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It was unbecoming to skulk about, but it definitely counted as extenuating circumstances. There was little he could do, he reasoned with himself, doubling back towards the front of the Post Office for the umpteenth time, before stopping and turning away once more. Oh for Merlin's sake! Draco huffed, clenching his jaw as he stormed through the doors, envelope in hand.
Joining the queue for stamps, Draco refused to chicken out. Firstly, his mother would be disappointed. So would Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Vector, who had helped with his application. Secondly, he really really wanted the volunteer placement at the Great Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH) for Children. Draco steadied his breath as the queue moved. It had been ages since he had wanted something selfish for himself, and the truth was that he was afraid that he wasn’t good enough, and that the rejection would leave too big a blow on him.
"Second class mail please," Draco said politely, handing over his application when he finally reached the counter. He handed over the sweaty pile of coins he had prepared beforehand even while the lady was weighing his item. He had researched the postal system thoroughly, and could recite the entire price table if required.
Thanking the lady, Draco was awashed with an incredible sense of relief as he left the hall. He should have just done it earlier! With another item finally off his self-improvement list, even the weather felt better. Draco felt his mood lift significantly as he walked towards the bus stop. Hiking his bag idly, Draco’s steps were light and unhurried.
Disrupted by an Order fuelled by the righteous fury of a bunch of slighted Gryffindors, the revenge-bent Ministry had folded, and his trial had concluded swiftly by the end of May. Draco had returned alone to a Manor left in shambles by the Dark Lord's henchmen.
Calling back the entire team of house elves sent away to the Malfoy properties worldwide for their own safety, Draco had tried to remake the house to the best of his abilities while penning lengthy letters of apology to his schoolmates. However sincere his words were, they were as ineffectual as his efforts in rehabilitating the Manor.
Draco and his elves had removed as many of the Dark curses as they could, and had sent the furniture into storage, recycling other sets from past Malfoys. When his mother was finally released (due to Potter's testimony), Draco was simultaneously eased by her return, yet ashamed by the little progress he had made in rehabilitating his birth home.
On the surface, the Manor looked different – the furniture was lighter coloured, and the windows were widened to allow more light in. However, without professional assistance, it was impossible to dispel the niggling sense of unease under one's skin from the lingering traces of malevolent Dark magic once performed in the Manor.
After nights of haunting the halls along with the spectres of the war, Draco was relieved when his mother expressed an interest in moving to one of their properties on the continent. Disregarding the option to follow, he has decided to remain in England regardless of the open disdain he received – to go into self-exile was too cowardly, even for him. In the days he had spent in confinement awaiting his trial, Draco had made up his mind to find the person he was – beyond the duties of his lineage, and beyond the teachings of his father. He had sworn to redeem the Malfoy name as his family had done multiple times before, only that he would do it right this time.
After bidding his mother goodbye, Draco took up residence in one of their London properties with Worry and Sneezy. Having raised him, the elves had been adequately disgruntled at being banished from the Manor during the war, and the idea of leaving Draco alone once more had not sat well.
Draco had been grateful for their presence when he had settled into Hampstead. It had taken him a while to orient himself and assimilate into Muggle culture, but he had eventually managed.
Taking the London underground never ceased to be awe inspiring – from working the ticketing machines to watching the trains pull up, Draco had come to the fact that Muggles were incredibly intelligent individuals with great forays into the field of component design, a branch of study they called Engineering.
Draco had spent an entire month with resources from the Public Library, reading about Muggle engineering, Muggle post, Muggle science, Muggle literature, psychology, and learning to use the internet at the shared computers. The access to a varied source of novel information was terribly exciting for Draco, and it was reminiscent of his childhood where Worry would have to bribe him to put down his books and turn in.
Most importantly, the possibilities of Muggle London were infinite to Draco – where he had received dark looks and poor service in the Wizarding quarter, Muggle London was always receptive to him. In his spare time, Draco had wandered about with a tourist map, hopping on buses and battling the crowds with a Muggle camera in hand.
Draco had been heading for lunch one day when he had received a recruitment flier for volunteering at GOSH. He had been exploring the convergence of Muggle and Wizarding psychology, and had been taken by the more sympathetic nature of Muggle psychology (regardless of its multiple false starts due to unfortunate bigotry). The idea of utilising his knowledge to provide support for patients and their parents appealed to him. The opportunity to interact with Muggles was also a significant boon in his quest for self-rehabilitation.
However, the realisation of his lack of qualifications for the application had left Draco in a bout of depression. He was not a team player, empathetic, particularly reliable, exceptionally compassionate, nor excellent in customer service. And to top everything off, he was at a complete lack of credible references to substantiate his character even if he chose to make up an entirely fictitious personality of himself. His godfather had been murdered by a megalomaniac, and he had orchestrated an infiltration of his school.
In a fit of insanity, he had attached the flier with his letter addressed to the Headmistress, appealing for her help. Regardless of her promise after the trials of unconditional assistance, Draco had regretted his actions instantaneously and gorged himself on the biscuits he had bought for tea with his mother.
The two days had passed in a haze of great self-loathing until a barn owl had appeared with a partially completed application form that the headmistress had somehow acquired. As if understanding his predicament, she had filled in the form with a positive slant on his academic accomplishments and character. It was also complete with references from herself and Professor Vector.
Accompanying it was a note assuring him that she felt him capable of achieving in any area he desired. Even though Bellatrix had squeezed all of his tears out of him during the war, Draco had found himself crying once more. After all, there were few things that Draco believed he deserved after the war, having brought Death Eaters to Hogwarts, and having been complicit in his inaction throughout. There were days where he would be in conflict with himself – he didn't deserve the kind words nor forgiveness, yet he desired so desperately to redeem himself and be a better person for all the times he didn't, and couldn't.
Draco now lived life on a day-to-day basis with nobody to satisfy. The freedom was immense, and he squandered it lavishly, better understanding the field of psychology, and Muggles.
Draco was still walking to the bus stop around the corner of the Post Office when his bus pulled up noisily. Closely avoiding an old man, he ran to catch the bus to Harrods where he would buy more of the biscuits that his mother liked. He also saw his mother and Pansy every week – in separate occasions of course – though sometimes they would overlap, which would be a strange experience for none of his companions but himself.
- - - - -
Draco had returned from Training and Assessment at GOSH to find Sneezy excitedly hopping about with a Hogwarts letter in hand.
"Draco be back! Sneezy be taking a letter for Draco from Hogwarts School!" The elf waved the envelope in his gloved hands.
Draco set his new batch of books from the library down in shock. He hadn't dared to hope that the Headmistress' kindness would extend to an opportunity to complete his NEWTs at Hogwarts. He thanked the elf quickly, tearing it open with uncharacteristic carelessness as he scanned through the letter.
"Would Sneezy and Worry like to follow me to Hogwarts?" Draco asked thickly when he reached the end of the letter, scaring a bit when Worry materialised behind Sneezy, eyes shiny with unshed tears.
- - - - -
Draco left his home in a blanket of stasis spells, sending his trunk ahead with Worry and Sneezy. Unlike the pair of elves, he was not unfazed by his unique status, nor excited by the prospect of exploring Hogwarts. Draco had written to the Headmistress to discuss the possibility of contracting his elves, and the Headmistress had agreed immediately, unbothered by the wage demanded by his free elves. Maybe after Dobby, the members of the Order had come to expect oddities from the Malfoy elves, which really wasn't too much of a stretch in his opinion. Despite his father's poor treatment, many of the Malfoy elves had been reluctant to leave when sent away during the war. As a free elf, Sneezy had taken to gloves quickly, and Worry really liked making garments from threads and yarn, which suited the other Malfoy elves very well. The pair didn't seem to consider that they would stick out among the Hogwarts elves, and Draco didn't quite have the heart to tell them so.
Draco had spent the past week coming to terms with his hasty decision to return to Hogwarts. He had initially been contented with the idea of independent studies for his NEWTs, comfortable in the prospect of withdrawing from the public eye for a while longer. However, the opportunity to properly redeem himself had been too good to pass up.
Draco reminded himself to breathe as he watched his reflection at the window of the bus unhappily, desperately wishing for the umpteenth time since sixth year that he could switch lives with anyone else. Maybe the Asian woman beside him, or any of the young Australian tourists laughing loudly at the front. Life would be so much simpler if so, he clenched his fists on his lap. He wouldn't be alone though, he reminded himself. Pansy, Blaise, and Greg had promised to meet at the train station so they could enter Platform Nine 3/4 together, a gesture that Draco appreciated greatly.
At a stop away from St Pancras station, Draco collected his thoughts and steeled himself, slipping into the Malfoy sang-froid. Alighting the bus, Draco's steps were unhurried, betraying nothing of his trepidation. He weaved through the crowd easily, filled with a deep sense of displacement. He could still remember the excitement he had felt when departing for Hogwarts for the first time, the puerile anticipation he used to experience like that lifetimes ago. Yet here he was, heading towards Platform Nine and 3/4 once more, without his parents.
Regardless of his thoughts, Draco felt his lips rise, in mirror of the smirks on his friends' faces.
"Been waiting forever, Draco," Greg greeted the moment he neared, pulling Draco into a crushing hug. Draco basked in the moment desperately, relishing in the solid presence of his friend.
"You'd likewise be late if you took Muggle transport, Greg," Pansy returned as she squeezed the side of Draco's waist, an arm around his back.
"No way, Draco Malfoy taking Muggle transport?" Blaise gasped theatrically.
"Bus or Underground, Draco," Pansy asked. "We're having a wager over here."
"Or Apparition," Blaise supplemented.
"Definitely not," Pansy insisted, pulling Draco along as they walked towards Platform Nine and 3/4. "You wouldn't be betting on that if you actually knew Draco properly."
"I wagered on the Underground," Greg said when they emerged on the other side.
Draco laughed at the nature of their bet. "I took the bus. There was a direct service from my house."
Pansy whooped as she collected her winnings gleefully. "For the last time, it would serve all of you well to follow my judgement," she said, an advice they had heard too many times and only followed when convenient.
Draco was laughing, weaving through the throng of people when there was a sudden commotion.
"Oh, it's the Golden Trio," Blaise remarked idly when the crowd parted to let the war heroes past.
The ill-timing of Pansy's remark with Potter's presence was not lost on Draco. He pulled his friend forward towards the train, only for her to hold her ground.
