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As they kiss, consume

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Malfoy's fist landed against Harry's jaw raw and hard, almost knocking him out.

Harry stepped back a little, face red where he'd been hit and eyes already prickling for how much he hadn't expected that and, fuck, it hurt .

"What the fuck?" he shouted in the alley, looking at Malfoy and waiting for the next punch to come. Nothing came, though, except Malfoy's swearing muttered in a shaken tone.

"Why did you do that?" Harry tried again, massaging his jawline, tone almost hysterical. Malfoy was still standing in front of him, features twisted in an expression of pure anger and not fucking speaking.

They’d been having a rather civil conversation about the next Quidditch match (Harry was sure Ravenclaw would beat Slytherin, but he was not going to mention it to Malfoy), so what the hell had Harry said to make him react in such way?

(He hadn't listened to Ron and Hermione, when, first day back for the Eight Year, they'd warned him about Malfoy. It hadn’t been his fault if he'd simply wanted to apologize for everything that had happened.)

(Then, he’d simply just stuck around, and, well, that had been entirely his fault.)

"Why do I keep trying it? I'm such a fool!" Draco finally spoke, raising his voice and closing his eyes, trying to recollect himself. His hands were clenching and unclenching, his body shaking a little. He looked like he was having a breakdown – maybe he was?

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, more insistent. He was trying to decode Malfoy’s thoughts, but damn if it wasn’t almost an impossible task. Nothing was making sense.

Malfoy eyed him for a few seconds, then signed. He murmured something that Harry didn't catch, and Harry’s face was still hurting like hell ; if Malfoy was so good at fighting with his hands, Harry didn't understand why he'd never taken a fist from him before.

"Malfoy-"

"Shut up!" Malfoy shouted at him. Then, he hit him with both his hands against Harry’s shoulder. This time, Harry moved with him and blocked Malfoy’s wrists against his chest.

"Fucking talk to me!" he screamed to Malfoy’s face, who looked at him in shock and tried to free himself from Harry's grip, but his attempts were weak and his noises were more of tiredness than of distress.

"Let me go," Malfoy whispered, almost begged, eyes to the ground, cheeks pink for reasons Harry didn't know but wanted so much to.

"Not until you explain why you hit me," Harry cleared, voice serious and reasonable.

Malfoy held his breath for what seemed like minutes, the air between them thrilling with suspense. "You keep ignoring me," he finally revealed, tone indecipherable. "No matter how much I try, you just keep being stupid Saint Potter, smiling to everyone, even at a Death Eater like me, but nothing more, and I..."

Harry listened to his words until Malfoy cracked, and hell if they didn't make sense at all .

Yes, he was aware that he was trying to be gentle with pretty much everyone - the war had left scars to each one of them, and he was not going to be a bastard about it and hurt people's nerves even more - but the fact Malfoy wasn't appreciating said gentleness towards himself? Fucking weird.

(Malfoy was weird. However, Harry hadn’t forget he first had tried to befriend him, back in their first year at Hogwarts. Now, eight years later, he was offering to Malfoy the chance to start over, and here he was, being dramatic about it – was the scene he was putting on even about the two of them? Harry was going crazy.)

(Yes, Malfoy was weird, but it wasn’t like Harry didn’t want to kiss him anyway.)

Eventually, “What do you want me to do?” Harry asked him, stepping forward.

Malfoy looked at him, sadness and a hint of hope in his grey eyes. “Stay away from me,” he challenged, not a hint of credibility in his tone.

“You don’t want that.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Harry was again close to Malfoy, and maybe closer than he’d expected, because he could feel Malfoy’s breath over his face and Malfoy’s warmth coming from the light robes he was wearing that morning, and oh , it was nice.

Malfoy kept looking at him with those gorgeous eyes, and fuck.

Harry simply moved again, and his lips landed on Malfoy’s.

There was nothing left to discuss for quite some minutes.