"I can tell the right sort for myself, thanks."

Draco Malfoy didn't twitch a muscle, despite the fact his annoyance was creeping ever closer to rage every time those wretched words resurfaced from the depths of memory. Crabbe and Goyle were guffawing over some idiotic triviality, as usual. Not that they would have noticed if he had - it would take a phalanx of hippogriffs thundering through the Common Room to capture their attention, and even then he wasn't so certain.

Still, there were other Slytherins in the Common Room that night, and any number of them would have remarked upon any change in his demeanor, and exploited it. As much influence as his father had, there were limits to his protection, and allowing himself to fall prey to his emotions was a failing for which there would be no forgiveness.

Regardless, even his father's censure could not put the blasted thought out of his mind. He had failed to win over the Boy Who Lived. It had been an insult to their honor, that Draco had made overtures of allegiance and been so thoroughly and soundly rebuffed. He had done everything his father had told him, to no avail whatsoever. Instead of bringing Potter into the pureblood fold, he had made an enemy of a legend.

Lucius Malfoy had taken it as a blow to his pride, and had made sure Draco felt a few himself.

So now Draco was poised to antagonize Potter, and the fault was entirely his. His desires in the matter were entirely irrelevant.

And he felt...odd about that. In first year, he'd still been angry at Harry for refusing his friendship, so the taunts and little acts of revenge had been easy, if not exactly satisfying. It wasn't until the end of second year that this began to change.

Draco's duty was to the family, without question, but his father's instructions had become increasingly more bizarre, to continually start rumors about Potter so that the school would mistrust him. All the while the Heir of Slytherin (whoever that had been, he still didn't know) had attacked more and more students. Some of the other pureblood students had begun to fear for their safety, even though not a single pureblood had been Petrified, and the waves of fear had spread throughout the castle. Despite his father's reassurances, Draco hadn't been able to withstand the onslaught of so much abject terror.

And then Potter had rescued that Weasley girl from the Monster, and the relief of his fellow students had washed over him, leaving an odd pit in his stomach in its wake.

So, here it was, third year, and Draco was finding himself more and more in Potter's general vicinity, watching and waiting. He was supposed to be following him, of course, and causing trouble for him (especially after Potter had tricked his father into releasing that ridiculous house elf), but whenever the other boy was close by, Draco felt curiously in two minds about what he was doing. He hated the git, of course, but there was a little flicker of something else when Harry was around, something nebulous but persistent, and altogether foreign.

It was almost like he felt...safe.

Draco did shake off that preposterous thought, scowling before he could stop himself. Goyle's overlarge head swiveled in his direction. "What'd we do?" he mumbled through a mouthful of cake.

"Must you speak with food in your mouth?" Draco said caustically, and in a moment he was on his feet, suddenly unable to sit still any longer. Both Crabbe and Goyle lumbered up out of their chairs, but Draco only scowled more deeply. "Stay here," he ordered. "I'm going to take a walk."

One of the two other boys started to protest, but Draco was already gone.

"It's so odd," Hermione said into her book.

Harry's attention was diverted from his Charms essay, yet again. "What's odd?"

"Hm?" Hermione said absently.

"You said, 'it's so odd,'" he reiterated. "What did you mean?"

"Oh," she said, flushing slightly. "Well, I was just thinking."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but what?"

"Oh, well," Hermione hesitated. "It's just, well...I keep seeing Malfoy around." At Harry's confused expression, she gusted a heavy sigh. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed?"

"What are you banging on about?" Ron grumbled from the other side of the table.

"Draco," Hermione explained, "I've just seen him a lot lately. A lot more than I used to."

"Yeah, he's playing pester Potter," Harry growled. "I'm right sick of it."

"No," Hermione insisted, beckoning them both closer as her voice dropped to a whisper. "He's around at other times, too."

The boys exchanged a look. "So he's, what? Following us around? Spying on us?" Ron said incredulously.

