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There had been a lot of changes at Hogwarts over the summer.
There was a large memorial, simplistically decorated yet still beautiful like everything in the magic world somehow manages to be, honouring the fallen students, professors, and members of the Order from the Battle of Hogwarts. Subject matter in many lessons had been altered to better fit this new era, with better defence skills taught in DADA and more in depth learning in Muggle Studies. There was, of course, now an eight year, too – for those students wishing to finish their studies from before the world turned upside down on them.
It’s been about a month now, since lessons started, and the heavy, unspeakable tension that had hung in the air amongst the students in September was finally beginning to ease. Smiles were passed more freely. Laughter echoed down the halls once again.
Another big change that Lucy’s noticed, since starting her third year, is the newfound interest in house unity. It’s encouraged daily, particularly by Headmistress McGonagall. Not that Lucy has a problem with it – not at all. It is a little strange, though, she will admit.
Stranger still is how seriously the eighth year students appear to be taking it. She guesses having a mixed house common room plays a large part in how close they’ve all grown. There’s also the whole ‘shared trauma forges strong bonds’ spiel that her mother used to say.
That, however, doesn’t explain the most shocking change since last year.
“Would you piss off?” Draco Malfoy’s voice carries down the hall and Lucy glances over to find him shooing away a pair of little first years, both staring beady-eyed at the famous Harry Potter. One of them is holding out a book and Lucy can only assume they were trying to get it autographed by The Chosen One.
The boy in question, though, isn’t even sparing them a second glance. Hunched over, his arms crossed over his chest, the majority of his face is covered by the hood of the jumper he’s been wearing for the past month. It’s black, as is everything else he wears nowadays, and definitely too big on him judging by the way it swallows his frame. A tuft of his fringe is sticking out of it, obscuring his eyes.
“We just want to ask him a few questions-” One of the first years starts, but Draco cuts them off with a flick of his wrist. Lucy doesn’t think he cast a wandless silencing spell on them but, then again, it is Malfoy.
“And I already told you, he’s not interested. Now go on, bugger off!” Draco waves his hand in the general direction away from him and Harry and, after a painfully long second, the two first years begrudgingly take his suggestion, looking rather forlorn about it. “Merlin’s beard,” Draco groans, bumping his shoulder into Harry’s and falling back into step beside him as they continue on their way down the hall – in the opposite direction as the two students. “That’s the tenth time this morning. I bet you wish you’d just let old Voldie obliterate you.”
Lucy holds her breath, not daring to move from her spot against the wall and make her presence known as they near her. There’s no way Draco just said that, did he? How can he talk about it so casually? To Harry of all people!
But, to Lucy’s absolute surprise, a small, yet genuine, laugh escapes Harry. Lucy thinks she can even see a smile, hidden away underneath that damned hood. She’s pretty sure that’s the first time she’s heard him laugh this year. “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Draco smirks, leaning into Harry’s side as they walk like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Absolutely not. Who would eat all the chocolates mother insists on sending me every week?” There’s a fondness on his face that Lucy doesn’t ever recall seeing. It’s unnerving, in a way.
But then Harry laughs. Again. And Lucy thinks that, maybe, this newfound friendship isn’t so bad after all.
Lucy’s sat outside, open books surrounding her as she finishes off her Transfiguration essay whilst soaking up the last rays of late October sun. She’d thought that she was alone, choosing to sit near the Quidditch pitch away from other students choosing to make the most of the warm evening. But that theory is quickly dismissed when she hears voices drifting closer.
Well, one voice actually.
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me that the great Harry Potter,” Draco speaks with an exaggerative tone, no doubt pulling a smug face, “is scared of a little friendly competition.” Harry says nothing, watching Draco as he circles him, the Slytherin throwing his arms out in a carefree manner, a wide grin on his face. The change in him is, perhaps, the most drastic since last year. This Draco, the joyful, caring, only slightly mean Draco, is nothing like the Draco she remembers. The sullen, spiteful boy is no more.
She can’t say she misses him.
“Come on,” Draco pushes again, shoving a broom towards Harry. “It’s been ages since I’ve flown. I know you miss it, too.”
There’s a pause and Lucy wonders whether Harry will take the bait.
He does. Grabbing the broom and shooting a glare at Draco, piercing green eyes barely visible underneath his hood. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on this, considering you’re gonna lose and all.” he teases, and Draco gets this ridiculously pleased look on his face as if that’s exactly the answer he was waiting for.
“Ha! You wish, Potter.”
“I don’t need to wish,” Harry says, already throwing a leg over his broom. He glances over his shoulder at Draco. “I know.” And then he’s off, pushing up into the air with a practised ease. Lucy wonders how he manages it; whenever she returns to Hogwarts she finds herself having to relearn how to fly every damn time.
