Chapter Text
A vast majority of the school was made aware of the scene that was caused the previous day. By breakfast, most were watching the same two people, every move they made. Awkward yet angry eye contact in the halls, uncomfortable situations in several classes, even their friend groups picked up on the odd interactions. The extra sets of watchful eyes were simply the opposite of what Harry needed. To be frank, he wasn’t even sure what he needed.
Harry had fought in a war. He didn’t have the time for this childish feud, Malfoy was being petty. That same pettiness drove his willingness towards hatred over the past seven years. Clearly he reverted to his old ways. It was a shame, really. Not much was said about Draco Malfoy since his fathers incarceration. He was avoided in the halls, students didn’t even dare throw an insult towards him. That’s because nobody knew how he would react.
Draco had what seemed to be a monotone expression on his face at all times. He didn’t look at fellow peers when speaking with them. In the halls he walked completely straight, as though someone were watching him.
Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were always by his side. Pansy and Draco seemed close, many students and gossip columns in the newspaper speculated about a secret relationship between the two. Pansy denied the allegations and still kept close to her friends; she was admittedly very striking. Slightly wavy hair that was cut right above her shoulders, illuminating pale green eyes. Even holding a brief moment of eye contact with her felt intimidating. She was a very vocal Death Eater supporter. The Parkinsons stemmed from centuries of British wizarding nobility. When the time came to support the Dark Lord, she was there alongside her family.
Zabini was quiet. His humor was on-par with Harry’s. He enjoyed reading and seemed very studious based on outer appearances. Speaking of outer appearances, he was quite well-groomed. Always a cleanly done haircut, a fresh shave daily, so it seemed. His deep chestnut eyes shined with a lust for life. He usually smelled of peppermint. Despite his friendship with Parkinson and Malfoy, he never showed clear signs of being a supporter of Voldemort. Which, in hindsight, seemed to make him a bit safer to approach than others.
It felt crucial to Harry to take notice of people’s behavioral patterns after the war. Anybody could harbor hatred towards him. He doesn’t know how many first years lost their family due to the Battle of Hogwarts, he doesn’t know how many people truly loved Snape and blame Harry for his death.
Nonetheless, he still makes his attempts at living in the present. This includes focusing on current tasks at hand and not hypothetical situations which would cause him to spend hours calculating and making intricate predictions. Something that would help him live in the present was focus on the damn assignment lying infront of him. It was day three in London and he was meant to research the history of British Muggle royalty and nobility. Though Harry was too frustrated to pay attention. Luna took notice.
“Lunes, don’t you fancy a nice walk about the neighborhood? It’s about time the weather cleared up, no?” Harry proposed when sipping his third mug of coffee at the local bookstore they were in that offered a small coffee shop. The scent of sugary confections and dark roast coffee wafted through the room. Aside from Harry's abnormally large mug sat Luna’s cup of chamomile tea. Luna raised an eyebrow while taking a small sip. Then came a loud inhale, following it a slightly dramatic exhale.
“I believe you’re free to do what you want. Please be aware of your mortal enemy’s presence in the nearby areas.” She now smiled before opening her purple notebook, filled with beautiful cursive writing for pages and pages on end. Just as she picked up her matching quill, Harry set down his mug, indicating he was finished.
“Curious. You’re the only person I’ve seen chug a mug of steaming coffee like a Butterbeer. Is this common in Muggle practices?”
“No. It’s not.”
“Huh. How peculiar.”
~
Harry was now alone, walking into a shop offering souvenirs and trinkets of all kinds. Miniscule versions of Big Ben, red double-decker buses, and caricatures of famous figures. Though considerably less interactive than your classic merchandise at a wizarding shop, Harry still smiled at the little characters and charms.
He had left the stop with a small red bus in his satchel. Something drew him towards it. Perhaps that shade of red had just caught his eye. Just like another thing was about to.
Malfoy walking down the street on his own.
Somehow, all the peace slipped out of Harry’s body at once. He felt the anger from the past day enrage him once more as he continued looking. Perfect Malfoy with his perfect posture. Walking as though his filthy father owned London.
The Slytherin didn’t take notice of Harry’s increasingly closer presence, he instead walked into the same shop that Harry was just in. What a coincidence. He hadn’t expected someone of such high class to simply walk into such a common enterprise. Even for touristic merchandise. Hadn’t his mother already traveled the world? Such wealth must permit nothing below luxurious travels across the globe. It was these questions that prompted Harry to continue watching his classmate, essentially betraying his morals.
