Chapter Text
(First Year)
Draco was early, as always. His father made sure of it.
“Appearances and first impressions are everything,” his father told him when he asked. “We are purebloods. We are superior to everyone else.”
Draco knew not to say any more when his father was like this. He loved his father. Lucius was his idol, the person Draco aspired to be when he grew up. He looked up to him in every way he could, but he never seemed quite good enough for him. It only made Draco want to please him more.
Anyways, they were early to platform 9 ¾ on Draco’s first day to Hogwarts. A magical boarding school for young wizards and witches to learn the art of magic. The only reason Draco was attending was because his mother had insisted. It was closer than Durmstrang, which was where Lucius had wanted him to go. Draco had wanted to go too, mainly because of his father. The reason his father didn’t want him going to Hogwarts was the fact that they welcomed filthy Muggleborns, and half-bloods. Disgusting. Mudbloods and half-bloods shouldn’t even have been wizards. It was absolute shit. The only proper wizards were purebloods, his father said. And Draco believed him. Because what else could you do when your father and idol was telling you his opinion?
Draco had been thoroughly warned about who to make friends with. His father’s constant nagging had annoyed his mother so much she had just met up with some pureblood contacts they knew, who had kids going to Hogwarts in the same year as Draco, and, for lack of a better word, appointed them as Draco’s new friends. That had settled Lucius down a bit, but Draco was left feeling rather controlled. A feeling that he had gotten used to over the years.
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle finally arrived, other students had started to file in through the wall that served as a door to the platform, and the train whistle could be heard in the distance. Vincent, or Crabbe as he liked to be called, was a rather large boy, all brawn, no brains, as he heard his mother say once. Crabbe had thin dark hair on his head and eyebrows that constantly made him look like he was frowning.
“Crabbe, over here.” Draco was not allowed to raise his voice much louder than a casual speaking tone, as his father said it was ‘impolite’. Unfortunately, Crabbe was a little hard of hearing and didn’t look up, until his mother quietly pointed Draco out to her son.
“Draco! Hi.”
Draco smiled a polite greeting, looking around to where he last saw Gregory Goyle. Gregory was of the same build as Crabbe. Short, stocky and no brains. He had sandy curls, cut short and a square jaw.
In Draco’s opinion, it might have been easier if he just called the both of them by their last names. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. It sounded good.
By the time Draco found Goyle, the train had pulled up. The boys got on the train, Draco remembering another reason why his father had made them come so early. To choose the best compartment.
As they wandered up and down the carriage, looking for a good one, someone on the platform caught his eye. A boy with dark unruly hair and emerald eyes, who he’d first met at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, in Diagon Alley. Of course he noticed him. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since that day. He could remember the disappointed look on the boy’s face, though, when the first thing Draco asked was if he was a Pureblood. But it wasn’t Draco’s fault. He had to make sure this boy was father-approved.
“Draco!” Goyle called out to him, “How about this one?”
“Looks good, Goyle.” Draco replied, tearing his eyes away from the boy.
***
Draco lay in his bed in the Slytherin dorms, trying to get to sleep. He was thinking about a certain boy. The first train ride. He was seventeen now, and still, Harry Potter was haunting his thoughts. He was such a brat. Trying to mess up everything to do with Draco.
They’d had a fight in the hallways again today, when that Weasley boy tried to play a prank on him and Potter had snickered behind his hand. Draco hated him. That’s why he was thinking about him every night, since the time on the train when Potter stood up to him and declined his invitation to be friends.
Draco did understand that he might have seemed a bit stuck up when they first met in Diagon Alley, and Draco did know better now after the Muggle incident. And he might’ve seemed a bit of a jerk that time on the train, insulting Ronald Weasley, but at the time, he’d thought the Weasleys’ were a disgusting family, because they always associated with Muggles freely and happily, and were considered a disgrace to the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It wasn’t his fault.
What am I thinking???? Draco slapped himself. Stop making excuses for Potter to be friends with you. You hate him, he hates you, that’s how things are.
