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He felt like cursing.
It was dark and cold outside. Draco’s cheek and right arm hurt. Quite fitting, Draco was feeling gloomy at the moment. He took a deep breath. He hated this moment he had to knock the door, because instantly Narcissa Malfoy opened the door, and, taking one look at Draco, she broke down.
“Oh my Dragon!” his mother said with a hug and glassy eyes, which was felt so heart-wrenching for his horrible mess of feeling. And then she brushed away the hair from his forehead with her tender, trembling hand, and swiped his cheek, her thumb smeared with red. And then she stared him dead in the eyes. “Next time let me buy the things.”
And let her hurt? “No way.”
Life after the war was difficult. Against every expectation, Harry Potter testified Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco himself. Lucius was convicted, but at least Draco and his mother could still visit him every weekend. Draco initially thought that they would be living rather peacefully, -if also a bit lonely- in reclusive and solitary Malfoy Manor, with everyone ignored the Malfoys. Or, if he went out to public places, people would simply scattered away with hateful glare and statement such as, “Don’t go anywhere near him. He is one of the disgusting people who ruined our world,” to their kids.
What a hopeful thought.
Every house elf in Malfoy Manor was freed by the Ministry.
Every company which had always supplied Malfoy’s daily groceries stopped sending their necessity, even though Draco had offered to double the payment. So, everytime Draco had to go out to buy things himself, he was hexed here and there. Everytime he went.
Sometimes he was lucky he could block the hexes. Sometimes he could heal himself before he arrived home, with a charm or two. Sometimes he couldn’t.
Sometimes he was lucky he could bring groceries home, eventhough accompanied with more pitying stare he hated the most, and less galleon he should have still had in his pocket.
And when luck was not on his side at all, he would come home injured and empty handed.
Like now.
And on those times, she would be broken, crying and hugging him, and casting the best healing charm she could attempt. She was becoming so thin, and Draco felt so helpless for her, for she deserved none of this.
His eyes always felt so hot and watery in those days.
**
So, when Minerva McGonnagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, sent invitations to seventh years students –before the war took place—to return to Hogwarts to finish their education, Narcissa held the invitation like a piece of gold and wrote a reply on Draco’s behalf. While Draco didn’t even know Hogwarts had already been reconstructed.
“I decline.”
Swift and elegant as ever, Narcissa turned to Draco, disapproving stare full on display.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco. This is the best option we’ve got.”
Even her owl stared at him disapprovingly.
“And leave you alone? No.”
“Draco…” she took some steps and stopped in front of Draco. “You will go to Hogwarts. You will learn and try your best at everything. You will be strong, and you will build your own future.”
It was both empowering and overwhelming, how much she trusted Draco. “But… you?”
“I will go to France. I’ll stay in our residence there-“
“But-“
“If you’re worried that I’ll be alone and defenseless-” she said with rising confidence, “Let me say that I have friends, Draco, and you know I’m perfectly able to protect myself, don’t you?”
The image of his mother lying to the Dark Lord projected itself in Draco’s mind. Narcissa inhaled, determination set in her eyes. “Do this for me, please, Dragon.”
He looked, and looked at her. She was thin, almost fragile. But her grace and her confidence made her strong. Her love was so visible. She was so beautiful. So what else Draco could do other than tilted his head in defeat and nodded in forced agreement when her eyes were finally simmering with life and future for the first time since the war?
**
So, to Hogwarts he went. He was still reluctant to admit that she had been right, life had marginally gotten better for them both. From the letters, Narcissa seemed to genuinely accept the peaceful life in France, eventhough she had to triple her effort to be able to see Lucius every Sunday. And for Draco, he had realized that even if hateful glares and nasty insults were still directed to him everywhere he went, but he realized he was here as a student, like most other else. When in public places he sometimes thought that maybe he deserved those hexes, -because adult wizards were free to do what they wanted, including hexing a boy to satisfy their desire to pay revenge for their loss- but as student, he and everyone else would be punished for such actions. So, eventhough that general knowledge wasn’t diminishing the hexes thrown at him by much, it was enough to make Draco thought that he had better -not pay hexes with hexes, or he would be in very big trouble- but also not just accept the hexes. He had the right to defend himself.