"Potter," she greeted evenly when the trio neared. "Weasley, Granger. I do hope that they'll get better when school starts." She gestured at the awestruck audience coolly. Draco squeezed her arm in comfort, acknowledging her ploy in redeeming their image. She had likewise penned a letter to Potter apologizing for suggesting the school to offer him up. In a response befitting of The Chosen One, Potter had replied that he hardly remembered the incident, and that they had all been frightened children. Pansy had broken down in relief then.
Potter merely pulled a long face, but Granger quickly agreed, "yeah, it's a bit much. Harry has the brunt of it though.” She looked at her friend in concern.
"Are you all returning to Hogwarts?" Greg suddenly asked, as Weasley began ushering them to continue walking. The geniality of the entire interaction was not lost on Draco. It was absolutely bizarre.
"Yeah. Figured that we forgot more than we learnt in the war," Weasley commented, the carelessness of it taking Draco by surprise. He looked to Potter, only to find himself already under scrutiny.
At least Potter's lack of subtlety was heartwarmingly familiar. Draco raised an eyebrow in challenge.
"Are you all returning to Hogwarts?" Potter asked, gesturing at the Slytherins before returning to look at Draco.
"Do I look like I'm going back to school, Potter?" Pansy asked, waving her hands at her dress which ended much nearer to her crotch than her mid-thigh.
"I really wouldn't know," he replied as he looked away quickly, eyes darting to Granger before settling onto Draco once more.
"Pansy and I are remaining in England. You don't need fantastic NEWTs to make clothes or furniture, you know?" Greg said with a shrug, as gullible as ever. Draco would have been contented to leave Potter curious and unsatisfied forever – or until they boarded that was.
"Are you going to open a shop?" Granger asked Pansy while Draco turned to look Potter straight in the eye, cheering internally when the other immediately looked away. Determined to get even, Draco disregarded his polite upbringing as he continued to scrutinise the other.
Potter had lost the sallow, ill-fed look from being a fugitive, yet he had somehow managed to retain the cheekbones. Potter had also grown his hair out, and it was presently touching the collar of his button down. It was a strange look on the boy he had long considered his enemy. With the long lashes framing his bright green eyes and the strange tenderness of the way his hair was tucked behind his ears, Potter actually looked conventionally attractive in the Muggle media sort of way. It was a revelation that Draco didn't quite know how to deal with. He squeezed Pansy's arm lightly for reassurance.
"Alright Weasley. I'll drop you an owl for that appointment. You wouldn't know what hit you when you put custom dress robes on," Pansy promised the redhead as she patted Draco lightly in acknowledgement. "Off you pop, darlings," she dismissed the Gryffindors after she had gotten her share of smirking at the awestruck Golden Trio. "Gotta send the boyfriend off properly." She tilted her chin in Blaise's direction, waving them off jauntily as the trio said their sincere Gryffindor goodbyes to them.
Now that they were alone once more, Pansy quickly crossed the distance between herself and her boyfriend before sealing their mouths upon each other’s. Draco sighed to himself as he caught Greg's eye. Pansy and Blaise complemented each other in their sexual insatiability, and they could often spend minutes kissing in a prolonged public foreplay that left both Greg and him to their own devices. Conversations had died abruptly, and dinners had been cancelled after everyone else had arrived all because of their spontaneous physical engagements. It was bloody annoying to say the least.
"Thanks for sending us off," Draco said to Greg just as Blaise's hand snuck up Pansy hemline. "Do well, and if you require any research, I'll still be available, okay?" Draco's voice was thick with emotion, and the unsaid words hung between them. He had never cared much for Greg nor Vincent previously, but Greg's selfless loyalty even after Draco had lost his status post-war had brought them closer. He would miss his friend very much. He made to leave before reaching for a hug that was tightly returned.
"I'll write tonight if I have the time to. Tell Pansy whatever," Draco said with a wry smile as he flicked a privacy spell in the couple's direction before heading for the train. Nobody else needed to watch Pansy and Blaise rutting against each other like dogs in heat.
- - - - -
Draco sighed when he boarded the carriage. Couldn't the Golden Trio have walked a little further down? The awestruck students on the platform had migrated to outside what was presumably Potter's cabin, pushing against each other to catch a sight of Potter, as if months of idle reporting of Potter's whereabouts hadn't been enough.
Draco selected an empty cabin a few doors down from the hubbub. Frosting the glass before pulling down the blinds, he silenced the exterior for extra measure as he sat down. So far so good. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as he sunk into the cabin seats. Due to the trio, he had yet to be harassed, which had been a possibility that he had never considered entirely. Trust Pansy and her social manoeuvres. Sighing to himself, Draco unshrunk his bag and took out his reading material and packed lunch.
He had completed his volunteer training on empathy and communication, and had been assigned to his first choice placement, patient and parent support. He had also met Jo, his fellow volunteer, and had learnt that as a first-timer, he had been incredibly lucky to have gotten a patient facing role. Draco had wondered futilely how he had impressed them, before deciding that he would work hard to assure them of their decision.
Draco had begun exploring Muggle religions to ensure that he could provide the emotional support the patients' parents might need. It was an interesting branch of knowledge to him. He now understood why some of the Muggleborns his year had called out to God in exclamation.
Thecentral figure of their religion had, like Merlin, conducted great feats for the commoners, inspiring admiration. Which secretly reminded him of Potter – like Jesus, Potter had sacrificed himself for the students of Hogwarts, and had been reborn. When Draco had mentioned the parallels to Pansy, he had been pinched so hard that it had left a bruise on his thigh. Had he none of his friends, Draco would have become one of his Potter's followers. It was unthinkable.
Conjuring cushions for his back, Draco floated his book and pulled out the flask of tea that Worry had prepared for him. Removing his shoes, he sighed contentedly as he folded his legs. Tracing his last position on the page of text, the cabin door suddenly opened and he bolted upright, wand at the ready.
"Salazar, Blaise. I nearly hexed your bollocks off!"
"Would you really? You've turned into a proper pacifist these days, honestly." Blaise smirked as he ambled in. "Making the world better, reading about prehistoric Potters, staring adoringly at Potter..." he trailed off, wriggling his brows as he settled on the opposite row of seats.
Draco felt his cheeks flush as he rearranged himself with a forced air of nonchalance. Bloody Blaise and Pansy. He had hardly been staring adoringly! Knowing the couple, Pansy would learn about his staring in no time, and he would hear no end of it. "I think that you've gotten yourself mixed up with me, Blaise. Though I'm sure that everyone on the platform has gotten a good glimpse of Pansy's arse."
Blaise grinned shamelessly as he licked his swollen lips in reply. Draco looked away in distaste as Blaise whispered prude in a low voice. Adamantly keeping his eyes on his book, Draco floated over the lunch Sneezy had prepared for Blaise, together with a stack of the sleazy Muggle romance titles that Blaise had requested, hoping for some peace and quiet for the rest of the ride.
- - - - -
It was dark by the time they pulled up at Hogsmeade station, and Draco was disoriented from the nap that had crept up on him. Fumbling with his tie as he alighted the train, Draco trailed closely after Blaise with his head down.
"First, sixth, seventh, and eighth years to Hagrid please!" Professor Vector called out in her no-nonsense voice as she ushered the crowd along.
“Second, third, fourth, and fifth years move along!" She continued with a lantern in hand. The confusion was palpable as an unusually large crowd gathered around Hagrid, who was speaking cheerfully to a bunch of sixth years.
"Do you think that we're going to be re-sorted?" Draco asked Blaise as they gathered with their fellow eighth years, a much smaller cohort than previous years.
"I was thinking the same thing, but the weight of history is against that hypothesis," Granger suddenly replied from behind them.
"The post-war wizarding community has been marked by an avant-garde movement though. Generally, it's an overcompensation for our run in with fascism, but for the younger generation it's more than just a gesture." Blaise wiggled his brows suggestively at Draco. "McG would totally screw tradition to give the kids the interhouse unity they want."
Draco rolled his eyes at the glazed looks on Potter and Weasley's face. "You'll still be in Slytherin, I wager," he said to Blaise.
Granger looked at the both of them thoughtfully. "A lack of action to see through the change. You seem more inclined to watch it play out in comfort. Nothing against you nor the Slytherin house in general, but I second Malfoy's judgement."
"I thought that we weren't stereotyping people on limited knowledge of their characters and personalities anymore," Weasley spoke up suddenly. Granger flushed in pleasure as she looked at her boyfriend with a mix of fondness and pride.
"I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff," Potter said.They settled into a carriage with Longbottom, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the hypothesis they were exploring.
Draco frowned at the Golden Boy as he considered the possibility of a badger Harry Potter. It left his head spinning, as did the fact that he was sharing a carriage with the most lauded war heroes of magical United Kingdom.
- - - - -
Their hypothesis had been proven correct, and Draco had the urge to throw up as it neared his turn. Girl Weasley and Longbottom had been sorted back to Gryffindor, together with Susan Bones, who had previously been a Hufflepuff.
He wasn't only afraid of being on display before the whole school, but also feared the review of his character. The Sorting Hat would be able to see through his engineered defences and weigh his upbringing against the changes he had tried to embark since the trials.
"Malfoy, Draco!" The hall fell deathly silent, and Draco felt close to tears as he walked towards the stool. His heart was wild in his throat, his face too hot, and his stomach upset. Professor Vector dropped the hat onto his head.
Draco was immediately comforted that the Sorting Hat had yet to make a judgement. It had hardly landed when he had been sorted Slytherin seven years ago – and what a pride it had been for him, then!
Draco had spent much of his thoughts on the what-ifs since the war began, and fuelled by the Muggle concept of parallel universes, he had traced out crucial points where the trajectories of his present and parallel selves had split – his sorting had been one of them.
"A persisting thirst for knowledge, I see," the Hat suddenly spoke up. "Greatly esoteric, hmm. Teenagers are harder to sort, you see. There's so much flux to work with, so much angst, if you will. A desire to prove yourself, a–" it suddenly broke off with a chuckle.
"Flower power, of course. Shrewdness without any of the inculcated underhanded means. You've come a long way, child. Now, let an old hat think."
Draco fidgeted in the seat, ashamed of his stray thoughts referencing to the Muggle non-violence moment. Oh, his tattered dignity, Draco lamented as he focused on the marble floor, the weight of everyone's eyes on him as the Hat hummed idly to itself above him.