Around five minutes later Malfoy came out with a small plastic bag filled with what appeared to be one singular item. Just as he was about to take it out, Harry felt a cold hand tap his shoulder.
“Blimey. Luna, you frightened me to bits there. Your hand is freezing.”
“Low iron. Why should the great Harry Potter be watching Draco Malfoy look at his newly purchased souvenir?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Harry Potter most certainly is watching Draco Malfoy shopping.”
“Harry Potter would like for Luna Lovegood to not jump to irrational conclusions.”
“Luna Lovegood rejects this premise and would like to object.”
“Okay, I was bloody watching the bloke. You can’t blame me, you never know what those Death Eaters could be up to.”
“Harry-”
“Merlin’s sake, Luna, I was watching him. Just please don’t mention it.”
“Mention what?”
~
The Gryffindors conversed at dinner in the bustling hall. Harry sat adjacent to Ron and spent his supper forking around with the bland potatoes on his plate. His appetite had disappeared since the recent events and Harry preferred to spend his time theorizing.
Tonight came the question: Why is Harry Potter suddenly so interested in what Draco Malfoy purchased at an overpriced tourist shop in London?
He hypothesized that it would be rather hard to come to a clear conclusion.
Right as Harry intended to excuse himself to his dorm for some solitude, a voice spoke before he could.
“Harry, please eat. Your plate looks foul enough to make us all lose our appetite. It looks as if a pack of werewolves were given a plate of mash.” Hermione said, now turning to Ron, who took that inquiry as a segue.
“Mate, are you feeling quite well? I wouldn’t mind taking that plate off your hands. Wouldn’t want the house elves’ hard work to go to waste.”
“Ronald.”
“Right. Sorry.” Once again, his attempt had failed.
Now that one Weasley had been shut down, another perked up and took it as an opportunity to ask a question. It was Ginny who sat up and looked at Harry with an unintelligible expression.
“Why is it that you’ve been staring at Malfoy for the past 20 minutes?” She looked back and forth between the blond boy sitting
“Have not.”
“You have, too.”
“Have not!”
“Sure. Oi, Ron? Mind helping me out here?” Ginny now calls in for backup. The backup in question being a ravenous version of Ron, who’s helping himself to heapings of bread.
“All good. Besides, Harry nearly sent the bloke to another dimension just a day ago. Atleast verbally.” It was a miracle that his language was still comprehensible at this point.
“Right.” Harry had barely been paying attention. His eyes were now darting towards Malfoy, who spotted Harry staring and got up.
With him, Harry got up aswell and made a beeline towards his direction.
“Harry?”
“Leave it, mate, he’s probably in his thoughts again.”
“He hasn’t been that disassociated since-”
The words faded away as Harry left the comforts of the Great Hall and steadily made his way to whichever staircase Malfoy was taking. It hadn’t yet dawned upon him that he was mindlessly following his rival. No goal in mind, nothing. Just blankly staring at wherever he was going.
Down cold corridors went Draco, up steep staircases, and past what felt like thousands of animated portraits, all asking the same question: Where was Draco Malfoy going? Thousands of pairs of eyes on the walls followed his every footstep, barely giving enough attention to the boy going after him.
Draco began to walk faster, his feet aggressively hitting the ground, his arms moving in motion with his body as he picked up the pace and displayed almost a sense of desperateness in the way he went.
Harry watched.
He followed.
He was persistent to see what Malfoy was up to. After all, his running away suddenly out of the Great Hall was no unfamiliar feat and the last time it happened, there were consequences.
Deadly consequences.
Malfoy walked in what felt like a complete circle around Hogwarts. They had been close to the Great Hall when he abruptly stopped.
The blond breathed in once. He exhaled.
Harry’s heartbeat picked up. His eyes widened, he felt his hands fading away. They felt like they were made of millions of dots. It was as if he wasn’t in his own body. His legs moved before he thought to and suddenly he was casting an invisibility charm and hiding behind a corner. Never had he felt so pathetic, so weak. Hiding from the person he would’ve confronted minutes ago.
This time around, Harry wasn’t an anxious sixth year. Life had gotten to him, he had seen death in more ways than before. He had faced his end and looked the grim reaper right in the soul. Harry had reason to be so adamant.
He could reveal himself. He could approach Malfoy. He could confront him.
He didn’t.
He just couldn’t keep his eyes off him.
So he watched as the Slytherin boy, just meters apart from him, stood there.
