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The first time that Harry spots Draco without his Slytherin entourage, he’s sat in a windowsill on the corridor leading to the Great Hall. Quill in hand, the git appeared to be deeply immersed in thought, annotating what looked like a potions textbook. Harry increased his pace, not wanting to miss this rare opportunity. For the last quarter, Harry had been determined to make friends with Malfoy. This change was initially spurred on by Hermione, who insisted that interhouse unity was key to a peaceful school year and that the trio should let bygones be bygones.
“You need to focus on your studies, Harry, rather than Draco.” Hermione had plopped down on the sofa in the common room, holding a stack of notes.
“ Dra-co ? First name basis is it?”
She ignored him, lecturing. “You can’t allow petty schoolyard taunts to distract you from your future.” Harry sighed dramatically, sinking into the cushions. He didn’t understand what had provoked this change of heart. His eyes slid lazily to her notes–that weren’t her notes at all. Hermione, with her penchant for calligraphy, loopy o’s and sidelong a’s, couldn’t have written that chicken scratch. No, the familiar handwriting belonged to another, more infuriating suspect.
“Hermione,” Harry said slowly, “Whose notes are those?”.
“Now Harry…” She folded the papers in her hand, obscuring the name written in the margins.
“Hermione…”. They looked at each other, at a standstill.
“ Accio notes!”
“ Harry ! Oh for God's sake!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. Harry knew that she was more miffed about his ability to do wandless magic. The fireplace flickered next to them. Scanning the papers, he looked for confirmation of his suspicions. Lo and behold, in the right hand corner of the page:
Draco L. Malfoy
Hermione at least had the decency to look ashamed.
“He’s not half as bad as he used to be. You’d see if you got to know him”.
“You got to know him? When? How? Does Ron know about this?”
“Oh Harry, you know how Ron is. I thought you would be more reasonable, but I stand corrected”. It was a rare thing for Hermione to admit error, which made Harry even more cross, given the context. She snatched the papers out of his hand. “We’ve been studying in the library. He’s actually quite brilliant at potions, you know.” Harry snorted. Leave it to Hermione to extoll the academic merits of Draco Malfoy.
“It’s easy to be brilliant when the Professor believes the sun shines out of your arse.”
“Harry James Potter!” She swatted his head. Taking a deep breath, she seemed to employ a change of strategy. “You know what?”
“What?”
“I think that you’re scared .” The glint in her eyes belied her words. Harry nearly choked.
“Of Malfoy ?”
“Of getting to know him. Of finding something that you might like !” He scoffed.
“I am not scared of Malfoy.” He had beaten the uptight sod in Defense, in Quidditch, and in life, thank you very much . Hermione heaved open a tome.
“Prove it.” She said, eyes trained on her book.
Harry had left that conversation in a foul mood, scaring off a few first years on his way to the Great Hall. That night, he turned the conversation over in his head. Scared? of Malfoy? The pinnacle of cowardice? The zenith of spinelessness? No way. And if he had choked on his pumpkin juice a few days earlier after catching Malfoy’s eye during breakfast, well then that was his business.
So, here he was, barreling towards his own destruction. Malfoy sat with his legs crossed, biting his rosy coloured bottom lip. His pale hair, iridescent in the sunlight, fell into his face. Harry was about to make a beeline in the opposite direction when Malfoy looked up. Damn his Gryffindor pride. Harry cleared his throat.
“Malfoy”. Malfoy looked as if he had seen a ghost. His gray irises widened fractionally. It would have been comical if there weren’t students stopping to whisper about what exactly was going on. Then Malfoy schooled his features into annoyance. His eyes narrowed.
“Potter. To what do I owe the honor?” He drawled lazily. “Have I done something worthy of suspicion? If you verify, you’ll find that the castle is free of dementors, death eaters, and the like.” Harry felt a familiar spark of irritation.
“And yet, here you are.” Harry shot back. Malfoy clenched his quill.
“So are you here to haul me off to Azkaban? Kingsley’s made you Head Auror already? Typical Potter, getting special treatment.” It felt so natural, riling Malfoy up. A crowd had formed around the two.
“That’s rich coming from you. Lessons on fair play from a Malfoy. You lot have never seen a bribe you didn’t like.” Malfoy pursed his lips in annoyance.
After much effort, “Potter. Why. Are. You. Here?” As if by magic (and possibly so), Harry snapped out of the trance. He faltered, remembering his original objective.
“Fancy a game of quidditch?” He said weakly. Draco stood up abruptly, stuffing his book into his brown leather satchel. Without a word, he marched down the hallway, parting the crowd like the Red Sea, leaving Harry standing like an idiot. So, the first try didn’t work out.
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Harry and Ron are sitting in the Gryffindor common room, playing chess. Across the room, Hermione is writing a Divination essay.
“You insulted his father ?”
“Not specifically…” Harry said, glumly.
“But he had every right to.” Ron spoke, taking Harry’s rook.
Hermione groaned. “Harry! You’re supposed to be making nice .”
“I know that! I’m trying Hermione—Hogwarts wasn’t built in a day.”
“Don’t listen to her mate. Next thing you know she’ll want us to bunk with Crabbe and Goyle.” Ron shuddered.
“I don’t know how to do this!” Harry exclaimed in frustration.
“Why don’t you start by calling him by his first name?” Hermione suggested. Ron guffawed.
“Sacrilege!”
“Unless of course, you’re too scared .”
So that settled it. The next day, Malfoy was nowhere to be found. Harry waited at breakfast, then at dinner, and no sign of the posh git. He decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. Rooting through his trunk, he pulled out the Marauder's Map. A dot named Draco Malfoy was pacing in the Astronomy Tower. Harry raised his eyebrows. Was Malfoy waiting for someone? Did he have–God forbid–a date ?! This sent Harry into motion. He threw on his invisibility cloak, snuck through the halls and up the stairs to the astronomy tower. He hesitated before twisting the doorknob. Before he could even open the door, he was sent flying into the stone.
“ Expelliarmus !” Malfoy’s voice rang out.
Harry’s instincts kicked in. “ Protego !”
“ Potter ?!” Malfoy exclaimed incredulously.
“What is wrong with you?” Harry rubbed his arm unconsciously.
“You snuck up on me!” High pitched and self conscious, Malfoy gripped his wand defensively.
“These are school grounds!” Harry yelled, his heart pounding.
“And what has that ever changed?!” Malfoy yelled back.
A pregnant pause ensued, allowing Harry to take in the room. The contents of Malfoy’s bag were strewn across a blanket on the floor. A half eaten sandwich, Hogwarts: A History , a few quills, some more chicken scratch notes, and a journal. Harry turned his attention to Malfoy, who was quickly gathering his things.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you!”
The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Harry had to do something–he remembered Hermione’s words from the other day.
“Wait,” he cried, tugging on Malfoy’s wrist. Malfoy pulled his hand back as if burned. They looked at each other, each shocked by the sudden movement. “Draco?”
Malfoy’s face became red with–anger?
“I don’t know what you’re playing at but stay away from me, Potter.” He croaked. With a swish of his cloak, he was gone, descending down the stairs.
Harry sat across from Hermione in the library with his head in his hands. What was Malfoy doing in the astronomy tower in the first place? Practicing dark magic? Waiting for a secret admirer?
“What about studying for our O.W.L.s?” Hermione mumbled.
“Then why the astronomy tower and not the library?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be bothered.” She said, with emphasis. “Since you’re already here, why don’t you revise?”
“Something’s not right with Malfoy. He’s behaving strangely.” Harry worried his lip.
“No, no, no, no.”
“What?” Harry flicked a pen across the desk.
