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Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na Batman!
His bed groans as he rolls over for what seems to be the millionth time that night. He swears that if he has to hear that blasted tune one more time he’s going to—
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na Batman!
That’s it! Draco rips off his covers and storms down to the Slytherin common room, carefully putting on his slippers (the dungeons were particularly cold this time of year). If he’s not going to be able to sleep, then he may as well do something productive with his time. He whips out his wand expertly and begins his practice for a particularly difficult charm.
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na Batman!
Though he’s sure that this ‘song’ is slowly driving him insane, he can’t help but smile. Throughout the war, Draco didn’t hear a single song. And it’s a bit of an understatement to say that it had been a while since he heard anything this joyful and silly. Wherever his soulmate was, they had better be having the goddamn best night of their life to make up for the bags that will be under Draco’s eyes the next day.
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na Batman!
He mumbles something along the lines of “how they can repeat it so many times I don’t understand” and continued to work on his spell, his face scrunched up in concentration as his lanky hands performed the spell, to little success.
He huffed. And tried again.
———
Draco must have managed to fall asleep somehow because he woke the next day to a stiff neck and pins and needles in his arm from sleeping on the couch. He marvelled for a moment at his bizarre sleeping position: Head, dead centre of the couch. Legs, hanging limply over the armrest, Arms, one rested up against the back in a fruitless attempt to be comfortable, the other had his palm brushing the ground.
He rose, audibly straining every inch of his body in doing so, and hobbled up to his dormitory.
“God, Draco where’ve you been” a voice that could have only been Crabbe’s spoke. Malfoy brushed it off with shrug.
“Fuck mate, you look like shit” The newly found cripple gave Zabini a cold look and mouthed ‘Thanks’ before ducking into the bathroom.
From experience, expertise, a natural intuition and the ability to be fantastic at ‘pretty much everything thanks’, Draco could detect from the colour, shape and droopiness on a scale of one to ten of the bags under his eyes, that he had exactly 2.573 hours of sleep last night. Roughly…Give or take 3 or 4 hours.
It was going to be difficult to stay awake today, let alone actually concentrate.
———
The first three subjects of the day passed in a blur. Something about correct wand technique, ancient sorcerer something-or-other, flesh-eating slugs and 12 inches by Monday.
But Draco was determined to stay focused in potions. Nothing would get in his way. Certainly not a particularly dark-haired, green-eyed git who looked particularly stunning while riding a boom with the wind sweeping back his messy hair and the sun shadowing perfectly to accentuate his sharp jawline and scattered freckles and long eyelashes and the face he makes when he's concentrating and— Nope. No. Not going to happen. Draco noticed a familiar hot feeling on his face and hoped that sheer will would be enough to get rid of it.
He sighed in frustration. He really needed to get a hold of- whatever this is before he checks himself into St Mungo’s. He and Harry had been on better terms after the war, which was a great time, according to Draco’s brain, to ‘start crushing on him like a hopeless teenager’. There are several priorities that the Slytherin currently had and one pretty high on the list was:
Get over Potter, you hopeless bafoon. Do you really want to be another ‘Harry Potter number one fan’!? Honestly, you may as well join a fan club. But no really, stop this nonsense now or you’ll die alone and your Batman freak of a soulmate will be lost to your hopeless obsession.
“—Malfoy?” Draco looked up to see a classroom’s worth of eyes staring at him. Potions. He had been asked a question, fuck. He despised being caught off guard. He did his best impression of somebody who was most certainly. Not. Panicking.
“I’m sorry, Professor, could you repeat the question?” The evidently old and tired temporary teacher sighed and raised his gaze.
“Anyone think they can help him out?” Granger’s hand shot up instantly but with a percentage less enthusiasm as before the war. Noticing a total of zero other raised hands, the wizard gestured lazily to Hermione while he walked back to his chair.
“It’s called dragon-root. Used mostly in medicine, but has special properties like no other. When brewed correctly, with other ingredients, of course, it can give the drinker the ability to use fire as a—“
It was about there that Draco lost focus again, staring absentmindedly at The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. The insufferable git hadn’t shaved in a while and Draco could see the stubble around his jaw that multiplied his fuckableness by at least 600%. Harry looks over and notices Draco staring, offers a small wave of his hand before returning to his notes.
Draco has to forcibly stop himself from drooling and covers his face with his hands to mask the sudden beetroot qualities of his cheeks.