“No fair!” Draco cries, chasing off after him at a frightening speed. “You cheated, Potter!”
“What’re you gonna do about it, Malfoy?” Harry goads, swooping through the air with a laugh that bounces around the pitch.
Draco’s responding laugh is dark. “Just you wait.”
Lucy remains seated on the grass, watching them chase each other around the pitch with no real goal in mind, and can’t help but smile. It’s reassuring to know that, after everything that happened, even those who experienced the worst of the worst can heal, no matter how slow of a process it may be.
Watching as Harry flies around with, seemingly, not a care in the world right at this very moment, the wind pushing his beloved hood down to reveal a head of messy black hair and a smile spread across his face, Lucy figures that, eventually, everyone will heal.
Her smile doesn’t shift as she gathers up her books, bundling them under her arms and heading back inside, leaving the two boys to enjoy their night in peace.
“I don’t understand it.” Emily huffs, pushing scrambled egg around her plate mindlessly.
“It is a little odd,” Jeremy agrees. Lucy frowns, shoving toast in her mouth and following their gazes over to the eighth years’ table.
“What is?” she asks, reaching for her cup. They both grimace at her.
“Ew, Luce,” Jeremy wrinkles his nose, “did your mother never teach you to swallow before you speak?”
Lucy shrugs, taking a gulp of pumpkin juice. “Probably. I just never listened.” Her friends roll their eyes at her. To change to subject, Lucy points discreetly towards the table they’d been staring at. “What’s so odd?”
“Potter and Malfoy.” Emily explains, waving her fork in their general direction. Lucy’s gaze follows it, and she’s not that surprised to find Harry and Draco sitting side by side. Draco is engrossed in a book, his breakfast pretty much forgotten, whilst Harry chats idly with his friends. He looks glum today but the hood is down, so Lucy supposes that’s progress. Right?
“They’re friends. What’s wrong with that?”
“The fact that they’re friends!” Jeremy says, wafting his arms around and almost knocking over his own juice.
“Well they’ve been through a lot together.” Lucy states, “It makes sense that they’d grow closer. The whole school has.”
“Yeah,” Emily says slowly, as if she thinks Lucy is stupid, “but didn’t they used to be mortal enemies?!”
Lucy shrugs, taking another bite of toast. “So what? That was mostly because of the war. And Malfoy’s father. Without them, what’s to say the two don’t actually have a lot in common?”
Her friends are quiet for a moment as they consider this. Eventually, Jeremy hums. “I guess you’re right.” He stabs his eggs with a little too much aggression. “Still freaks me out, though.”
Lucy rolls her eyes kind naturedly at him, bumping her shoulder into his and making Emily laugh when he manages to shove a forkful of egg in his nose. She ignores his bitching as he reaches for a napkin, shifting her focus towards the eighth years’ table to find Harry now resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. Draco spares a moment to glance down at him, the glimmer of a smile gracing his face before he returns to his book. He does drop a hand from said book, though, which mysteriously disappears underneath the table and causes an almost identical smile to pass over Harry’s face, if only for a fleeting moment.
Yeah, maybe those two getting along (well, more than just getting along; they’re clearly close friends at this point) is a little odd but Lucy can’t help but find it sweet, too.
Lucy’s walking down the corridor, heading back to the Ravenclaw common room, when she spots Harry not too far away. She finds herself edging closer to the wall on instinct, only noticing when her arms brushes against the stone and scares her half to death.
She knows it’s stupid; Harry isn’t a bad person, chances of him causing her any harm are basically non-existent. Hell, he actually smiled at her once – that megawatt smile of his – back in her first year. It’s the new look. The never ending wardrobe of black hoodies and baggy jeans. The darkness of his eyes now, the life almost sucked out of them – only made more prominent with the black eyeliner framing them. He reminds her of the edgy kids that used to hang out in her neighbourhood back home. They always gave her the creeps. She could never quite figure out why.
Today, he has his hands tucked deep in his pockets, his head dipped to avoid any unwanted attention. Not that it helps, there’s still a sea of hushed whispers that follow him as he passes by the other students.
Lucy tries not to stare, keeping her own head ducked but peeking out through her fringe as he draws nearer.
And then, as if literally appearing out of nowhere despite there being wards up to stop that very thing, a familiar head of white blond hair manifests beside him. Draco loops his arm through Harry’s to no protests, his own attire of a cream jumper and sleek black trousers a stark contrast to Harry’s, and falls perfectly into step with him.
Lucy wonders absently if Draco has some sort of magical bell hidden on his person. Because Harry has been jumpy around others ever since school started up again, flinching whenever somebody got too close without proper warning and just generally preferring to keep his distance. Even from his classmates. And, yet, she’s not once witnessed him react that way towards Draco.
