more than anything since he had faced Voldemort for the first time. "I'm pretty sure you want the full experience."

Wihout waiting for a response from Harry - for or against Draco's observation - the Slytherin leant down and pressed his lips against Harry's. Despite his initial shock at the action, Harry's first thought was that, despite Draco's objections that he wasn't drunk, he tasted like toothpaste mixed with alcohol. Draco grinned against Harry's lips and suddenly he felt a tongue pressing against his mouth. Harry didn't want to respond, but before he had decided that in his mind, his mouth had opened to accept Draco's invasion.

Harry pulled his hands out from underneath the quilt and pressed them flat against the blond's shoulder blades. He hadn't reaised how close they were until he felt Draco's chest pressed against his own. He moaned softly when Draco ran his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The taste of the other teenager was so... intoxicating that Harry felt his head spinning in a way that couldn't have anything to do with the alcohol he'd consumed earlier that evening.

With his left hand, Draco managed to push the covers to the side, slipping underneath them so their bodies were pressed together even more than they already had been. The blond slid a leg in between Harry's and that action alone sent a feeling of arousal through Harry that was stronger than anything he had felt in his entire life.

"God, Malfoy," Harry breathed, pushing Draco back as much as he could force himself. "Why are you doing this?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of Draco mouth as he listened to Harry's question. "I would have thought that would be obvious even to you, Potter," he responded, rolling his hips and grinning when Harry gasped at the pleasure that shot through him when their erections rubbed together.

"What about Nott?" he asked, gritting his teeth as he tried to concentrate regardless of what effect being so close to Draco was having on him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "He's wasted," he muttered, disdain evident in his voice. "Just like everyone else in this damn year. All it took was a quick hand job and he was out like a light."

"So, you're using me because Nott passed out?" Harry muttered, raising an eyebrow, before wincing slightly when he realised how petulant he sounded.

A chuckle sounded deep in Draco's throat and he shook his head slowly, his blond hair falling in front of his eyes as he did so. "Believe me, Potter. This has nothing to do with Nott; I've wanted this for almost a year now. I'm not used to waiting for things I want," he added, a small pout forming on his kiss swollen lips.

Harry could feel his eyes widening at the admission. "Really?" Draco nodded silently. "And you've waited all this time to do something about it, becauseā€¦?" Even as he spoke the words, he felt surprise to realise that was how he actually felt.

The Slytherin didn't answer immediately. Instead he leant back down, pressing a kiss against Harry's cheek. Slowly he moved his way up to the Gryffindor's ear, running his tongue along his ear lobe. "The alcohol might have convinced me that this was a good idea."

A retort bubbled in Harry's mind about Draco's admission that he was slightly inebriated, but when Draco captured his lips in a passionate kiss, all thoughts of anything other than how good the other teenager felt immediately left his mind.

In the early hours of the following morning, when he woke to find a naked Draco sleeping next to him, Harry found himself thinking that maybe the party had been a good idea after all.

The End