Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I'm Leaving Without You)

chapter 1

I'm separating the story into chapters to make it easier to read xoxo

Getting through the second of May wouldn't be nearly so hard if everyone would just leave him the fuck alone. But they didn't, and so Harry had learned that the next best way to get through it was to spend it thoroughly plastered. Every year he was forced to attend this ridiculous gala in remembrance of the Battle of Hogwarts, as if standing around in stuffy robes and sipping champagne out of crystal flutes and nibbling at tiny and entirely unidentifiable fingerfoods was somehow beneficial to those who'd lost their lives that awful night. So he skipped straight to the hard stuff, because at least that dulled the mind-numbing torment of the endless rounds of speeches, as well as made it easier for him to resist when they inevitably tried to pressure him for 'just a few words, Harry, please!' And it was entirely worth the front page article that would show up in the Prophet tomorrow, detailing how the Boy Who Lived was still so affected by the war that he had to drink just to get through the night.

Which, bloody hell, of course he was still affected by it, and there'd be something seriously wrong with him if he wasn't.

He stopped by the bar for another whisky and then pushed his way through the crowded ballroom and stumbled out through the door onto the balcony only to find it already occupied by Malfoy, of all people, leaning against the railing, staring up at the night sky with a glass of champagne dangling from one hand and a cigarette pinched neatly between the index and middle fingers of his other. He looked over at Harry and his expression shuttered.

"Malfoy," Harry snapped.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Potter."

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" he demanded.

Malfoy looked him up and down. "I needed some air."

Harry glanced pointedly at the cigarette in his hand. "Clearly," he said.

"Fuck off," Malfoy muttered. He drained the last small swallow of champagne from his glass and set it on the railing beside him.

He really should, Harry thought. He should turn around and fuck right off back inside. Instead, he took a swallow from his own glass and said, "Never would've suspected you of picking up a filthy Muggle habit."

Eyeing him, Malfoy took a quick drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke defiantly skyward. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "I've finally found the one thing Muggles have got right." His lip curled faintly as he said it, his expression edging toward a sneer, and Harry wanted to hit him.

He didn't exactly hate Malfoy, not anymore, but Harry still didn't like him. They'd been through three years of Auror training together and got along fairly well through a careful combination of mutual avoidance when they could manage it and frosty professionalism when they couldn't. But that didn't mean that Malfoy wasn't still a wonderful release for Harry's temper. That certainly hadn't changed over the years. There was something about fighting with Malfoy that always lit his blood, got him riled up and breathless and made him feel wonderfully, terribly alive.

Harry stepped closer. "I don't think you've changed a bit."

Malfoy crushed out his cigarette on the railing before he flicked it away over the edge. "And I don't think that's any of your fucking business." He punctuated his sentence with a light shove to Harry's chest that sent him stumbling back an unexpected step and sparked his rising temper to something dangerous.

His control, already worn tenuously thin by the day and the gala, snapped. With a low growl, he threw himself at Malfoy, one fist lashing out. But he'd really had quite a lot to drink, and his fist flew past Malfoy's face, over his shoulder, and Harry's momentum carried him stumbling forward. He fell against Malfoy, their chests thudding together, knocking Malfoy back against the railing of the balcony, and his breath whooshed out in a warm huff over Harry's mouth just before their lips smashed awkwardly together. They both froze, Harry with one arm thrust over Malfoy's shoulder, Malfoy with one of his arms trapped between their chests, and their lips pressed together in the entirely accidental kiss. Then Malfoy's body relaxed a fraction and he sighed against Harry's mouth, and the tip of his tongue traced along Harry's bottom lip.