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1. Who needs Enemies when Draco Malfoy exists
"Oh, it's you."
"Well, yes." Harry snorted and gestured at the air. "In case you missed the giant flying banner with my name on it, or the singing lion that's following me, or—"
Malfoy gave Harry a withering glare. "It hadn't escaped my notice. I was just—" He pursed his lips, looking like he'd seen something offensive.
He probably had. Harry was wearing a t-shirt with his face on it and the words LEGAL IN THE MUGGLE WORLD! above it. Underneath it said 18 years old baby. It was a credit to Petunia that this wasn't the worst garment he'd ever worn.
"Yes?" Harry twirled his borrowed broomstick. The lion was still singing, but he'd shut it inside the broom shed.
Malfoy's eyes were on the door to the broom shed. "Let's strike a bargain," he said. "I destroy whatever the hell it is you're wearing, if you retrieve a broom for me."
Harry considered this. "Deal," he said, and made to pass Malfoy the broomstick he'd been twirling, then took it back. "Shirt first."
"You don't think I'd keep my word?"
"Maybe not," Harry admitted. He held out his arms so Malfoy could see the t-shirt in all its devastating glory. "Do your worst."
"Fine." Malfoy stepped closer and pulled his wand on Harry in a fluid motion. When Harry didn't move, Malfoy took another step, so that the tip of his wand was flush against Harry's chest.
"Well?" Harry looked straight into Malfoy's clear grey eyes, trying to get a read on him.
Malfoy's lip twitched. "Diffindo."
The front of Harry's t-shirt fell apart in tatters, the edges jagged and frayed. The Severing Charm hadn't made so much as a nick in Harry's skin.
Maybe Harry should've felt bad about letting Malfoy destroy the t-shirt—horrible as it was, it had been a (probably) well-intentioned gift from the people he was rooming with; an eclectic mix of volunteers and convicts. Malfoy wasn't one of them, and all of Harry's friends who were volunteering to rebuild the castle had been allocated elsewhere. But Harry didn't feel bad—just relief to be rid of the thing.
"Thanks," he said, and passed Malfoy the broomstick.
Malfoy accepted it. He twirled it thoughtfully, looking between Harry, the broom shed, and the far distance over Harry's right shoulder. "Race you to that peak over there?"
Harry turned to look. He felt the air move before he saw that Malfoy had taken off. Cursing, he barged into the broom shed and leapt over the singing lion to grab another broomstick, and then took off after Malfoy.
He caught up with him on the far side of Hogwarts, well away from the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade and everything else, perching on an outcrop in the mountainside.
"Cheat," he said.
"Try to keep up," Malfoy said, and took off again.
2. Wait, are we Friends now
"Hey tosser." Harry sat next to Malfoy in the Great Hall. "Pass me the bacon."
Malfoy passed the bacon over but didn't otherwise acknowledge Harry's presence.
"You took forever in the shower this morning," Harry grumbled.
"If you hadn't woken me up in the middle of the night, I wouldn't have overslept," Malfoy replied. "It's your own fault."
Harry squashed the urge to whack the back of Malfoy's head, if only because he was a tiny little bit right. "Wasn't my fault that Quidditch practise ran late. And it wasn't the middle of the night!"
"No of course not," Malfoy said, finally deigning to look at Harry. "You're only the captain of the team."
"You're—" Harry's brain finally caught up with him. "You're on the team! You were there!" he sputtered.
Malfoy's lips twitched. "You should've let me nap," he said. "You didn't need me on the pitch yesterday at all—why, I'd almost think you only insisted on my presence because of my extraordinarily good looks and talent—"
"Sod off." Harry tried to focus on his breakfast instead of Malfoy's insufferable self.
When Harry had polished his plate, Malfoy spoke up again. "So, about the team…"
"Yes?" Harry said reluctantly.
"You're a shitty Keeper."
Harry rubbed his eyes. "Not this again."