“Not this again Harry! I thought you had recovered from this!”
“What? I’m concerned for his wellbeing. You know, in an interhouse unity kind of way.” Hermione scoffed, putting her book up to block Harry’s line of view.
But you know what they say: third times the charm. This time, Harry would be prepared. All night he thought about his strategy: what could he do to get Malfoy’s defenses down? By morning, he had the perfect plan.
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The only problem was that Malfoy was avoiding him. He only went to three places: to class, to the Great Hall, and to the Slytherin dorms. In class, encircled by Ron and Hermione, it was nearly impossible to get to the louse. Harry had tried to catch him multiple times in the Great Hall, but there he was protected by Dumb and Dumber. Then, there was the Slytherin common room, but Harry wasn’t keen on descending into the snake's den. So, much to Harry’s chagrin, he had to wait. But during this period of inaction, he was able to more easily observe Draco from afar. He watched as the skin by his eyes wrinkled slightly when he laughed. He watched as he separated each cherry pit from its flesh. He watched as he meticulously inspected his nails. In order to get on Malfoy’s good side, he had to offer him something he likes. And what did Malfoy like more than anything? Harry Potter’s complete and utter humiliation.
“Hey Malfoy,” Harry said, jogging up to the blond after a particularly boring Defense Against the Dark Arts lecture.
“Potter.” Malfoy answered coolly, gathering his things. He barely spared Harry a glance. Now that just wouldn’t do.
“I have a proposition for you.” Harry said, following him out of the classroom.
“Not interested.” Malfoy’s long strides left Harry struggling to keep up.
“Even if it involves my possible humiliation?” Malfoy’s steps faltered. Bingo.
“I’m listening.”
“Up for a seeker’s match?” Harry saw a glint in those gray eyes.
“The Slytherin-Gryffindor match is next term.”
“Oh, but this will be a special match. If you win, I’ll do anything you want.” Malfoy stopped walking entirely. He turned his attention to Harry, calculating.
“Anything?” He said, raising an eyebrow. Harry shuddered to think of what possibilities were going through the dolt’s head. But he was sure of himself.
“Anything within reason . Excluding things that will get me expelled or put in Azkaban.” Draco rolled his eyes at that.
“And if I lose?
“You have to eat dinner with me in the kitchens for a week.” A week. That was all Harry needed to win Draco over.
“The kitchens ?” Draco grimaced. “Why? That sounds like a punishment for us both.”
Harry paused. He had to think of something innocuous. “The house elves like the company”. It was Draco’s turn to shudder.
“Fine. You’re on, Potter.” And with one fell swoop of his cloak, he was gone, stalking down the hall. Harry watched him go, elated by the progress he had made. Draco had never beat him to the snitch, but Harry knew that he wouldn’t be able to refuse the chance. When he got back to the Gryffindor common room, he was all smiles.
“Malfoy fall into a ditch?” Ron said, noting Harry’s good mood.
“Even better.” Harry responded, throwing himself onto the leather sofa.
“What happened?” Ron said, putting down his Chudley Cannons magazine.
Harry’s grin spread across his face. “I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
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The next day, Harry was up bright and early, dressed in Quidditch gear and ready for his plan to come into fruition. He was polishing his broom in the stands when Malfoy sauntered onto the field. His silky hair, made almost white by the sun, blew in the breeze. He was accompanied by his two most loyal minions–no matter, Harry thought to himself. He would soon have Malfoy all to himself. He balked at this thought, face flushing. Must be the morning cold, he thought.
“Morning Malfoy. Beautiful day for a game isn’t it?” Harry shouted across the turf.
“Enough with the pleasantries, Potter.” Malfoy scowled. He held a golden snitch in his hands. It took six minutes for Harry to catch the snitch–a new record. Floating down to the ground, Malfoy’s disgruntled face came into view. He marched up to Harry and grabbed the snitch out of his hand. The contact caused Harry’s celebratory thoughts to come to a screeching halt.
“7 o’clock Potter. In front of the fat lady’s portrait. Don’t be late .” He sneered, giving Harry one of his trademark dramatic exits. Harry smiled at his leather boots. The game was finished, but the real game had only begun.
That night, Harry may have spent more time than usual sizing himself up in the boys bathroom. After a long shower, he looked at his reflection in the foggy mirror, all wild hair and green eyes. His glasses sat on the edge of the sink. He briefly considered getting his hands on Dean’s Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Malfoy had mentioned that his hair looked like a rat’s nest on several different occasions after all. Maybe a little bit wouldn’t hurt. He dipped three fingers into the sticky green goop and emulsified it in his palms. He ran his fingers through his permanently untidy locs. Before he had a chance to look, he heard the dinner bell ring.
“Oh, Merlin!” He ran out of the bathroom, knocking into Neville on the way out. “Sorry mate!” As he ran through the halls, he realized that the world had gotten a bit blurrier since that morning. Fuck . He had forgotten his glasses in the bathroom. “Too late to turn back now,” he mumbled to himself, knowing that Draco’s penchant for dramatics would only get worse. He passed a group of second year Hufflepuff girls. He gave them an awkward smile as he speedwalked by. Their reaction gave him pause. The girls began to giggle, whispering amongst themselves and pointing at him.
“Did you do something different with your hair, Harry?” One cooed.
“Sorry, I’m a bit late for something at the moment–” He responded, rushing past them. He reached his fingers up to touch his hair. It felt slick with product. Had he used too much? He didn’t have much time to ponder over this question, as he turned the corner and almost ran directly into Malfoy’s chest. He smelled like fresh laundry.
“Potter.” Malfoy said, face red with anger. “You’re late.” His eyes flicked upwards to Harry’s head, making him feel self conscious. “What have you done with your…hair?”
“Then we’d best get a move on, no?” He brushed past Draco, bounding down the stairs without waiting to see if he was following. If Draco didn’t know the way to the kitchens, he didn’t show it. They navigated the maze of Hogwarts halls in silence. Harry began to hear his blood rushing in his ears. Was this a good idea? What did he plan on actually saying once they sat down? What on earth did his hair look like right now? Malfoy followed at a distance, remarkably light footed.
“It’s this way.” Harry pointed down a small, rickety wooden staircase. They came to an old oak door. Harry could smell the freshly baked bread, heavenly stews and soups, and tender meats from the other side. Draco’s stomach growled in protest. Harry’s neck whipped around to Draco.
“Was that-” Draco’s face was firetruck red.
“Silence, Potter.” He refused to meet Harry’s gaze. “Unlike you, some of us are not barbaric heathens who eat at any time of day. I’m off schedule.”
Harry stifled a laugh. How undignified of a normally picture perfect Malfoy to experience regular human needs. He opened the door and a waft of different scents welcomed them. The house elves were busy at work, chopping and peeling vegetables for the mise en place, mixing giant bubbling pots of braised liquid, and plating an assortment of appetizers. The atmosphere was humid with steam. Harry brushed away a brown strand of hair tickling his cheek. He looked to Malfoy to gauge his reaction. The fair haired boy seemed to be entirely taken with the charm of the kitchens. He looked at the house elves' work, diligently and orderly, passing by as if they weren't there at all.
“Come on.” Harry pushed through the commotion, to a small nook. He moved the embroidered curtains to reveal a little hole in the wall, just enough for two people and a round table. On the floor sat two teal cushions. The only light was provided by candlestick. Grapes, french cheeses, and crackers lined the table. Two silver chalices shone brightly. Harry plopped down, crossing his legs. Draco scanned the room, questions in his eyes.
“I come here sometimes to eat.” Harry said. “When I don’t want to be bothered.” He added.
