It just happened. They didn't planned it, nor did they even wanted it. But it did, anyway. If fighting fire with fire made an even greater fire, then they were ablaze. They didn't melt into each other. Rather, they were fighting with their minds and lips, wanting to pull away, but unable to do so. And if that wasn't enough, if they were truly honest with themselves, they actually did not mind it.
Harry was walking back to his dorm one night after flying his broom for an hour. He could not sleep and even though he was not allowed to fly this late, it was the only thing that could release the stressful tension he felt that day. The air was cooling, too, so that helped clear his head. He was carrying his broom in his right hand and as he turned around the corner, he tripped and fell to the adamantine floor, wincing at the bruise on his right cheekbone that will appear the next morning. His broom flew and landed a few feet away from him. Harry turned around and stared up at the smirking face of his Slytherin counterpart, Draco Malfoy. What the hell was he doing up this late? Harry thought astoundingly. Within a split of a second, his face transformed from a wide-eye expression to a death stare, but it was too late. Draco had seen through his façade and that caused him to make such a smug smile that even the Cheshire Cat would be ashamed. It took all of Harry's willpower not to wipe that smile off his face with a punch and that said a lot, considering he was bloody tired from the flight and all he wanted right now was a shower and a goodnight sleep. But Draco wasn't going to let that happened, and it was obvious from the moment he tripped him.
"Ah, look who we have here. 'The Boy Who Lived'," Draco sneered as he narrowed the distance between them and bent forward, staring icily into Harry's green eyes, so close he could feel his breath on his face, "If no one can 'kill' you, then I'll just take the pleasure of torturing you to an early grave."
"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry snapped back, refusing to break contact and show any sign of weakness in front of the boy who seemed to have an endless amount of energy taunting and bullying him, "Go fly a kite. It's obvious you can't fly a broom." It was childish and he didn't want to stoop to Malfoy's level, but when it was so late that it was early and everyone else is most likely asleep, Harry no longer cared about his attitude and behavior towards this infuriating prat.
Draco's faced turned a slight shade of red and although the light was dim, Harry clearly noticed it, given the fact that their faces were only a few inches apart from one another. It was his turn to smirk now. He knew he had stroke a nerve.
"Wipe that blasted smile of your face, Potter," he spat, "or I will make sure you will go to hell the way your mum and dad went."
That was the last straw. Harry, at his wit's end, gathered up what was left in his exhausted body, concentrated it to his arms, and with all his might, shoved Draco's lean frame away from him. The force may have been harder than he'd expected because Draco stumbled backwards and practically flew into the adjacent wall. Harry stood up shakily, slightly breathless, and took three long strides towards him before drawing his fist back and with all the anger he could summon, hit Draco across his fair cheek. That would serve that bastard right. An eye for an eye. As Draco's knees were about to give way, Harry firmly gripped his shoulders and pressed them against the wall.
"Look. At. Me," Harry growled, his voice filled with hatred, "I SAID LOOK AT ME!" Draco, having much difficultly, finally turned his face and stared intensely at his once liquid green eyes, now harden like steel. As much as his cheek hurts, his lips, nose, and eye were not hit, although they could have easily been. How interesting, Draco mused, the corner of his left lips twitched into what appeared to be a slight hint of a smile, before disappearing as quickly as it came. He swiftly decided to glare at Harry with all he's got, when suddenly, he found himself skating on that ice green, so sleek and slippery, but somehow, he was falling into it. And quickly.
Harry, on the other hand, was about to give this imbecile twat the whopping of his life when he realized that Draco's stone grey eyes did not hold the same menacing look he had witnessed just a minute ago, but rather, a gaze. A gaze that was filled with intrigue, fascination, and above all, longing. Harry, in turn, was suddenly mesmerized by the coolness of Draco's eyes and realized that his pupils were dilated. In his eyes, he noticed that he, too, had the same expression Draco was having. But when the light flickered for a mere second, the connection was broken. The whole interval of this change of event lasted only three seconds, but it was enough. Harry's slightly dazed eyes blinked and instantaneously harden, remembering his anger and what he was about to do. However, that instance cleared up his head a little, giving him enough time to decide it was not worth giving Draco a beating, at least not tonight. Shaking Draco's shoulders roughly, he managed to regain his attention towards him and Harry snarled murderously, "Speak of my family again with that vile tongue of yours and I will use the Imperius Curse on you and make you cut off your own tongue." The hallway grew slightly darker. Draco's eyes was filled with fear and oddly, respect, for a fleeting second, but was replaced by a taunting look.
"You wouldn't dare," he replied confidently, "You're just a scared blighter who's hiding behind the face of a so-called hero who got his title at the sake of his mother's death."
"Try. Me," Harry uttered through his teeth, the anger that was burning in his chest was now becoming unbearable. He knew Draco was right, that he could not use the curse on him, as much as he wanted to. To use the curse, one must truly embrace the dark powers and responsibilities that curse bring, and although Harry truly believed he could do so, something was stopping him and he didn't know what. Harry really wanted to kill this bastard now.
"I. Dare. You," Draco whispered jeeringly as he leaned in closer to his face, his eyes mocking, jeering, daring. Finally, Harry couldn't take it anymore, The fiery rage within him burst outwards as he loss all control of his rational thoughts and relied solely on his instincts.
He kissed him.
Neither of them saw it coming, especially Harry. Much later, when he thought back to what had happened that night, he realized that there were only two options at the heat of the moment: to either kill Draco or to kiss him.
Harry's lips came roughly on Draco's, startling the boy. It was hard and messy and very warm. It was not intimate at all, not at first anyway. The kiss was more of a struggle for dominance and power, and as Draco struggled against him, Harry gripped his shoulders tighter, surely leaving bruises that will appear there as well by tomorrow, and pushed him harder against the wall, their bodies almost pressing against each other. Draco's eyes were very wide open and as much as he tried, he could not formulate a single, cohesive sentence in his brain. After a few seconds, he managed to, almost. Harry, Draco thought, and his body gave in.
He stopped struggling and begin to kiss him back. Harry, despite himself, loosen his grasp on Draco, giving him enough power to escape, but Draco didn't. Instead, his hands rose to Harry's hips and pulled him closer, their bodies now touching. Harry groaned and his tongue slid into Draco's mouth, trailing the inside of his lower lip slightly before meeting his tongue. He tasted of toothpaste, soap, and a scent that could only be described as Draco's, much unlike to what Harry would have imagined it would taste, if he had ever imagined such a thing, that is. They could feel the heat radiating between them as they stood in the cold hallway of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, neither of them had ever felt warmer.
Alas, the kiss broke. By who? Neither of them knew either. They both stood there, panting heavily, Draco's back leaning against the wall and Harry's arms on both sides of Draco's head against the wall. They were silent for a long moment before taking one last look at each other, liquid green and stone grey, and parted. Harry, to the Griffindor dorm, and Draco, to the Slytherin dorm. Neither said anything more at night, nor looked back. They had a mutual understanding and Harry found himself extremely exhausted by now. He touched his lips gingerly, which were tender, and sighed. This was a long night.
Harry never found out why Draco was there late that night.
Ron's back was pressed against the wall and he was breathing quickly. He closed his eyes for a moment or two, unable to process what he had witnessed a few minutes ago, and slowly turn around the corner and walked to where Harry and Draco were. He bent down and picked up the broom.
"This is going to be awkward in the morning," Ron muttered and strode back to his dorm.