"Gryffindor wouldn't serve you well," the Hat said suddenly. Draco rolled his eyes in response. He could have stated the same without any help. "You've outgrown Slytherin, and Ravenclaw would be too simple for you. HUFFLEPUFF!" It suddenly proclaimed, and Draco quickly scrambled to his feet in shock.
Hufflepuff! Oh Merlin's holey knickers, he was now in Hufflepuff! He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he had unknowingly walked off the stage with the Hat on until it had chuckled on him.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Draco. Seated beside Granger and opposite Potter who had indeed ended up in Hufflepuff, Draco was reticent, entirely occupied by his thoughts. He spent the meal completely missing Blaise who was trying to catch his eye from the Slytherin table where he sat beside Weasley.
Draco couldn't help but think that the present universe was actually more bizarre than the others.
- - - - -
"Welcome to our sett!" Professor Sprout was cheery to the point of being exhausting as she held everyone's attentions in front of a pile of barrels in a stone recess near the Hogwarts kitchen. "The password is easy, so you'll never have to worry about forgetting it! Just tap this barrel to the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'!" She demonstrated as the door swung outwards. "Make sure to tap correctly, or," she trailed off, laughing as she caught the eyes of previous students from her house.
Draco closed his eyes as he sighed to himself. It verged on impossibility to not think mean things about the entrance of his new common room.
"Come on now, off you go," Professor Sprout ushered them into the dorm brightly as Draco sighed deeply for the second time.
- - - - -
The entrance to his new dorm was both a logistical nightmare and a psychological impediment, Draco wrote in his letter to Pansy as he sat at the Slytherin table waiting for Blaise's arrival. He had left the dormitories early in the morning of the first day of classes, and the Great Hall was still sparse.
It was illogical that there was only one shared narrow entrance and exit to the Hufflepuff common room. An entering student could not do so when another was exiting and vice versa, he elaborated in earnest. Much less running back to the dorms to pick up a forgotten essay in the morning. A whole line of students would be waiting to exit, making entering impossible.
Similarly, it was easy to see why there was a discrimination against the Hufflepuffs when accessing the common room necessitated crawling. It was inconceivable that one would be required to grovel multiple times a day in school, and with prolonged exposure, he wrote, it would have negative consequences on a person's psyche.
For Draco, it was humiliating to be on his hands and legs again after the war. Making his people kneel and grovel had been a major aspect of the Dark Lord's regime, and being in that position made him feel ashamed and vulnerable.
"Why didn't you wait up?"
Draco startled when Granger suddenly sat down opposite him. He looked at Potter who had taken up the seat to his left. Draco looked at the Hufflepuff table. "You're sitting at the wrong table," he said unintelligently, addressing the comment to Potter.
"Well, so are you," Potter returned as he helped himself to bangers and mash.
"I'm not," he corrected without thinking, as Potter raised a brow in challenge before dropping his eyes to Draco's tie. The yellow tie had been beside his green one this morning, together with a piece of yarn, indicating that Sneezy and Worry had came by. "Well, I'm here for Blaise," Draco said, waving at this friend who was now smirking beside him, blatantly reading his private letter to Pansy.
"And we're here for Ron." Potter gestured his chin at the couple kissing opposite them.
"Are you getting your kiss next?" Draco asked with polite interest, shocked when Potter laughed heartily instead of taking offence.
This parallel universe was growing steadily more bizarre and he had no idea at which point it had spun out of control.
- - - - -
After breakfast, the Headmistress had dispatched the class schedules, and in a fit of insanity – named Hermione and him Head Girl and Head Boy.
Draco had gone white from the responsibility thrust upon him. Upset, he had confronted the Headmistress to relinquish the title after their dismissal. He was not blind to the lack of confidence the student body had in him, nor unaware of the atrocities he had endorsed in his seventh year. To entrust him the role was simply unthinkable.
Headmistress McGonagall was unrelenting and entirely unmoved by his strop. Even to ensure his physical well-being, making him Head Boy was an extreme measure. It was downright barking, when she had disregarded his tattered reputation and unhelpfully advised him to condense the schedule for his individual apology sessions with his schoolmates. The carelessness of her 'wisdom' was appalling – with a list of close to eighty schoolmates he planned to apologise to in person, and eight classmates scheduled for meeting in the first week, it was already stretching on sincerity. He could hardly be expediting anything!
By contrast, she had been terribly interested to know about the progress of his volunteer application at GOSH. Asking about his introduction classes, she had discussed about his permission to leave Hogsmeade and his extended curfew on his volunteer days. Draco had been grateful, but in retrospect, it could have been an elaborate distraction tactic.
Stopping by the toilets, Draco had looked at himself in the mirror, to marvel at the Head Boy badge on his chest. Years ago, the immature boy he used to be would have been dizzy with the power entrusted to him. Now, as he rubbed at the tension between his temples, Draco wondered how his incarcerated father would react to the sight of him now. Would he be proud of Draco's Head Boy status, or be more affected that his heir was now in Hufflepuff? Shaking his head, Draco cast the question out of his mind before running towards the dungeons, worried about his tardiness for double Potions.
Entering the class with an apology for Professor Slughorn, Draco instead found the man preoccupied with worshipping Potter at the front row. Looking across the class, he found Blaise smirking at him from the back as he set up his cauldron. Returning it out of habit as he made his way to Blaise, he caught Potter's eyes. For reasons unknown to him, Potter was looking at him pleadingly while Slughorn continued praising him for his intellect and bravery.
In a fit of insanity comparable to the Headmistress', Draco sent an apologetic look to Blaise before thumping his bag down beside Potter with a wide smile for Professor Slughorn. "Elixir to induce euphoria today, sir? One of Potter's best, isn't it?"
The man startled as a look of irritation crossed his face. "Young Malfoy. Good to see you back," he barely managed before quickly clearing off.
"I would thank you, but did you really have to bring it up again?"
"Not until I figure out how you did it," Draco replied airily as he started to set up the cauldron. "Off you go, Potter. Even potions geniuses need ingredients, you know?"
Potter huffed before opening his book for the ingredient list. They worked together fine, Potter preparing the ingredients obediently according to their textbook while Draco brewed.
It did not escape Draco that the Chosen One had forgotten about the streak of ingenuity he had previously with regards to the mint leaf. As expected, beyond the fluke in sixth year, Potter was but a below average Potions student.
The information left Draco quite pleased for the entire week.
- - - - -
Their Tempus countdown went off at half past ten, startling both Hermione and Draco. After a month and a half of close, amicable contact due to their scheduled studying and prefect sessions on top of their Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes, Hermione had snapped one day and ranted about pureblood sensibilities and normal etiquette. Draco personally didn't think that their relationship had progressed to the stage of first names, but he supposed that was precisely the problem with pureblood etiquette. For the sake of progression, he had relented, and not calling Hermione by her proper last name had left him distinctly uncomfortable in the beginning. Pansy, as expected, had no sympathies and had waxed about thawing hearts and whatever bollocks.
Draco sighed as he started to pack his books. As usual, Hermione was slow to move, reluctant to end her study session. It was impossible for Draco to imagine how she managed to function previously with only the company of Potter and Weasley, neither of whom were particularly academically inclined. When Draco had returned to school, he had worried about Theo's absence. Acing his NEWTs regardless of the war, Theo had begun working in Gringotts. It was nice to have company to bounce off ideas with again, and a reliable partner for Ancient Runes class once more, ex-Gryffindor or otherwise.
Draco and Hermione stopped to talk to the prefects they met along the way back. As Head Boy and Girl, most of their duties involved scheduling, chairing meetings, and liaising with the headmistress rather than actual patrols, which suited Draco just fine. Patrols were tedious and incredibly dull, if you asked him.
Emerging from the door on his hands and knees, Draco made to stand as gracefully as he could. Entering and exiting the Hufflepuff common room hadn't gotten any easier, which Abbott had agreed during Draco’s Apology Session last month. It was perhaps a character building thing, he had speculated. To inculcate that it was near impossible to get things your way. The blonde girl had simply laughed and returned that he had been thinking too much.
Draco greeted Blaise with a nod, before wordlessly indicating that it would be curfew soon. The Slytherin was, as usual, working his charm on impressionable younger students. The poster boy of interhouse unity, Blaise had brought Pansy's business to the common rooms of every house, and had packed her schedule through the new year.
Returning his book bag to his bed, Draco settled into his favourite couch as he started to pen a letter to his mother. She had last talked about meeting her sister Andromeda and his first cousin once removed, Edward Lupin, and Draco had asked Potter about the small family to help endear his mother to them.
"Parkinson?" Potter suddenly appeared with a waft of his mint shampoo as he peered at the letter from over Draco's shoulder.
"Bloody hell," Draco swore, drawing a line across the parchment as he startled. "For Merlin's sake, Potter!" He snapped as he vanished the track of ink. "Don’t sneak up on people! Also, dry your hair," he griped unhappily, pointing his wand in Potter's direction, leaving his hair fluffy instantaneously.
Potter thanked the blond with a grin as he moved to put his hair up. "So, another letter to Parkinson? Or Goyle? Or Nott, or your mother, or your father?" He listed off in quick succession, shivering exaggeratedly at the last guess.
"Why don't you tell me since you've already read my letter anyway," Draco replied crossly as he continued to write.
"Fine, Andy, gardening, Teddy metamorphmagus..." the Chosen One leaned over he glanced through Draco's letter. “There's nothing much that your mom needs to do to impress Teddy, you know?" Potter tapped at Draco's last sentence. "He's still a wee baby with diapers and too much drool."
Draco flicked the tanned hand off his parchment. "You're wrong, Potter. Even a wee baby could do with more adorable outfits and interactive books."
"Or a walker, I guess? He might be walking soon."
Draco gasped at the suggestion as he whipped his head to look at the boy. "Potter! Walkers are not advisable! Not only are they dangerous, they also delay motor and mental development! Do you not read about infant development at all?"
Potter rolled his eyes as he burrowed his feet under Draco's thighs. When Potter had first done so half a month ago, Draco had startled and moved away instinctively. However, after repeated exposure to Potter's insolence, Draco had submitted. If this was the price to pay for Potter's company, Draco would comply. Their relationship – Draco didn't quite dare to label it as a friendship – which was initially born out of necessity with Hermione and Weasley constantly snuggling together and making out – had come to be comfortable and genuine. Potter would sit with him in the common room, and their conversations would be lively and amicable.