Well, defending himself he was.
Ex-Death Eater wanting to be treated the same way as other students did sound too hopeful, as some teachers blatantly hated him, so he taught himself a wide range of Defense spells, verbal and nonverbal, wand and even wandless.
“Cast a spell at me,” he asked Blaise one afternoon in a corridor after Arithmancy. He had asked him often enough that now Blaise merely raised an eyebrow at his request instead of barreling him with, “I don’t know how you deign this as an effective method for practice. Haven’t you had enough hexes thrown at you for ‘practice’?”
And just like everytime, Pansy joined in. “You know Blaise won’t have the heart,” she said, smirking like it was a bad thing someone didn’t have a heart to hurt his friend. “Here, let me-“
“Nothing too vicious!” Draco’s eyes went wide in alarm. The three of them had been friends, and now the same hatred they received after the war made them bond in a new level of trust. Still, their precious friendship didn’t make Pansy soft.
“Incendio!” but it wasn’t Pansy’s voice, and burning sensation shot the back of Draco’s left arm.
“Damn it!” Draco hissed in pain as a group of sixth-year Ravenclaws sauntered to them.
“You ask for it yourself, don’t you? I’m just helping,” one kid, apparently the leader, smirked at him in a daring pose. “And that’s nothing compared to what you’ve done, nasty Malfoy, a disgrace to Wizarding World.”
In some complicated way, he thanked God for making the injury really hurt that he didn’t focus on the verbal abuse. Insult like that, -personal and full of loathing as if they had known him before- was hard to ignore.
And since it was Draco’s mission to ignore every insult, it wouldn’t make any good for him to stop now.
But one swift look at Pansy and Blaise told him that they didn’t contemplate the same conclusion. One confirmation from him and he knew for sure that they would counter-attack. And that would be a stupid move to make, since whatever the three of them would say about who attacked first, the teachers wouldn’t likely to believe them, then… fulfilling most of the students demand… Expelled they would.
No. Draco had tried so hard keeping his promise to his mother to make it through NEWTS, so why made that stupid move and gave everyone the satisfaction?
“Pansy, Blaise, can you heal it?” Draco twisted his left arm in front of them, to distract them both, and instantly, Pansy was focused on the gash and Blaise was on Draco’s wince. Both of them tried to cast a healing charm but none of them worked. Unfortunately, Draco’s own attempt had the same outcome.
“Ugh. I’m so focused on defense that I forget learning healing charms!” Draco complained. “Protego!” he casted as one of the kids tried to surreptitiously attack Draco again.
But Pansy suddenly laughed so hard and that had Draco suspect the kids had casted Rictusempra at her, before she said, “Of all things you could complain about your injury, you would complain about ‘forget learning healing charms’? The hell, Draco, you’re turning into a dork!”
What? Draco couldn’t not glaring and yelling, “The nerve you’ve got!” eventhough that certainly earned a looking-up-to-sky-to-wonder-‘Why-am-I-friends-with-these-two?’ Blaise, complete with an exasperated huff.
“Come on, we need to see Madam Pomfrey before you hex each other off,” Blaise said, herding them away. But the kids apparently hadn’t been satisfied yet.
“Hey, we’re not done here!”
They ignored them, and maybe it infuriated them even more, so they casted another hex.
Draco’s reflexes made him step back behind Pansy and Blaise, and cast a shield charm for the three of them. With one last blank look to the kids, he turned and left them stunned, just in time to hide his grimace, because, damn his left arm hurt! Still, he was not to be seen not cool in front of kids.
Beside him, his friends gushed in excitement.
“Wow, that’s quite good reflexes-“
“Not to mention fast, and impressive-“
“How could you still have the time to cast the-“
“And you’re protecting us like-“
But Draco didn’t hear much of it. Stopped in the midst of his grimace, his eyes met the stares of the Golden Trio. Since when they had been there? Draco wasn’t sure, but the way Potter stared at his injured arm had indicated that they had seen enough. Well, whatever they’d seen, Draco was sure they couldn’t do anything to expel him.
He was only using defensive spells! That was why he was so adamant in improving his defense spells. He could protect himself and people he cared, without furthermore hazarding his position in current society.
