IMPOSSIBLE RISKS // Drarry

30) BOYFRIENDS!

TW: Gay!

"Oh, Draco, what are you doing here?" Asks Harry the moment a peak of white-blond hair pokes through the door of the room he's staying in with Ron. He is currently resting on top of his bed with his legs kicked back in a lackadaisical manner.

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he says quietly, staring at Harry as though he is the only person to walk the Earth, "if you're not busy?"

"No, not at all," says Harry, sitting up in the bed and patting the spot next to him, "sit down?"

"Sure," Draco walks over to the bed and shifts uncomfortably on the mattress, staring right at him. Something about being watched over by him makes Harry feel a strange jolt in his stomach, "You're blushing."

"Am I?"

"It looks pretty on you."

"Oh. . . Um. . ."

"Kissing was nice," says Draco abruptly.

"Yeah, it was," he says, "wanna. . . ?"

He doesn't even get to finish the sentence before Draco's lips are on his. Something about kissing him has always seemed magical, and not just because they are wizards. It's the desperation that they have, the longing, how it feels as though this is something they have been destined to do ever since they met.

But this kiss is different; it's soft, caring, and slow. Not nearly as thirsty but rather filled with gentle adoration and affection. Harry isn't pushed down to the bed, but on his knees, arms wrapped around the other's neck.

Draco seems to be taking his time, hands brushing his hips as he pauses to take a break."You are so fucking perfect, Harry."

A blush creeps up his neck at the words and he laughs awkwardly, "I don't know how to respond to that."

"How about, oh, Draco, you're so kind. And I love your sexy hair," he says in a mocking high pitched voice.

"I do not sound like that!"

"Oh, Draco, how I'd love to run my hands through your sexy, sexy hair," he continues, "and your skin is so soft, you have to give me your skin-care routine-"

"Shut up!"

Draco's body falls onto his and he doubles over laughing, "You're so cute when you're mad."

Harry glares at him, a pretty blush spreading across his face.

"So, I, uh, I. . ." Draco suddenly gets very shy, "I. I got you something. For Christmas."

"Oh," he says, "you didn't have to. . ."

"Yes, I did. I wanted to."

". . .But I didn't get you anything."

"And that's alright," he says, "I didn't expect you to get me anything —— we didn't even plan a gift exchange. I just. . . Wanted to show you that I care."

Draco rummages through his pockets, pulls out a small gift box, and hands it over to him. Something about seeing Harry's face lights up when he sees the present makes his day.

It almost reminds him of when they escaped the Dursleys and made pancakes, how excited he is at the prospect of opening a gift.

"I don't know why I'm so happy. I mean, I've gotten presents before," says Harry, taking extra time to not rip the wrapping paper. He takes forever, seeming to treasure the moment, "maybe it's because it's from you."

Draco wants to kick his feet like a toddler, he's so exhilarated at those words. Harry likes him.

By the time the wrapping paper is fully off and Harry is beginning to open the box, it has been over three minutes since he started opening it. He pauses for a moment when he sees what the gift is, and Draco begins to worry that his gift isn't good enough.