"Normal people don't read such stuff," Potter said as he broke off into a yawn without closing his mouth. "Are you ever going to join us for Quidditch?" He asked as he dug his toes into Draco's thighs pointedly.
Draco shook his head without reply as he tried to focus on his letter. In its entirety, the school year had been a lot better than he had initially expected.
"We had a fun time today, you know. It'd be nice to go up against you again, Malfoy." Potter continued lazily with his eyes closed.
Draco sighed as he flipped the parchment to continue. Ever since Vincent's death, he had not flown a broom, and regardless of the confidence he had rebuilt for himself within the student body, he was aware that society would not be as forgiving. He required outstanding grades to differentiate himself, and mucking around on a broom would bring him no advantage.
"Are you finishing your letter?" Potter asked suddenly after a long period of silence between them.
Draco hummed in reply as the toes moved underneath him.
"Can you give her my well wishes?" Potter asked, his voice sleepy.
"Alright."
"Thanks."
- - - - -
Draco returned from the kitchens stuffed with food and in a new cashmere jumper from Worry. Speechless from the gesture, Draco had teared up in the kitchens while Sneezy had patted the both of them calmly.
Buoyant as he returned to the common room, he stopped short at the stench and the sight of a girl drenched in vinegar. Draco sighed to himself as he walked up to them. The Hufflepuff common room password was infamously simple, yet it was shameful how it seemed to be too difficult for so many of the young lovesick Potter fans.
"Can I help you?" He asked suddenly, taking pleasure in watching the Gryffindors jump in fright. He waited patiently as the girls communicated with each other in a series of frowns and pointed looks.
"As the Headmistress has said during the Halloween feast, Hogwarts students are expected to respect each others' right to privacy and dignity. I don't think Potter would appreciate it if he knew that you both were looking for him regardless of your good intentions," Draco said in a swotty voice that came easily to him.
The girls looked immediately devastated at the thought of upsetting their saviour. "We just wanted to cheer him up!" Vinegar girl suddenly burst out in defence.
"Harry has been looking down since Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood got together. We just wanted to comfort him," her companion said quietly.
Draco suppressed the urge to burst out laughing at the statement. Potter had in fact, been ecstatic that girl Weasley and Luna were getting together, joking that Luna's oral fixation complemented girl Weasley's enjoyment of cunnilingus, a piece of information that neither Weasley nor Draco had appreciated.
Draco tried to look as understanding as possible. "Alright, I'll let you both go just this once, okay? If I catch any of you harassing Potter again, I will be deducting house points. Potter has expressly stated his desire to live a normal student life, and the both of you would do well to respect him."
"Thank you very much!" The quieter of the two girls replied as she pulled her friend away.
"Wait, can you hand this to him?" Vinegar girl suddenly burst out as she broke free, thrusting a letter and a box of chocolates towards him.
Draco stared at the offering in shock. "This is the first and last time, okay?" He warned as he took the gifts from her. Thanking him profusely, they quickly disappeared, leaving Draco to himself as he inspected the Parisian chocolates with grudging approval. Plucky Gryffindors with a good taste were as rare as invisibility cloaks.
"You can come out now, Potter," Draco said idly as he crossed his arms, waiting for the appearance of a sheepish Potter. "I believe that you owe me your gratitude," he commented with an eye roll as Potter emerged, his hair messier than usual.
"How did you know that I was around?" Potter asked as he clumsily caught the gifts that Draco tossed over.
"Sixth sense, Potter. After all, I'm your biggest fan," he joked, gesturing for Potter to enter the door before him.
Potter pouted at the sarcasm. He didn’t know that the statement wasn't too far from the truth. "Are you going for dinner?" He suddenly asked as they crawled towards their common room.
"Giving it a miss," Draco replied, already excited to read about the outcomes of Muggles conducting barbaric experiments on smaller animals in the name of research.
Had they not been on all fours behind one another, Draco would have caught the flash of disappointment on Potter's face.
- - - - -
Walking back to their dorms after a sumptuous weekend breakfast at the Great Hall, Potter bumped his shoulder against Draco's while recounting the Quidditch match he had caught on the Wireless the day before.
In a typical fashion, Hermione had swiftly disappeared with Weasley to places Draco didn't want to think about; to engage in activities Draco definitely did not want to know about. It was most unfortunate that Draco did though, due to a fifth year prefect who had approached him with a haunted look one day. He had yelled at the boy, who had replied with equal ferocity that it was a shared burden.
It was impossible how Weasley seemed to have the capacity to shut down Hermione's prefrontal cortex and reduce her to an exhibitionist. The subsequent prefect meeting had been a dark time for everyone involved, and Draco had mandated his prefects to be less vivid in their description of heterosexual liaisons. He was interested in the romantic relationships of the Hogwarts population, and he greatly enjoyed the weekly gossiping session with the prefects, but he had come to realise that Stones was too good at graphic descriptions for the healthy development of a young homosexual boy.
"Are you meeting Parkinson today?" Potter asked suddenly as they descended the flight of stairs.
"No, I saw her yesterday. Why?"
"Isn't Parkinson coming down again today?"
"Yeah, she's been busy with fittings for the entire school, but I don't have to meet her every day, you know?" Draco replied with a frown, confused by the direction of their conversation.
"So you're not meeting her?"
"Potter, for the sake of Merlin and God, is this an inquisition?" Draco snapped as he folded his arms in disapproval.
"No, no. I'm just curious," Potter defended quickly. "I was wondering if you were going to be reading again, or whether you would be going out, since you look dressed for it, you know?" Potter was clearly flustered as he went to drag his hand through his hair before stopping when he remembered that he had his hair up in a messy bun.
Draco looked down at his clothes in confusion. "I threw this on for breakfast, Potter."
"Oh. You look like you're going out."
Draco narrowed his eyes at Potter, watching him squirm with flushed cheeks. "Maybe it's a pureblood thing," Draco said slowly before deciding to let it go when Potter burst into laughter while agreeing.
"Maybe one day you can save me from my bad fashion," Potter said as they continued walking.
"Maybe you should meet Pansy today," Draco joked as they reached their dorm, lining up patiently with the other students waiting to enter the door.
Potter laughed, gesturing for Draco to enter first when it neared their turn. Eyeing the number of students behind them, Draco shook his head at the Chosen One's lack of self-preservation. After rounds of gesturing back and forth in politeness, Draco kicked the back of Potter's knees, smirking when Potter stumbled.
- - - - -
"Malfoy!" Potter yelped, scuttling to the end of the tunnel, scrambling to his feet when he entered the common room. His hair was messier than usual after an extra Potions classes with Draco, after a long day of school.
Draco grinned unrepentantly as he straightened his school robes after the crawling. "Just completing our lesson for today."
Potter sputtered before running to his friends who were seated on top of one another. "Malfoy pinched my butt!" He exclaimed as he collapsed onto the sofa opposite.
"In my defense, I've been telling him to watch his butt when entering the common room ever since school started," Draco explained as Weasley immediately nodded in understanding. "I figured that it was time for something drastic since he refused to learn."
Hermione frowned in disapproval. "But your pinching was likewise without consent. Couldn't you have found a better way to teach Harry?"
Potter watched the stern exchange in confusion.
Draco stewed for a few moments before sniffing unhappily. "Fine, I'm sorry for taking advantage of the opportunity to pinch your butt without consent. I'm sorry for my poor conduct and I promise to always respect your autonomy henceforth."
Hermione beamed at him while Weasley watched on with wry amusement as he combed through Hermione's bushy hair with his fingers.
"Can someone please give me some context? What's with the consent speech. Likewise without consent?" Potter asked to three incredulous looks.
"No way," Draco said in disbelief while Hermione's frown returned.
"Mate, it's the Diggory business from third year," Weasley explained, leaning in slightly as settled his hand on his girlfriend's thigh.
"The Triwizard competition?" Potter asked.
"No, the groping thing."
"What groping thing?" Potter persisted.
"Do you see why he annoyed me so much previously? He just manages to be so into himself without even trying!" Draco exclaimed while Potter looked at him, hurt.
"Potter, look. When Diggory shot to the pinnacle of fame, his fan club took advantage of the poor layout of Hufflepuff's entrance to grope his arse whenever he was crawling in or out. There was subsequently a whole talk about consent and respect, that you evidently somehow managed to miss. I've been making you go in before me because I've been concerned about your arse. It'll do you well to keep a look out for your fans, alright? A little self-preservation goes a long way when I'm not around."
Potter gaped at him. "Oh. Alright. Thank you."
"Harry! You do not thank people for groping your bottom!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalised.
"Oh, I meant the times he told me to go before him, you know? And the concern." Potter said.
"Merlin's tits, Potter. Where is your sensibility? Many rights do not make a wrong right, Potter!" Draco said, his company falling silent as they tried to comprehend the statement.
Weasley broke out into sniggers, before Hermione and Potter followed. Incredulous, Draco frowned at them in disapproval.
- - - - -
"How is it fair that you guys are working together for both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes?" Weasley interrupted Draco's discussion with Hermione about their latest assignment.
Draco looked up in confusion as Weasley elbowed Potter, who had been reading about weed removal in magical gardens and houses.
"Can you imagine them working together for Potions?" Weasley asked as Potter pulled a face.
"It’d be crazy," Potter shook his head as he placed his wand between the pages. "We would be working together and–" he shuddered.
"Imagine having them working together in DMLE though." Weasley had a faraway look in his eyes as he thought about the top two students of their level enacting change from within the Ministry.
Hermione pinked at her boyfriend's confidence in her. "I don't think so though," she replied, looking skittishly at Draco from the corner of her eye.
Weasley was surprised by the objection.
"I'm hoping to get into the Healer programme," Draco said hesitantly. "If they'll have me, that is," he added hastily. "I would understand if people didn’t want to be treated by a former Death Eater."
Weasley leapt into fury at the insinuation. "They wouldn't dare!" He exclaimed. "You're not that much of a ponce anymore now, are you? If a Weasley and a Malfoy can get along, I don't see why you can't be saving people!"
Draco was taken aback by both the conviction in Weasley's tone and how irascible the other was. He looked to Potter for help.