She watches as Draco leans in to whisper something in Harry’s ear, causing Harry’s glum mood to break as a smile takes hold of him, starting out miniscule but growing as Draco continues to speak. He seems to lean his body more into Draco’s, letting Draco share his weight, and Draco appears completely unbothered by this, his own smile brightening at the sight of Harry’s.
As the two of them pass by Lucy, she keeps herself close to the wall. They don’t even pay her any mind.
She shakes herself, gripping her books tighter to her chest and picking up her pace. She has a game of chess waiting for her back in the common room.
“Pass me a chocolate frog.” Jeremy says, holding out a hand from where he’s sprawled out across the grass. Lucy does, throwing it over Emily’s head who grumbles about knocking her even though neither of them touched her. She always gets like this whenever she’s drawing.
They’ve been sat out here for about an hour now, soaking up the late afternoon sun. From where’s she’s sat, Lucy can see two familiar figures not too far away with seemingly the same idea as them. Sprawled along the grass, leant back on his elbows with his shirt sleeves rolled up, is Draco Malfoy. His white blond hair glimmers underneath the sunlight, almost blindingly so. He looks ethereal, the long line of his neck on display as he tilts his head back to stare up at the clear blue sky.
In his lap rests an infamous head of black locks.
From this distance, Lucy can’t quite tell if Harry is dozing or not but he hasn’t moved in a fair while. Either way, he looks immensely comfortable on Draco and the latter doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
In fact, he seems to be attempting to prolong their peace for as long as possible if the way that he waves away a group of giddy second years is anything the go by. Harry doesn’t appear to notice them (but, then again, if his eyes are closed then that’s hardly a surprise). They’ve barely gotten within a few feet of them when Draco lifts a hand and lazily shoos them away with a flick of his wrist, their faces stricken as they realise they’re not going to get to talk to The Chosen One today.
Once they’ve disappeared, an unmistakable smirk takes hold of Draco’s face and he guides his hand down to run his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry, in response, buries closer to Draco’s stomach.
“You’re seriously gonna tell me there’s nothing weird about that?” Jeremy pipes up, clearly having witnessed the same interaction as Lucy.
Lucy rolls her eyes and throws a vomit Bertie Bott’s bean at his face. “Shut up.”
“Do you mind?” Draco’s voice is quiet but, considering the entire library is quiet, it carries across from the table next to Lucy’s with ease. She glances up from her books to see him sat alone and wonders if he’s truly gone and lost his mind.
But then he frowns, drops his quill to the table and glares to his left, growling, “Stop it. I’m trying to study here, in case you couldn’t see. Honestly, why do you even bother wearing those ridiculous glasses?”
There’s a pause, and something that sounds like a mumbled response coming out of literal thin air, and then Lucy spies a heated flush rise up Draco’s face. He kicks his leg out to the side and it appears to hit something. He looks pretty satisfied at that.
He goes back to his books, then, but the peace doesn’t last long. Not even five minutes later, he’s letting out another annoyed groan.
“Seriously, would you stop that?” he asks, before throwing his hands up in the air and adding, “You’re staring! I can feel your eyes burning into the back of my neck!”
There’s another hushed reply and Lucy’s eyes dart frantically around the surrounding area but she can’t see a single other person nearby.
Draco huffs, and he gets this almost fond smile on his face as he turns to his left again. This time when he speaks, his voice is gentle, “You forget that I know you.”
Another huff, louder and this time not from Draco, and then Lucy watches in bewilderment as the air beside Draco seems to ripple before a rather dishevelled looking Harry Potter materialises in the seat next to him. Her jaw drops, and she glances around to see if she’s being pranked but no. The two boys aren’t even looking her way, she doubts they even realise she’s here.
“Also,” Draco says, smirking at Harry and not looking the least bit surprised over his presence, “you breathe awfully loud.”
Harry snorts at that, reaching out to playfully punch Draco’s arm. Draco’s quicker, though, and his fingers encircle Harry’s wrist before he can make contact, giving a sharp tug and causing Harry to topple forward. In one swift motion, Draco is pulling Harry into a soft kiss, a smile plastered to his face.
Harry lets out an honest to God giggle, his hands trapped between his and Draco’s chests, and Lucy would laugh herself if she weren’t afraid to get caught spying; the Saviour of the Wizarding World giggling, with his hair a mess and smudged eyeliner, a glimpse of Slytherin green peeking out from underneath his signature black hoodie as he kisses Draco Malfoy.
She wonders what his adoring fans would make of this scene.
They’d probably cause a riot. Which is unnecessary, really, since the two of them look happier than she thinks she’s ever seen them.
Deciding to give them a little privacy, Lucy returns her focus back to her books and the Muggle Studies essay she has to finish, smiling to herself as she hears the two of them bickering lovingly in the background.