***
Draco woke the next morning, feeling not even the slightest bit rested. Stupid Potter, ruining his life without even realising. He didn’t think anyone really had that ability, but in the past seven years, Draco had been proven wrong. Harry Potter had constantly been ruining his life. Every waking moment, he had been teasing, pranking, and laughing with those stupid friends of his. And every night, he had been haunting Draco’s nightmares.
***
Draco was complaining. Again. Blaise rolled his eyes. When would that boy ever shut up about Potter? He caught Pansy’s eye behind Draco’s back, and gave her a look, like, please help, but she just grinned at him and tapped Draco on the shoulder.
“Oh, Draco, I see Millicent over there. I’m just going to say hi.” Draco nodded a dismissal, then turned back to Blaise, continuing his rant about Potter. Blaise looked over to where Pansy had disappeared with Millicent. He caught her eye, glaring.
***
(Fourth Year, just after the Triwizard Tournament)
“Draco.”
Draco’s head snapped up at the sound of his father’s disappointed voice, but he didn’t turn around.
“Draco, I hope you have a good explanation for this.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Father.”
“Stop LYING!” Lucius’ heavy breathing was the only sound that broke the silence after that last command. He rarely raised his voice. “I know it must’ve been you. The only people who knew about it were the inner circle, and you. I was right. We should never have let a fourteen year old run around in our business. The Dark Lord is furious.” There was a hint of fear in the older man’s voice.
“Father. I know I shouldn’t have replaced the portkey, but is this really who you want to be?” Draco didn’t want to admit he actually didn’t want to lose Potter to The Dark Lord. He didn’t understand it, so he just pushed it down and convinced himself it was his father he wanted to save.
“Don’t you understand what you’ve done?” Draco failed to hear the note of panic in his father’s tone.
“Father, it was for your own g-”
“YOU’VE JUST DOOMED US. There are so many people who support The Dark Lord. And you said you wanted to save me, but don’t you realise? There are some times when people don’t want to be saved. He’s going to kill us. Like he killed that boy.”
Lucius stood there for a moment, then turned around to go.
“Wait, Father-”
“No. I don’t want to hear it.” He left.
Draco stared after him. Not realising this was the last moment he would be safe.
***
“What’s this?” Draco glanced down at his timetable, after finally having shut up about Potter to eat his breakfast and get ready for the day.
“It looks like you’ve been picked for tutoring.” Blaise leaned over his shoulder to get a closer look. “I don’t have it. Pansy?”
“No, I don’t have it either.” The short girl bent over her timetable to check.
“Looks like you’re on your own then, Draco” Blaise sighed.
Draco glared at the two of them, but it wasn’t really their fault. They couldn’t help it if Professor McGonagall chose him for this ‘tutoring’ programme but not them.
The morning wore on lazily, the sun shining through the windows of the classroom, bright, but cold. Draco was feeling tired by his second class because of the lack of sleep, and blamed it on Potter. He felt he had every right to. It was Potter’s fault he was so annoying, and therefore, always on Draco’s mind. Not Draco's fault.
***
When he walked into the tutoring classroom, that afternoon, Draco had no idea what to expect. He sure didn’t think it would be this. He was late, because he had been trialling some new potions method with Professor Snape, so by the time he got to class, everyone was already seated.
Potter snickered in the chair beside Draco, shifting in his seat. Draco edged away, not wanting to get too close to the boy in his nightmares, but he was already on the edge of his seat and almost lost his balance. Potter glanced over and started laughing harder. Draco felt his face go pink.
“Is there something you want to share with us, Potter?” McGonagall asked sharply, looking up from her work.
“Nothing, just Malfoy almost falling off his seat.” Potter snickered. The class all looked at Draco, whose whole face was burning up.
“I’m going to get you for this, Potter.” he grumbled, under his breath.
“I’m starting to doubt Albus’ idea about putting you together, but what’s done, is done. Just please stop disrupting the class, boys.”
Draco gave Potter the biggest side eye he could manage, then tried to sit up in his chair and ignore him for the rest of the lesson, but whatever fate it was that put them together, wasn’t done with them.