"Erm, some people are terribly short sighted," Potter said slowly, unsure of how to defuse the situation. He broke off entirely when the peck Hermione left on Weasley's cheek dissolved into an all-out pecking session.
Draco rolled his eyes when he met Potter's once more. "So what would you be doing, Potter? Running DMLE from inside with Hermione?"
Potter shook his head before looking at his book once more. "I'm thinking of going into magical home refurbishment," he said, his entire body language defensive as he rubbed his finger against the corner of the book. "I don't want to continue chasing bad guys, and I've found that I quite enjoy Charms."
Draco was taken aback by the revelation, but looking back at the reading materials Potter favoured and stories about redoing the Grimmauld Place house during summer break, Draco couldn't help but wonder why it hadn't been obvious to him before. "Maybe you could set up something with Greg," Draco suggested. "You could do the renovations, and he could do the custom furniture. And you could rope Blaise in for the schmoozing and design."
Potter's head whipped up as he blinked at Draco in shock. "That's a pretty good idea," he said, his eyes bright.
"All ideas from me usually are," Draco declared proudly, laughing when Potter nodded in agreement.
- - - - -
Potter moved his feet impatiently, only pausing when Draco looked up. "Is this what Slytherins do in their common room?" He asked, gesturing at his book and Draco's letter.
Draco set his quill aside reluctantly. "Letter writing can be incredibly titillating, Potter," he commented, rereading his reply to Pansy. Trust that bloody bint to talk about his shrunken bollocks from his prolonged dry spell. And he had written so earnestly about his last session at GOSH in his last letter, about young Oliver with partial ectopia cordis – a condition where his heart was located outside of his chest wall. Draco had spent hours playing with the boy between checkups, drawing mazes and playing playdough while Jo had talked to his weary mother.
"Don't you Slytherins do more exciting stuff back in your common room? Hatching plots or whatever?"
"That's an unfortunate stereotype," Draco tutted. If only Hermione had been around to lecture Potter, Draco thought idly as he picked his quill up, remembering what he had wanted to write. "Perhaps you could ask Weasley, the real Slytherin among all of us." Honestly, had Blaise not finally gotten together with Pansy, he would have been fucking him instead of writing letters to Pansy. In fact, Draco’s celibacy was hardly by choice, was it? Terry Boot had also settled down with that dull as a flobberworm Lisa Turpin, which was such a shame in his opinion. Turpin wasn't even smart enough to be a Ravenclaw to begin with, and how could one be contented with missionary sex after a foray into BDSM?
Draco sighed at his parchment in despair. He was now officially obsessing over having a warm wet hole to fuck. Pansy really brought out the worst in him.
"I feel like I spent my time mediating between Ron and Hermione, and thinking about surviving when I was in Gryffindor," Potter suddenly commented.
"Then it's quite accurate, isn't it? You all were hot headed and arguing all the time in Gryffindor. Plus the whole being brave business. Now that we're here, you're reading about gardening, your knees are dusty from burrowing about, and I'm thinking about stealing food. We couldn't be more Hufflepuff if we tried."
"Stop with that crawling thing," Potter groaned. "Just a few days ago I was wondering if I’m going to wear out the knees of my trousers. Me, thinking about this rubbish!" Potter pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "But it's actually nice though, I think. It's nice being a Hufflepuff."
"The reading and the homey spaces?"
"Yeah, and the talking about stuff with you. I never thought that we could be friends, but look at us now," Potter gestured.
Draco shifted in his seat at the F word. "Not baring your soul, are you? Be careful, I might go running for The Prophet," he joked.
"Oh, can't you be serious for a moment?" Potter frowned as he sat upright, his eyes narrowed in disapproval. "You're always so evasive about every single thing, and I thought that you were getting better! I was saying that I enjoy your company, and I like that you've started to open up. I like us sitting here, talking about nothing." He looked straight at Draco, his green eyes bright with sincerity. Draco swallowed in nervousness. "In fact, I'd quite like you to come with me to meet Greg with Blaise this weekend. It'll be a nice gathering with the Slytherins," he offered calmly.
"Oh. Is Ron going to be there?" Draco joked, nervous whenever Potter mentioned spending time together over on Fridays and the weekend. He had volunteering sessions arranged on the days they were allowed to leave the school, and he would always make weak excuses or change the topic abruptly whenever Potter tried to include him for gatherings.
"Ron? What has Ron got to do with anything? Oh fuck you, Malfoy. Slytherin Ron, very funny. You can't even bloody talk straight for one second!" Potter exclaimed at Draco's reply. He was angry all of a sudden. "Everything's a joke to you, and that's all it stops at all the time! The moment anyone asks about you, you shut off and deflect with your shitty jokes, hoping that we wouldn't notice. You're like a bloody monk with his stupid books and letters. You don't have emotional space for anyone apart from your mother, or your Slytherin friends. Nobody makes friends like these, Malfoy. You tell the Slytherins everything, and they're not even here! It's like you're just so desperate to write this year off and disappear after school. You don't even care about us, and it's bloody hurtful!" Potter shouted before snatching his book and storming off towards the dorm.
Draco blinked at the argument that had seemingly sprung out of nowhere. Personally, he had always aspired to be like Michael de Montaigne – a pureblood philosopher similarly famous in the Muggle world – who had retreated from public life and produced his lifework, Essais, in seclusion. But he didn't think that Potter, who had accused him of emotional hermitary, would appreciate the tidbit of information.
It was incredibly exhausting to be in the company of Gryffindors, he began to write to Pansy, his thoughts in a complete disarray from the argument. An argument with a combination of Gryffindor stubborness and Hufflepuff feelings, he shuddered.
He was strangely upset, and it refused to disperse throughout the night.
- - - - -
Draco was disappointed by the lack of sympathy he received. Blaise had advised him to apologise, if not to maintain the advantageous connection he had with Harry Potter.
Likewise, Hermione did not hold back - "Harry's not wrong, you know? You don't even tell me things, and we're supposed to be friends," Hermione gave Draco a pointed look when he shifted uncomfortably at the F word.
The degree of Hermione's Hufflepuff-ness scared him sometimes. Draco froze when he suddenly remembered that he too was in Hufflepuff. Embracing emotions and labelling everything was incredibly exhausting.
After considering the matter at length yesterday, Draco had come to the shocking realisation that he now considered the Golden Trio and some of his new acquaintances friends - conversation wasn't painful, and interests converged. Most importantly, he would have been adequately affected if the Dark Lord had suddenly resurrected and AK-ed them. The revelation had left Draco sleepless, having grown up with all the people he originally classified as friends. It was always easy to be on top of each other's lives, and suddenly having so many other people interested in being his friend was still so new to him. What about secrets and things one wasn't confident to share just yet? It was so hard to make friends organically that it wasn't surprising that he had royally messed up his first and only attempt at officially making friends (read: befriending Potter on the Hogwarts train).
Nonetheless, it was undeniable that he had possibly outgrown his original friends in some areas. Pansy didn't always understand the topics of his new books, and frankly, she didn't quite care. "What do you think about abortion," he blurted, incredibly nervous as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, catching him out for deflection.
As Hermione relaxed before pondering about his question, Draco wondered if he was supposed to triplicate his letters in future. He would send one to Pansy, one to Hermione, and the last to Potter, who was always so strangely obsessed with him.
- - - - -
Potter looked miserable, and his friends who had all coupled up were not helping. Weasley and Hermione were continuing with their not so secret make out sessions, Luna and girl Weasley were always whispering inside each other's ears, and Longbottom and Abbott were busy mucking about together in the greenhouse.
Regardless of the guilt that Draco felt, the sight of Potter sneaking forlorn looks at him constantly, too stubborn to end his self-imposed misery, amused him slightly. Potter looking like a miserable puppy left Draco wondering how he had even considered the boy's similarity to Jesus.
Nonetheless, had they both been in Slytherin, Draco would have been capable of ending their rift easily. Draco could simply go up to Potter and continue from where they had left off. The issue at hand was that Gryffindors required an apology and a grand gesture, which stumped Draco. Pansy was only filled with amusement, teasing that Draco was too afraid to share that he had successfully out-Hufflepuffed them all with his stint at GOSH, whereas Hermione advised him to be sincere. All of them were useless, when what he needed was a list of steps to apologise to the Chosen One.
A week and a half into their fall out, Draco still felt uneasy about telling Potter about his volunteering stint. It wasn't something to be flaunted, or used as a statement for his personal development journey. He wished that he could talk about it while Silencing Potter, then lift it and continue with their friendship like nothing had happened. Draco had been agonising in bed about Potter's nosiness, when Weasley had suddenly stormed in, face redder than his hair.
"Malfoy, you bloody ponce! This has gone on for long enough!" He yelled as he tore Draco's Hufflepuff quilt off. Draco held onto his comforter weakly, hoping that the oaf would allow him his last shreds of dignity. He wouldn't put it pass Weasley to expose his pants to the world.
"You better take emotional responsibility for Harry's misery! He's talking about how maybe you guys weren't even friends, and that he shouldn't be clinging on to something that wasn't even there! I swear to Salazar that I will quarter you if you don't do something!" Weasley bit out, his eyes wild with fury. Draco tried desperately to not flinch at the F word, but failed miserably as usual.
"Harry's always been bloody obsessed with you, and not knowing where you're disappearing to over the weekends is bloody killing him. You better do something by this week or I'll slice you apart." Weasley threatened, glaring at Draco. After a few moments of silence punctuated by his heavy breathing, he tossed Draco's quilt on the floor and stormed out.
Personally, Draco didn't quite think that Weasley had it in him to do anything drastic. Besides, quartering was too hollow a threat to be taken seriously. It was always advisable to leave threats ambiguous to allow the threatened to speculate about punishments within the threatener's capacity.
What a juvenile mistake, Draco thought as he sunk back into his bed, exhausted from how high maintenance Gryffindor friends were.
- - - - -
"Don't you feel like disappearing sometimes?" Draco asked as he laid beside his cousin under a young sycamore tree. "To become one with a foreign place," he said idly as he dozed off.
"Of course," Luna replied easily. "To start afresh, to do good work."
Draco hummed in understanding. His cousin had talked about her plans to visit the Kalimantan rainforest during the year end break, and perhaps there was no one better than her who could understand his desire for the unfamiliar.
He had seen her less since she had gotten together with girl Weasley, and the idea of the couple working around girl Weasley's Quidditch aspirations and his cousin's own magizoology expeditions after they graduated boggled him.
