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“Kiss cameras,” Hermione slapped her hands down onto McGonagall’s desk.
“Excuse me?” the professor quirked an eyebrow. Hermione relaxed into her chair and readjusted her robes.
“We know everyone loves Quidditch, but what if we got the audience involved, even if it was just for a couple minutes? I know that everyone would love it! So, at Muggle sporting events there’s this thing we have called the kiss camera. It gets the crowd really excited every time, it’s this camera that projects onto a big screen in the middle and it randomly picks two people. They’re then projected so everyone can see them and they have to kiss. It’s really just harmless fun, professor. The kids will love it, and it’s simple magic.”
“Well, I don’t see any major reasons why not… I’ll have to run it by Dumbledore, and I doubt it’ll be present at the next match.”
“Oh, thank you!” Hermione stood up breathlessly, shook the professor’s hand and happily marched out of her office.
Ron choked on his chicken.
“You’ve asked for what?” he blinked.
“Kiss cameras,” she repeated simply, and began to cut her meat.
“That is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” Ron scoffed as he wiped his hands on the scarlet tablecloth. Next to him, Harry rolled his eyes and nudged Ron rather harshly with his shoulder.
“You’re just shooting it down because it’s Hermione, mate. Why don’t you actually pause and think about what she’s saying for a minute.”
“I do think! I think that it is a strange idea…” Ron faltered, “that might actually… actually be pretty good.”
Hermione smirked at him from across the table. Ron retaliated by throwing a spoon at her, his face flushed enough to match his hair.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he mumbled. Hermione caught the spoon with ease, and Harry noticed the way her smile brightened for a moment at that. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Kiss cameras, my ass,” he thought to himself, “with any luck, they’ll be matched first.”
“Come in,” McGonagall trilled. Her grey eyes flicked up from her desk and widened in a brief moment of surprise.
“Why, Mr. Potter. Please, do sit down.” She barely even had touched her wand when the chair slid out smoothly. Harry collapsed into the chair, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. He had just dashed over after an extremely tiring quidditch practice.
“I just wanted to ask some things about the, uh, kiss cams.” Harry mumbled. His tongue always seemed to work itself into knots when he was talking directly to McGonagall. No matter how long he had known her, he would always squirm when directly under her piercing gaze. The professor arched her eyebrow, indicating for him to ask away.
“The next game is a really important match between us and Slytherin next week, are they going to be there for that?”
“Why, yes. I believe they’ll be making an announcement about it tonight.” McGonagall nodded and then paused. That couldn’t have been the only reason he would seek her out on his own time. She sat back in her seat, waiting for whatever he was really here to ask about.
“I was thinking,” Harry began slowly, “what if we added a little, uh, magical flair to the kiss cameras, ya know?”
“No. I don’t know.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowed.
“What if we, uh, enchanted them? I was thinking,” Harry’s voice was a mere squeak now, “what if they landed on the two people with the strongest, like, romantic connection. If they were near each other,” he hurriedly added. McGonagall’s face gave away nothing of what she thought.
“Any particular reason, Potter?”
“Oh - I just… Ron has been driving me absolutely mad! I’ll go mental if I keep having to hear him moan about Hermione and then just insult her like a proper git whenever she’s near and then moon over her when she’s gone, and please professor. I simply can’t take it! Maybe this will shut him up.” Harry was almost panting now, he was so flustered.
“Suppose they don’t have the strongest ‘romantic connection’ out of everyone there?”
“Well, I think they do! And anyways, with all the games we have this year, it’s bound to land on them at some point. And if it doesn’t, well, I tried and nobody will be the wiser.” Harry shrugged amicably. He seemed to let a little bit of a grin slip loose as he lounged back in his chair and suddenly McGonagall blinked and she could swear there was a golden snitch fluttering in his hand and when he opened his mouth it was to shout ‘Oi, Evans!’, but she shook her head and the moment passed. McGonagall blinked.
“Well… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s not like anyone will know,” McGonagall sighed. She was getting weak in her old age.
“Thank you professor, see you at the game!” Harry jumped up gleefully at his good fortune and scurried away before she could change her mind. The professor watched his figure grow smaller as he stumbled down the corridor and smiled to herself as she went back to work.
“Harry. Mate. You’ve got to finish eating! You need to get down to the Quidditch pitch!” Ron urged him on. Harry rolled his eyes and finished stuffing his mouth with eggs.
“Alright, mum,” he wiped his hands on the tablecloth, earning a ‘really, Harry’ from Hermione, and stalked down to the field. He wanted to win.
The noise was absolutely deafening. The crowd’s screaming roared around them, and it rushed through Harry’s body until every single part of him was absolutely vibrating. He felt his senses tingling as he mounted his broom, jaw set with determination. He looked directly opposite him and saw Slytherin’s seeker’s eyes. Draco Malfoy’s grey eyes clashed with his like steel on steel, each of them gazing with a newfound intensity. He had to win.
