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Harry shouldn't find Draco this attractive. After the much-expected revelation that he, begrudgingly, had a thing for Draco speaking French, he couldn't help but think of other things related to Draco Malfoy.
About how it would feel like to hold his hand, for instance.
It was maddening how much of an effect he had on Harry, without even trying.
'Oi,' Ron said, rudely distracting him from contemplating his life decisions while staring at the Black Lake like the angsty teenager he was. 'Can you stop mooning after Malfoy for a moment?'
Harry spluttered. 'I wasn't m-mooning after him!' he said, his words sounding like a lie to his own ears.
Oh well.
At least he tried.
'Of course, you weren't,' Ron snorted. 'Whatever it was, you better do your potions essay before Snape has your head.'
'It's not like it matters anyway,' Harry said. 'Snape always has it in for me. He'll only give me anything less than an Outstanding on the day I die. And that would be for dying, not for my essay.'
'I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind helping with your potions homework, Harry,' he simpered, an all too familiar shit-eating grin on his face.
Harry groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands, heat rising to his face that he couldn't control.
'He's not my boyfriend, Ron,' he said. 'We're just… going to the Yule Ball, that's all.'
'Oh, so it wasn't you two talking to each other all day yesterday? Without even talking to Hermione and me, too.'
Harry only got back to his work, content to just throw a middle finger at his too invasive best friend's way.
'Potter,' Malfoy's voice was lacking the usual malice that accompanied those words, and had, in fact, become softer.
Harry did not understand what to with this open and honest Malfoy, even after getting to know him for a few weeks. Malfoy's presence alone could make him unnecessarily flustered, and Harry wished he would stop doing that, at least for the sake of his sanity.
'Malfoy,' he said back, trying to keep his cool while Malfoy slid into the seat beside him in the Great Hall. he was sure he was managing it until Ron sniggered into his food and Hermione just sighed in a put upon way.
He hated his friends sometimes.
Malfoy joining him at the Gryffindor table had become a usual occurrence; enough so that no one even batted an eyelash at an obvious Slytherin sitting down at their obvious rival's table.
Malfoy was unpredictable like that, and Harry was way too fond of him to ever want it to stop. (Not that he would admit that to himself unless under a vial of Veritaserum.)
Malfoy merely smiled at him while shovelling food into his plate and Harry tried his best to smile back while not giving away how flustered he felt.
'Aren't you two cute, ' an annoyingly cheerful voice said from behind them. Harry tried not to sigh as Malfoy made way between himself and Harry to squeeze her in between them. This was another change; Malfoy hadn't left the company of Alana ever since the start of the tournament and had stopped hanging out with his usual merry band of mischief-makers.
(Harry was partly sure that half the reason Malfoy persisted in talking to Alana was to see Harry's flustered reaction whenever Malfoy uttered anything in French.)
(Anyway.)
Harry was very glad about Malfoy not associating with Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle, but combined with the fact that Malfoy was voluntarily associating with Harry, who he'd despised mere months ago - dubious flirting notwithstanding - didn't dispel his worries that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Harry just wasn't sure if they were close enough for him to ask what was wrong, yet. Though Ron and Hermione had tried to dispel his worries by saying, It's not like your relationship was ever conventional, Harry…
He was jerked out of his thoughts as the post owls came soaring into the Great Hall, Hedwig unmistakably carrying a letter in her talons.
He could feel a grin coming unbidden to his face. It had been way too long since he's heard from Sirius.
He almost didn't notice the hushed silence that descended on them as a tell-tale scarlet letter dropped on the space beside Malfoy. Malfoy's face bore a flush of humiliation but that was the only way he acknowledged the letter laid before him.
Until he reached out and ripped the letter in half, that is.
'I don't want to deal with this shit, ' he hissed, angrier than Harry had ever seen him, and strode out of the Great Hall, the Howler still clutched in his hand, which appeared to be smoking.
A heavily uncomfortable silence elapsed around them, even Ron not knowing what to say to dispel the awkwardness.
It was Alana who spoke first. 'What are you waiting for?' she whispered furiously, her accent nearly spilling over her words in her agitation. ' Go to him. '
Harry really didn't need any further encouragement to dart after him, hoping he was fast enough to catch Malfoy before he disappeared inside the castle.
He cursed as he realized he couldn't see where Malfoy had gone, giving himself a deliberate smack on the face as he realized, well, the Marauder's Map existed.