"Don't you worry that you might lose yourself?" He asked suddenly as the wind blew past, rattling the leaves and caressing his face. "Or that they would move on while you were finding yourself?"
Luna sighed to herself. "I wonder about it all the time," she mumbled as they fell asleep in the shade of the tree.
- - - - -
"Potter," Draco called out before tossing a box in his direction. He was tired of watching Potter mope. His fan club had also taken notice of The Saviour's gloom, and had began organising once more. It was time for an intervention.
Draco rolled his eyes at how dumb and hopeful Potter looked with his gift in his hands. "Are you ever going to open it?" Draco asked fell into the space beside the Chosen One.
"Is this a Wheeze?" Potter asked as he scrutinised the velvet box before casting a series of detection spells on it with a frown.
"My pranks aren't as straightforward as this," Draco complained. "This is an insult of the highest order."
Potter grinned at him as he finally opened the box. "Oh." He gaped at the cufflinks, speechless.
Draco sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I don't have many friends apart from the Slytherins, and it's weird because it's always been no boundaries with them, and then with you all–" he made a vague gesture before shrugging. He then began sharing about his volunteering at GOSH, looking away from Potter as he did so.
Potter was contemplative when he finished, his idle fingers playing with the velvet box.
"Potter! It's cursed!" Draco yelled out of the blue, laughing when the other startled, knocking the box out of his own hands. In his fumbling attempts to catch it, his fingers came into contact with the cufflinks anyway. "You should have seen your face!" Draco laughed as he mimicked Potter's comical movements.
"Bugger off," Potter groused as he inspected the Potter crest on the cufflinks closely. "How did you get this?"
"Bought it off my mother's jeweller in fourth year," Draco grinned proudly. "He was initially reluctant to let it go because he had paid a tidy sum for it. I offered him double just for the satisfaction of depriving you." He shrugged. "It just seems so silly now, you know?"
Potter looked back and forth between him and the cufflinks. "Thanks," he said quietly, his eyes heavy with sincerity as he closed the box carefully. "I'm glad that you trust me with your secret, and that we're speaking again.” He combed a nervous finger through the side of his hair, stopping when he reached the base of his bun. “I've really missed you these few weeks, you know? I've gone round the bend. I actually missed your snotty comments." He laughed when Draco smiled shamelessly.
"I didn't actually mean the things that I said," Potter continued, holding a hand up when Draco made a motion to interrupt. "I was jealous and insecure, and I've realised that I've always been a little bit obsessed with you, and not knowing what you did during the weekends really got to me, you know? And it upset me when you wouldn't tell me, when I had no right to be. I felt that you were keeping us out, and feeling like you'd just disappear after school scared me. I've come to expect you being around so much, all of that entitlement made me snap." His cheeks were pink with embarrassment as he looked down at his nails.
Draco shifted in his seat, discomforted by the progress of Potter's rant. He had anticipated an over the top apology from Potter, but he had clearly underestimated the influence of Potter's Hufflepuff earnestness. Nonetheless, with the grand gesture done, the reconciliation completed, Potter's inane apology suffered through, it was now time for the resumption of normal relations.
"Will you be staying in Hogwarts over the holidays?" Draco asked, drawing from the list of questions that he had prepared.
Potter looked up quickly, his look of hopefulness quickly turning into excitement. He talked about trying out the spells he had learnt to redo his gardens and redetail the ceiling trims of his inherited property.
"How about you? Are you going to visit Narcissa in Bordeaux? Will you be spending Christmas with your mother?"
"Yeah, I will be. It'll be a quiet evening. Before the Dark Lord's return, my family would throw a lavish Christmas party every year." He shrugged to himself as Potter started to list against him on the sofa.
"Would you and Narcissa like to come to the Weasley's gathering? It'll be quite a bit, with the kids and all, but Andy and Teddy will be there. I mean, Ron wanted to invite you too, and Mrs Weasley wants you there, but I mean, if you want to, you know?" Potter mumbled, gesturing lazily as he leaned against Draco with his eyes closed.
Draco had thought about spending most of his time at GOSH, and the invitation had reminded him that he had to spend time with his new friends too. "I'll ask Mother tomorrow. She would be delighted, I believe."
"It'll be fun to see the Malfoys among the redheads," Potter laughed, folding his arms as he settled more comfortably. Draco wondered idly when he had become a pillow, but did not have the heart to jostle Potter, who looked to be in need of a good rest. "Maybe we could catch a movie if you're available. Since we're both in London."
"Alright," Draco said, thinking about the first Muggle movie he had glimpsed in an electronics shop. The entire wall of televisions had been playing the same movie, and Draco had been awed by the very long coloured Wizarding picture until a Muggle salesperson had come to bother him. Muggles were incredible, Draco thought idly, his eyelids drooping, his limbs heavy at the verge of sleep.
- - - - -
Spending time out of school with Harry was a lot like spending time in school with Harry. It was a strange but necessary statement. After their fight (which Draco theorised had helped Harry to be more secure of their friendship), Harry had become more comfortable with him, which had culminated in increased physical contact. When they parted at Kings Cross with promises to meet, Draco had expected Harry to be less touchy-feely now that they were out in public, but that aspect had remained. Harry had shushed Draco with a finger over his lips when he had enough of Draco spoiling Fight Club, and Draco had proceeded to lick the offending finger gleefully while their fellow moviegoers glared at them in disapproval.
Beyond his increased volunteering slots and his books, Draco had spent the rest of the holidays with Harry, wandering around Muggle London, and – the unthinkable – Diagon Alley. Pansy had owled a copy of The Prophet to him the day after he gone Christmas shopping with Potter, and Draco had been upset about the unfavourable coverage before Harry had appeared, ranting about the lady at the video rental shop. Draco had quickly forgotten about his strop as they settled, watching The Matrix.
Their renewed friendship was unlike anything Draco had had. The closest description would be a much chattier version of Theo, or a Pansy that thrived less on people's mistakes, which were both unthinkable. Theo was as stoic as the goblins he now worked with, and Pansy took great pleasure from tutting in disapproval. Draco enjoyed the change in pace so much that his gayness had reared its head and haunted him.
The intensity of his crush on the Chosen One embarrassed Draco immensely. The good thing was that he was already prepared to wait the ordeal out. After all, crushing on uninterested friends was the hallmark of Draco's life. He had spent two years being intensely attracted to Theo's unflappable calm, and now he was attracted to Harry's goodness. As usual, Draco had employed all of his compartmentalising skills, honed from the war. He had also set up a number of rules for himself:
- To never react to platonic physical contact.
- To never spend time missing Harry's presence.
- To never entertain idle thoughts about Harry.
- To never speculate about a future with Harry.
- To never read too much into the Harry’s gestures.
With usual aplomb, Draco had managed well.
Anyhow, Christmas with the Weasleys had been similarly enjoyable. Molly and Arthur had been hospitable, and his mother had enjoyed the expanded adult company. In true rule number five fashion, Draco had thanked Harry for the tall stack of Muggle behavioural economics and university psychology textbooks without reading too much to the thoughtfulness of the gift. The haul that Draco received had been amazing, albeit more dominated by books than in past years. He had also gotten a Weasley sweater from Molly, which had been nice, but unfortunately incomparable to Worry's. It was however not due to any fault in Molly's character, or the gift. It was simply impossible to outclass Worry, who loved working with cashmere wool.
Draco had reserved the end of the year for his mother, and had helped to rearrange her garden pebbles from atop his broom through the morning. The gathering at the Weasley’s had left him wistful as he watched Harry beat girl Weasley to the Snitch by a hair’s breadth, and he had forced himself onto a broom immediately after breakfast with his family. He had been frightened as it ascended, but as it moved shakily towards his impatient mother, muscle memory had returned, and Draco had swiftly regained control of his broom.
Draco listened as his mother told Aunt Andromeda about the nudist group she had met while shopping in Rue St Catherine.
"It was absolutely delightful! And they were hardly fazed when the police appeared!" His mother laughed at Aunt Andromeda's shocked amusement.
Draco broke his fourth rule as he wondered about a nude Harry Potter. It would probably be equally delightful if not more so, he speculated. Draco sighed to himself as Hester floated their cakes to them for tea. He was now getting maudlin and inappropriate. Thanking Merlin for Pansy's absence as he helped himself to the cake, he blinked at the refreshing flavour.
"Cissa, are you baking again?" His aunt exclaimed from his right. His mother nodded, a look of shy pleasure coming over her features.
"I've been dabbling a little. It's been a while since I've had so much time on hand, you know?" She looked at Draco who smiled at her encouragingly. She had mentioned picking up baking materials in her letters, but he hadn't been aware that there was an 'again' factor to the pastime. "There's only so much gardening and shopping a person can do before they become batty," Narcissa confided.
"Do you remember how we used to talk about what we'd want to do when we grow up?" Aunt Andromeda asked, her eyes bright. "Maybe it's time for your bakery."
Draco watched as the surprise on his mother's face slowly shifted to thoughtfulness.
- - - - -
Despite Weasley's expansion charm, they were still seated too close for comfort. His thigh was pressed flush against Harry’s while Neville shared his resolution to find a suitable replacement for the late Trevor by March. Harry elbowed Draco in the side when he began to snigger under his breath.
"Draco volunteers to go next," Harry piped up cheerily when Draco returned his jab.
"Thank you Draco." Hermione beamed as he suppressed the urge to groan. Hermione had written to all of them on the last day of the year, urging them to make a list of New Year's resolutions that followed the SMART guidelines, being – specific, measurable, actionable, realistic, and time bound. Requesting that they share during the train ride back to Hogwarts, Hermione had reminded all of their friends to help each other achieve their resolutions.
It was a goal much too lofty in Draco's opinion. Firstly, it was simply impossible to remember seven other people's resolutions, and secondly, they would all be too polite to point out each others’ failures. Lastly, her boyfriend hadn't even thought about the entire activity, which in his opinion, severely undermined her credibility.
Nonetheless, Draco had prepared accordingly. He produced his list, before clearing his throat lightly. "Firstly, to maintain my top in class ranking for Potions, History of Magic, and Transfiguration until I graduate," he recited, grinning as he looked straight at Hermione.
"Secondly, to also beat Harry in a Seeker's Match before I graduate," he stated, rolling his eyes at Harry's incredulous scoff.
