Chapter Text
"Don't you lot think this is strange?" Harry asked, closely eyeing the Draco Malfoy dot on the Marauder's Map. He lifted his head to look at his best friends, Ron and Hermione, snuggling with each other across from him. "He didn't show up for any of his classes since two weeks before Christmas holidays." Harry had spent those holidays with the Weasleys, Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy at the Burrow. He knew Malfoy went back to the Manor to spend them with his mother. "He just sits cooped up in his room all day long now. He doesn't even come to the Great Hall to eat anymore."
"I thought we were past thinking Malfoy was an evil, scheming git," Ron said, cheek against Hermione's bushy brown hair. She was reading a book while she leaned into his chest.
"Not an evil, scheming git," Harry reassured. "But isn't it still strange?"
"It is." Ron shrugged. "But I really doubt it's anything to worry about, yeah?"
Ron had become quite calm after the war. There were bad days, of course, when the trauma hit him as it hit the rest of them, and he still had nightmares about losing Fred, but mostly, he seemed to have realized the fragility and importance of life and had developed a sort of stability and appreciation and a one-track mind towards it, discarding all unnecessary things, such as his grudge against Malfoy. Hermione and many others seemed to share that mindset with Ron. Harry envied the renewed perspective they had all gained. He felt as if he himself had only grown harder and more bitter rather than grateful after everything, after all that they lost.
"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione agreed, glancing up from the book. "He's just minding his own business, you know. I think we should extend him the same courtesy."
Harry hadn't spoken with Malfoy since the beginning of the school year. There were occasional, awkward run-ins with one another, nearly bumping into each other in the hallways, but hardly ever any proper conversation.
Harry wasn't sure why he'd still been keeping an eye on his ex-nemesis, really. It wasn't even as if he thought Malfoy was up to something wicked anymore. While not someone he would ever trust with a blade behind his back any time soon, he didn't think Malfoy was capable of anything evil anymore. Not after everything. Harry had seen the way he cried in the bathroom to Myrtle, terrified as he told her Voldemort would kill him and his family if he didn't do what he demanded of him, showing his reluctance towards committing the horrible deed so very clearly. Malfoy had refused to identify he and his friends at the Manor, and in return, Harry had saved his life twice, once at the Fiendfyre and then during the Battle from a Death-Eater, and spoken up in his favour at his trial.
The only consequence Malfoy got was confiscation of most of their family wealth and to return to Hogwarts as a part of his agreement. His mother was placed on House Arrest under supervision of Aurors.
Malfoy's father died in Azkaban.
Perhaps Harry had just been somewhat concerned. Actually, Harry was concerned, and he knew that he was disguising much of it in front of his friends behind the 'Malfoy-is-acting-odd' pretense. Malfoy looked even worse than he did in sixth year, sickly and gaunt and quiet, like a ghost treading through the halls of the school. None of his friends, most of the Slytherins in fact, had returned to Hogwarts, so he was mostly seen sitting by himself. No one partnered with him in Potions. Most of the people have stopped paying him much attention by now, perhaps out of boredom or fear of Professor McGonagall's wrath the last time she discovered the perpetrator of a stinging hex that left Malfoy's back black and blue.
He hardly seemed to be mentally present in classes, his gaze somewhere far away deep in his own mind, always hazy and lost. Always so lost.
Harry hadn't been able to make himself approach him, however. He didn't want to start anything again by pissing him off in any way, which might happen just by Harry making the mistake of trying to speak to him.
Hermione sometimes pointed out how sickly and thin and tired he looked, but mostly Harry supposed they were all just relieved at Malfoy's quietness and the lack of impertinence.
But while Harry really did find it a lot better to not constantly be on the guard whenever he saw his old childhood rival, it was also just… unsettling, to see him the way he was now.
Harry stared at the Draco Malfoy dot, watching as the footsteps moved slightly, and then stilled again.
…
On Wednesday, Malfoy showed up for Potions.
The billow of relief loosening a knot in Harry's chest, that he hadn't entirely noticed was there, was somewhat jarring and confusing. Harry didn't know what he was so worried about, why Malfoy locking himself up in his dorm room alone had him somewhat strangely anxious, but Harry hadn't even realized just how strangely anxious he had been about it until he saw the familiar, snow-blonde hair and silver eyes again.
He was different today. Malfoy.