"You know you're a shitty Keeper—"
"There's only one Seeker position and you're a shitty everything else," Harry said. "This is the only configuration that works!"
Malfoy glared at him. "Why won't you let Berrycloth have the Keeper position—she's better than you—so you can play as a Chaser instead?"
"You know, Malfoy, if you have a problem with the team configuration why don't you go join another team?" Harry bit out. "Nobody's forcing you to be on my team!"
It was the wrong thing to say, and Harry knew it instantly from the way Malfoy's face closed up.
"Good day, Potter," Malfoy said, his voice barely under control, and left the table.
"Well, fuck," Harry muttered.
***
Malfoy didn't come to lunch, so Harry filched a pair of apples and two slices of vegetable tart from the Great Hall and went to search for him. He wasn't a hard person to find, Harry knew, but even so he was surprised to find Malfoy on his little rock outcrop on the other side of Hogwarts.
"Catch," Harry yelled, and threw an apple at him. Malfoy caught it.
"Sod off," he said.
"Nope," Harry said and landed gently beside him. He secured his broomstick and then sat down, passing Malfoy a slice of tart.
Malfoy accepted the slice.
"Thank you," Harry said.
"Sod off," Malfoy said again.
Harry just shrugged. They ate in silence, just taking in the scenery before them. This was Malfoy's favourite spot—both to sulk, and to take a break when he and Harry challenged each other.
"No other team will have me," Malfoy finally said, brushing crumbs off his lap.
"That's stupid."
"It is what it is." Malfoy didn't look at him. "It's not because I find you such titillating company that I'm on your team, Potter. It's—" He gestured. "It is what it is."
It would've been a lie if Harry said he was surprised to hear that because he very much wasn't. A month into 8th year and few of the inter-house community bonding measures seemed to be successful. Harry couldn't blame anyone for being mistrustful, what with the war having ended less than six months ago…
"That doesn't really solve our problem though," Harry eventually said. "We can't both play Seeker, and Berrycloth is a better Chaser than she is a Keeper, so that leaves me."
"I know," Malfoy said. "I know. It's stupid. We're never going to win the stupid cup."
"The cup isn't important," Harry said. "It's—"
"It's normal," Malfoy said. He glanced at Harry, then looked out over the lake again. "It's something to do that isn't…you know."
"Yeah. I know." Anxious to break the tension between them, Harry stood up. "We've got a free period before Potions. I've got a Snitch. You in?"
Malfoy looked Harry up and down. He got up. "Are you ready to lose?"
"Why don't you find out?" Harry retrieved the Snitch from his pocket, holding it in a loose grasp right under Malfoy's nose, the silvery wings fluttering against his palm.
3. Oh no, we're Dating
Harry woke up under a small mountain of presents at the end of his bed. He moved, causing an avalanche—and a big enough ruckus that Malfoy woke up and threw a pillow at him. Harry threw it back.
"Merry Christmas," he said, pointedly.
"Ugh." Malfoy sat up. At the foot of his bed were only three small packages. One of them was from Harry.
They were the only ones in the dormitory, everybody else having gone home for the holidays. Harry tried to look like he hadn't noticed that Malfoy had only three packages, while he was working his way through a mountain—most of which turned out to be presents from people he didn't know, as well as his friends and the Weasleys. No, wait—there was a small package from Andromeda and Teddy as well. And one from Malfoy.
"Thanks," Malfoy said from the other side of the room. He'd opened all three of his presents.
"You're welcome. Want to help me with that pile over there? I don't know any of those people."
"I should've known that half the wizarding world would shower you with gifts," Malfoy said, coming over to sit on Harry's bed. He picked up a parcel. "Let's see…Maude, in Swindon, sends her love and a box of fudge." He helped himself to a piece. "Not bad."
"Thank you, Maude from Swindon," Harry said. Then: "Er, maybe you shouldn't eat those, they might be laced with Amortentia."
Malfoy choked and sputtered. "You're joking!"