“And the house elves serve you personally? One of the many privileges of being the Savior, I suppose.” He said, snarkily. Malfoy looked at the cushion. “Couldn't have bothered to ask for some real chairs?”
Harry snorted. Of course Malofy was worried about his delicate arse. “Aren’t you gonna sit down?”
Malfoy examined the cushion like a cat. Finally, he sat down, mirroring Harry’s position. He took a grape in his lengthy pale fingers and brought it up to his mouth. Harry had never noticed how pink those lips were.
“So,” Malfoy started, with his posh drawl in full force, “Is this an interrogation?”
“What?” Harry was brought back to reality. “N-no. Of course not.”
Malfoy pursed his lips in disbelief.
“So why have you brought me here?”
“You lost our bet, remember?” A spark of indignation in those gray eyes. Malfoys did not like to lose.
“Yes, Potter, I’m well aware of that fact. But why have you chosen this,” he gestured at the spread, “as punishment?”
“It’s not a punishment. I just wanted to spend more time with you.” Malfoy choked on his grape. His face went ablaze in the candlelight. Harry reacted immediately.
“Are you alright?” He said, reaching for Malfoy as he coughed violently. “ Aguamenti . Here, drink this.” Malfoy looked at the water as if it was poison. Finally, he raised the chalice up to his lips and took three long, healthy gulps.
“What are you on about, Potter?” His voice came out gravelly. Harry sighed.
“Please call me Harry.”
Malfoy flung his arms every which way in opposition. “I most certainly will not!” Before Malfoy could continue his tirade, the curtain opened to reveal a familiar face.
Malofy’s mouth flopped open like a fish. “Dobby?”
Dobby gave a graceful nod. “Master Malfoy. Harry Potter.”
Harry gave Dobby a smile. “Hi Dobby. Been a while.” Dobby’s big eyes begin to fill with water.
“Oh how Dobby has missed Harry Potter! Why did Harry Potter not visit Dobby for so long?” He wailed, flapping his big ears.
“I’m sorry Dobby, I’ve been a bit busy.” Dobby continued to wail. Draco looked at this scene, incredulous. “I promise to visit soon again. Draco and I will be coming down every night this week.” He looked at Draco, who seemed to nod out of fear. Dobby wiped away the wetness in his eyes. “Speaking of, could we please have something to eat?” Dobby nodded furiously.
“Dobby has made his special lamb stew, accompanied by herbaceous potatoes and broccolini for the young masters.” Dobby briefly exited the nook and returned with two steaming hot plates.
“Thank you Dobby.” Harry said, pausing. When the pause went on for too long he kicked Draco in the shin. He glared at Harry and gave him a returning kick.
“Oh yes, thank you .” Draco added as an afterthought. Dobby brimmed over the praise, stepping out and scurrying back into the kitchens. Once Dobby had left, they ate in relative silence. Draco was clearly hungry, he ate everything and even got the sauce clean off the plate with a few pieces of baguette.
“You seem like you like it.” Harry said, watching Draco wipe the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin. Well, at least Dobby will be pleased, Harry thought.
When he was done, he stood up abruptly, almost losing his balance. Draco pointed an accusatory finger at Harry.
“I don’t know what you’re plotting Potter, but I’ll have no part in it.” With that, Draco stormed out of the kitchens. Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands. This was going to be harder than he thought.
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Harry sat beneath an oak tree, watching the ground speckled with dappled sunlight streaming through the branches. He leaned into the tough bark, feeling slightly uncomfortable but too lazy to move in any substantial way. From his vantage point, he could see Hagrid’s hut in the near distance, smoke billowing out of the chimney. Not too far away, students chittered with excitement for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Harry felt not one ounce of excitement. Firstly, because he still had ten inches left on his Charms essay due on Friday. And secondly, because of recent developments with none other than Draco Malfoy. The pest had become a permanent fixture in the recesses of his mind.
After dinner yesterday, Harry had gone back to his dorm for a long think. He just couldn’t figure Malfoy out. Like a typical Slytherin, Malfoy had assumed that Harry had invited him to dinner to interrogate him or otherwise blackmail him in some way. A cool breeze made him shiver. Why couldn’t Malfoy react like a normal person? He radiated discomfort—did he really hate Harry that much? Or was it something else? Harry had thought that after the first dinner they would’ve established a friendly rapport–or at least a truce. But he supposed that years of bad blood wouldn’t disappear over one dinner. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Maybe he just needed a different approach. He decided to gather his things and head to the owlery. He couldn’t be bothered to search the grounds looking for Malfoy, so he ripped a piece of parchment and took out his quill. In his neatest handwriting, he penned:
Meet me at the Astronomy tower. 7 o clock. Promise I won’t be late. - H
The ink had barely dried before Harry gave it to a common barn owl, who flew off in search of Draco. Harry walked back to the castle, feeling quite pleased with himself. When he arrived at the Gryffindor common room, he was assaulted with a barrage of questions from all angles. A shock of red hair obstructed his view.
“Tell me it isn’t true mate.” Ron said, sheet white. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders.
“What isn’t true? Ow–Ron, you’re hurting me!” Harry swatted away his hands.
“Ron, I told you to leave it be! Harry will tell us when he’s ready.” Hermione reprimanded from across the room.
“They’re saying that you’re courting …Malfoy!” Ron gagged. Harry balked at that. He was at a loss for words. Harry courting Malfoy? How could anyone think that? They were practically enemies, they had been at each other's throats since first year! And sure, Harry had made greater efforts to befriend the git recently, but only to prove he was capable! The point is, there was never anything romantic about it. Harry felt like the room was spinning. He let himself fall onto the sofa in defeat.
“W-who said that?” Harry sputtered.
“No one, Harry–” Hermione soothed, before being interrupted.
“The entire Hogwarts student body!” Ron wailed, continuing his melodrama.
“Ronald!”
“Everyone saw it, Harry. Your owl flying into the Great Hall and landing right in front of him! I could hardly believe my eyes. At first I doubted it, but when I saw his reaction… ” Ron trailed off, looking as if he was about to be sick.
“Ron, you’re being stupid. This is a complete misunderstanding–” Harry looked at Hermione for support, only to find that she was avoiding his eyes. “Oh come on Hermione, not you too?!” How had even his closest friends been infected by this mass hysteria?
“Harry…where were you last night? I hardly saw you yesterday at all. Then, I hear in the girls' lavatory Lavender Brown says she saw you and Malfoy sneaking around the castle.” Herminone looked at him, calculating.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was in the kitchens !” Harry said, indignantly. “Eating dinner–”
“Dinner with Malfoy?” Ron squeaked. “You’re even worse than Hermione!” Hermione threw a pillow at Ron’s head, causing him to duck.
“This was your idea, Hermione!” Harry exclaimed.
“Harry, I hardly thought you’d take it this far.” Hermione said. “You’ve always been a bit obsessed where Malfoy was concerned…” She trailed off. That was the last straw.
“You know what? Believe whatever you want! I am going to bed.”
“Harry, wait–” Ron started.
Harry stomped into his dorm, red in the face, locking the door behind him. How could they? The people who knew him the best, believing such rubbish! He pulled his invisibility cloak out of his trunk. It was almost time and he was not going to be late. As he tiptoed out, he heard Ron and Hermione bickering in the Common room.
“I told you that you shouldn’t push him Ron, you know how Harry is with Draco–” Hermione started.
Harry decided he didn’t want to hear the rest of that sentence. He opened the door carefully and closed it behind him, being sure not to make any noise.
