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It started, like many things did between them, with a bathroom.
It was the end of the semester of his spell theory apprenticeship through the wizarding side of Oxford and he was supposed to present his semester’s work in front of the rest of his peers. It was the first real chance for him to monumentally screw up, and he had lost his nerve. Now, potentially his lunch.
Draco felt another roil of nausea roll through his stomach, and he was beading out into a cold sweat. People already had doubts he should be allowed in the extremely competitive programme in the first place. Bloody golden girl Hermione Granger had been accepted, for Merlin’s sake! He couldn’t possibly fail yet; he had barely even started. There were so many things he wanted to do here.
He had just closed his eyes in an effort to stop himself from vomiting from the nerves, hands clenched tightly on the sink countertop, when he heard the heavy door open. When the offending visitor’s footsteps did not echo off the black and white linoleum, Draco opened his eyes again.
Just to meet the familiar green eyes of Harry blasted Potter.
He seemed frozen in indecision, unsure if he was going to stay or go, clad in the same ratty jeans and jumper combo that Draco had spotted him in on the rare occasions across the campus, poking at treacle tart and grinning with Granger. Apparently, if the rumors were true, he was vying after a professor’s spot at Hogwarts and had followed her to Oxford to get all the proper credentialing. He was a fool to think he’d need them; Draco was certain any magical institution or business would hire him with or without credentials. Everyone said so.
“I can fail perfectly fine without your assistance, Potter,” he said, though it lacked the bite he’d hoped to come across.
That seemed to break the freeze Potter was in. Draco would be a fool to think he wasn’t also sensing the familiarity of the situation they had found themselves in, and had seemed to gather his wits about him now that Draco wasn’t throwing Unforgivables in his direction like last time.
“Wasn’t my intention,” he grinned at him in the mirror, a goofy little lopsided thing. It seemed wrong to be directed at Draco.
A squeal and other unholy cacophonous sound rang out from outside the loo. Potter’s eyes widened as he quickly stepped inside and shut the door. “Do you mind if I’m in here for a moment? Just my luck that there’s some big event that has this place crawling with people who I’m pretty sure aren’t actually students here. Knew I should’ve cast that Notice-Me-Not.”
Draco turned to face Potter, shooting a quick lock to the bathroom door as he backed into the countertop. It was cool under his touch. “Far be it from me to decline the Saviour. Fair warning, however, I’m fairly certain I will sick up at a moment’s notice.”
Potter’s shoe squeaked against the linoleum as he toed at a square. There was silence for a beat, and then, “You’re in Hermione’s major, right? She’s been wicked stressed about her final. Says the board can be real arses about it.”
“They can. Terribly chauvinistic and pretentious, the lot of them. I sincerely doubt my mentor knows his arse from a teakettle, so I might as well be teaching the syllabus to myself. And here I thought Hogwarts had been bad,” Draco agreed, silently seething with the injustice of it all while trying to remain calm and not go sailing entirely off the deep end.
That elicited a small chuckle from Potter. “Well, for what it’s worth, Malfoy, you have nothing to worry about. You’ve always been so effortlessly perfect at this sort of thing. It’s a little annoying, actually.”
The sound of chatter grew louder outside the loo, then dissipated like it had never been there in the first place. It was as quiet as Draco had found it.
Potter put his ear to it, then flicked the lock unlocked. “Don’t sweat it so much. They’d be a fool to fail you. Thanks again for letting me hide here. I’ll go ahead and get out of your way so you can prepare instead of panic.”
Then he was gone, visage turning watery and blurry as his Notice-Me-Not took effect.
Somehow, their short conversation left Draco feeling a bit less like an imposter. It was familiarity in a dauntingly newfound situation, and it worked. Worked better than any sort of breathing exercise or cheering charm. He didn’t even get a chance to thank Potter for the blessed distraction he had been until weeks later.
It had been in passing, stood in line at the coffee shop near campus. Draco looked away from the overhead menu just in time to make direct eye contact with Potter. He had just collected his paper bag and coffee cup to leave, and a wide smile blossomed on his face when he realized Draco was staring at him.
Please don’t walk over here, his brain begged. Potter walked over anyway.
“Hermione told me you passed. Didn’t doubt it for a second, for the record,” Potter said, all dark curls and devilishly easy grin.
Draco blinked out of the surprised stupor he found himself in, and nodded curtly. “Ah, yes. Didn’t get rid of me yet, much to the director’s chagrin.”
He paused for a moment. Draco could… do this. All he had to do was thank Potter. A simple, easy thank you. He could certainly do that. Make amends and be a bigger person and all that rubbish.
“Thank you for distracting me. It helped, oddly enough,” Draco finished, licking at his dry lips and averting his eyes. The tension in his hands near unbearable as they remained clenched and stiff at his sides.
Potter did not poke fun. He did not sneer or scoff. He just smiled. “Really glad to hear that, Malfoy. I’m serious. You ought to tell me about your thesis sometime. ‘Mione tried to, but it all went right over my head.”
“You want to know about my thesis?” Draco’s brow furrowed. He must’ve looked entirely too skeptical, because Harry Potter laughed. Actually laughed.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious, you know!” Potter exclaimed, then fumbled in his paper bag until he pulled out a small pastry box. “Look, they gave me extra treacle tart, and my next class doesn’t start for two hours. Are you free right now?”
Draco’s eyes widened in slight horror. “Well, yes, but…”
“Great! I know just the spot.”
“My… coffee…” Draco trailed off, gesturing in the vague direction of the line.
Luck, as it would seem, was never quite on his side. The line moved forward a step, and Draco went to sidestep around Potter. He nodded once, hoping he would get the message and desist immediately, but that hope was killed rather quickly.
“I’ll wait.”
“You’ll wait?” Draco turned to look back at him.
Potter nodded, “I’ll wait.”
There wasn’t anything else he could possibly say that didn’t make him sound like a total arse, so Draco took a deep breath. “The treacle tart better make it worth it.”
Potter grinned widely again. “I’m sure it will.”