Work Text:
"Hogwarts, too?"
A familiar voice caught Harry's attention, and the noise around him seemed to quiet ever so slightly as he turned.
Malfoy, with dark shadows under his eyes and looking thinner and pointier than ever, was standing across the way, looking like he'd just come out of Ollivander's. Harry tilts his head slightly.
He'd heard Malfoy would be taking the vacated Potions professorship, as Slughorn had stepped down after the war.
"Uh, yes." He says vaguely.
"I've just come from looking at wands." Malfoy says casually, as if they're not standing across an entire street from each other, people milling about between them shooting them odd looks. Harry refuses to be the one to cross over, though. It's a matter of principle over practical.
"Oh." Harry says, wondering where to go from here. "You didn't get yours back, then?"
"Snapped, I'm afraid." Malfoy says, and doesn't elaborate.
Harry knew for a fact when he gave it to the Ministry to return to Malfoy, it had been intact.
"What a shame. It was a good wand." Harry says.
"I thought so too." Malfoy replies. He puts his hands into his pockets. "Think I might buy a broom, smuggle it into Hogwarts."
Harry suddenly, jarringly, realises that this conversation is a strange mirror of their first, in Malkin's robe shop. It's probably Malfoy's intent, actually.
"I have my own, now." Harry says, straining to remember what they'd talked about. It felt like a lifetime ago, and he supposed technically, it was.
Malfoy seems a bit surprised, but not displeased, by Harry's response.
"Play Quidditch, do you?" He says back.
"I do."
"Father says..." Malfoy's mouth quirks up slightly, a sort of humorless smile. "Well, I suppose you know what he'd say."
Harry gives a noncommittal gesture, unsure of what they talked about after this.
He's surprised when Malfoy takes a step closer.
"Is it true? They're saying that Harry Potter's come to teach at Hogwarts. So it's you, is it?" He says, his smile turning a bit more genuine now.
"Yes." Harry says.
Malfoy crosses the street then, not looking either way and just somehow not jostling the people walking the other directions. Curious eyes follow him as he's recognised, and more when they realise he's heading toward Harry, who hasn't moved.
"My name's Draco. Draco Malfoy." He says, holding his hand out. It has a slight tremor to it now, one Harry'd noticed ever since that night in the Astronomy tower. Harry doesn't hesitate this time. He takes Malfoy's - Draco's - hand, shaking it firmly.
The handshake is tense, and the whole of Diagon Alley holds its breath.
"Harry Potter." Harry says uselessly.
Draco Malfoy smiles.