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He found Draco in the astronomy tower, gazing softly out of the window. Harry grinned underneath the cloak—he hadn’t been sure if Malfoy would really show, especially considering the rumors going around. Draco sat on the windowsill, holding his head in one hand as the moonlight bathed his pale skin, giving him an ethereal glow. Strands of silver hair tickled his cheeks. He actually looked at ease, a rare expression on Malfoy (when Harry was around anyway). Harry found himself wanting to watch Draco a little longer, but his plans were cut short when he sneezed from underneath the invisibility cloak. Draco had his wand out immediately.
“Who’s there?” He frantically looked around the room.
“Don’t freak out!” Harry said, quickly pulling off the cloak’s hood.
“Potter?!” Malfoy’s mouth was agape. His eyes darted from Harry’s floating head to the space where the rest of his body should’ve been. Harry chuckled at his expression and Malfoy immediately snapped his mouth shut.
“I brought sandwiches.” Harry shrugged off the cloak, revealing a woven picnic basket. Malfoy looked at him warily, biting his lip in concentration. His white teeth sunk into the plush rose colored skin. Harry could tell that he was burning with questions. He looked at Malfoy and gave him a frank look. “Yes?” Malfoy turned his nose up at him. Harry scoffed. Why couldn’t Malfoy ever just ask for what he wanted? “It was a gift.” Harry offered. Malfoy turned his head in curiosity. Go on , he seemed to say. “From my father.” Malfoy’s eyes widened. He looked down at his robes, rubbing the cloth in between his fingers.
“Privileges of being the chosen one , I suppose.” Malfoy mumbled.
“Just Harry is fine, thanks.” Harry emptied the picnic basket on the ground and took a seat. He wasn’t sure what Malfoy might like, so he gathered red grapes, a variety of french cheeses, saucisson, an assortment of jams, a freshly baked baguette, and a bottle of chilled cider. He had seen Malfoy spread apricot jam on bread loaves in the Great Hall, so he knew he favored it. “Aren’t you going to sit down?” Malfoy looked at the stone floor with reluctance. Harry sighed and got out his wand.
“Potter…” Malfoy said warningly, reaching for his own wand. Harry transfigured the picnic basket into a cushion. Draco visibly relaxed.
“There you are, your highness.” Malfoy’s cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. He sat down on the cushion. Harry offered him the bottle of cider. Malfoy eyed the bottle suspiciously. “Scared, Malfoy?” Harry challenged.
“You wish.” Malfoy snatched the bottle and lifted it to his lips, taking several healthy gulps. Harry stole a glance at Malfoy’s lips, shining with cider. From then on they ate, mostly in silence. Harry’s mind drifted back to his earlier conversation with Ron and Hermione. Did Malfoy know about those rumors? Now that he thought about it, Ron had especially mentioned Malfoy’s reaction to his letter. What did Ron mean by that? Was Malfoy upset by something he had said? Lord knows that the git’s behavior was completely incomprehensible. If Malfoy knew about the rumors, what did he think of them? Surely that they were complete hogwash. Malfoy might even go as far as hexing anyone who even suggested otherwise. To Harry’s surprise, the object of his ire cleared his throat and spoke, breaking the silence. Malfoy’s face was flushed, no doubt a result of the cider.
“Hermione tells me you have yet to finish your Charms essay.” Malfoy said, scanning Harry’s face.
“That traitor.” Harry replied, taking a swig of cider. “I only have a few pages left.”
“I’m quite brilliant at Charms.” Malfoy offered.
“Oh?” Harry breathed. The atmosphere felt charged.
“I might be able to take a look at it,” Malfoy said, “for a price.” Harry cocked his head to the side lazily. This movement brought him closer to Malfoy.
“And what might that be?” He asked, eyes glittering.
Malfoy trained his eyes on the floor. “Tell me why…you asked me here tonight.” He said, barely a whisper. His soft gray eyes glanced up to meet Harry’s. His breath caught in his throat.
“I-” Harry’s voice came out gravelly. “I thought you’d be more comfortable here.” Malfoy raised a thin brow. “Well, you mentioned before that you eat here sometimes…” Harry trailed off. “I thought you seemed antsy in the kitchens.” At this, Malfoy turned his head away from Harry. After a moment, Harry spoke. “Draco?” Malfoy abruptly stuck out his hand.
“Give me your Charms essay.”
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Harry was in a remarkably good mood the following morning. Autumn leaves covered the grounds as he walked through the courtyard. He passed the Whomping Willow on the way to Hagrid’s hut, where they were meeting for tea. Harry mused over his recent success. That same morning, Draco had walked over to the Gryffindor table, Charms' essay in hand. The entire Great Hall turned to stare at the scene. Draco hardly lifted his eyes from the floor. He stood right in front of Harry, who was sandwiched between Dean and Seamus.
“Next time Potter, come to me first . It took ages to correct this.” Draco’s cheeks were dusted light pink. He gave Hermione a nod. Harry vaguely saw Ron spit out his pumpkin juice in his periphery. He held out the parchment to Harry, who made no movement until Dean elbowed him in the stomach.
“Ow!” He whined, grabbing the paper in a rush. Draco’s fingertips touched his own in the exchange. Harry felt an electric shock course through his body. He turned to Malfoy to thank him, but he was already gone.
“What the hell was that about?” Ron said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Harry was as shocked as anyone. But whatever he was doing, it was working. He turned to Hermione and gave her a cocky grin.
“How’s that for interhouse unity?” He gloated. She just rolled her eyes. Harry smiled at the memory. A cold breeze made him shiver and he wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and picked up the pace towards the small wooden cabin. The wooden steps groaned with the imposition of Harry’s weight. Before Harry could knock, the large door swung open. Harry basked in the wave of warmth from the inside.
“Harry! Jus’ on time aren’t ya? Come on in, it’s freezing out there.” Hagrid’s booming voice commanded, manhandling Harry into the hut. “Si’ down, si’ down.” Harry took a seat.
“Hello, Hagrid.” Harry said, smiling. He loved coming over to Hagrid’s, it had a warmth to it that he missed in the cold, stone castle. Pheasants and ducks hung from the ceiling. The crackling blaze on the hearth burned brightly. A copper kettle hung above the fire. Harry took a deep breath in, relishing in the scent of spiced rum and cinnamon wafting from the iron furnace. Every corner of the hut had something to look at. Hagrid shuffled over to Harry, handing him a patchwork quilt. “Thank you.” He said, wrapping himself up in a cocoon.
“There y’ar Harry. Don’t wanna catch a cold now do y’er?” Hagrid sat down with an ‘oof’. He told Harry about how Fang was refusing to eat and he had no idea why. “Little bugger…I got him his favorite too. Top Dog Biscuits and dragon meat.” Harry quickly caught Hagrid up on his recent happenings. He mentioned how he had received an ‘O’ on his latest Charms’ essay. Hagrid clapped Harry on the back, causing Harry to almost fall out of his chair. “S’ my boy!”
“I had some help.” Harry said sheepishly.
“That Hermione. Brightest witch of her generation!” Hagrid boasted.
Harry smirked. “Not quite.” He said.
“Then who?” Hagrid asked.
“Draco Malfoy.” The kettle started whistling.
“Malfoy? What’re you on about Harry?” Hagrid said gruffly, removing the kettle from the fire. He turned and opened a cupboard. “Green tea or chamomile?”
“Chamomile, please.” Harry explained how things had developed. He told Hagrid about how Hermione had started it at first, saying that she thought he was scared to talk to Malfoy.
“You? Scared of a coward like ‘im?” Hagrid laughed heartily. Harry cupped his fingers around his mug, allowing the warmth of the tea to seep into his bones.
“Now, I’m starting to think she just said that because she knew it would rile me up…” He took a sip.
“You wer always one fir a challenge.” Hagrid said fondly. “But you watch out for that Malfoy boy Harry. After what he did to Buckbeak…” Harry promised that he’d be careful.
