I—wait!”

Malfoy halted, his fingers on the door handle, but he didn’t turn around.

Unsure just what the hell he was doing, Harry crossed the length of his office to stand beside Malfoy. “What was that? I mean—it was—why?”

Malfoy only shook his head without meeting Harry’s eyes. “It’s New Year’s Eve,” he said. “You’re supposed to do stupid things you regret on New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh,” Harry said, stung. He took in the stiffness of Malfoy’s shoulders, the whiteness of his knuckles where his fingers curled around the champagne bottle neck, the still faintly labored rush of his breathing. This close, he could feel Malfoy’s warmth. He could still taste him.

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “the thing is, I’ve never been particularly good at doing what I’m supposed to.

Midnight Madness by November Snowflake