So, no, they couldn’t expel him… He wished.
But then Potter’s eyes darted to his wand. Oh… his wand. He hadn’t said his gratitude when Potter returned his wand right after the trial. Actually, he didn’t think he’d said anything coherent because Potter. Testified. Him. Draco had felt so hopeless in the days before the trial that when he was actually free from any charge, he had been confused and out of balance.
Why would Potter do that?
He wondered now that they stared right at each other, if his face reflected the thousand questions he had in mind, just like Potter’s did.
“Draco?” Finally realizing Draco wasn’t responding to them, Blaise and Pansy turned their heads, following Draco’s gaze. And as fast as that, they took big steps ahead, disappearing themselves from the Golden Trio’s stares, and called Draco behind the curve of the wall. “Draco, you need to hurry!”
Well, maybe things were better left unsaid. Draco wasn’t sure that he really wanted to know why Potter helped him, anyway. Maybe the answer would be so bitter, and Draco wasn’t a masochist. That was the reason he never asked. But Draco wasn’t ungrateful. Potter testified him, that was a fact. So, he did the one good deed he knew Potter had always wanted before the war. For Draco to leave him alone. He almost wanted to talk to Potter, months ago when he first arrived here. To apologize. To thank him. To maybe, become friends. Until he reminisced their past, and realized that they were beyond repair. He was beyond repair. Talking to him wouldn’t give Potter anything. So… see? Draco was doing a good thing.
Potter’s scrutiny inspired new good thing Draco could do, though. He nodded his head in thankful manner, rendering Weasley and Granger gaping. With Potter’s gaze following him, he left, out of their sight, to Pansy and Blaise. He walked with peace, relieved that he finally could express some gratitude toward Potter. Maybe that was the last thing Potter would ever personally received from Draco before NEWTS came and then finally graduated, and then went out to their own separate ways and would never meet again.
Well, that was thought for later. Right now, he was effing injured!
**
War wasn’t something people would easily forget. Draco understood that. But really, he’d been so tired of ignoring commentaries such as “All purebloods are Death Eaters,” or “Every Slytherin will turn out to be evil, one way or another.”
Draco of course couldn’t really blame people, he was once a firm believer that Muggleborns were contemptible. But now that the war had turned his table, Draco knew for a fact that holding onto such blind paradigm would result nothing but bad thing. There could even be another war for all Draco knew! Draco suspected people who still thought in bigoted point-of-view hadn’t really fought in the war.
Because, how could a flock of third-year Gryffindors taunted a lone girl just because the girl was a first-year Slytherin?
“That is such a shite!” Blaise commented. The three of them were still stunned on their spot, unbelieving, because come on, the girl wasn’t even doing anything which could provoke the Gryffindors! Or was it now a sin for a Slytherin to walk alone in a corridor?
Most of the kids were raising their hands, imitating Dementors, like a bunch of idiots who didn’t even consider what if anyone else went pass that corridor. But there was a kid raising his wand in attacking manner.
Blaise was right. Shite.
“Protego!” Draco quickly casted it to the girl. Slytherins needed to protect each other.
“But Draco,” Pansy said and grabbed his arm, eyebrows furrowed in worry as Draco was about to saunter to the group. “We can’t…” a pause. But she changed her mind and smiled a wicked grin. “Yes, finally! Let’s kick some asses!”
So, no, Draco wouldn’t let Pansy in charge.
They strode on as the kid seemed like he was repeating his unaffecting curse to the little girl.
“Hey, what are you doing?!”
The kids turned their gazes to him, then the boy sneered, “Look, more wizardry’s failure.” And as the three of them stopped in front of them, the boy took a step forward. “You don’t belong here, you know? You don’t even belong to any world. Levicorpus!”
“Protego!”
That one curse initiated the others. He knew Pansy and Blaise could manage, but Draco got more of hexes thrown to him, so he really would like to show off a bit. He lifted his wand, casting verbal spell. And then just swished his wand to block a curse. Nonverbal. And then just stared, saying none and raising none, to conjure an invisible shield wall to protect them four. Nonverbal and wandless spell.