The snow-blonde hair wasn't tousled, as if he couldn't be bothered to comb it. Rather, it was well-kempt as it used to be. There was something different in his silver eyes. He didn't look so haunted and lost and empty. They were still bruised with fatigue, like he hadn't been sleeping. Yet, they were alight, more alive than they had been since the first day of Eighth Year. Harry imagined it had a lot to do with getting to meet his mother.
Harry watched him for a moment, sitting alone on his own, an empty chair next to him. He was tugging out his Eighth-Year Potions book from his satchel, thin fingers wrapping around the spine of it.
Just as he was about to turn away, he was taken aback when he saw Malfoy's gaze flick up at him, without roving around to search for him. He seemed to know just exactly where Harry was sitting, which might mean he was aware of him and it may not be his first glance. When he caught Harry's eyes, he startled and looked down to his book quickly. Harry narrowed his eyes, puzzled and somewhat wary as well, and then turned his head to the front, towards Professor Slughorn who had just walked in.
Why was Malfoy looking at him just now? Why him specifically? Harry knew he had been staring at him too, but he had a reason. What reason could Malfoy have to stare at him?
Malfoy had hardly raised his gaze from the ground the last couple of months, so this was a change. A good change, Harry supposed, but also a curious one.
In Potions, Malfoy worked alone as always. With Ron and Hermione partnering together, Harry paired up with Neville, which turned out to be disastrous as always as they were both disasters when it came to Potions. They had to try two more times after just to get something that resembled what it was meant to. Somnium. A teal-coloured sleeping potion. Theirs was a bit more green, but well, Professor Slughorn deemed it passable.
The bell rang soon, signalling the end of their class. Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who was quickly gathering up the contents of his satchel and shoving them in. He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.
"Let's go, mate," Ron said with a pat to his shoulder, once he had packed up his things after Hermione. Harry turned away and began to make his way out of the class with his friends.
Just as he reached the door, however, he heard a voice calling out his name, forcing him and his friends to halt to an abrupt step. Harry had frozen in shock, his heart skipping as if he'd missed three steps altogether when the owner of it registered in his mind.
"Potter!"
Harry turned around to see Malfoy running over to him. They hadn't said a word to each other for months, and now Draco Malfoy was coming over to talk to him of his own accord. His heart was starting to hammer against his chest, even though he had no clue what could have possessed Malfoy to talk to Harry and what was about to happen.
Ron had stepped up, shoulder fractionally in front of Harry's in some protective stance, which was somewhat confusing because hadn't Ron just implied he'd gotten over his grudge against Malfoy the other day? He supposed, even so, none of them really trusted the bloke.
Malfoy had slowed to a stop in front of Harry. He was adjusting the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, looking oddly nervous. His quicksilver eyes darted over at his friends for a brief moment, who were looking at Malfoy with wary.
"Settle down with your mother bear tendencies, you all. I only want to speak to him for a moment," Malfoy drawled with a roll of his eyes, when he noticed their suspicious stares. "I promise I will give him back in one piece."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Go ahead then."
"Alone," Malfoy said pointedly, and then made a shooing motion with his hands. "Scurry away now."
"I think you can say whatever you need to say with us here. Harry's going to tell us anyway," Hermione said. Malfoy's mouth twitched in annoyance.
"Guys, it's alright," Harry pacified. He shook his head at his friends' overprotectiveness. They could be quite unreasonable at times, no matter how endearing. "You two go on."
"Are you sure?" Ron asked.
Malfoy's leg was shifting impatiently now. Harry was somewhat afraid he might end up reverting to his old self if they keep him waiting any longer.
"Yes," Harry reassured with a derisive snort. "Go on before he bursts a nerve."
Ron and Hermione leave. Harry and Malfoy were the only ones left in the classroom.
Malfoy bit the inside of his mouth for a moment, perhaps in hesitance or contemplation. He sighed, and then leaned forward. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
Harry frowned at the odd question. Coming from Malfoy, at least, it certainly was. What did he care about that?
"Um. No. I don't think so… I'll probably just hang out with Ron and 'Mione like always." Harry squinted. "Why—"
"Good," Malfoy interrupted. "Meet me outside the kitchens tomorrow at lunch, will you? Come alone."
Okay. Malfoy might not be an evil, scheming git, or even a git at all anymore, really, but that might be ringing a lot of alarm bells in his head. Why did he want to meet Harry alone anywhere?
"Do you know where that is?" Malfoy asked, perhaps taking his silence as uncertainty. "It's at the portrait of the fruit bowl on the—"
"I know where it is," Harry cut in. "But what is this about, really?"
"Are you coming or not?"
