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It had only been two weeks since the start of the term and Draco truly did not know why he decided to come back to Hogwarts after the war. Pansy was wise enough not to, not willing to face the outcome of her brief show of courage before the final battle. Most Slytherins had not come back, in fact. Hence Draco spent most of his evenings studying at the black lake, far from the 8th year common room, the judgmental glares of his fellow students and a certain dark haired wizard with eyes of a doe, which Draco spent most of his time trying, and obviously failing, not to think about. What else was new?
The two were studying Potions for their NEWTs, which had first been quite a shock for Draco given Potter’s utter lack of talent in the subject until 6th year, and had, in some twisted turn of fate, or perhaps simply because anyone other than the Golden boy couldn’t bear look at him in the eyes, been assigned as partners. They worked together better than he ever would have thought, Potter astonishingly content with following Draco’s instructions without feeling the need to bicker at every step. Yet that made it odder. They did not talk about the war, didn’t mention that time in the manor where Draco lied to save Potter’s life nor what happened in the Room of Requirement or after and they certainly didn’t mention Potter’s saving testimony at Draco’s trial. Yet there was no denying that something had changed between them, with the both of them. The war had broke them in ways only they could understand, each one the other side of the same coin.
A noise interrupted Draco’s train of thoughts and he immediately grabbed his wand before his grey hues settled on the intruder. His body relaxed slightly and he closed his books, keeping his voice steady, "Potter. What are you doing here?"
Potter had his hands down his pockets and was nibbling on his bottom lip, looking off-guard and hesitant, as if he hadn’t expected to be noticed. Ridiculous, really. If he didn’t want to be seen, then why wouldn’t he wear his bloody Cloak of invisibility?
Irritability grew in Draco as he retorted to the other’s silence, "Stalking me, were you? I am getting flashbacks."
That seemed to do it. Potter looked at him and shook his head slightly before blurting out, "Can we start over?"
He walked up to Draco after that, the latter’s slightly furrowed brows the only expression given away, and sat next to him. Draco’s heart started pounding at the proximity and his confusion only deepened when Potter held out his hand, "Hello, I’m Harry Potter."
Draco glanced down and back up to the other’s face, mask of ice over his features, "What are you playing at, Potter?"
Potter didn’t flinch nor sigh as he explained, "I never see you in the Great Hall nor in the common room and the truth is, I could use a friend, too."
Before Draco could claim that he was not interested in Potter’s ‘friendship’, thank you very much, and that Potter already had the world at his feet anyway, Potter continued firmly but with a barely perceivable twitch of desperation to his tone, which Draco wouldn’t have caught had he not been focusing so intently, "Draco. Let us start over."
Draco scanned Potter’s face carefully, searching for any sign of a trap, but all he could see was openness and... was it hope? Potter’s palm was still open.
“We cannot start over."
Ignoring Potter’s disappointed but unsurprised look, Draco’s palm slowly joined his.
"But we can create a new beginning."
Maybe Draco didn’t reintroduce himself, but way passed what would be an appropriate amount of time, they were still holding hands and Harry was smiling and Draco could not control the slight twitch upwards of his lips and that, that was more than enough.
Coming back perhaps wasn’t the worst of ideas, after all.