The kids just stood with mouths open as they watched their curses easily got lost. Draco stepped forward to the boy in front of him. He raised his hand and opened his palm elegantly, and shortly, the boy’s wand was in his palm. The boy gasped. “What I call a failure is people who still think in their bigoted ways, like the war we just went through teach them nothing at all.”
He thrust the wand in front of the boy and gave him a Malfoy Glare. “So you’d better stop disturbing other people. Understand?”
The boy nodded, terrified.
“Good. Now take this and go!”
It took five seconds for the Griffindors to run clear from Draco’s sight.
Blaise broke the silence. “Wow Draco, finally all your silly efforts have paid off. You can be scary without even lifting a wand.”
“But Dracooo…” Pansy whined. “How could you make those boys disperse? We haven’t even pinch a single skin!”
Draco smiled inwardly. Pansy didn’t need to know how much her protest made him want to preen. But, scratch that, he grinned smugly to his friends.
“Good job Pans. Draco’s going to be an insufferable smug prat now, thanks to you,” Blaise said as the three of them started to move. But a timid “Mr. Malfoy,” stopped Draco. He turned and found the little girl glanced shyly under her eyelashes.
“Thank you.”
It was nothing, really. But the way the girl’s cheeks reddened, the way she shuffled her feet, the way shy smile etched on her lips, like she meant the gratitude, it made him strangely a little warm.
“You’re welcome,” Draco said, just so he wouldn’t do something mushy like smiling. “And if another time anyone ever gives you a hard time and no one else is around to help you, just remember to think your cleverest way to cast Expelliarmus.”
She nodded vehemently, and then quickly ran. He sighed. Kids and awkward leavings. Until she stopped abruptly and turned around.
“And Mr. Malfoy?”
He raised an eyebrow, and she replied by tilting her head a bit, trying to indicate something by her eyes, and then ran off again. He almost sighed again. Slytherin and subtlety. So he raised his gaze to the direction the girl had pointed, just to cure his curiousness, and-
Heck, he felt like mortified. Since when the Golden Trio had been watching?
For a moment they just stood there, waiting for the first party to move. Then finally, the Chosen One stepped forward.
“Malfoy.” Their eye contact never broke. “A word?”
That, surely, wasn’t a surprise for Draco only. Granger’s gaze snapped to Potter, and Weasley, -no subtlety at all- protested. “Harry!”
“You can head off first. I’ll see you later?”
It seemed like Draco had to be more unnerved, because Granger smiled mischievously at Potter. And Weasley censored himself after sputtering, “What? But you-“
He couldn’t see what Potter did that made Granger smile more softly and Weasley narrow his eyes suspiciously to Potter, to him, then back to Potter. But after Granger grabbed her boyfriend’s hand, Weasley finally relented and allowed himself to be dragged away.
And as Potter turned, his gaze didn’t immediately find Draco’s, but rather fixedly behind him. Draco turned, and sure, Pansy and Blaise were looking at him with worry. So, Potter really wanted to talk, then.
“Catch you later,” Draco said. The worryingly matching ‘Are-you-sure-?’ stare he got from them would surely look amusing any other day, but for now, he just felt thankful for the care. So he nodded reassuringly.
Eventhough he didn’t feel sure about talking to Potter at all.
Potter started. “That spell you casted, that was very… outstanding.”
What? Was that even a compliment? Draco didn’t know what Potter intended, so Draco chose to play the safe side. “Thanks.”
It seemed like that was the right answer to Potter because he visibly relaxed and mentioned to move across the corridor. Draco was just thankful that the corridor was now empty so he didn’t need to be seen following Potter. He had his pride to be hold. Now they were both facing Whomping Willow. Ripple of the lake reflected the reddish colour from the cloud, and small breezes occasionally came. Draco sure enjoyed autumn.
When Draco turned his head, Potter had already stared at him.
“Where did you learn it?”
Draco’s anticipation apparently wasn’t strong enough because that still stung a bit. Of course that was what Potter thought. Draco’s face fell into impassive mask.
“I’m not learning from someone evil, nor in illegal place and time." But heck, he couldn't be calm being accused like that. "It’s not even an offensive spell!”