Harry paused. Malfoy didn't want to answer his question. That was another red flag.
"I understand you don't trust me, what with me being an former Death Eater and all—"
"It's not about that. I just… don't like mysteries." It was the truth, in a way, or not, depending on how it was seen. The wording was just ambiguous. Harry tried to uncover every mystery he came across because he hated not knowing, and he certainly hated not knowing right now. Even so, Harry knew he was being irrationally paranoid, but could he be blamed? Malfoy had never even liked him all these years.
And then a thought occurred to him. Perhaps he was in trouble of some sort.
Just as the thought came, however, it went when he remembered the glint of light and life in Malfoy's eyes. He had looked happy today, almost, after months. So was he really?
"You'll have all your answers if you meet me tomorrow, Potter," Malfoy said. "So will you come?"
Harry stared at him for a moment. He knew this was a bad idea, and he knew Ron and Hermione were going to tell him the same thing when he told them about this. But for whatever reason, perhaps only to uncover yet another mystery, to solve the enigma of Draco Malfoy, he found himself answering exasperatedly, "Fine. Yes. I'll be there."
Malfoy smirked, a sort of pleased half-grin that trapped his lower lip behind his teeth, as he stepped back. Harry's heart did a strange flip. "See you then."
…
"No bloody way, Harry," Ron said. "Bloody Hell. He was a lot less creepy to me when he was minding his own business. What the hell does he want from you?"
"I don't know. That's what I'm supposed to be finding out when I go," Harry answered, sounding as frustrated as he felt.
"Mate, why did you even agree?" Ron questioned. "You should have told him to bugger off right then and there."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Ron, Harry's been quite obsessed with him since the year started. It's even worse than sixth year this time," Hermione pointed out casually from the study desk in the common room. Harry was about to protest her usage of the word 'obsessed' because Harry was absolutely not— "He's also probably just curious. You know Harry can't help a good mystery."
"What if he wants to murder you and throw you into the lake?!" Ron exclaimed. Harry knew they both knew just how incapable Malfoy was of murder and violence of that degree, but he understood the sentiment. "If he does anything to you, Harry, I'll fucking hex him."
"I'm sure I can take him, really, Ron. You don't have to worry about that."
"Okay. But I still think this is a terrible idea."
Hermione rolled his eyes. "You're overreacting. I doubt Malfoy has any wicked intentions. He hasn't been the Malfoy we know since seventh year."
…
After Potions, Malfoy hadn't shown up for the rest of the classes yesterday and he didn't show up for any of the classes the next day either. It was nearly two hours before lunch that the Draco Malfoy dot on the Marauders Map moved out of his dorm and to the kitchens where they were assigned to meet.
Harry wasn't sure what that meant, why he had stayed there for so long, if there was some other reason he had gone there, perhaps to set up or prepare something.
Harry had gone a bit late, having gone back to the common room to change into some casual clothes and having had to talk Ron down until he begrudgingly calmed down. Hermione, ever the reasonable one, swore not to let him follow Harry.
When he reached the fruit bowl portrait, he found Malfoy sitting up underneath the portrait against the wall, one leg up and an arm hanging off his knee. He was staring at the ground, his gaze rooted to a spot, unaware of Harry's presence. He still looked as if he'd hardly slept last night, scarlet circles around his tired eyes that made something deep inside Harry's chest ache.
"Sorry I'm late," Harry said, attempting to alert him of his arrival. Malfoy's head snapped up at the sound of his voice. He hopped up to his feet, dusting down the front of his dark grey suit, which looked far too fancy for whatever this was going to be.
"I only just got here myself, Potter," Malfoy brushed off, waving a hand dismissively. Harry felt a strange sort of twist in his chest at the blatant lie, and the possible idea behind why Malfoy lied. Harry shook his head. Unlikely . There were probably many reasons why Malfoy would do that, even if Harry knew none of them.
"A bit overdressed, aren't you?" Harry gestured vaguely at him. Then again, he supposed Malfoy was always overdressed. He'd hardly ever seen him in anything other than his fancy suits. Even if he wasn't wealthy anymore, he probably still liked feeling that he was.
Malfoy shrugged. "Never hurts to be well-dressed. I reckon you could use a lesson or two." He smirked in amusement, as if to take the edge off the barb.
Harry scoffed, shaking his head, but didn't reply.
"Shall we?" Malfoy gestured over to the kitchens.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy. Whatever you need to talk about, talk about it. Right here. There's no need for all these… these formalities or whatever."