“Could everyone please look at the person next to them? That person is who you’re going to be working with when you tutor the first years in whichever subject is required. You will read up on all the subjects together and practice with each other. That may mean seeing each other in the holidays too, if you don’t want to be behind and get detention.”
Draco’s mouth fell open(metaphorically. In reality, he was just glowering). How much time did he have to spend with Potter exactly? Potter didn’t have the same control, though, and his mouth really did fall open, his cheeks flushing pink.
“Professor, I think there’s been a mistake-” he started, but McGonagall cut him off.
“There have been no mistakes. I don’t usually say this, but, suck it up, Mr. Potter.”
Draco smirked at him, trying to hold back a laugh. Instead of looking angry though, Potter gave him this weird face. Draco gave him a slightly puzzled face in return, but quickly brought his guard up again. He turned to face the front, with a face seemingly carved of stone, and eyes sharp enough to shoot daggers at McGonagall.
He wouldn’t be able to last a week without trying to kill Potter.
***
(Fourth Year, after Voldemort moved into Malfoy Manor)
There was screaming coming from the basement again. Draco was huddled in his room, wishing he knew where his father and mother were. The other Death Eaters had taken them two weeks ago, when He first arrived, and Draco hadn’t seen them since. The only time he could sneak out was at dawn, when it was dark enough to cover him, but light enough to see. And that was when the Death Eaters patrolling the grounds changed shifts. So Draco would sneak out his window onto the roof, then leap off and run.
The first morning, he wasn’t sure where he should go. So he ran to London. With his robes and everything. He wandered for a bit, looking lost, until he found a music shop. The sign said it was closed, but Draco, too stressed at the time to understand what that meant, barged right in.
There was someone at the counter. An elderly man in his sixties or seventies, with gray hair and a long beard. He was short with a pot belly and wore a grey knitted sweater.
“Hello, there! Who are you?” he called from behind the desk. “ You know the store’s closed right now, right?”
Draco stopped short and swore, remembering the sign at the front of the shop.
“Woah, I’ll tolerate a stranger barging in at five in the morning, but swearing in my shop is going a bit far, don’t you think?”
“I’m really sorry! I just- I’m running- Not safe-” Draco gave up trying to find words and settled for an overwhelmed expression.
“Calm down, calm down. Something’s obviously wrong. You don’t have to tell me. Come have a cup of tea.”
The old muggle gave him a sympathetic look, which would’ve once made Draco slap him for daring to even speak to him, but Draco was too afraid to care. The screaming every night, the fear he might not see his mother and father ever again, the fear whenever the Death Eaters came to speak to him, that he might have to talk to The Dark Lord, that his father had spilled who really switched the portkey at the Triwizard Tournament to the real cup and spoiled The Dark Lord’s plans of getting his power back.
He wasn’t sure what was happening and he hadn’t been able to go back to Hogwarts. And he kind of missed the annoying presence of Potter (but he wasn’t ready to admit that quite yet).
“Do you have Moroccan Mint green tea with cloves?”
The old man’s name turned out to be Maurice. He was a nice guy. Draco spent time hanging out with him every morning he could. Drinking tea and discussing music and old composers. It was good to almost forget for an hour about the terror and aloneness of his home.
It didn’t last though. It never did.
***
“No, the spell is Partus Temporus.”
Potter was being stubborn. Draco wanted to punch him. They were sitting in the library, trying to memorise spells to teach their first group of first years that afternoon.
So far, they had fought over just about everything. Which table to sit at, which seat they were sitting in (they ended up on opposite sides of the table, trying to be as far from each other as possible), which books to use to study, and so on.
Draco was about to get up and ask McGonagall to swap partners with someone. In fact, thinking about it, Draco wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done it already.
“What are you talking about? It’s Partis Temporus, not Partus Temporus.” Draco stood up. “I’m going. This is stupid.”
Potter also stood up. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later. If you even turn up.” He glared at Draco, who returned his stare.
A poor witch walking into the library, took one look at them, turned around with an alarmed look on her face, and left.
That afternoon, Draco arrived in the library early, just to spite Potter, and found him sitting in Draco’s seat. They had planned where to sit earlier to avoid complications, but obviously this didn’t matter to Potter.