“But you know, it’s been different than I expected.” Hagrid quirked up a furry eyebrow.
“Whaddya mean?” He inquired.
“I don’t know, it’s been…” Harry gestured vaguely. “Kind of nice.” He finished lamely. His face felt hot. Hagrid looked at him with wide eyes. Then he laughed, a grand booming laugh.
“Always one fir a challenge.”
Harry left Hagrid’s hut feeling warm despite the November air.
🍁🍂🍁
That evening, as Harry left the Gryffindor common room, he was shocked to come face to face with none other than Draco Malfoy, who was waiting outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. Malfoy had his hands tucked into his cloak and appeared to be pacing back and forth.
He spotted Harry and gave him a once over. “Took you long enough, Potter.” He scowled, but his words lacked their usual bite.
“My apologies, your highness.” Harry did a deep bow. He looked up to see a pink Malfoy–Harry loved to get that reaction out of him. Malfoy was always so poised, so aristocratic, but around Harry he seemed to lose his cool.
“Oh, sod off.” Malfoy huffed, leading the way, Harry struggling to keep up with his long strides.
“Where are we going?” Harry said, grabbing onto Malfoy’s robes. Malfoy mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?” Malfoy refused to meet his eyes.
“The kitchens.”
Harry stopped in his tracks. “ You want to go to the kitchens ?” He guffawed. “You said that going to the kitchens was a punishment.”
“I changed my mind.” Malfoy said, walking quickly ahead. Harry jogged to catch up. “Besides–they’re hardly the dump I had imagined.”
“You hadn’t been to the kitchens before?”
“Students aren’t meant to be in the kitchens, Potter.” Draco rapidly descended down a flight of stairs. “Some of us actually follow the rules. We aren’t all special Harry Potter.”
“You think I’m special?” Harry winked. Malfoy’s pale skin betrayed him. He grunted and opened the door to the kitchens. It was strange–Harry had begun to actually look forward to his dinners with Malfoy. At first, he felt driven by his Gryffindor pride. He knew that he could make friends with Malfoy if he wanted to. He just needed Hermione to know that too. But when he wasn’t accusing Harry of trying to blackmail him, he was rather pleasant company. He wasn’t pedantic like Hermione or immature like Ron.
He had his own peculiarities–Harry caught his eyes lingering on him when he thought that he wasn’t looking. When Harry caught his eye in the Great Hall, he actually smiled–a reserved smile, but a smile nonetheless–until Pansy Parkinson whispered something in his ear, leading the two to start flinging hexes at each other. Then there was the near constant pink tinge of his cheeks. At first Harry had thought it was the heat in the kitchens, but that rosy color had persisted from the Astronomy tower to the Quidditch field.
Harry and Draco sat in the little cove in the kitchens. They had finished their food a while ago (Dobby prepared an excellent medium rare steak, accompanied with creamed spinach and mashed potatoes) and were simply idling in the after eating glow. Harry felt heavy and sleepy, but he was enjoying himself too much to say anything. Draco was telling an animated story on how he had seen the Giant Squid from the Slytherin dormitories. Harry was surprised by how relaxed he seemed, especially compared to the last time they were in the kitchens. He held his head with one hand and observed.
Malfoy talked with his hands, Harry noted. His fingers were thin and long, hands perfectly unblemished. As he spoke he gestured wildly, “It must’ve been at least 10 meters long!”. His light blonde hair had fallen out of its gel cast and fell softly onto his forehead. It had a sort of otherworldly quality to it which made Malfoy look almost angelic. Harry smirked at the idea. A fallen angel . Harry thought. On the corner of Malfoy’s mouth lied a forgotten piece of spinach. The green contrasted starkly with his pink pouty lips.
“Are you even listening, Potter?” Malfoy said, knitting his eyebrows together.
“What?” Harry said, suddenly self conscious. What had he been thinking about? Malfoy’s lips ? He needed to change the conversation quickly. The spinach! “Here, you have a little something…” Harry reached over the table and took Malfoy’s head in his hand. He pulled him closer, cradling his jaw and swiped his thumb over his lip, effectively removing the spinach. Malfoy’s eyes flickered down to where Harry was caressing his bottom lip.
Harry, however, was lost in his thoughts. He knew that Malofy’s lips would be soft, but he was surprised at how pillowy they felt under his thumb. He had watched as Malfoy worried his lip during exams, how he pouted when Slytherin lost points. How would those lips feel on his? How would they feel wrapped around—
“ Po-tter ?” Malfoy looked like a deer in headlights. His eyes were comically wide, mouth hanging open. His gray pupils were dilated and he hardly appeared to be breathing. Harry flung himself back violently, releasing his grip on Malfoy. What did he think he was doing ? He was lucky that Malfoy hadn’t hexed him! His mind was going a mile a minute. His trousers were tightening rapidly. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest. He needed to get out of there. He took one last look at Malfoy, who wore a vacant expression on his face, and sprinted out of the kitchens.
🍁🍂🍁
That night, Harry hardly got a wink of sleep. He was plagued by images of Draco Malfoy. After he made it out of the kitchens, cloak strategically gathered at his waist, he practically ran up to the Gryffindor tower. He didn’t stop until he made it to the boys bathroom, where he took the longest shower of his life. After some much needed relief, he was able to assess the situation with a clear mind. Why had he reacted like that ? Surely it was just mechanical. He was a young man, his hormones were all over the place, and it’s not like he had time for fooling around at school. But boys ? Boys were alright, but Malfoy ? He had to have gone completely barmy. In the afternoon, Harry walked with Hermione to the library.
“Did you meet with Draco yesterday?” Hermione inquired. Harry tripped over his cloak. “Harry!”
“N-no, I haven’t seen him!” He sputtered out, red in the face. “Why, what about Malfoy?”
“He seemed…off when we exchanged notes this morning.” Hermione said, suspicious. Harry waved it off frantically. He couldn’t bear to face Draco. All day he kept the Marauder's map in close quarters, watching as the dot went from the Slytherin dormitories to the Great Hall. Harry had skipped breakfast this morning entirely.
“I have to go!” Harry squeaked.
“Harry, we’ve only just arrived. You need to take your schoolwork more seriously, OWLs are just around the corner–” Hermione started.
“I have to go meet with–” He glanced at a plant in the window. “Neville!”
“Neville?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry smiled widely.
“Yes, of course, Neville! He’s helping me with Herbology!”
“Oh, well then, let me join you–” Hermione started.
“Can’t! Gotta run! Sorry Hermione!” And with that, he ran out of the library.
Was he avoiding Malfoy? Yes. He needed to figure out what was going on with him. Had he enjoyed the time that he and Malfoy spent together? Maybe. Yes. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. Harry stalked through a crowded hallway, his magic crackling beneath his skin. He needed to be alone . He needed time to think. He felt eyes on him from all directions. Classes were over, and students were meandering through the halls, on their way to the dorms. Before Harry could escape back to Gryffindor tower, a small hand caught his.
“Are you alright Harry? You look positively awful…” Ginny looked at him with concern. She tilted her head in question, her fiery red locks tumbling over her shoulders. Before Harry could respond, Malfoy happened upon them. He had turned the corner, walking alongside Pansy Parkinson. Harry wished that he had his invisibility cloak. Malfoy looked as dashing as ever, all sharp lines and delicate movements. He wore his satchel across his chest, holding the strap with one hand. He hadn’t yet seen them.
“Harry?” Ginny repeated, scanning his face with worry. Harry snapped out of his reverie. His eyes snapped down to where Ginny’s pale hand was holding his. In his periphery, he saw Pansy nod in their direction.
