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Harry whirls his head around, and his jaw promptly joins his stomach on said floor.
Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The same Draco Malfoy who had been his nemesis all throughout school, even more so than Voldemort, who had always gone out of his way to try and get Harry’s attention and torment him. The same Draco Malfoy who left the country with his mother after Harry helped pardon him at his trial, who Harry assumed had spent the last decade likely eating fancy food and drinking expensive wine and doing whatever it is that rich purebloods do. Draco Malfoy, who Harry had not heard a peep out of since they were 18, and who Harry thought would probably never return to England.
Draco Malfoy, who is looking down at him, still almost a head taller, and looking like the most infuriatingly arrogant walking wet dream.
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Bookmark Notes:
2:48am, Monday