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Draco was never great with words.
Well that wasn’t entirely true. He was great at anything from writing essays to his snide remarks to those beneath him. However the one thing he was never great at was verbalizing his feelings. He had no need to tell people those things, they weren’t simply deserving of it. Though at some point, not that Draco can really pinpoint when (If he had to guess he would assume at some point between his 3rd or 4th year), one of his preferred outlets for his bubbling emotions outside of making fun of the gryffindor first years with his friends, ended up being poetry.
Draco wasn’t exactly pleased with this outcome. Poetry was a weak, feminine, and uncharacteristic thing to do for him, but once he began he just couldn’t stop. Sometimes he didn’t even truly realize he began writing until he snapped out of that heightened moment of creativity to realize all his pent up emotions had found their way onto a spare piece of parchment.
of course Draco would never admit he even wrote poetry, If word ever got out that THE Draco Malfoy, the heir of the Malfoy family, stooped so low as to write sappy poetry? Well at that point he would have had no choice but run away and never show his face again.. or hex everyone who gave him the wrong look.
Other than the occasional disgust he felt towards himself for writing such nonsense, he never truly had any issues with it. Until some certain characteristics found their way into his writing. It was subtle things at first, a mention of the smell of wood and broom polish, perhaps a mention of green eyes here and there. Though none of it clicked to Draco, until it got to where his writing was nothing but specifics. A mention of a kind yet strained smile to a lengthy poem about a boy and his bravery, only then these things added up to what or who Draco had been thinking of.
Harry potter. The result of this realization was Draco throwing away everything he had written in the past… Well honestly whatever he found of his. Of course that didn’t stop his thoughts, especially not since he realized who he had been writing about.
He had hoped, prayed even, that he had gotten rid of any evidence of his unruly and truthfully disgusting written down thoughts. That proved unfortunately useless considering soon after his attempts to rid of the evidence, he was quickly made aware that someone had found a (in hindsight very egotistical and foolishly) signed parchment of one of his especially lengthy poems about Hogwarts golden boy. Not only did someone find it, but someone, most likely in a fit of revenge for Dracos cruel words, Made copies of his paper and was quick to let EVERYONE see it. The professors did their best to do damage control but the intended effect was already done.
Draco crossed his fingers that Potter was too stupid to connect the dots but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. He was doing as he always did swiftly walking to his next class, and definitely normally avoiding looking at anyone who snickered at him as he passed, It was absolutely normal for him to not come up with a rude remark to those blatantly laughing at him. He had nearly reached where he was heading when he heard a rather desperate sounding “Malfoy!” from down the hall.
As much as he hated to admit it he recognized the voice instantly, and because of his oh so wonderful hearing, it took him barely a second to start speed walking PAST his destination to get away from that godforsaken gryffindor. But of course Potter, having the level of perseverance he does, was swiftly on his tail no matter how many turns he took.
“Malfoy wait!” He heard the quick footsteps nearly catch up behind him. For a few moments Draco thought about it, why was he running? What was he scared of, that Potter was going to tell him off and call him a freak? Hah! Draco Malfoy could care less about what that attention absorbed twat thought about him! Draco knew he was above him anyways.
But when he turned to face the boy with a deep scowl, every part of him felt smaller, especially when he saw the sincere and nearly concerned look that Potter had on his face.
“Merlins sake… You walk–“ Potter paused to let in a much needed deep breath “– A LOT faster than I anticipated.” His hand raked through his hair for a moment before clearing his throat
“What do you want Potter.” Draco’s voice seemed laced with venom, though of course underneath he knew there was no true bite to his words. “Unlike you I don’t get away with everything and I have to be on time to my classes.” He sneered at the boy infront of him
“Well actually I do not get– Wait don’t try and get me off track! I um.” He seemed to hesitate, which while it wasn’t shocking, it did throw off Draco a bit. “I saw your um… writing.”
Even though Draco knew practically everyone saw that paper he couldn’t help but grimace when his heart seemed to drop a bit at that. “And so what? If you think your minuscule opinion even matters a fraction of a bit to me you–“
“I think it was really sweet.”
Oh. That wasnt a response he was expecting. The hand that he had accusingly pointed at Potters chest faltered for a second before shooting down to Dracos side. His mouth seemed dry in that moment, especially when Potter gave him a lopsided sort of grin
“..Well unfortunately for you that I don’t care what you have to say.” His words were harsh sure, but there was no true bite behind them, and Potter seemed to understand that.
“Yeah well. I think you should keep it up. You could probably win a lot of hearts with that skill.” There was a glint of something more in his eye when he said that. Draco didn’t have the strength to unpack that right now. He simply remained silent, a frown on his lips as he and Potter shared almost a staring contest for a few seconds before finally he spoke up again. “I guess thats it um. I’ll let you get to class then.”
Potter was swift to turn on his heels and backtrack where he came from. Draco stood there in what he could only describe as a bit of shock.
What game was this boy playing? There was no way he had just complimented Draco and his poem without some ulterior motive. He wouldn’t let this golden boy get to him of course, he never did.. probably.
He would have to just continue on, definitely not spending any of his waking moments over analyzing what was said.