“I’m fine, Gin, really.” Harry said, removing his hand. He feigned a scratch on his cheek–Ginny was his friend, he didn’t want to hurt her. Malfoy was looking at him now, no doubt of it. His gray eyes bore a hole in Harry with their intensity. His face was completely impassive. Had he seen that?
“Hermione says that you’re acting strangely…” Ginny questioned, following his line of sight. “Is Malfoy bothering you again?” She said, glaring at the two Slytherins. In response, Pansy tugged Malfoy by the sleeve, down a nearby staircase.
“No, no–” Harry started, watching them descend. “Ginny, I’m fine, I promise. I just need some sleep.” He started towards the tower.
“Okay, but if I find out you’re lying to me I’m going to tell Hermione!” Ginny yelled down the hall. Harry scurried up the tower.
That night, Harry skipped dinner. He chose to spend his evening wallowing in bed with the curtains pulled. Outside, a heavy rain tapped against the window. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw Malfoy’s unreadable expression. He pulled the covers closer. What was Malfoy thinking? Did he wait outside the Fat Lady’s portrait, expecting Harry to meet him for dinner? Harry groaned in frustration. This whole ordeal was his idea in the first place. Maybe Hermione was right–they just had too much history. But he kept replaying the tape of that last dinner in his head–the smell of fresh laundry, the feel of Malfoy’s lips on his thumb, the way he said Harry’s name. That last bit made Harry’s face burn in embarrassment. What would have happened if he had stayed? Would Malfoy have leaned into his caress? Would Harry want him to? The sound of rain lulled him to sleep.
🍁🍂🍁
Daylight brought no renewed clarity. Harry half considered skipping classes and spending the whole day in bed. But he knew better—Hermione was already on his arse for skipping meals, Merlin only knew what she would do if he started skipping class. So he reluctantly dressed himself and headed to Care of Magical Creatures, his first class of the day. He walked to class with Ron, who seemed to be in a mood of some kind. Perhaps Crookshanks had finally caught Scabbers. But Harry couldn’t dwell on Ron’s rotten mood, he had his own problems. One of which was sure to pop up at any moment.
When they arrived, they rejoined the group of students gathered around the lake. He spotted Hagrid (who, granted, was hard to miss). Hagrid gave him a warm smile. Harry returned it, scanning the crowd. Where was Draco? Was he avoiding Harry now? Harry’s stomach sank. He supposed he ought to feel relieved, but he was just ashamed. It had been two days of radio silence, after Harry had started this arrangement in the first place. He didn’t think Malfoy would care all that much if he called it off. Surely not to the point of skipping class to avoid Harry. Harry exhaled in frustration–he had to talk to Malfoy. But before he could take a step, something caught him around the ankles and he lost his balance, falling into the lake. There was a collective gasp from the students.
“ Harry !” Ron exclaimed, helping Harry back onto land. Well, so much for the mystery of Malfoy’s whereabouts. Draco and Pansy were sitting on the grass, completely dry. Pansy giggled mischievously, while Draco was as white as a sheet.
“The lousy git, I’ll kill him!” Ron started, going for his wand.
“Ronald!” Hagrid emerged from the crowd, blocking Ron’s view. “I’ll take care of this. Malfoy! Detention!” Harry emerged completely drenched, his white button up sticking to his tanned skin. He was seething. His hair, normally untamed, strands flying in every which way, was conquered by the lake, sticking to his forehead. His magic electrified the air. Droplets of water cascaded down his toned arms as he marched towards Draco. Draco could feel that his face was red hot. His lips were slightly parted, mouth dry. The hairs on his arms stood up.
“Enjoying the view?” Pansy crooned.
Draco couldn’t have responded if he wanted to.
“What the hell was that Malfoy?” Harry grabbed Malfoy by his collar, pulling him up. Draco watched as the veins in Harry’s arm bulged with tension. Draco’s brain short circuited. A drop fell from Harry’s hair onto Draco’s cheek, snapping him out of his daze. He gathered his thoughts.
“Thought you might fancy a swim.”
“Did you? Fantastic. You know, you look a little parched yourself.” Draco snapped his mouth shut. “ Aguamenti .” A wave, at least two meters tall, crashed over Draco, leaving him sopping wet from head to toe. Harry watched as water cascaded down Draco’s throat. Draco’s expression was one of pure shock, he looked up at Harry through his soaking wet hair. Next to him on the grass, Pansy squealed.
“Watch it, Potter!” She yelled, perfectly dry. Harry stalked off to the castle, Ron trailing close behind him. As he sloshed through the grass, he realized something: Malfoy hadn’t been holding his wand.
🍁🍂🍁
Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, next to the fireplace, wrapped up in blankets. He had found Hermione in there an hour earlier, when he entered the common room with a trail of water with each footstep. Hermione had fretted over him like a mother hen, demanding that he go take a shower and dry off, lest he catch cold. Now, she sat across from him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“I just don’t understand Harry. I thought that you and Draco were just starting to get along!” Harry fumed silently.
“Nothing like a tripping jinx–” He was interrupted by a sneeze. “to solidify a friendship.” Harry said bitterly. Ron walked into the common room. He had returned to class after depositing Harry in the common room.
“Mate–you know, Pansy Parkinson is outside the fat lady’s portrait asking for you?” He said, shuddering. Harry narrowed his eyes.
“ Pansy Parkinson ?” Hermione repeated.
“What did you tell her?” Harry asked, sitting up in his chair.
“Told her to bugger off of course.” Ron replied proudly. Harry leaned back. “She said it was something about Malfoy –” Harry stood up immediately, throwing the blankets to the floor. “Wha–where are you going?”
“Harry, be careful!” Hermione implored.
“I’ll be right back!” Harry shouted, climbing through the portrait hole. On the other side, as expected, stood pug faced Pansy Parkinson. She was inspecting her violet nails carefully.
“Hello, Potty.” Harry grimaced. He had never particularly liked Pansy–she had all of Malfoy’s condescension with none of the charm.
“You asked for me?” Harry questioned. He wanted to get this over with–being alone in a hallway with a Slytherin was a recipe for disaster. Pansy looked him up and down.
“I truly don’t know what he sees in you.” She said.
“What?” Harry felt his irritation building.
“Oh nevermind,” She waved it off. “I wanted to come clean. Draco is horribly cross with me–you see, it was I who jinxed you into the lake this morning.” Harry narrowed his eyes.
“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Pansy sighed. She held out her wand. “Here. Use Priori Incantatem .” Harry blinked twice. This had to be some kind of trick. Pansy Parkinson offering him her wand? He hesitated.
As if reading his mind, she spoke. “There’s no trick.”
“Then why? Why did you do it? What is your problem with me?” Harry said, angry.
“It’s not my problem , Potty.” Pansy snapped. “Why are you avoiding Draco?” She demanded. Harry looked down the hall, in search of onlookers.
“I-I’m not! And it’s hardly any of your business!” Harry sputtered, cheeks warming.
“Draco is my business .” She hissed. “And he’s been moping around for days because of your thick head!” Harry blinked, dumbfounded. Draco had been moping around?
“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked. Pansy sighed again, as if dealing with him was taking years of her life. “You know I can just report you to Mcgonagall for hexing another student.” Pansy gave him a toothy grin.
“But you won’t, because you want to hear what I have to say.” She wagered.
“Then spit it out. I don’t have all day, Parkinson.”
“Gryffindors…” She rolled her eyes. “I know someone who fancies you.” She said, sickly-sweet. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders.
It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Not interested.” He said, turning back to the portrait.
