Work Text:
September 1, 1998
On the first day of their eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter became friends.
It was at the welcoming feast that it happened. Harry was sitting across from his two best mates at the new eighth year table, trying to pay attention to his food and not the way that they were currently attempting to swallow each other’s faces. As he tucked into his shepherd’s pie, a tall, thin body swung confidently into the empty space next to him.
“Hello, Potter,” drawled Draco Malfoy as he arranged himself gracefully on the bench. “I’ve decided we’re friends now.”
Harry looked at the completely composed and collected blond who was now delicately filling a plate for himself, cocking an eyebrow in interest. “Are we?” he asked, intrigued. “And I’m going along with this… why, now?”
Malfoy didn’t deign to look over, instead choosing to focus on carefully slicing himself a portion of roast beef. “Because half of the students at this school would happily hex me, so I need a powerful ally, and your Savior complex—combined with your political clout—is sufficient to get people to leave me alone. Also, I will keep you entertained while your usual companions are suffocating in a fog of adolescent lust, and I can ensure that you don’t fail potions.”
Harry pondered this while he chewed, shrugging as he swallowed. “The logic checks out,” he acceded. He then proceeded to chuck a bread roll at the couple across from him, with an emphatic “Oi! Lovebirds!”
Ron and Hermione split apart reluctantly. Hermione tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear and turned to her friend from her perch on Ron’s lap. “Yes, Harry?” she asked, as composed as if she had just looked up from a book, rather than from removing her tongue from her boyfriend’s throat.
“Malfoy and I are friends now, apparently, because I can keep people from hexing him, and he can keep me company while you keep doing…” he gestured broadly at them “...all of that. Also, something about Savior complexes and potions grades; I was only half listening.”
Ron looked thoughtful, and Hermione cocked her head to the side before nodding. “The logic checks out,” she agreed, and then turned back to Ron, clearly ending the conversation in favor of returning to her previous activities.
Harry returned to his shepherd’s pie. “I still don’t really like you, you know,” he said conversationally to the stoic boy beside him, who had ignored his interaction with his friends, instead choosing to focus on his meal.
“Entirely mutual, Potter,” the blond replied acerbically, slicing a bite of carrot for himself.
“That’s alright, then,” Harry decided. He grinned at Malfoy. Malfoy rolled his eyes.
Thus began their friendship.