“No!” Potter sounded rather panicked. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, what I mean is that your defense is really good!”
Despite himself, he felt a little bit consoled by Potter’s rambling.
“There’s a lot of ‘mean’ in that sentence.”
Potter’s face fell but with his eyes still holding Draco’s, Draco could see the embarrassment and yet expectation in those expression. “You know what I mean…”
Now really Draco wanted to laugh, because Merlin, Potter's emotion was transparent!
But he was not in the mood to mock anyone.
“Well, apparently I'm not as good as the Chosen One,” he replied instead, with an intention of half-mocking, eventhough sure there was a little bit of bitterness there.
“Ugh, I hate that name.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Only you would hate such title.”
“Try become me for a day and see how much you’ll like it,” Potter replied in self-condescending tone.
Draco wrinkled his nose in mock insult. “And have that heap of mess as my hair? No, thanks.”
Potter snorted. “Prat.” But Potter was smiling. Smiling. Draco started to think that feeling unnerved was tentatively better than feeling pushed off balance because Draco had never imagined the day Harry Potter smiled at him.
“You’ve changed so much,” Potter continued, softer, eyes staring at Draco intensely. So, no, Draco wasn’t pushed, he was thrown off balance.
“Is that what you’ve been trying to say, Potter?”
“Yes… No? I don’t know… I watched you, you know. Because people kept saying I shouldn’t give your wand-“ Potter’s eyes flickered to Draco’s wand. “-back to you. That I should’ve kept it for myself. But seeing you, I’m glad of my decision. You’re doing great. I’m glad you and I prove those people wrong.”
If Draco was dumbstruck after that statement, that was perfectly normal. Hearing the fact that people hated Draco from someone else, -from Potter above it all- made his gut dropped a bit, but hearing that he proved people wrong… surprisingly it felt pleasant…
But Draco didn’t want to dwell too much on his feeling.
“If I were you, I’d take the wand for myself.” Draco didn’t know why he said it. But now he’d said it, he knew he wouldn’t give his wand back, ever. Heck, he’d take a duel if he had to.
Potter smiled his crooked smile. “But you wouldn’t want to be me, so, no problem there.”
Shocked at the reference, Draco snorted a smile. But Potter blinked, both eyebrows raised, and continued to stare. Draco couldn’t help but stare back. Those were such vivid green eyes, and just by looking at those, he knew Potter was thinking something.
“Be careful of your staring.” He didn’t like how his voice sounded a little bit breathy. “People can just Legilimens you.”
“Sorry,” Potter said without averting his gaze. What a daring-- “Just… you astonish me. I didn’t even think you would join Eighth Year, but here you are. You’re strong, and you won't let anger take over you everytime people giving you shite. You care deeply for your people-“
“I’m not,” Draco interrupted before he could be more overwhelmed. “I’m not a good man, Potter.”
“But you change for the better. You- I’m glad you do…” Potter said slowly, but it seemed like he caught himself, because he hurriedly added, “And I said it not because anything! I just thought that after the war, I’d do what I want to do, I’d speak what I want to say, which I’m doing now. Too many regrets I’ve spent my time wondering what if I did something differently… and I decided that I would not want to go through the same regret again and again. So… that’s it. I’m just being honest.”
Potter was rambling when he was nervous, but “Good,” Draco voiced his thought as calmly as possible. “Because if I am to be honest too, I don’t know how to respond that.”
Thankfully Potter took the lighter side of the conversation. “The day that I make Draco Malfoy speechless.”
“It sounds rather petty than The Day Harry Potter Defeated The Dark Lord.”
Potter laughed. Laughed! Potter seriously needed more humor in his life. “It sounds ridiculous if you put it like that.” But then Potter’s eyes flickered to Draco’s wand again. “Maybe I can do it because of the wand,” Potter humbly said.
And the images of Potter in Fiendfyre, Potter in courtroom, Potter in battlefield… a nod as a half-arsed gratitude was a far cry from what Potter deserved. “Maybe it’s not.” Draco said softly. “Thank you for…” saving him? Testifying him? Returning his wand? Having this conversation? “Uhm..." Ugh, why was it so hard to say? "Well... Thank you…” Draco finished lamely, hoping Potter got the disguised details.