“Oh?” She feigned indifference. “What if I said it was Draco?” Harry froze completely. Draco? Draco Malfoy ? No. He shook his head furiously. Pansy was a Slytherin , she was a natural born liar. But why would she lie about this? If anything, if Harry spread that rumor it would be more embarrassing for Draco. He had never seen the Slytherins target each other in public before…would Pansy really use Harry to humiliate Draco?
“You’re lying.” Harry said, his throat constricting. He turned back towards Pansy.
“How I wish I was, Potter. Then I wouldn’t have to endure the constant ‘ Potter said hello to me in the hall today! Potter invited me to the astronomy tower today ! Did you see Potter’s bedhead today? It’s unfair how cute he– ”
“STOP IT!” Harry yelled, steam coming out of his ears. His voice echoed in the halls. He was sure his complexion had taken on that of a tomato. Pansy was silent, shocked by his outburst. “I get it. Don’t say any more.” He amended, choking on air. Malfoy thought he was cute ?!
“Talk about a temper.” Pansy mumbled, smoothing out her robes. “Anyway, so you can imagine how devastated he was when you dropped him like a hot potato.” She glared.
“I-” Harry started, head spinning. “I didn’t mean to…”
“But you did. So now you have to fix it.”
“How?”
“What do you use that brain of yours for, Potter?” She snapped. “Though you’ll hardly have to do much, he’s so far gone as it is.” Harry’s chest constricted. He wished Pansy would stop saying things like that so casually.
“I’m–I’ll…think of something.” Harry said after a long silence. Pansy gave him a fake smile. She clapped her hands together.
“I knew I could count on our savior! The heart of a lion. I’ll be taking my leave then.” Harry watched her strut down the hall. “Oh, and Harry?” She shouted. “Sorry about this morning. Let’s call it even, kay?” She disappeared before Harry could respond.
That evening, Harry ate dinner in the Great Hall. Sandwiched between Dean and Seamus, he kept his eyes on the Slytherin table.
“Your sorry excuse for a cat is trying to eat Scabbers!” Ron shouted, disgruntled.
“Ron, maybe Scabbers ran away because he was sick of being cooped up in your pocket! ” Hermione snapped, taking a bite of a bread roll. Harry took advantage of their bickering to observe Malfoy without interruption. From across the hall, Pansy caught him starting. He watched as she smiled her devilish smile and tapped Malfoy on the shoulder. She pointed directly at Harry. Harry watched as Malfoy’s gaze followed her line of sight, eventually landing on him. Harry’s face burned from being caught staring. He tried to play it off by giving Malfoy a little wave. He watched as Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up and his skin flushed a pretty pink.
Oh.
Oh .
Harry didn’t look away until Malfoy broke eye contact, choosing instead to take great interest in prodding his mashed potatoes with a fork. Harry’s face broke into a smile.
He liked Malfoy. And he was going to do something about it.
🍁🍂🍁
“Malfoy–”
“Go to hell, Potter–”
“Go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend.” The next day, Harry stood in front of Draco, blocking his way out of the classroom. His green eyes sparkled earnestly. Draco’s hand burned where Harry held it loosely. His face didn’t fare any better.
“Have you lost your mind?” Draco whispered harshly, whipping his head around in search of onlookers. Harry pushed his round glasses up his nose.
“Maybe. Will you help me find it?” Harry grinned endearingly, all tan skin and white teeth, dark curly locs framing his face. Draco was having heart palpitations. Was this some kind of sick prank? Had the idiot been put under a love potion? Harry had him cornered. His voice was as smooth as silk.
“People are watching!” Draco squeaked, a blush dusting his cheeks. Potter appeared entirely unbothered.
“Let them watch. So, Hogsmeade?”
“Potter, so help me, I will hex you into next week.” Malfoy hissed, pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry, pressing it against his neck for emphasis. Harry, however, did not look the slightest bit perturbed. He swallowed hard, causing his Adam's apple to bob against the hawthorn wood. Malfoy’s pupils followed this movement. This did not go unnoticed by Harry, who gave him a thousand watt smile. Malfoy was beginning to feel claustrophobic in more ways than one.
Malfoy mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Fine.”
“I can’t quite...” Harry cupped his ear, making a show out of pretending to strain to hear.
“I said fine , Potter! Now get out of my way so that I can make it to potions before Slughorn takes attendance!” Harry took one step back and Draco scurried out of the classroom, heart thundering in his chest.
Draco, in fact, did not make it to potions before Slughorn took attendance. He skulked near the back of the classroom, taking a seat alone to avoid attention. His mind was still reeling at that interaction with Potter. What was Potter’s problem? Had one of the Gryffindor’s dared him to get close to Draco? Would he be ambushed as soon as he got to Hogsmeade? Normally, he was the last person the Chosen One would voluntarily choose to spend any extra time with, and yet he’d been at his tail for weeks. And awfully touchy too. Draco felt his face heat up as he remembered how Harry had held his hand. Merlin. How was he going to survive this?
🍁🍂🍁
“Hi Draco. Guess who?” Draco’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing his first name in that voice. Harry had snuck up on him. He stood behind him, covering Draco’s eyes with the palm of his hand. Harry’s proximity set his body on high alert–he could feel his warmth, Harry’s breath on his neck. Draco forced his voice to come out level.
“Hello, Potter.” Harry removed his hand and took one step to face Draco. He was frowning, his facial expression resembling one of a kicked crup.
“Won’t you call me Harry? All my friends do.” He gave Malfoy a small, encouraging smile. The implication was loud and clear. Draco gave in. He always did when it came to Potter. He rolled his eyes. “Hello, Harry .” Harry gave him one of those damn thousand kilowatt smiles, causing a burst of butterflies in Draco’s stomach. They walked side by side to Hogsmeade in a comfortable silence. But inside, Malfoy’s thoughts were going a mile a minute. He tried to sneak glances at Harry to assess how he was feeling. Draco still didn’t understand why Harry had asked him here all of a sudden–did he know the implications behind asking someone to go to Hogsmeade alone? When Draco had told Pansy she was practically shaking with excitement.
“ See Draco? It’s hardly a surprise, the poor boy’s head over heels.” She had said. But Draco wasn’t so sure. In fact, quite the opposite. He had hesitated when he remembered how Harry had looked at him during that moment in the kitchens…but then he immediately remembered what had followed. Harry left him in the kitchens, completely dumbfounded, confused, and turned on. Harry’s voice brought him back to the present.
“What’re you thinking about?” He asked. Draco immediately relaxed his face. The memory had made his eyebrows furrow in frustration.
“Potions.” Draco lied terribly, hoping Harry wouldn’t call him out on it. Harry gave him a toothy grin.
“Well, we can’t have that.” Harry teased. Draco’s heart beat wildly. “Fancy a butterbeer?” Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The sound of leaves crunching under their feet signaled the arrival of autumn. That morning, after hyperventilating all the way to his dorm, Draco had spent hours picking out an outfit. By the time he was done, clothes lay strewn across his room. He had settled on a gray cable knit sweater and slacks. Pansy assured him that Potter would appreciate the muggle fashions. As they walked, Draco subtly checked Harry out. He was positive that it had taken the git five minutes to get ready, he wore a red sweater with a gold H embroidered on with blue jeans. He had a maroon scarf around his neck. The sweater should have been an eyesore, (Draco had seen matching one’s on the Weasels and it hardly had the same effect) but Harry could probably make a trash bag look appealing. Draco pouted.
“We’re here.” They stopped in front of a tavern. Harry put his hand on the small of Draco’s back, ushering him inside. Draco’s skin burned at the contact. The tavern was nice and warm, but Draco was burning up for other reasons. Music instruments played themselves on the small stage.