“Get out of my seat.”
Draco glared at him. Potter just shot that stupid grin at him, and Draco ignored the somersault his stomach did, passing it off for anger.
So he went and sat down in his seat. On top of Potter. He had meant to annoy him, but the second they touched, he realised this had been a huge mistake.
Potter tensed as Draco slid onto the edge of the seat, so they were sharing the chair, pressed up against each other. Draco glanced at Potter, expecting to see annoyance on his face, but instead there was an unreadable expression on his face. His cheekbones had turned bright pink. Draco felt his own face mirrored, when Potter turned toward him. Draco was about to get up when a little first year walked in and sat in the seat across from them.
“Are you two my new tutors?” he asked. Draco was frozen, unable to speak. For once, Potter regained his composure before him.
“Um, yes. Are you Finn?”
“Yeah. My friend Luca is coming too, but he got held up by the Professor.”
Some girls filed in next and took the remaining seats between Draco’s side of his and Potter’s chair, and Finn, leaving Draco with no chance to get up and move seats inconspicuously. There was enough room on the chair for both of them but Draco was squished against the side, trying and failing to not touch Potter.
Potter, however, seemed to be ignoring the fact that they were touching. Or trying to. Draco could see the way he tensed when he shifted and his cheeks were flushed pink on his cute round face. His emerald coloured eyes sparkled, catching the sunlight and making him look-
What the fuck am I THINKING???? Draco caught himself before he could finish his thought. What the fuck is going on?
***
Harry left the library that afternoon in a panic. That had been the most awkward half an hour of his life. Stupid Malfoy was so oblivious. He ran up to his dorm room and threw himself down on the bed. Harry felt warmth gather in his face again at the memory of Malfoy’s slim leg pressed up against his own.
“You all good there, Harry?” Ron asked, entering the room. “I’m just helping Hermione with some- Oh. Malfoy.” He stopped dead as Harry raised his face toward him.
“Yep. He is such a stupid, oblivious, hot, dumbass.”
“Harry, this crush really needs to calm down. Like I get it. Malfoy’s got good looks, but please, you’ve been crushing on him since you were 14.”
“I just- he did something really stupid today. Look, I’ll come down and tell both you and Hermione.”
“Yep. Just what she needs. More distractions. Seriously though, we just want the best for you.”
“I know.” Harry muttered as they headed down the staircase.
***
(Fifth Year, Hogwarts starts)
The last time Draco went to have tea with Maurice, was a dark morning. There wasn’t much cloud, and the stars were showing. Draco was feeling better. He was amazed no one had found out he was leaving the house at five every morning and returning again. He should’ve known that they knew all along.
It was three weeks into the new Hogwarts year. There was a strange amount of people on the street, and Draco almost ran into a tall person wearing a long dark cloak. He looked up in surprise and then panic.
“Professor McGonagall!” Draco gasped.
“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall jumped. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. What happened??”
“I- I- I don’t- It’s-” Draco stammered, suddenly feeling the urge to cry.
“Come. We’ll have a cup of tea. I know this excellent music shop that sells tea." She pulled Draco into a hug and guided him to Maurice’s Music, the very same shop Draco had been escaping to every morning. He would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious.
A loud noise, like someone stepping on a twig, sounded behind them. Draco whirled around on the alert. He didn’t have his wand, because that was one of the first things the Death Eaters took when they arrived. They said it was for his own good. As if he was a child.
A tall figure in a dark cloak was standing in the shadows behind a building.
“We have to get out of here. Quickly.” Draco turned toward McGonagall as she pulled him by his arm into the shop.
“It wasn’t. Was it?”
McGonagall didn’t even need to know what he was trying to say. “We’ll talk in a bit. When we have some privacy.”
Maurice was admittedly a bit surprised to see two of his favorite customers together, but if McGonagall was surprised, she didn’t show it. Maurice gave them some tea and left them in the back room to talk in private.