Potter’s smile was beaming.
“You’re welcome. See, if you’re not being a Giant Git , you’re actually quite okay.”
What? Was that really Potter’s response of Draco’s heartfelt gratitude? “Prat!” Draco said rather indignantly.
“Still a jerk, I see. But I really think that we can be friends. What do you think? Can we start over?” Potter extended his hand.
Of all strangest things that happened today…
Draco stared at Potter’s hand… and laughed.
Potter’s face fell and his hand dropped a bit. “What?” Draco could tell the hurt and humiliation in that. But the hand was still there.
“What day is it? Or is this a different universe?” Draco said between his laughter. “I didn’t ever see a day that you would want to be my friend.”
“But I’m asking you now, so better shake my hand, Malfoy!”
“No!”
“You won’t take my hand just for revenge on that first time, aren’t you?”
“No offense, but I don’t think I could stand all of your…” Draco paused for dramatic effect. “Gryffindorism.”
“You’re doing fine a moment ago!”
“It was just a conversation.”
“You don’t want to take my hand? Fine!” Potter threw his hand in frustration. “But I will change your mind. You will be my friend, eventually.”
Draco shook his head, eventhough he was smiling in amusement. He should go soon before this became too absurd. “You’re a strange one, Potter,” Draco said as leaving.
“That’s a way to get to your head,” Potter replied.
He couldn’t believe Potter just said that. Draco laughed, and as he turned his head, Potter was still in his spot, grinning that beaming smile which was brightening when he saw Draco’s smile. And at Draco’s shaking head, Potter was nodding.
As he continued to leave, Draco was still smiling for a long time.
***
And then Potter was everywhere. Great Hall, Potions, Defense Against Dark Arts, Library, Quidditch pitch. Whenever he was with Blaise and Pansy, Potter would be coming from the opposite corridor with Weasley and Granger. Then he’d be giving small smiles and nod to Blaise and Pansy then greeting Draco with amicable “See you in History,” or mocking “Get the hang of latest Muggle Studies homework, Malfoy?” While their friends had been giving them strange looks, that was still acceptable than those encounters full of distrust back then.
But there was something that bothered Draco. Somehow Potter could easily find Draco when he was on his own. And then Draco would tell Potter to go away but Potter would refuse, and then they would talk, and joke, and laugh.
And Potter’s laugh was contagious. And Potter’s presence was addictive. And when he found himself smiling all the way back to Slytherin’s dungeon after successfully made Potter laugh, heart beating fast like he was on highest spirit, he knew he was doomed.
***
“I can’t believe Headmistress McGonagall make us do this!” Pansy complains.
“Do we really have to?” Blaise asks, but Draco can sense the protest in it. Because heck, Draco is complaining too.
Here they are, scattered in the middle of Muggle’s tube station. Draco can tolerate muggle’s fascination towards technology, he is even willing to learn and appreciate muggle’s weird culture. But that was in class.
Draco’s so not ready for real study trip. With real muggles around. God knows any Slytherin –including himself—can easily slip and then… Bam, they’d be charged for using magic outside Wizarding World.
Then it will be Headmistress’ fault.
Dean Thomas’ loud chatter catches Draco’s attention. Between wizards’ look of wary or awe, and muggles’ look of casualness, -not knowing there are wizards and witches walking among them- Thomas looks so at ease, smiling, laughing, and talking to a man and woman who are definitely muggles. But then Draco finds the resemblances, he figures that they’re Thomas' parents.
Of course.
A pang of longing hits Draco. He will write letters to his Mother and Father really soon after this disastrous “study trip” ends.
It’s the moment when the Thomas horde enters the compartment, -or tube, for all Draco knows- that Draco finds he’s stopped moving, too focused on watching them to realize that his friends are no longer beside him. He looks around but they’re nowhere in sight.
Crap!
He alternates between cursing them for being inattentive or himself for losing awareness in a world he’s never put a step on.
And he feels like cursing again when a voice warns, -strangely without any howler or Sonorus, how can muggle do that?- that the tube will be automatically closed soon. Really, muggle world doesn’t give him a rest.