The whistle screeched, piercing the air, and Harry kicked himself off the ground. He furiously circled the Quidditch pitch, his eyes rapidly scanning for that telltale flash of gold. He was so busy looking for it, he almost slammed into the green robed boy in front of him.
“Fancy seeing you here, Potter,” Draco drawled. Harry frowned.
“Move, Draco.”
“Nonsense! Make yourself at home, let’s have a chat.”
“I don’t chat with spoiled boys who have their dad purchase new robes or brooms for the team,” Harry stared determinedly anywhere but Draco. He made to zoom forward, but found himself blocked by Draco, whose response came in a sort of choked voice.
“Sorry - new robes?”
“Yeah,” Harry gestured vaguely, “I’m out here flying around in a bloody… scarlet potato sack,” Harry pulled at his ill-fitting uniform, “and yours, well, it fits you in all the… right places and you look like a goddamn-” Harry’s cheeks were brilliantly red, “let me go Draco!”
Draco was looking at Harry with a new intensity that Harry didn’t like, he really didn’t like it. “The thing is, I’m wearing the same robes as you - Harry Potter.” The sound of Draco’s voice all strangled like that while saying his name made Harry jerk his head up.
“You think I look fit.”
“I do not!” Harry practically yelled the last word, and made another attempt to pass Draco.
“Harry Potter thinks I look good in my Quidditch uniform,” Draco mumbled to himself. Harry flattened himself onto the broom and zoomed over him, taking advantage of his dazed expression.
“This isn’t over!” Draco howled after him.
Harry paused. He saw gold. He definitely saw gold. He began moving towards the snitch slowly at first, trying not to attract attention, and then faster and faster. Harry’s heart was pounding, he wanted this so bad. He needed this win. And then all of a sudden, his perfect view was disrupted by the silver and green blur next to him. They were neck and neck, practically pressing into each other. Harry couldn’t take any chances, Draco was so close to the stupid golden ball, but Harry was only a few inches behind.
“Oh well, Potter. You tried,” Draco hissed, and all of a sudden Harry knew what to do.
“You look so goddamn pretty in these stupid Quidditch robes,” Harry whispered, and Draco’s were wide, and his hands were slipping, and he was stumbling, and Harry had the Snitch. He flew upwards, straight into the center of the arena and the crowd was screaming and the noise was pounding into his ears, so bloody loud, but he had won. He had done it. Harry didn’t dare look down as the guilt in his stomach wriggled a little, but Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t mean it not one bit. Maybe he only meant it a little bit.
Harry took his time getting to the ground. He took slow, lazy laps until his feet were skimming the ground. Draco was waiting. His face was so pink and his hair was mussed, for once, and Harry didn’t know what to say to him.
“Sorry,” he whispered, because he had embarrassed Draco. He hadn’t made some rude comment that would be forgotten, he had embarrassed him. And Harry felt bad.
“I’m going to -” , but Harry never found out what Draco was going to because an odd pink light had just been cast over the two of them. The entire crowd fell silent. It was as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the arena. Harry looked up, confirming what he knew it was. The stupid, bloody kiss cam. Harry and Draco. And then. And then it hit him.
“What if it landed on the two people with the strongest, like, romantic connection?” His own words were ringing in his ears and Draco was looking at him in a strange way and everyone in the whole school was looking at him and Harry turned his head a little to the left and saw Professor McGonagall, with her mouth practically on the floor. Harry turned back to Draco.
“Well, you don’t have to act that disgusted.” Harry shivered at the hurt in his voice.
“I’m not, I -”
“It’s just a kiss, Harry.” Draco’s cheeks were heating up and he wanted to go. He needed to be anywhere but here. Standing under this awful pink light, and he knew he looked like a mess, right in front of bloody Potter who had just mocked him. Made fun of him, and used it to win a game. Who was now staring at him in total, utter shock because he was an idiot and Draco wanted nothing more than to leave. Or to kiss him. Preferably not in front of the whole school, but, yeah, he wanted to kiss him.
“No, it’s more than just a kiss. Because - because I asked McGonagall to enchant the kiss cameras to fall on the two people with the strongest romantic connection.”
Draco’s eyes widened almost comically. Harry shuffled his feet.
“Sorry,” Harry ducked his head, blushing furiously. “I can - I can leave you alone after this.”
Draco rolled his eyes, took a fistful of Harry’s robes, and dragged him close.
“I reckon I do look proper fit in these robes,” Draco whispered, and he wanted to giggle, because Harry was blushing and Draco’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest. So he wasn’t really expecting it when all of a sudden Harry surged forwards and his lips were crashing over Draco’s, who stumbled momentarily under the surprising weight. Harry was radiating heat, and his dark hair was tickling Draco’s icy skin, and his hand felt so nice, resting on his back like that. Draco tilted his head, and his eyes fluttered shut, but Harry’s blinked open when he felt Draco tremble underneath him. Tremble. And then the crowd was whooping and cheering, and they sprang apart because oh, right, the whole school was there.
“Come on,” Draco smirked. He grabbed Harry’s hand, and the two of them exited the field, laughing as they stumbled off together.
McGonagall wiped away a tear.