"Impatient, are we, Potter?" Malfoy snorted. "Well, I'm bloody famished, so I'd much rather we talk over some food."
Having clearly noticed the loss in his mass and the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Malfoy eat in front of his own sight, Harry could hardly refuse him that without feeling like an arsehole, and he didn't want to either. So he sighed, waited as Malfoy tickled the pear on the fruit bowl (and shuddered with a mutter of, never stops being fucking creepy when it giggled ) and the portrait became a door.
They entered the kitchens bustling with house-elves, and there was a table in the distant corner, already set up with various kinds of foods. Harry tried to think of what else Malfoy could have been doing here, besides getting this ready (which was weird on its own, to think Malfoy would be going to such lengths to arrange a meal with Harry of all people), but he couldn't think of anything.
Malfoy did not seem as famished as he had claimed to be. He was eating far too slowly for that to be true, every now and then forgetting that he was supposed to be putting a spoonful of his soup to his mouth as he got lost in thought. They sat in complete silence as they ate, while Harry waited for Malfoy to start with whatever he wanted to converse about.
"You look like shite," Harry pointed out, then, just to say something that would cut through the quiet. Malfoy was pale, even paler than normal, and it stood out starkly against the dark shadows around his eyes.
Harry then stilled, suddenly realizing just who he was sitting with and who he just said that to. Malfoy's silver eyes flicked up to him, and Harry was sure that he would be affronted, and then he would get mad and say something that would get Harry mad in retribution and then t—
"Do I?" Malfoy said. He sipped a spoonful of his soup, and swallowed. "Haven't been sleeping much, I suppose." He smirked, then. "What's your excuse?"
Harry ignored the quip, not quite feeling as comfortable to banter with him as Malfoy seemed to. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"
"Nightmares." Harry was surprised that he was honest in his answer. Malfoy was looking up at him intently. "I imagine you're familiar with those. Well, I imagine everyone here is by now, really."
Harry nodded in understanding and agreement, and said nothing further. He wasn't… entirely sure of what to think. So far, Malfoy had been alright with him, but he kept dodging the question as to why they were here.
They ate some more in even more silence. Nearly a half an hour passed, and Malfoy had only just finished his first bowl of soup.
"So…" Harry started, when he was done with waiting for Malfoy to speak up, because he certainly didn't look like he was going to any time soon. "What are we doing here, really, Malfoy?"
"What's it look like, Potter?" Malfoy muttered. "We're eating."
Harry rolled his eyes, making to stand up. "Look, if you're not going to answer the question, I'm leaving. You're just wasting both our time here." He wasn't serious about leaving. Mostly, he was hoping to force Malfoy into spilling the truth, because for whatever reason, he was very adamant on keeping Harry here.
Malfoy dropped his spoon and grabbed him then, reaching out quickly and wrapping his cold, lithe fingers around Harry's wrist. His hairs stood on end at the skin-to-skin contact, perhaps due to the mild change in temperature.
"I'll tell you, okay?" Malfoy said, his voice low and earnest, staring up from beneath his lashes with a quiet sort of pleaful persuasion, an expression that looked very out of place for him. Then again, Harry wasn't used to the sight of many expressions on that face, besides his typical sneer and deadpan, and nowadays, that awful, gutwrenching blank and lost one. "I'll tell you everything. You just have to wait and be patient, Potter. It won't be long now. Can you do that?"
Harry held the gaze for a moment. He then sighed and sat back down. Malfoy's chest heaved slightly, in some hushed relief.
Malfoy smiled then, soft and pleasant and his silver eyes crinkling, and Harry was startled, as was his heart. "Drink?"
…
After they finished with lunch, Malfoy stood up, said, "Come on," took hold of his arm and, without warning, Apparated them both over to what appeared to be the outside of a musical concert. It took a minute to orient himself after the sensation of being squeezed through a tube.
Harry's brow furrowed. The banner in front of him read in large, designed letters, Colovaria Concert 1999. There were crowds and crowds of people up ahead, forming several long queues.
Malfoy had grabbed his wrist again, tightly—Merlin's pants, what in the fuck was it with him manhandling Harry around—and was dragging him through the crowd, shamelessly shoving through tightly packed bodies.
"Malfoy, what the fuck—" Harry could hardly hear himself in the bustle and noise, and it was hopeless to hope Malfoy would hear him either. Harry could hear many shouts of protest, and the person at the front of the line shot a seething glare at Malfoy cutting in rudely.