He walks as fast as he can to the nearest door, hoping that he’ll be in the same compartment with his friends. Once he’s inside, he looks right and left, and there they are, sitting on one edge of the seats, in the middle of the compartment-
“This seat is taken!” Pansy says harshly to a muggle who seems like going to sit beside her. Seeing the man moves rather far away, he must be receiving Pansy’s Glare. Nonetheless, knowing Pansy, the real motive that she reserves a seat for Draco is not because she’s truly considerate, but because she doesn’t want to sit next to muggle, seeing how Blaise is on the corner, where any muggle would be free to stand near the door.
As the door behind him is closed, Draco starts to move to them as his eyes stray to the wizards next to his spot-
No!
If he hadn’t got the time to curse them, it seems like the perfect time now, because no, he will not sit next to the Golden Trio, or Potter particularly!
“Move,” Draco hisses surreptitiously towards Blaise, who seems like willing to move for Draco. But Pansy accepts none. She drapes her hand on Blaise’s chest and says, “I save you a seat, you ungrateful arse. You better sit down!”
Draco scowls. She is wicked and not subtle, for a moment like this moment he’s not sure if she is undeserving or perfect in Slytherin.
As if on cue, the tube starts moving, making Draco staggers a bit. That causes some snickers, -definitely from witches- and those make Draco realizes that Pansy had created a scene so that they are now attracting attention. So, after a quick glance to Headmistress -who surprisingly sits in the same compartment as them and unsurprisingly displeased with their attitude-, Draco sits.
He pointedly tries to ignore Potter, who watches him with transparent humor. Instead, he darts his eyes around, and finds blatant gasps and glares as he sits next to Potter. Even muggles join the shocked silence and join staring them, eventhough surely they don’t know what’s wrong. Huh, well, for his schoolmates, Potter and him must be quite a sight.
He can’t help reminiscing the past two days though.
“Let’s take a seat together, so you won’t be lost,” Potter said back then. They were strangely studying together, Potter facing him, just the two of the on the secluded spot in the library. Half panicking, -because Draco shouldn’t have enjoyed studying alone with Potter- half expecting a mock, -because Potter still did anything to annoy him- Draco bit back.
“And let you mock me for my lacking knowledge of muggle world? I’m smarter than that.”
Seeing the somehow crestfallen face on Potter almost made Draco take his words back, but after a better thinking, if just by looking at Potter’s disappointed face could make Draco think something stupid, what about sitting next to him to an unknown world? Draco would be more doomed.
And seeing now he is sitting next to Potter, he is certain this is universe getting him back.
“Why is everyone staring at them?” a young girl asks in whisper. But since the silence and the girl is just sitting across him, Draco can hear her, thank you very much.
“If not counting Vol-“ Neville Longbottom, who happens to sit between the girl and Padma Patil, cencored himself. But Draco can’t help but glare scathingly when Longbottom continues, “They’re the biggest enemy in school.”
He only hears “What school-“ before he turns his head as his ribs are being poked.
“What?”
And Potter’s eyes are so green, alight with… concern? But then Potter is smirking up at him. the lips, pink and soft and-
“Scared, Malfoy?”
Draco is doomed.
“You wish!” Draco answers with a scowl, annoyed at why he has to have feelings for this prat.
“Then why is your posture so stiff?”
“My perfect posture shouldn’t even be in your concern, don’t you think?”
Then he is shoved from the left and he’ll collide with Potter if he doesn’t catch him.
He can die right here and now from mortification.
“Pansy!” Draco whips his head and hisses.
“You’re just so noisy I can’t snuggle with Blaise properly!” she replies, whispering harshly. Then she smiles innocently –wickedly?—to Draco and snuggles more into Blaise, who is chuckling and wraps his hands around her. Pansy shuffles to get evenmore comfortable, pushing Draco more to Potter. He’s tempted to strangle her. Draco starts to doubt whether Pansy doesn’t know his internal crisis because this feels too convenient.
“And how is that behavior go along with you two dating won’t affect our friendship?” Draco argues, indirect-quoting Pansy's statement a few months ago.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
That’s Pansy’s clear dismissal, leaving Draco much aware of warm sides where he’s pressed to Potter. And to his pleas- horror, Potter is shoved evenmore against him.
