Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 440
Written for: hp_may_madness 2017 Day 4: "Your love hurts, stings and is addicting. Is it poison?", spring
Summary: Loving Potter had never been right, or easy.
Notes: Late posting (life is hard in every sense), but still hoping you'll like what I wrote :)
Other links: DW/AO3
Draco was watching Potter flying on the Quidditch pitch, and all he could think about was how brutally but passionately Potter had kissed him hours before in the middle of the boy’s bathroom: soft lips crashing against Draco’s; smooth, dark skin coming in touch with Draco’s, pale and thin.
Draco knew it had been wrong. Hell, if it hadn’t.
Loving Potter had never been right, or easy. For Draco, it always had been a battle, mostly with himself; a battle he'd known he would've lost, sooner or later, because it didn't matter how hurt Potter's indifference made him feel, it didn't matter how much Potter's hateful glances made Draco's chest sting. Draco had known that in the end, despite everything, addicting and corrosive exactly like a poison, their feelings would've crashed together and made the two of them bleed – for better or for worse.
Fighting his instincts towards Potter was something that, during the years, had drawn from him more and more energy every day, and frankly, he was too tired to even try it anymore.
The spring breeze made Draco shiver. Beside him, Pansy murmured something, but he didn't catch that, too busy staring at Potter's moves, how good he was on a broom, body and limbs never leaving the posture, eyes fixed on his aim – the Golden Snitch.
He was obsessed with Potter, and had been for a very long time, so he couldn’t stop a thrill running down his back when Potter caught him looking with too much intensity.
They remained like that – staring at each other, green, sparkling eyes demolishing every argument Draco’s grey ones could’ve made up – for no more than ten seconds that felt like an eternity. Until Potter – stupid, stupid Potter – suddenly smiled at him, white teeth shining over his darker lips, making Draco’s blood boil – How dare he? Smiling at each other like they were an old couple still in love? – and heart jumping in his ribcage.
Fuck, Potter really had smiled at him. On the Quidditch pitch. With tons of eyes looking at them. Fuck.
Draco wanted so much to punch him. He also wanted to taste those lips again, hear Potter moaning under his hands, making him feel good.
Flying above his head, Potter winked at Draco, before returning to his mission.
Draco was now sure that Pansy was asking him questions about Potter, but again he decided to ignore her: he was pretty sure Potter had just let him know he would’ve been free after the match, and frankly, now that Draco had made up his mind, everything else could wait.