Hermione's expression was hard to read. "No," she said slowly, "I'm pretty sure he's just following Harry."

Harry shot her a look, but the worry he saw in her face was just a bit different than he'd seen before. There was something in the expression that gave him a completely new kind of worry, too. "What exactly are you getting at, Hermione?"

"I think," she said, so low they could barely hear it, "I think he might fancy you."

Ron's scoff was loud enough to cover up the strangled noise Harry made in his throat. "Come off it, Hermione," he groaned, "there's no way. Malfoy hates us, Harry especially ."

But Hermione was already shaking her head. "I know you don't believe me, but next time he's around, pay attention. He's acting odd, and that's the most likely explanation I can come up with."

"He's a stuck-up prat who likes to lord it over the rest of us," Ron retorted. "That's explanation enough."

All this time, Harry hadn't said a word. He was still digesting the idea that Draco was trying to be around him for some other purpose than tormenting him. That thought was bothering him, but he couldn't exactly say why.

"Um," Harry said at last, long after both Ron and Hermione had gone back to their homework. "I, uh, need to take these books back to the library before curfew," he muttered absently, snatching up a couple of volumes at random before clambering out of the portrait hole in a daze.

He didn't look back, so he missed seeing Ron's quirked eyebrow or the tiny, smug smile that was gradually dawning on his other best friend's face.

As he made his way from the dungeons towards the first floor, Draco stopped short. A horribly messy head of black hair had just descended the stair above him, coming down from the library corridor. Draco watched for a moment as the figure hesitated, before beginning to walk purposefully down the one corridor that led towards the Stone Bridge, away from Gryffindor Tower.

A moment of indecision passed before he, too, mounted the last few steps to the first floor, and followed.

Harry looked down upon the Hogwarts grounds below, lost in thought. The Lookout Tower wasn't the safest place in the castle at the moment, but it was the quietest, and technically still in the castle. Going back to the confines of the Gryffindor Common Room—usually a place he found cozy and cheerful—was just too stifling to contemplate. He needed fresh air and some time to think.

Hermione's words were...troubling. He was at an absolute loss what to make of them, but now that she'd planted the idea in his head, his mind had done nothing but replay every interaction he'd ever had with Draco Malfoy, over and over like film clips on a constant loop. Most frequently occurring was a mashup of the day he'd gotten his robes at Madam Malkin's, and Draco's offer of, what - friendship? - on their first day at Hogwarts. He was still angry about the insult to Ron (and now that they were friends, Hermione) that had been implicit in that "right sort" comment, but at the same time, there had been something else behind the braggadocio. He couldn't place it, but now in his memories of all those events, something uncertain was flickering behind the blond boy's eyes.

It wasn't like he was just going to forgive the git without reason, but the more he thought about it, the more Harry got the feeling he was missing something important.

At the sound of a gentle cough, Harry spun around, wand raised.

To Harry's astonishment, the pale blond wizard was standing quietly in the archway leading back into the castle. His arm was out of the sling he'd been wearing the better part of a week. Gone, too, were his usual cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

It occurred to Harry that he'd never seen Malfoy by himself before, save for that first time at Madam Malkin's, where his mother had left him until she returned. Draco looked somehow smaller, which was weird, considering that both of his usual companions were so much larger than he was. He held himself as aristocratically as ever, but the supercilious expression was gone. His head was cocked slightly to the side as if in contemplation, but he was looking directly at Harry.

Lowering his wand, Harry watched him expectantly. Several silent moments passed without a word from the other boy, until finally Harry couldn't stand it any longer. "Are you following me?" he demanded, without prelude.

Malfoy looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about, Potter. What would I want with your company?"

"You're free to leave anytime you like," Harry retorted.

"And I shall, when it suits me," the other boy replied, staring off at some point past the horizon.

Harry scoffed, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his back on Draco, and leant against the guard rails surrounding the platform where they stood. Not long afterwards he felt the rail move slightly with the weight of another person leaning on it.