As it turned out, the Ministry of Magic had been searching for Draco for some time. Their sources had tipped off that there would be some Death Eaters at the small town on the outskirts of London that morning, though they weren’t sure why. Draco explained that they were residing in the Malfoy mansion, and had his parents held somewhere. He told her about the screaming every night, the silence that was deafening, how his house had changed. It felt like a weight off his shoulders.
The professor told him that he would be staying with Harry Potter and Sirius Black at their place because that was the safest place they could think of. They wouldn’t be able to promise about all his stuff, but they would try.
“We’re going to try and invade and kick them out. It probably won’t work, but it could.”
They heard the sound of glass breaking.
McGonagall drew in a sharp breath and pulled out her wand. “Time to leave.”
***
The sunlight filtered through the library windows. Draco and Potter hadn’t made the mistake of sitting in the same chair this time, and opted for sitting next to each other (it wasn’t their fault, Draco had been late again and all the other chairs were taken).
There were three boys in the group, Finn Ashcroft, Cole Blackthorne, and Luca Valerius. They were pretty sweet once you got to know them.
Cole was a Slytherin who had a gothic look about him, with his thick jet-black hair hanging over his black eyes, which he lined with a dark eyeliner. He had a surprisingly good sense of humor.
Finn was a small skinny Ravenclaw with brown hair and beautiful dark blue eyes, which made Draco just the slightest bit jealous. He was really smart and able to pick up on things quickly.
Luca was a pixie-like boy with sandy blonde hair and cheeky hazel eyes. His ears were even slightly pointed at the tips.
The girls, however, were less fun to teach. They seemed to fall asleep.
Rose Le Fay was a tall girl, still a head and a half shorter than Draco, but half a head taller than Cole, the tallest boy. She had long dark hair in tight coils down her back, and her green eyes were a shade darker than Potter’s.
Not that Draco was thinking about Potter. He still hated him.
Sophie Williams was a Gryffindor who Potter seemed to know. She had warm chocolate coloured eyes and yellow-blonde hair to her shoulders. She always had a smile on her face.
Lucia Daegon was a Slytherin with a sour attitude. She had silvery hair and a sharp face which was less pretty and more like ‘don’t mess with me’. Her eyes were ice blue and cold. She spent most of the lesson staring at the wall.
The second lesson was going better than the first. So far nobody had punched anyone else.
“So, your name is Malfoy?” Sophie surprised him by directing a question at him
“No, I’m Draco.”
“That’s weird. Harry calls you Malfoy. Actually, come to think of it, you call him Potter. Why don’t you call him Harry?”
Draco thought about it for a minute. It just felt too intimate. He couldn’t say ‘Harry’. It’s not something people who hate each other say.
“Um, it doesn’t matter,” he told her, avoiding the question. “You can call him Harry if you want.”
“Ok, then. Do I call you Malfoy, or Draco?”
“Draco.”
Draco then turned on Harry.
“Why are you making things difficult for the kids? Why can’t you just say my name like anyone else?”
Harry- damn it. Stupid kids. Potter turned away, visibly blushing.
“I- I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right. I mean, we’ve called each other by our last names for years.”
He looked back at Draco, and Draco started. He looked gorgeous. His hair was ruffled like always, curling against his forehead in adorable curls. His eyes were in the sunlight, showing off the greens, browns and gold specks in them. His cheeks were flushed adorably, and his tan skin set the whole look off perfectly.
Har- Potter looked at him with a funny expression Draco couldn’t begin to read if he tried, but at that moment, he wanted to. He wanted to untangle every look, to remember every detail of Harry’s face.
“Um, excuse me? I’m stuck on question five.” Luca tapped Harry on the shoulder. The two boys quickly looked away from each other, blushing furiously.
Har- Potter - damn it - looked frozen. His body was tense, his face bright red. He met Luca’s eyes and regained his composure.
“Yes, yes of course I can help,” he said, starting to work through the question.
Luca looked up over Potter’s head and met Draco’s eyes. He winked. Draco felt the blood rush to his face once again and looked away. Luca knew something was up, before Draco even knew what it was.
Sleep that night was hard to come by. Draco lay awake thinking about whatever devil had made him feel like that. Like Harry Potter was more than an enemy or even a friend. Much more.