Almost silver hair falling right above his grey eyes. A few wispy hair strands glued to his forehead by sweat. His hair going down the nape of his neck, shining in the moonlight reflecting on it through the large pane window above him. Beads of sweat dripping down his forehead to his neck, his breathing heavy. He held his chest and panted slightly in order to catch his breath.
Scattered across his dominant hand were deep navy blue veins pulsing as he gripped onto his wand, his grasp becoming more strained. Adjusting his posture, he picks himself up and runs his hand through his hair. His jawline sharp and side profile defined. His nose had the slightest bump on the bridge.
Malfoy turned around, as if he knew he were being followed. He held up his wand and opened his mouth to speak.
“Fuck, Potter. I know you’re here. Come out, coward.”
Harry felt himself stop breathing, all he was reduced to was the image of an idiot, staring blindly ahead, not knowing what he’s doing. The voice continued to speak.
“How about an offer, I’ll show you what a real Wizard’s Duel is like, yeah? Nothing like that pathetic phony of a man in second year.”
He now smiled and slowly strolled around in a small circle as he went on.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to treat you just as kindly as you did my father.” His words felt ice cold slitting his skin, each one more menacing than the last.
Draco smirked and looked around once again. He spent around five seconds roaming the hall he was in, twisting his wand between his slender fingers. The wand turned as it twirled from the pointer finger down to the ring finger. Harry observed the way he so confidently strolled and held his wand before stopping the twirling and shoving it up his robe sleeve. The Slytherin eventually stopped unknowingly teasing Harry and walked slowly, ever-so-slowly, to the Great Hall.
Harry couldn’t breathe again. He knew he hadn’t been caught, but it almost felt like Malfoy could sense his presence on its own. Not once during his walk did he turn around to face him. Not once did he indicate he knew he was being followed. Harry hadn’t even seen the slightest sign of hesitation in his movement. He was strong and confident with his steps, loud and blaring. There hadn’t been a single chance that Harry would’ve gone noticed.
Harry’s return to the Great Hall, however, unfortunately hadn’t gone unaccounted for. Hermione got up at the sight of him and walked over angrily. Behind her followed Ron and Ginny.
“What on earth was that? You simply got up and left without saying anything. Harry, this is like sixth year. What’s wrong with you? This along with that fight with Malfoy. It’s all too familiar. You can tell us, don’t hesitate.” Hermione spoke so clearly, yet her tone had not a hint of aggression.
The evening was spent walking to their dormitories alongside a group of Slytherins with Malfoy amongst them. Harry couldn’t bring himself to look over because he knew the face that would look back at him.
~
It was only in the comforting dorms of Gryffindor Tower where he had felt safe again. There was no reason to be stressed or scared when he was completely in the company of friends, even when they’re sound asleep. Between the nightmares and overconsumption of coffee, Harry seriously had no chances of sleeping a whole night without some form of disruption.
He decided to close his curtains and pull out a journal he had kept under his bed. He remembers getting it in London while shopping. The journal was similar to Luna’s, a reddish-brown color and bound with deep suede strings.
A quick Nox and Harry had lighting to accompany his writing. He picked up his quill and put it to the page, initially hesitating before finally writing down the thoughts that had been racing in his mind since dinner.
Wednesday, 2nd of December, 1998:
- 6:28pm: Looked at me for 2-3 seconds in Great Hall.
- 6:31pm: Ran off, paced around school. Seemed stressed. Almost caught, sensed my presence??
- 6:39pm: Said he knew I was there in corridor. Didn’t say anything more. Ran away.
- 6:46pm: Walked to Slytherin Dormitories with friends. No special behaviour.
In hindsight, keeping track of his rival’s behavior was odd, but Harry didn’t care. Voldemort was dead, he was safe. He could do as he pleased. If that meant watching the odd behavior of a Death Eater’s son, then sobeit. There were no longer any moral obligations to be fulfilled. He saved the world and could do whatever he pleased.
If Malfoy were up to something suspicious, at the least somebody in this damn school would be paying attention. Why weren’t the others as wary as Harry was? He is the son of a war criminal. Voldemort lived in his house. He likely has had afternoon tea with that vile snake before. Conversing with Death Eaters, laughing at Harry’s incoming death.
Harry had no grounds to forgive him.
Those were the thoughts racing through his head as he wrote, atleast. No amount of self-justification could make this situation sound less ridiculous to him. At the end of the day, he was watching Malfoy for no apparent reason and quite literally noting down his behavior like he was a potions experiment. Infact, Harry was now sure he hadn’t felt this passionate about an actual potions project in years.
In the wake of Malfoy’s absence, he felt empty. Something felt so thrilling about watching him.