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When Harry got the first letter, he regarded it as a one-off.
—
Potter,
You saved my life. You had no reason to do it. You’re a bloody imbecile.
Still, I thought it poor manners not to say: Thank you.
I don’t believe in life-debts, but you did almost kill me once, so let’s call it even?
-DM
—
Harry did not respond to it, even though it had made his blood boil. As if Malfoy hadn’t been trying to have Harry expelled, and his wand snapped, since their first year!
Harry was only a trainee Auror, even having defeated the greatest Dark Wizard of all time, he still didn’t know the ins and outs of casework. For this reason, he did not have his own office at the Ministry of Magic, but was out on a public floor at a desk instead.
The sight of an Owl swooping to his desk became something he expected.
—
Potter,
I saw you in the back at my trial well before you stepped onto the stand. When I saw you, I wasn’t sure why you were there at all, if not to testify against me.
Imagine my surprise.
You bloody wanker, you’ve unbalanced our scales again.
Don’t think I will forget about this.
-DM
___
Harry had, indeed, testified. How could he not have? At the end of the day, Malfoy was just a kid, like him, like they all were.
Their first few steps into adulthood should be different. They shouldn’t need so many years to remove grudges. In Harry’s opinion, it was more important for people to see Malfoy’s release than his sentencing.
His father was another story, he needed to pay penance, but Draco…
So Harry had done what he could to help his former tormenter. His voice held power, and he would use it where he saw fit.
Somehow, though, he felt he’d made an error.
Because Draco Malfoy seemed to have chosen him as a one-sided penpal.
Perhaps wizards called it “Quill-Friend,” but Harry didn’t know.
—
Potter,
Yes I’m writing to you again, even though you’ve rudely left my letters unanswered.
Not that I expected a reply, just acknowledging the rudeness, which does not come as a surprise, mind.
I’m about to leave for the mandatory school year my sentencing demanded. Thanks, again, for recommending this over the sucking out of my soul.
That little joke about how it would’ve been a waste seeing as I didn’t have one anyway… that was good, by the way. Excellent deadpan. I greatly enjoyed seeing the Wizengamot so confused before you told them you were joking.
I hear you and Weasley are leaving Granger to fend for herself this school year. Think she can keep as good an eye on me as you did?
-DM
___
Harry’s heart raced by the end of the letter. The swirl of emotions he was feeling was a convoluted plot. An almighty agitation mixed with panic, confusion, and anticipation? All at once, he wished that the wizard had said any of this to his face, before deciding that that absolutely would not be a pleasant experience.
Harry was trying to stick to his post-war ideals of forgiveness and trust.
Draco Malfoy was making that more difficult with every passing letter.
__
Potter,
Hello from chilly Scotland.
Did you hear about the re-sorting?
Get a letter from Granger yet?
I saw her furiously scribbling away in our new common room, and wondered who she was writing to, you, the Weasel, or both?
So many questions, which I do not expect answers to.
-DM
__
Harry had gotten several letters from Hermione, in fact. The first were filled with panic. She’d been re-sorted into Ravenclaw, along with Draco Malfoy.
The shocking thing, however, was how quickly the tone of her letters had shifted.
__
Potter,
I’m not going to ask, because I know she’s Owl’d you.
Seems I’ve got you to thank for the fact that Hermione Granger has chosen to align herself with me. I really didn’t think it would work, at first, I thought people would just get angry at her and write her off, but fuck me. People sure worship the ground the three of you walk on, and apparently me as well, because she’s on my arm everywhere I go now.
The strangest part? I don’t hate it.
I’m weirdly accepted into the former Gryffindor fold.
Did you hear that Longbottom is in Slytherin? Makes me wonder whether you would have been, after all the lying and manipulation you had to employ in the war. Keeping secrets, and hiding. It’s all very Slytherin, and I’m done with my turn. I’m finding Ravenclaw much more satisfying.
-DM
—
Potter,
I don’t know why I’m writing to you again, but perhaps it’s because my best friend is always sitting down to write to you, and I need something to do with my hands.
I could read, of course, but her quill scratching is too distracting.
I’m curious what she’s telling you, as well, given that there is a lot of drama here to relay.
None of it is life or death, for a change, so don’t feel like you need to don those sleek Auror robes of yours and come up here. Down, hero.
Apparently, there is a romance brewing between Longbottom and Parkinson.
Are you as shocked, yet not shocked at all, as I was?