Malfoy got right up to the front of the queue, pulling Harry out from between the bodies he was stuck behind and next to him.
"Hello," Malfoy said to the guard, who was eyeing the guest list in her hand. She flicked up a quick glance up at him, cocking an eyebrow. Her gaze was stuck for a moment on Harry, almost as if she was wondering if she was mistaken, before she shook her head and looked down at the list, clearly concluding that she was.
"Hello. Your name and tickets, please?"
"Blaise Zabini." He then leaned in, murmuring to her so that others wouldn't hear. "I haven't got tickets. Sorry. But I've got Harry Potter with me—" Her eyes widened, glancing over at Harry with that awful, awed and starstruck expression he could never get used to. "And I imagine he doesn't need them. He loves the Colovaria, you know, but unfortunately, the tickets were sold out before he could get them. I'm sure you can do something about that? I mean, it's the least he deserves after everything, don't you think? Getting to see his favourite band here in the city, having a fun afternoon to himself with his good friend?"
Harry stayed silent, resisting the urge to side-eye Malfoy. He had no idea who the Colovaria were. And good friend ?
This couldn't be what Malfoy brought him here for, just to use his name to get into a concert without a ticket? Right?
"I'm sure the two of you won't mind being placed in the VIP section?" She smiled brightly, looking to Harry with an even brighter gaze. He nodded awkwardly, and then shook his head awkwardly when the phrasing registered in his mind.
Malfoy grinned, and it was almost charming, endearing even, despite how unfamiliar it seemed. He really should do that more. He looked nice, Harry vaguely thought, and then ignored the fact that he ever had that thought. "Absolutely not. That would be lovely—" He looked down at her name tag. "Mareen."
When they were in the VIP section, separated by a barrier surrounding a region up close to the stage, Harry turned around to the taller boy and gritted out, "Merlin's Beard, this better not be all because you wanted to get into a stupid concert without a ticket, Malfoy!"
Malfoy paused, his brows twitching, and then he deadpanned, "Didn't think I just wanted to hang out with you, did you?"
…
Harry silently sulked and brooded beside Malfoy in the audience. Honestly, this was what it was all about. Really ? The great mystery was so bloody anticlimactic and underwhelming that Harry wanted to bash his head against a wall. He couldn't even Disapparate out of here due to the wards.
And if you forget me
I hope it won't be for the last time
The lead singer was singing softly right now, over a gentle piano and violin melody. They were two songs in, and the Colovaria seemed to be of somewhere between alternative rock and indie rock genre. Harry couldn't deny that they were actually of his own taste, but he didn't want to be here simply on the principle of how disappointed he was about Malfoy's reason to interact with him after months.
Harry startled at the hands on his shoulders and arms. Malfoy was blindly tapping his hands over him to get his attention, his excited and awed gaze was fixated on the band playing on the stage, the guitarists and pianists and drummers. It was a strange expression on the otherwise cold or bitter or exhausted face. Harry had somehow not considered what positive emotions not laced with malice might look like on Malfoy's face. His chest felt strange at the sight of it. "Listen!" he yelled over the chorus of noise. "Here it comes, Potter! The best part!"
There was a beat drop, and then complete silence.
And then the stage lit up, bright sparks and glows of light all over as coloured smoke permeated the air. The band went wild, jumping all over with their instruments and banging their heads and bodies to the music, as the guitar and drums start up, a hard and fast rhythm and riff raffs that have the entire crowd cheering loudly, others behind Malfoy jumping and dancing. Malfoy cupped his hands around his grin and whooped with such passion and joy that he had to bend slightly at the abdomen, knees crouching down by the force of it. The golden sunlight glittered down on him, caught in the silver of his crinkling eyes and platinum hair, making him all golden too.
Harry couldn't look away.
It was nearly five songs later that Harry lost himself in it, unaware of his own swaying and the subtle, rhythmic head movements and tapping fingers on the biceps of his crossed arms to the music until he caught Malfoy's eye, watching him with an unfathomable look in his sharp moonstone eyes, that didn't look as sharp at the moment, for whatever reason. He stilled, suddenly feeling flustered and awkward. One pale eyebrow cocked up as it roved over him, his lips curling up into that bloody smirk again.
That burning throb of an urge was back again in his chest, as it had many times before throughout the day, the one that kept trying to force his hands and his body into something imprudent and unwise. If nothing else, it would certainly wipe that fucking smirk off of Malfoy's face if he gave into it.
Fuck. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.
…
"Any more concerts you want to use my name to get into without paying, or can I go now?"