He was in the middle of an inner rant about the importance of ‘not losing his sanity over Potter’ when he heard it. The unmistakable theme tune being hummed from a corner of the classroom suspiciously close to a certain person who Draco most certainly doesn’t spend his nights— oh screw it! Did he just hear Potter hum the Batman theme tune!?
fuck.
No, but he can’t be! That’s impossible. That’s not even an option! There is no way that Potter is destined to be with a former Death-Eater, oh no, this must be a mistake. A coincidence. Someone else was humming it. Come on, Draco, be rationa—
“Bloody Hell Harry! If I have to hear that bloody song again, I will punch a hole through that wall, right there.” Ron was fuming on the other side of the room, “I think I counted a total 47 times last night, Merlin!”
Malfoy’s felt his stomach hit the tiles. He could tell that this was going to end badly.
His face grew red once more and he excused himself because there is an “urgent matter that must be addressed, Professor”. He walked to the dungeons as fast as he could without being suspicious, hoping that the bulge in his trousers was not too obvious.
———
Draco had decided that attempting to pay attention was something that was just not going to happen. Potter had recently gotten a haircut, and even though still messy, Draco could barely resist the urge to run his hands through it. He imagined it to be soft, yet strong. He imagined yanking on his hair, causing his mouth to make contact with his own and--
"Malfoy?" Potter's familiar voice echoed quietly through the almost empty library.
He had been staring again. He couldn't help but notice that the Gryffindor's complexion resembled a red hot chilli pepper. Much the same as Draco's. Draco ripped his eyes away and stared dramatically at his unstarted essay. Which was due tomorrow...fuck.
———
The Slytherin strutted into potions the next day with a triumphant smirk. Bags under his eyes, yes, but a completed essay also. He slapped it onto the professor's desk and slid onto the nearest chair. Which happened to be seated next to none other than the Great Distractor himself. Draco let out a mental groan and began unpacking his books. It was then that he heard it:
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na Batman!
The tune clearly coming from his desk mate. Draco felt his nostrils flare and anger bubbling up inside of him.
"For the love of Merlin, could you please shut up!" It came out louder than he wanted it to. He quickly mumbled an apology and made himself busy, fumbling with papers and quills, not really doing anything.
"D-Draco. Are you feeling alright?" Sympathy!? That's what he's getting!? The Slytherin abruptly got up from his chair and began frantically packing his books. He was two feet away from the door when he stopped in his tracks.
"What did you call me?" Potter had just realised what he had done, his eyes widening in horror. The whole class watched the scene unfold, the professor still not present.
"Uhmm...well, I. Ugh." The Gryffindor slammed his head on the table as a desperate attempt to end the conversation. He had wanted to get closer to Dra-Malfoy. Much closer. But he most certainly didn't want the entire Gryffindor and Slytherin cohort as witness.
Draco slowly walked out of the classroom and took a left heading down the hallway. Confused, agitated and angry with himself, he let his feet carry him through the halls. He notices footsteps behind him. He snapped his head around, his eyes focusing on one very flushed looking Harry Potter running towards him.
"Draco." is all he said
"Excuse me?" Draco replied in what he hoped was an aggressive tone.
"I called you Draco." Eardrum smashing silence erupted between the two. Draco felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. One more step and he would fall into the abyss known as Harry Potter.
He jumped.
Draco's lips landed suddenly on the Gryffindor's, taking even himself by surprise. As soon as their lips touched, Draco felt his animal instincts taking over, tugging hungrily at the brunette's hair. The kiss was fierce and desperate. The two boys had been longing for this moment for longer than they'd like to admit. Clashing teeth and insistent tugging transformed into a soft, deep kiss, making Draco dizzy. He took notice of every detail, wanting to reenact this moment in his mind in the future: Harry's hair: very soft, Harry's hands: pulling Draco by the waist, Harry's mouth, Harry's tongue!
They broke apart slowly, locking onto the other's eyes, waiting for one of them to speak.
"If I ever have to hear that bloody Batman thing again, I will shave off your gorgeous hair." Harry smiled absentmindedly.
"Says you, Mr 'Spiderman, Spiderman. Does whatever a spider can'. Really didn't think you'd be into muggle superheroes."
Draco felt a blush rising in his cheeks.
"Tell anyone and Ill--"
"What? Snog me senseless?" Draco smirked.
"I might just do that." He said with a smirk as he closed the gap between them for the second time.