"Nope." Harry picked up the card that came with the fudge. There was a photo of a person on it, presumably Maude. He held it up to Draco. "What are your feelings towards this person?"
"What?"
"You're fine." Harry put the card down.
"Why would people send you love potio—ohhhhh. Of course." Malfoy scrunched his nose. He also helped himself to another piece of fudge.
"I didn't ask for it," Harry said, without any real heat behind it. He wasn't in the mood to have this argument again.
They unwrapped the gift mountain in companionable silence. More sweets emerged, as well as articles of clothing, toys (including a few that were definitely for adults), and good luck charms.
"Well," Malfoy said, eyeing the pile.
"Reckon I can donate most of it to charity?" Harry gave the pile a dubious once-over. "The sweets I'll keep. Not so sure about that purple silk robe though. Seems a bit…"
"Not to your liking, Potter?" Malfoy plucked it out of the pile and put it on over his pyjamas. The sleeves were a little short. "Ah, yes. Tailor-made. Twilfitt and Tattings, I believe. I recognise the cut."
"I was going to say gaudy," Harry said, and resolved to have a word with Twilfitt about letting people order clothes based on his measurements. "The colour doesn't suit you."
Malfoy pulled the robe off and dropped it on the pile. "Purple is the colour of royalty," he said.
"Sure." Harry put on the jumper Molly had knit him. It was green. "Want to go out for a spin before we head down for Christmas Dinner? I could use some fresh air."
"Kitchens first?" Malfoy asked.
"Kitchens first," Harry agreed.
***
Equipped with a flask of tea and freshly baked ham and cheese croissants, Harry and Malfoy touched down on their usual hang out spot after a few quick spirals and loops through the air.
"So," Harry said, pouring tea into the single cup that came with the flask. Malfoy was already munching on his croissant. "Have you decided about Hogmanay yet?"
Malfoy shrugged. "I'll come."
"Oh." Harry took a sip of the tea, then passed the cup to Malfoy.
"Was that a pleased 'oh' or an 'ugh'?"
"I'm happy you're coming," Harry said. "I want you to come."
"Mmhh." Malfoy passed the cup back. "Just checking."
"I do like you, you know," Harry grumbled. "You don't have to check."
"Forgive me if I'm still getting used to the fact we are no longer sworn enemies," Malfoy said. "What with…whatever this is." He gestured between them. "Liking each other and all."
Harry polished off his croissant, glancing at Malfoy from the corner of his eye. Was he blushing? No. Probably just the cold.
"I can see you looking at me, you know," Malfoy said. "You're not very subtle. Give me the tea."
"Ugh fine, I'm looking at you," Harry said, taking a sip before passing the cup over. "Just trying to figure you out."
"What's there to figure out?" Malfoy cradled the cup in both his hands, taking a long sip. Then another. And another.
"Are you hiding? You're hiding." Harry leaned in. "You're hiding from me."
"I'm sitting right here!"
"Give me the tea."
"No."
"I'm cold."
"You have the flask."
"Just—give it here—" Harry reached for the cup, expecting Malfoy to lean away from him—but Malfoy froze for a fraction of a second, and then he leaned in, and suddenly he was kissing him. Malfoy's lips were hot, his mouth was hot, and Harry wasn't freezing anymore, if he'd been freezing at all.
"There," Malfoy said, retreating. His cheeks were dark pink and he was resolutely not looking at Harry, and he still—infuriatingly—had the cup. Malfoy took a sip.
This time, Harry had no trouble taking the cup from Malfoy. He refilled it from the flask, not taking his eyes off Malfoy, and had a scalding hot sip. "Want some?" Harry asked.
Malfoy's lip twitched.
Harry leaned in. "Go on," he said. "I'm right here."
"I don't know why I like you," Malfoy said, but he met Harry's lips all the same.
"Mmh, whatever you say," Harry said, putting the tea aside. There was something—someone—else who required his full attention.