I have to hand it to the bloke. I know Pansy rather well, and the fact that she is consenting to a real relationship is the part I found shocking. Ours (mine and hers) was more for show.
Alright, she’s wrapping up, so I will as well.
-DM
—
Potter,
What did you mean by telling Granger to tell me hello, huh? Think you’re funny?
I wish I could actually use that previous line, but I’m sure she told you that I laughed for one full minute straight. Might have been less, I wasn’t timing it, but it felt like one.
Anyway, I thought I should warn you, she got all funny when I told her I’ve been writing to you and you haven’t been answering.
-DM
—
Harry stared at the second owl to have arrived that day. The scroll affixed to its paw seemed to tremble with foreboding. Reaching forward to seize it, Harry mindlessly handed the bird a treat as he unfurled the scroll.
___
Dear Harry,
Would you like to explain to me the justification for why you are ignoring all of Draco’s letters?
More importantly, I’d like to know why you’ve just USED me as a conduit for FLIRTING?!
You are lucky I did not send this as a Howler; I would hate for it to be overheard.
I know Ron never noticed it. I know you and I haven’t spoken of it since the Sectumsempra incident.
Please, please tell me you aren’t avoiding him to prove a point. I know I’m completely impossible when I’m right about something, but I promise, just this time, to take it down a few notches.
I feel like you’ve just done a cry for help, and I’m answering the call.
Meet me in Hogsmeade this weekend. Three Broomsticks, 3pm Saturday.
Love,
Hermione
—
Harry sat at a table at the Three Broomsticks. It was nearing the end of December, and the place was decked out in kind. Baubles and garlands crowded the wooden rafters above, and the mixture of cedar and peppermint was so strong as to be dizzying. Spiked mulled cider was the special, and he ordered one each for him and Hermione.
The drinks came just as she entered. Harry tried to check inconspicuously behind her to see if she was alone, but failed spectacularly at the task.
“If you’re looking for Draco,” she began.
“I wasn’t,” he lied.
Her smirk told him things he did not want to know about what she was thinking.
“He said he might join later,” she said.
Harry’s shrug was the least believable nonchalance ever performed.
They talked for a long while, he updated her on Auror field training, and she updated him on the various fledgling Hogwarts romances.
“Speaking of romances,” she said, raising her eyebrows and holding her mouth open stupidly.
Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re-” was all he got out, as he saw Draco Malfoy step into the building.
At the look on his face, Hermione glanced over her shoulder, then stood, grabbing her drink and finishing the last sip before turning to Malfoy and saying, “I’m going up for another, want one?”
Harry looked instantly down at his hands, as he heard Malfoy’s deep drawl answering in the affirmative. He saw his cup disappear as well as Hermione swept away. Then, thinking he shouldn’t be such a coward, and wondering whether Slytherin was indeed meant for him, he looked up.
Gray eyes and a bemused expression.
Why was he always wearing suits, anyway?
“Potter,” he said, with a nod of his head, the corners of his mouth turning up slowly, almost as though he’d been trying to ward it off.
“Malfoy,” Harry replied, having a similar inability to quell his own smile.
For a while, they just stared at each other, playing a silent game of chicken to see who would speak first.
Before the game could conclude, however, Hermione arrived back with the drinks. Seeing them, she looked down at her tray of goblets, and suddenly scoffed, stomping her foot.
“Oh no! They’ve given me the wrong drinks! I’ll be right back.” Then, she was gone.
“Our girl is many things, but subtle, she is not.”
Harry was startled by two things. One: the proximity of Malfoy’s voice; he’d just sat down. Two: the fact that Malfoy was the first to break the silence.
Their girl. Their friend in common. The pair most unlikely than to end up as allies.
Harry did not respond to the comment, and when he did not, Malfoy took it as an opportunity.
“Oh, wonderful. Left me alone so that I could have a live demonstration of being completely ignored, has she?” he drawled. “I honestly should have expec-”
“I didn’t fail to write you back,” Harry said, and Malfoy looked flabbergasted.
“Are you claiming that your missives were lost in the post?! Come now, Potter.”
“No,” Harry said, and he wished he had sounded less like an angsty teen when he did so. Then, he reached into his robes pocket, and withdrew a small stack of sealed letters.
Looking up into Draco’s eyes, he said, “Never got up the nerve to send them, is all.”
Draco stared as the pile of letters plopped onto the table, then looked up at Harry with fire in his eyes.
“Is that all? That’s your great defense, Potter? It’s a wonder you were able to sway my trial proceed-”
“You’re welcome,” Harry said.