"Not yet," Malfoy answered, examining a hat from the merch cart. Harry wasn't even sure why he was still here, asking Malfoy if he could go when he could just, well, go.
"Yeah. No. I wasn't actually asking." Harry turned around. "Bye, Malfoy."
"Fuck, Potter, would you just stop trying to run away!" Harry felt cold fingers around his arm, again, twisting him around hard to face him. Malfoy's expression was pinched with annoyance and exasperation, as if Harry had no reason to be trying to run away after all this time of being kept in the dark about whatever in the fuck was going on right now.
"You've got your concert. What else do you need me here for?"
Malfoy paused. He furrowed his brows, shaking his head. "You think that's—are you really as stupid as I once thought you were?"
"You said—"
"It was sarcasm, you dolt!"
"Oh." Harry grew warm and flustered. He wasn't sure how he didn't catch the sarcasm, but then again, could he be blamed? He had thought there was no way it could have been as simple as Malfoy just wanting to—wait. What. "Wait. So you… you do just… want to hang out?"
"How much for this?" Malfoy asked the keeper behind the cart, and Harry was more certain that he ignored the question than that he got distracted.
"Five Galleons," she responded. Her eyes caught on Harry, and then widened, her face growing red. Harry felt the crawl of awkwardness slither under his skin again. "Are you—um… oh Merlin—
Malfoy dug into his pockets and pulled out five Galleons, putting it down in front of her and taking the red and green Colovaria cap. "Let's go, Potter."
"Wait, can I have your au—"
Malfoy grabbed his shoulders and pushed through the crowd. Harry was somewhat— okay, very—grateful for the intervention.
Once they were out, thankfully unnoticed and unrecognized any further, Harry turned him around, and then wondered if that unbidden touch would offend the Slytherin. It didn't. Malfoy just moved with his touch and rolled his eyes, as if he knew what was coming.
"There's no other reason, then? You just—is this—are we just hanging out?"
He thought of Malfoy, hunched over alone in corners or unpartnered in classes over the last few months, sunken eyes blankly staring at nothing. He had looked painfully lost and lonely, and Harry had wanted to reach out, had thought of doing it everyday, just going up to him and sitting beside him and trying to talk to him. He'd sit close by to him, even go into libraries to find him, and then he'd watch him in quick glances and stares, trying to convince himself to go and talk to him.
But something always held him back.
Perhaps it was the thought that Malfoy would not feel inclined towards opening up to him, or wanting to be his friend, that Harry would be the last person he would want to talk to anyway, and Harry didn't even know if he could help him. He was hardly in the best state of mind himself most days. He was afraid he might just end up making things worse.
Now he wondered if it didn't matter, if Malfoy had maybe just needed someone. Anyone. Even if it was an ex-childhood rival he hardly even liked or wanted around him.
Malfoy shifted his jaw, looking away, and then down at the hat in his hands, as if he was feeling too exposed and vulnerable and uncomfortable about it. "It's just one day," he said quietly. "You won't have me anywhere near you again after this, Potter. I promise."
"No!" Harry said quickly. "No. I mean… I don't mind. It's alright. You can come as—" near me as you want. He stopped himself, mortified and suddenly feeling hot and uncomfortable again. He rubbed the back of his neck. Malfoy's head had snapped up to him at that, one eyebrow cocked in surprise and… something else, that unfathomable look again like when he was watching Harry at the concert. Harry hoped desperately that he didn't hear the unspoken, that he didn't know just what was about to come out of his mouth right then.
Malfoy didn't say anything to that, thankfully. He threw him the green and red cap. Harry caught it on reflex, and then glanced down at it, not sure what he was supposed to do with it.
"I don't want this?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Neither do I."
"Why'd you buy it then?"
"I wanted it. Now I don't," Malfoy said carelessly, simply. Fickle prat. "Anyway, you should put that on, hide that scar of yours lest your fan group recognize you and gather to you like ducklings to their mother."
When Harry spent a bit too much time staring at the cap, tentatively contemplating whether Malfoy had just bought something solely for him and was trying to conceal his intentions—Malfoy hated red, didn't he?—Malfoy snatched the cap off his hands with an exasperated sigh and placed it on his head himself. Harry was sure he looked as ridiculous as he felt, with his wild and untamed raven hair spilling out from the sides.
Malfoy's lips twitched into a tiny, imperceptible smile, leaving as quick as it came, leaving Harry to wonder if he imagined it, but keeping the hat on just the same.