"To apply for healer programmes, to–"
"Doesn't St Mungo's have a common intake for all of their trainee healers?" Girl Weasley interrupted. "Julie Whithall was talking about it," she explained when everyone looked at her in surprise.
"I might not be able to get into St Mungo's programme, so... anyhow, I also resolve to play more with young Teddy throughout the year, and lastly, to expand my social circle." He continued resolutely, ignoring the anger expressed against the injustice on his behalf.
"Thank you Draco. Your first resolution wasn't very realistic, but I acknowledge the effort." Hermione said, her lips threatening to burst into a smile when she finished.
"Neither was the second, if you asked me," Harry said.
"Alright! Harry will be sharing his realistic resolutions next!" Draco said brightly with a clap of his hands as everyone laughed.
- - - - -
It was close to ten when they returned to castle, heading for the Hufflepuff common room. Draco ached all over from a brutal set of five Seeker games with Harry. The sky had gone dark by the end of the fourth set, but in trademark stubbornness, they had decided to continue with their last match to determine their respective superiority.
After flying for more than an hour, more interested in goading each other into admitting defeat than Seeking, the confused Snitch had fluttered close by, and had been caught by Draco. It didn't count as a proper win though, he complained throughout their journey to the dorms.
"You'll probably be able to beat me in the next match though," Harry interrupted as they passed a suit of armour. Draco looked at him in surprise. Had his skills really improved?
"The Snitch somehow seemed to understand that you needed help to beat me, you know?" Harry finished, yelping when Draco swung the broom off his shoulder and started to hit him with it.
"Bloody hell, Draco!" Harry yelled, wielding his own broom in defence.
"En garde!" Draco returned as he wielded his broom like an éppée, using his dusty fencing skills on Potter. Feinting before he moved in for an attack, Draco froze when a loud cough sounded from behind him.
"Stones!" He greeted his fellow prefect coolly as he combed his fringe back, quickly thinking of a reasonable explanation before the boy ran off, likely to embellish on and share what he had seen. He grimaced as Potter continued jabbing him in the small of his back with the end of his broom. He backed towards his friend in warning.
"Please confine your foreplay to your bed, Draco," the sandy haired Ravenclaw advised before leaving with a wink at Harry, uninterested in any clarification. Draco groaned as the boy's strides quickly broke into a run. Tomorrow's prefects meeting would be an absolute nightmare.
"Why would he think that it was just foreplay when you're this sweaty?" Harry asked suddenly as he jabbed his broom sharply against Draco's arse.
"Oh for Christ's sake, Potter!" Draco yelled as he lunged for Harry with his bare hands.
- - - - -
Draco was changing into his ghastly yellow volunteering shirt when he heard someone entering their dorm. Emerging from the shirt as he smoothed the length down his torso, he raised an eyebrow at his wide eyed friend at the doorway.
"I thought that you had left," Harry explained in a rush, his face strangely red.
Draco rolled his sleeves higher along his arm, sighing when he felt Potter's eyes following his movement. "Yes, I know that the colour doesn't favour me," he rolled his eyes. "It's like wrapping myself up with thirty Hufflepuff ties at once, but it’s the mandatory attire for the sharing session, you know?" He pulled Worry's latest forest green jumper on. "I try to avoid wearing the shirt as much as possible for the sake of my complexion, and everyone's well being" he continued, dabbing on his cologne in the mirror while Harry stood unmoving.
"Do yourself a favour and Obliviate yourself after, would you?" He asked as he shrugged on his black woollen coat. "Do you need me to return your books?" He asked when Harry made a soft, unintelligible sound.
"Harry," he called out sharply when the other only continued to follow him with his eyes. "Harry, any books to return?" He asked as he stood in front of his friend, ready to leave for Russell Square.
"No," Harry blurted as with a sharp shake of his head. "No, I'm fine," he repeated, looking strangely frightened as Draco frowned at him in scrutiny.
"Harry, you'll win the match against Neville. You're not actually scared now, are you? Don't listen to girl Weasley's rubbish about determining the real hero. You can do it," he coached as he grasped his friend by the side of his arms. It was strange that Harry would suddenly be worried about the touted 'Match of the Year' when he had laughed it off previously. But needs must, and he was running late. "Harry, you can do it, alright?" Draco repeated seriously as he looked into Harry’s eyes, waiting until he received a confirmation from his friend.
"Alright, see you tonight. Neville can hardly fly, much less play Beater and fly at the same time. Don't miss me too much when you win," he joked as he brushed past his friend, heading for the common room's poorly designed exit.
- - - - -
Draco Apparated to the Hogwarts gates ten before two in the morning, slightly tipsy from the drinks the younger volunteers had gone for after dinner. It was the latest that he had ever returned, and he was thankful for the Headmistress' lenient curfew.
Stumbling onto his feet in the common room, Draco was grateful that Harry had retired for the night instead of waiting up for him as he usually did. He would have been openly maudlin about Potter's virtuousness and that would have led to nothing good, he sighed as he fumbled for his potions stash in the dark. Downing his sobering potion, Draco was overcome by the sudden wash of fatigue. He was too tired to even put on his pyjamas after pulling off his clothes. He folded his clothes sloppily and burrowed under his covers, promising himself to rectify it first thing in the morning.
- - - - -
Harry was not to be found in the morning. Meeting Blaise and Weasley on the way to the Great Hall, he learned that the latter was still upset from their loss the day before. Draco had been equally confused to hear that, if not more so. Longbottom's team had girl Weasley, but was otherwise unmatched against Harry's line-up of Weasley and other Hufflepuff and Slytherin players. Weasley was frustrated by his friend's distracted form, ranting about Harry's weak flying and his complete disinterest in Seeking the day before.
Draco had grown increasingly uneasy throughout breakfast, concerned about Harry's emotional state. On top of whatever confusion that had contributed to his distraction, Harry would also be feeling terribly guilty at having let Weasley down. Gesturing for Blaise to look after Weasley, Draco had spent the short window of time he had before leaving for his Saturday volunteering session looking for his friend. However, the Quidditch pitch, astronomy tower, and the kitchens were empty.
Leaving Hogwarts worried, Draco wondered if Harry would turn up for the interhouse gathering at Three Broomsticks in the evening. He was disappointed that he would only be able to apologise for not being there for Harry's match an entire day later.
- - - - -
Draco Apparated to outside the Three Broomsticks with Pansy on his arm seven hours later, frowning as his best friend related the story of her latest run in with the largest swot at her fashion school. As he walked into the pub, Draco felt his shoulders loosen at the sight of Harry seated between Blaise and Luna.
Catching Harry's eyes, he directed his friend a look of concern, frowning when the other looked away quickly.
"Go get your boy," Pansy nudged him as Blaise left his seat to come over.
"But–" he whispered in reply as he held onto her arm tightly.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy," she enunciated carefully while he quickly scrambled to comply.
He had moved towards Harry when he saw panic flit across his friend's face, his eyes darting around before landing on girl Weasley. Draco was confused as he watched Harry seemingly plead with girl Weasley.
He was overcome by betrayal when girl Weasley nodded and circled around to take his intended seat. Draco felt his heart squeeze in hurt and muted fury. What had he done wrong? He was simultaneously embarrassed by his concern and furious at being jilted. He stood dumbly, unsure about how he was supposed to address the situation.
"Draco, where are you going?" Pansy exclaimed loudly as she dragged him towards the counter. "Wipe that look off your face, Draco. I've let you and your imagination run wild for long enough. Put on a smile and stay until ten. We'll discuss this after" she threatened, holding Draco’s forearm in a vice-grip, her eyes sharp as she bracketed Draco away from Harry's line of sight.
"Six giggle waters and two Butterbeers," she ordered cheerily when the bartender appeared. Draco plastered on a smile immediately as he squeezed Pansy's arm. He had been silly enough to entertain a crush on Potter, and trust Potter to solve his problem for him.
"Add six Butterbeers," he requested, dialling on the charm as he smiled at the bartender. Paying for the drinks, he returned to the tables with Pansy. He gave out the drinks brightly to everyone, inclusive of Potter.
"A little starter before the real drinks," he winked when Thomas commented about the lack of alcohol.
Draco was at his most charming of the semester that night. He downed giggle waters with Luna, sparred with Hermione about the rights of magical creatures and ways to provide more opportunities for their prefects, talked to Thomas about Muggle art history, found out more about Abbott's Muggle aunt who was a nurse, shared with girl Weasley what he knew about the recruitment trials of the different Quidditch teams, and listened about Greg's latest project and his trips to the Design Museum and the Geffrye Museum. He would hold conversations across tables, swap seats to talk to people, keeping himself engaged as he ignored the weight of Potter's eyes throughout the night.
As the night wound down from the drinking games that Draco had steadfastly stayed out of, Draco was whispering with Pansy who was seated on Blaise's lap.
"Have you told anyone anything that might have gotten back to him?" Pansy asked.
"Pansy, I've been nothing but upstanding since you know what. And he was still fine yesterday morning," he insisted with a smile that reached his eyes. In this dire period, their conversation was conducted with pureblood subterfuge. With their periodic full bodied laughter and casual smiles, no one would have realised that they were in fact strategising.
"I've been looking at him, and he looks afraid. Granger, Lovegood, and girl Weasley are sympathetic but frustrated. They're on your side, so it mustn't be something dangerous." She laughed loudly before reaching over to comb Draco's hair back softly.
"Pansy, I would wish that you had more faith that I did not do anything bad."
Pansy acquiesced with a smile. "Then Potter's overreacting to some minor news. Did Granger–"
"No, I've tried. I also thought that she would be the most likely to spill, but she didn't. I have no idea what's wrong with him." He nodded in agreement at nothing in particular for image's sake.
"I would advise you to stick close to Blaise, Granger, Thomas, and Lovegood if she'll have you. Wait for Potter to fold. I'll give him a week at most. Tonight at best."
Draco’s desperation bled through as his brows raised in surprise. He went along with it and turned it into excitement. "Tonight? You're turning optimistic, Pansy."
"Please, Draco. You of all people should know better than to question my judgement. Go butter girl Weasley up. She's impulsive enough to force Potter to reconcile with you. Tread carefully with your decisions, Draco," she warned brightly as they smiled at each other, their dispositions betraying nothing of the gravity of their exchange.