“How about the booth?” Harry said in Draco’s ear. Sparks of pleasure shot down his body. “Draco?” Harry repeated. Draco had hardly realized Harry had asked him a question. He nodded again. They sat down in a small wooden booth opposite of each other. Draco had to stop himself from pouting at the loss of Harry’s hand.
“Two butterbeers, please.” Harry ordered. Draco kept his eyes trained on the table.
“I like your sweater. I didn’t know that you owned Muggle clothes.” I like your sweater. I like your sweater. I like your sweater. Those words replayed over and over in Draco’s mind. He made a mental note to thank Pansy later. The waiter came around with their butterbeers, placing them on the table.
“Oh, well. I’m afraid times are changing. Hardly anyone wears traditional wizarding robes out and about now.” Draco lifted the frosty mug to his lips, taking a small sip.
“That is a shame. I think your robes suit you.” Draco choked on his butterbeer. Harry gave him a sly grin. That bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. Well, that was just fine. Two can play at that game.
“Of course they do.” Draco attempted to recover. “Madam Malkin's makes sure of it.” Harry took a swig from his mug, leaving a butterbeer mustache on his upper lip.
“You have a little something–” Draco said, reaching over the table. Draco lightly brushed his finger over Harry’s top lip. Harry’s eyes widened. “Got it.” Draco said, sitting back, satisfied. Harry’s pupils burned into Draco.
“Thanks.” He said, voice hoarse. Draco watched as Harry’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. After that interaction, they drank their butterbeers in silence.
“Did you have a good time?” Harry said once they were outside, leaning against a cedar tree. He was so effortlessly gorgeous . His green eyes shone with amusement as he pushed his glasses up his nose bridge. Freckles dotted his face. All afternoon, Harry had been giving him this knowing look, as if to say I know something you don’t . It was infuriating.
“It wasn’t terrible.” Draco replied quickly. His heart fluttered in his chest. Harry's mouth quirked up.
“Stellar review, coming from you.” Harry said, his breath visible in the cold. Draco ached with want. He turned his body away from Harry and began to march towards Hogwarts.
“Put mine in with the others.” He said bitterly. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He was hardly being subtle. If Harry didn’t know his true feelings before, he definitely did now. But Harry just kept that amused look on his face. As if Draco was a particularly difficult puzzle.
“The others?” Harry echoed. There was a standstill. Draco looked at him, lips pursed. He refused to break the silence. Harry took two steps towards Draco.
“Who, may I know, are you referring to?” Harry said, invading his personal space. Draco rolled his eyes. He had had quite enough of this little game.
“Oh come off it, Potter. There’s no shortage of admirers for the chosen one .” Draco drawled, in his most bored inflection. The lousy git actually had the audacity to laugh.
“Back to Potter now?” He said. Draco ignored him, continuing his faithful march towards the castle. He really couldn’t do this. He wanted to go back to the ways things were before, when he watched Potter at a safe distance. Now, being directly in his orbit was turning Draco’s entire world upside down. Before, he rarely let himself nurse a single sliver of hope. Now, with Harry lavishing him with attention, acting like he actually cared what Draco thought—it was all too much.
“What about who I admire?” Harry’s voice came out gravelly. Draco faltered in his steps, tumbling downwards. Before he could hit the ground, strong arms enveloped him. Draco distantly registered that Harry smelled like a fireplace, smokey and earthy. Draco lit up from head to toe. His brain had hardly processed Harry’s last words. “Gotcha.” Harry whispered in his ear, lifting Draco back to his feet. His lips brushed Draco’s earlobe, causing him to gasp involuntarily.
“For heaven's sake, Potter!” Draco exclaimed, breaking free of Harry’s grasp. He was afraid that if he stayed a second longer, Harry would feel how hard his heart was thumping against his chest. What would his father think? Being manhandled by Harry Potter . Wait–what had Potter just said?
“What about who I admire?” Harry repeated, taking a step towards Draco. Wait–had Draco just said that out loud?
“Surely you’re not asking me for advice on your–” he searched for the words, “love life.” Draco deadpanned. What was Harry saying? Was there someone that he actually liked? Was it the Weaselette ? A flash of anger hit Draco as he remembered the way that she had clung onto him in the halls. What did Harry see in her? Harry actually had the audacity to laugh .
“My–love life–is going pretty well, thanks.” Harry replied, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile.
“Brilliant.” Draco snapped, suppressing a frown. He moved to turn away from Harry, who slipped his arm around Draco’s waist. Alarm bells went off in Draco’s head. His face burned.
“And I think it’s about to get even better.” Harry said, his eyes searching Draco’s face. Harry’s proximity emptied Draco’s mind of any cohesive thought. They were close enough that Draco could feel Harry’s breath on his face. He saw a pink blush spread across his cheeks. His emerald eyes shone brightly. “Or, a whole lot worse. Depending.” Harry breathed, uncertain. Was that a hint of insecurity in his voice? Draco forced himself to form a response.
“On what, pray tell?” He said, his voice raspy. This seemed to amuse Harry, who smiled softly.
“On you, Draco.” Harry stated simply. Draco’s heart felt like it was going to leap out of his throat. Had he remembered to swallow a mint this morning? Was Harry actually saying what Draco thought he was saying? He needed to be sure. Draco closed his eyes, breaths shallow.
“I hardly see how I can affect anything in that department.”
“I’ll demonstrate.” Harry brought his free hand up to cradle Draco’s chin, ever so gently. Draco shivered at the touch, Harry’s cold fingers just barely grazing his skin. Was this actually happening? His heart beat wildly. Draco closed his eyes, breaths shallow. He leaned into Harry’s touch, when he felt the caress of lips on his… forehead ? He opened his eyes in shock.
“W-what was that?” He stuttered, raising his hands to touch the area of contact.
“It was a demonstration. Why, what did you think?” Harry said, smug. He feigned surprise. Draco saw red. Potter thought that he had the upper hand. Draco would change that.
“ That ,” He started, grabbing Harry by his maroon scarf, “was not a demonstration. This –is a demonstration.” He relished Harry’s expression of surprise before slotting their lips together. At first, Harry stayed still, completely frozen. Internally, Draco began to panic. Had he misread the signs? Did Harry not want him? He started to pull away when Harry firmly placed one onto his waist and snaked the other on the back of his neck, fingers threading through his silky hair. As far as Draco was concerned, fireworks went off in the sky. His veins filled with a warmth that he had never felt before. Harry’s lips felt soft and eager against his, and he sighed into the kiss. That sound went straight down Draco’s body, liquid hot pleasure pooling in his stomach. Draco slightly opened his mouth, testing the waters. Harry, who never did anything halfway, slid his tongue into Draco’s mouth, fist tightening in his hair. That elicited a reaction from Draco, who groaned, splaying his fingers across Harry’s chest. They came apart, foreheads resting on each other.
Holy shit . Harry didn’t realize that Draco would be so vocal .
“See?” Draco panted heavily. He couldn’t stop the smile blossoming on his face. “Though I’m sure that’s what you had in mind. You shouldn’t scheme , Potter. It’s unbefitting from a Gryffindor.”
Harry looked thoroughly debauched. His lips were shiny with spit, and his glasses sat askew atop his nose.
“Ah–” Harry started, “you got me.” He raised his hands in admission. “I prefer a more straightforward approach, anyway.”
“Well then,” Draco said, emboldened by the kiss, “what are you waiting for?”
They arrived back at Hogwarts long after curfew.
“Harry?” Hermione asked the next day, sitting across the breakfast table.
“Yeah?”
“Is that…a hickey on your neck?” She whispered, to no avail. The Gryffindor table erupted in chaos. Across the hall, Draco choked on his pumpkin juice.