He rummaged inside his bag, breathing a sigh of relief as he unearthed it. A quick, I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good later, Harry discovered that Malfoy was inside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. Of course, He thought. Malfoy would do nothing halfway.
It horrified him at the fond feeling that welled up in his throat at that.
It was with increasing trepidation that Harry ran up the stairs, all the while knowing that he could take Harry’s presence in the wrong way. He and Malfoy hadn't been rivals for three and a half years for Malfoy to expect anything more from him.
He edged open the door slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid attracting Myrtle's notice. He met Malfoy's eyes in the mirror beside the sink, feeling like he was on a romcom with a cheap budget as he did.
' Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy, ' an acidic and an all too familiar voice hissed from the letter clutched in Malfoy's clenched hands, and his complexion looked even worse than when he'd run away from the Gryffindor table, his eyes glittering with what suspiciously looked like tears.
'What are you doing here?' Malfoy demanded.
'I just...' Harry swallowed, trying not to be hurt at the dismissive tone in his voice. 'Wanted to see how you were doing,' he pressed on.
Malfoy turned around from the mirror and the sheer hopelessness in his eyes nearly made Harry flinch.
Malfoy laughed bitterly.
'I'm doing great, Potter,' he said, and there it was, the maliciousness that had been missing from all their interactions for a while. Harry was an idiot for thinking it would remain like that at least for a little while.
But he was no stranger to lashing out when he was angry. And he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.
'Just tell me what's wrong, Draco,' he said, hoping desperately, that he could get through to him. That their friendship and something more would not be destroyed by the words of something, some one, beyond their control.
It seemed as if those words were enough for Draco to relax, at least a little, the tenseness lessening from his shoulders.
'My father heard you asked me to the Yule Ball. And that I accepted, ' Draco had a bitter smile on his face, almost as if he knew what would happen next. 'And do you know what he said? That it was bad enough having a fag for a son, nevermind a fag that was dating the Boy-Who-Lived.'
'Fuck, Draco,' Harry whispered, not knowing what to say. 'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be,' Draco wiped the tears in his eyes that were threatening to spill out. 'Always knew he was a piece of shit anyway.' He sat down on the floor and wrapped his arms around his legs; decorum forgotten in his misery.
Harry joined him beside the floor, taking care to wrap his arm around Draco, ignoring the slight stiffening of Draco's shoulders and how out of depth he felt during this situation.
'He is a piece of shit,' Harry agreed. Draco laughed, finally relaxing. 'That doesn't stop it from hurting any less.'
Draco was quiet beside him. 'You're right,' he said finally.
'Of course, I am,' Harry replied, cracking a smile despite how wobbly it felt on his face. 'Haven't you heard? I'm always right.'
'I think you're confusing yourself with Hermione, Harry.'
Harry laughed, for real, this time. And if he felt a deep fluttering in his gut as Draco finally, finally used his name, well.
'Harry Potter isn't as bad at this comforting thing as you'd have thought. Who knew?' Draco wondered aloud.
'Oi,' Harry replied indignantly. He hesitated, 'And about the Yule Ball...'
'For Salazar's sake, Potter, if you're offering to not go to the Ball with me out of some misguided sense of justice-'
'I just want to help -'
'You're not helping, okay?' Malfoy snapped, shaking away from his embrace and standing up. 'I'm tired of living up to some idealized version that my parents and my so-called friends expect me to be when I realize that this whole pureblood ideology is crap every time I look at Granger and even Weasley. '
'Oh wow,' Harry said. 'I think this is the first time I've heard you swear.'
Draco choked back on a sob. Harry was on his side in an instant, feeling Malfoy against his side, his precious yet fragile weight on his arms. It was awkward, at first, but as Draco relaxed, Harry couldn't imagine being anywhere else other than here, cradling Draco in his arms.
Harry couldn't resist kissing Draco on the head as he pulled away, blushing at his own daring.
'We should probably get out of here before Myrtle comes,' Draco said.
Harry rolled his eyes fondly at him. 'You just came here for hoping Myrtle would find you, don't lie to me, Draco.'
'What can I say,' Draco replied, grin faint but still there. 'I love the drama.'
Harry laughed. Things weren't good, by any means, but, at this moment, hand in hand with Draco - and when had that happened, this exchange of contact - he couldn't help feeling as if they would be okay.