“Hermione-“ Potter almost whines.
“Sorry, Harry. Can you shove a little bit? I’m-“ Evenmore pressed. “Good. Thanks.”
Draco can’t help but glance at Granger, and to his horror, she and Weasley are basically in the same position as Blaise and Pans. The soft smiles and soft touches and innocent hair-carding and general pleasantness leaves Draco longs for it too. Too sad the other people he wants to share it to is someone Draco should not have a feeling for, because it is impossible, the person is too perfect for Draco, eventhough he’s kind of jerk. Too sad too, the person is just right beside him.
They fall into iced silence again. People start to return to their own business, eventhough some pairs of eyes are still watching them, like suspicious that Draco will do something to their precious hero, or envy that he could sit next to their savior.
“I hate those stares, too,” Potter whispers, only for Draco to hear. Somehow Potter understands him. And this is why Draco’s life is difficult. Just by simple words Potter can make Draco’s feeling crash like a thunderstorm. Jumbling here and there messily. Draco turns to say anything nonsense, but Potter already stares at him, a thousand feeling swirling intensely in Potter’s eyes.
“Sleep, it will help.”
Staring to those eyes, Draco finds himself nods.
Potter adjusts himself to be more comfortable, as Draco turns back. He’s not at all relaxed. What if the obsessive fans of Harry Potter attack him? What if the muggle attack him? Or worse, them?
He glances around, and finding most muggles are playing with their… tablet? How could that be called ‘tablet’? Isn’t tablet the compact medicines wrapped in plastic- Okay, that’s useless thought. His classmates are mostly already dozing off, others are watching the walls through the window, others are chatting. Pansy, Blaise, Weasley, and Granger blatantly sleep cuddling.
Something heavy drops on his shoulder and he feels like frozen in his spot. He’s sure he’s wide eyed and slacken faced, but, how can he not?
Draco looks down carefully, not moving his shoulder an inch but still hoping this is not what he’s thinking.
Potter is sleeping. On his shoulder.
Why’s universe so cruel? Draco can see Potter’s cheek, smooth and defined. Potter’s eyelashes, stark and dark as his hair. And Potter’s hair, unruly and falling over Potter’s eyelids Draco wants to caress it away…
Peacefully Potter sleeps. Like he trust the world won’t harm him. Like he trust Draco won’t harm him. Those thought alone bombards Draco with dangerous thoughts. What will happen if Draco let himself trust Potter entirely? Will they be real friends? What if Draco let himself feel? Will he ever dare to show any of his feelings to Potter? What if Mother and Father find out? Will they hate him? What if Potter only wants to be friends?
But… what if Potter reciprocates?
It’s always Potter who comes when Draco’s alone, right?
All the questions make Draco dizzy. Draco should really just sleep.
He moves to lean on his seat, as careful as he can because he doesn’t want Potter to wake up, and closes his eyes. Vaguely he hears giggles.
“You said they are enemies?” the girl asks in whisper.
“But… they… are?” Longbottom’s reply is self-questioning.
“But look! They’re so cute together! I am so shipping them!”
“Shipping?!”
“Why are you so horrified? Oh, don’t tell me you-“
Draco blocks them out. From the intrigued tone she speaks, Draco’s sure she won’t send Potter and him away with a ship. Is this how it feels, knowing when to trust? Draco supposes it feels good. And Draco just wants to sleep. So, for this once, he lets himself feel. The quietness is now bearable. The spots where he’s pressed to Potter feel warm. The even breath is calming. Draco supposes he feels nice. His heart beating faster feels good too. Maybe he’s not going to sleep soon, but it is nice to relax. And just this once, he allows his head drop on top of Potter’s. And lets happiness dance in his chest.
Strong arms wrap around his waist and stomach, and the head on his shoulder drops closer to his chest. And Draco muses this shouldn’t be easy. They shouldn’t be this near. Draco shouldn’t be this comfortable.
But he lets himself feel once again. Feel a smile stretched against his chest. Feel Potter’s heart beating fast, as frantic as Draco’s own.
And he lets himself be happy, once again.
***
“I’m soo taking a picture!”
Click!
***