“What?”
Harry plucked the first letter from its tie, and held it up as he said, “This one is me essentially saying ‘you’re welcome,’ although I disagreed that the ‘thank you’ was necessary.”
Malfoy scoffed at this. “Shocking, Potter. I truly missed out, I see.”
Ignoring this, Harry reached for the next letter in the pile. Holding it up, he said, “Of course I testified, you wanker. You lied to save my life, when I’d nearly killed you less than a year prior. I had to let people know.”
“The scales are still unbalanced,” Malfoy said stoically.
“I don’t see the relevance of that,” Harry replied, then snatched up the next letter.
Agan, he held it high as he said, “I was not being rude, I was being conflicted. I’m trying to temper my Gryffindor impulsiveness, and I think I may have overcorrected. After that, it almost seemed rude to stop… not answering you.”
Malfoy studied him, seeming to run an appraisal of sorts. Finally, he merely glanced at the pile, a small smirk emerging as he said, “Well go on, then.”
Without breaking eye contact, Harry grabbed the next envelope, and said, “My musings on the re-sorting, including a bit of pontification over my Slytherin traits, as well as a bit of a story about my initial sorting.”
He saw Malfoy’s eyes go wide at that last bit, but didn’t stop to acknowledge it.
“In the next, I share that I already knew Hermione had a weird soft spot for you, and insist I had nothing to do with her change of heart, because I didn’t. Not directly, anyway.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and Harry went on. “I also said I’m not surprised you were enjoying Ravenclaw. You always did hang around with numbskulls who couldn’t keep up with you academically, it makes sense, as does your choice of my friend as your friend.”
“In this one,” Harry said, already on to the next, “I express my surprise for your interest in romantic school drama, as well as my curiosity about why you needed a for-show relationship at all.”
There was only one letter left on the table, and Harry swallowed with difficulty as he picked it up.
“And this one, I’ll… just read.”
Harry felt Malfoy lean in, but he studiously ignored it as he braced himself to read the letter aloud.
“Malfoy,
She got weird when you told her that I hadn’t responded to your letters because she knows, better than anyone, how I feel about you.
She’s observant, as you well know, and it never escaped her attention that my interest in you was a bit… more than it seemed.
Now, she’s accused me of using her to flirt with you, which I suppose is a crime I am guilty of.
She also invited me to Hogsmeade this weekend, and if you’re receiving this via Owl, it’s because I decided to continue being cowardly, and dropped this and all of my previous unsent letters into the post, rather than deliver it all to you in person.
If not, then I am probably sitting there, shaking with nerves as you read this.”
Harry paused, looking up at Malfoy for a moment, and seeing the wizard staring back with rapt attention. He swallowed and looked back down.
“I think that my ignoring you for months means that the scales are reset, once again.”
Harry lowered his hands, still clutching the letter, which he stared down at sheepishly.
At that moment, Hermione reappeared, took one look at Harry, and slunk away instantly.
“You’re a rotten flirt, Potter,” he heard Malfoy say.
When Harry looked up, he saw Malfoy’s eyes glinting at him, a broad grin on his face that he wore well.
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Malfoy was too quick for him.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow evening?” he said, as casually as if he was asking for a glass of water.
Harry gaped in response, unable to form words.
“I’d prefer to hear your responses rather than just have them summarized. Does seven work for you? I’ll come to London.”
“S- Sure,” Harry heard himself saying, in a matter of fact tone that did not match the way his heart was beating out of his chest.
Then, Harry went to reach for the letters at the same time as Malfoy. Large, warm hands landed atop his own. Eyes met.
“I’ll have those as well,” said Malfoy, darkly.
Harry pulled his hands back, not missing the shocks of electricity he felt at their contact. It traveled all the way to his toes.
They never broke eye contact.
In one swift movement, Malfoy had grabbed all of the letters, and shoved them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket as he stood from the table.
“You’re leaving already?” Hermione said, having finally reappeared, the drinks having been given away, most likely.
“Sorry, gorgeous,” Malfoy said, then leaned over and kissed Hermione on the cheek. “Got to run.”
He stood back, eyeing Harry with a mischievous grin that sent chills up his spine. “See you soon.”
As he turned and left, Hermione stared at the door for an extended moment before she spun around quickly, a look of utter glee on her face.
“You said you’d take it down a few notches,” Harry said, “Don’t forget.”
“See you soon?!” she cried.
Harry merely shrugged, but his smirk spoke volumes.