Draco nursed his Butterbeer for a few moments before heading to the bar to help girl Weasley with the waters. Laughing about his avoidance of alcohol, he lied about a hangover that morning from his outing with his fellow volunteers yesterday. Capitalising on the sympathy that he received, he talked about the packed day he had at GOSH, and how tired but contented he felt. By the end of the conversation, they had moved on to first names by Ginny's insistence.
Draco helped Ginny with the pitchers, distributing water to everyone and refilling Harry's glass with a friendly smile.
Settling in with Blaise, Pansy, and Greg, they talked about the real world with Longbottom and Abbott. It was fascinating, but Draco was more focused on watching Ginny arguing with Harry.
Catching Pansy's eye, he decided to take a gamble. "I'm going back first," he announced to the tables. "It's been a long day," he explained, nodding at Hermione when she stopped nuzzling Weasley, who was apparently an affectionate drunk.
"I'll write to you," he told Greg as they gave each other a quick one armed hug. "Pansy," he nodded, the air between them heavy with unsaid words. Just as he made to leave with his coat on, Pansy pulled him in for a hug. "Tread carefully but take the chance when it arises," she whispered before pulling back. He mulled over her words as he pecked her on the cheek.
Bidding everyone goodbye, including Potter, he buttoned his coat as he stepped out into the night. He sighed to himself as the biting cold stung his cheek. Trust Potter to make things difficult for him. Had things even been this complex with Theo? He trudged towards the castle, refusing to be hopeful, yet foolishly wishing that Potter would give chase.
"Draco!"
Draco froze, not believing his ears. Composing himself, he turned around to watch Potter running towards him. "Potter," he addressed coolly, hating himself for instinctively lamenting Potter's fresh bun. He preferred it when Potter tucked his loose fringe behind his ear.
Potter winced when he noticed that they were using last names once more.
"Yes?" Draco asked impatiently, suddenly relishing in punishing Potter when he had been so desperate for his company the entire day. "I thought that you had finally deigned to talk to me?"
Potter seemed to sag even further at Draco's harsh words.
Draco combed his fingers through his hair in frustration and self-loathing. "Let's walk back together," he offered amicably instead. "You can find your words slowly," he said, waiting for Potter to agree before beginning to walk.
As they trudged along, Draco began to feel guiltier for snapping at Potter. The other looked so frustrated and afraid that even Draco's cold Slytherin heart twinged. Potter kept beginning to say something before chickening out almost immediately.
"You woke up rather early today," Draco offered.
Potter nodded. "I couldn't sleep much, and I suddenly woke and–" he looked at Draco before quickly looking away. "I'm gay," Potter blurted out. "Gay, bisexual. I'm bisexual," he corrected himself.
Draco raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Obviously? How does this have to do with–have you just realised-are you upset at being bisexual?" He asked, completely lost. "Potter, you can't - bisexuals aren't actually promiscuous or greedy you know," he explained hotly.
Potter blinked at him in shock. "I just realised it yesterday," he said slowly, looking at Draco in complete disbelief.
Draco gasped. "Potter, have you not noticed the way you look at boys? We used to bet about when you would jump into bed with Diggory and Chang!" He exclaimed as he rubbed his temples in horror. Were Gryffindors all so hopeless? The mental image of Weasley doing things to Hermione in the third floor alcove surfaced. Draco winced to himself. "Potter, by Merlin's staff, you've always been looking at the male models on Blaise's menswear magazines!"
"I–" Potter attempted to defend himself. "You're making an assumption! I could have been looking at the clothes too!"
"Potter, I don't want to hurt your myopic self, but your fashion has been as abysmal as ever. There has been no transference of knowledge in any form. You wouldn't know fashion even if it hit you in the face!" For some strange reason unknown to Draco, Potter seemed upset by the statement. Regardless of his intention to reconcile with the Chosen One, Draco refused to apologise for it.
"Well, I mean, I could have been," Potter insisted stubbornly.
"But you weren't."
"Fine, but I really could have been, you know?"
"But you weren't. You were looking at them. Looking at it for their fashion requires more thinking. You would wonder, could I pull it off, would it complement my body shape? Do I already have similar pieces? How should I incorporate it into my wardrobe? Whereas looking at the models comprises of looking at their hair, their brows, their shoulders, their chest, their waist, and their fingers. A lot of flipping through until you see another model that you like. And you, Potter, you do that. You flip and flip and flip and flip and flip, then you stop and stare for ages. Then you sigh, before you flip and flip and flip and flip then you stare again." He looked at Potter pointedly. "And Potter, that's just bloody gay."
Potter coloured as he burrowed into his scarf. Draco reached over to help obscure Potter's face, tucking the top of Potter's scarf into the top of Potter's spectacles.
"I can't believe that you just realised it," Draco tutted, infinitely happier at having displayed his dominance. He suddenly paused with a dark frown. "Potter, are you punishing me for your gay epiphany? Are you ashamed of being bisexual? You can't become bisexual from hanging out with a homosexual, Potter! Homosexuality isn't contagious, and can I remind you that you've been unknowingly bisexual since your sexual awakening when you were fourteen?" He folded his arms. He didn't want to penalise Potter for the oppressive upbringing from the heartless specimen of Muggles who had raised him, but it hurt that the poster boy for acceptance had blamed him for The Gay.
Potter frowned in confusion. "Draco, are you gay?" He asked incredulously.
"Am I gay? Am I gay? Potter! Isn't it obvious?" He raised his hands in incredulity.
"No it isn't! Firstly, you're very physically intimate with Parkinson, and you took her to the Yule Ball. Secondly, you don't flip flip flip through Blaise's magazines, and thirdly, you've never mentioned it before!" Potter was verging on shrill now.
Draco idly thought that their confrontation could have been better conducted in a warmer environment. "Firstly Potter, I grew up with Pansy, and Pansy was making Blaise jealous so she asked me to the Yule Ball. Secondly, I am interested in fashion, and I also require more than just looking at models to get my jollies." He rolled his eyes at Potter's prudish embarrassment. "Thirdly, the topic has never arisen, and I thought that you were aware!"
Potter jumped when Draco's warming spell washed over him. He gestured for them to continue walking. "I wasn't aware." Potter stated unnecessarily.
"Evidently so, Potter. You are less informed about interpersonal matters than Professor Trelawney herself." Draco replied airily.
Potter laughed weakly as they walked in silence. "I wasn't upset that I was bisexual," Potter said before correcting himself. "I'm not upset that I'm bisexual. It was a surprise, but I think that it was the circumstances, you know? Like the rug was pulled from underneath me. And I was lost."
Draco hummed in agreement. "I heard about the game yesterday."
Potter shrugged helplessly. "I was really lost when you left," he motioned for Draco to not interrupt. "You know how I never knew about the magazines?" He waited for Draco's nod. "When I saw you changing yesterday, I got very erm–excited." He rushed the last word out quickly. "I've never seen you–you know, before, and I've also never seen you in short sleeves, and then I realised that I was attracted-as in sexually-to you." Potter said as he fixed his eyes on a point over Draco's shoulder.
"And I was really shocked, because I've never, you know, bisexual stuff, and then I realised that I've actually liked you for a long while. And I was really afraid because you know, bisexual stuff? And you know, you're you. As in–" he rushed to explain frantically. "We've been friends for a bit now, and I know that you want to redeem the Malfoy name, and you want to do it right, and the lies about you using me gets to you and it made me upset because I'm so selfish and I want you so much, and I would want you even if it made you unhappy about the news, and I just got very sad," Potter said as he wiped the tears in his eyes.
"I woke up today, and you were sleeping in your bed without drawing the curtains, and you didn't have your shirt on." Potter's face was red as he continued, seemingly unable to stop himself now that he had finally begun. "And I stood there watching you, wanting to touch and hold you so badly, I thought that my heart would explode from my chest. I got really afraid of myself. I don't want to lose what we have, but I want so much more, so I decided to not talk to you until I could stop myself, but not talking to you is worse, and I'm sorry," Potter finished lamely, wiping his tears before walking away by himself.
As Draco watched Potter leave, he felt his heart ache at the resigned slope of Potter's shoulders. It should have been his dream come true, he thought, Potter returning his affections, but things were unfortunately not binary now. Had it been three years ago with a less snotty Draco who pined after Potter as much as he did now, it would have been so much easier. There were now so many unfortunate circumstances between them.
Draco had nursed an affection for Potter, knowing from its conception that it was doomed. As he watched Potter leave, he was suddenly reminded about the awful Muggle film that Potter had rented over the Christmas holidays where floppy haired bookstore man had rejected brunette film star's earnest confession. Why had floppy haired bookstore man not taken the leap of faith and believed that they could overcome everything together? He had been so frustrated then, yelling at the television while hitting Potter's thigh in agony. Yet he was now floppy haired bookstore man, made impotent by his petty concerns, and then his friends would rag him afterwards.
Oh Merlin, Pansy!
"Potter!" Draco scrambled like floppy haired for brunette film star's hotel.
"Potter!" He yelled, lunging for Potter when the other turned around. He held Potter – no Harry, in a crushing hug. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered as Harry started to cry harder. "I'm more myopic than you," he mumbled into the curve of Harry's neck as he soothed his boyfriend (Draco didn't want to assume, but what else could they be, honestly?). They stood there for ages, Draco breathing in the musky scent of Harry’s cologne while Harry clutched at him tightly.
"I'm like a worse version of floppy haired bookstore man, you know?" Draco began when they released each other. "Checkered past and snotty, and you're exactly like brunette film star, earnest and right!" He exclaimed loudly, giddy from his gesture. Harry frowned at him in confusion before it suddenly dawned on him.
"The fame thing isn't really real, you know? And don't forget–" Harry licked his lips nervously. "I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her." He said, his red rimmed eyes adding to the effect.
Draco gaped at the solid performance before rolling his eyes as held Harry's hand up in his. "I already love you, Harry. I just didn't think that I deserved you," Draco said softly as he felt Harry squeeze his hand as they continued to walk once more.
"We'll be good." Harry promised.
A variety of sarcastic comments ran through Draco's mind at Harry's assurance. He blinked when he noticed Harry looking at him for confirmation.
"Yeah," Draco replied, disappointed by the doubt in his voice. "Yeah," he tried again as he nodded earnestly, flushing when Harry grinned brightly at him.
As they returned to the Hogwarts castle, Draco felt ready for the future before them.