"Your arm's better, I guess," Harry said, with slightly less venom than he'd intended.

This, apparently, took Malfoy off guard. "What?" he said, looking down at his left arm distractedly. "Yes, it is," he confirmed eventually, although he made no further move at conversation. Whatever truce they were currently experiencing was probably temporary, at best. Still, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit of relief, even if the hostility were to come roaring back later.

As it was, they stood in companionable silence, half leaning on the rails, looking out over the forest surrounding the castle. The barest slip of a moon was visible in the sky, only one day from new, and it was sinking fast behind the tallest trees.

As the last of it slipped out of view, the strangeness of this situation hit Harry like a punch to the gut. He was standing out here with one of his worst enemies! This kid who had had nothing but horrible things to say about everyone he cared about. This arrogant, selfish, stuck-up rich kid who did nothing but put him and his friends down. And yet here he was, practically hanging out with him, without so much as an explanation.

Harry tried to calm down, to watch and observe like Hermione had told him. He snuck a glance at Draco out of the corner of his eye. His head was down, and he appeared to be picking at a fingernail. His face was taut, with a grim set to his jaw that Harry had never seen before. His eyes were mostly obscured by long, pale lashes, but their usual scornful glint was nowhere to be found.

"Why are you like this?" Harry blurted out, before he'd realized he was speaking. Draco stared at him, startled, and that mixture of uncertainty and fear was back again. If anything, that unnerved Harry even more, and he plunged on. "I mean, you're never like this, right? How is it that you insult me and my friends all the time, and then just come stand here like nothing's happened?"

"I don't know!" Draco practically shouted, distress evident on his face. "I don't know what I did wrong! I did everything he told me, to make sure you were with us, and I cocked it up!"

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hair. "Wait, what?" he said, dumbfounded. "You were what? I mean, who told you? What are you talking about?"

"My father ," Draco replied scathingly, and a bit of his usual superiority returned. "Who do you think?"

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Hang on," he said, "you mean your dad told you to win me over as what, some kind of ally? By being a complete prat to everyone I care about?"

"No," Draco scowled, "to show you what being from a noble Pureblood house meant . You weren't going to get that from any Weasley , so it had to be me."

"And that was yours to decide, was it?" Harry seethed.

"No," Draco retorted, temper flaring, "it was my duty ! And when you wouldn't be my friend , I had to be your enemy . I had to follow you and make your life miserable and I hate it because in spite of everything I've tried to do about it, I like you, you stupid git!"

Harry's brow wrinkled as he tried repeatedly to find something to say. He failed, utterly. Draco was glaring at him. Harry thought he would have been used to that by now, but the expression was completely devoid of Draco's usual haughty sneer. He was angry, that was obvious, but there was hesitation, fear, and something that almost looked like hope .

For the rest of his life, Harry would never figure out what prompted him to do what he did next. Out of sight of the rest of the castle's inhabitants, for one brief moment, all the pressures of house and family and ideology fell away. Take all that, and they were just two boys… just themselves.

Without thinking, Harry stuck out his hand. "Hi," he said, "I'm Harry, nice to meet you."

Draco eyed him for a moment, an odd look on his pallid face. "Draco," he said, taking Harry's hand in his, "pleasure."

Harry's face broke into a broad grin. Draco's smile was slower and tentative, as if it wasn't quite certain how it was supposed to look. Harry grinned even wider when he saw it. After a moment they released each others' hands, and turned back to lean on the guard rails once again.

The stars were beginning to glow more brightly in the deeper darkness left after moonset. The two boys turned to look out over the balcony, in a less uneasy truce.

"So," Draco said at length, "are you going to Hogsmeade weekend?"

"No," Harry sighed, relaxing at the relatively normal turn in the conversation. "My stupid uncle wouldn't sign the form."

"Oh," Draco said quietly, sounding...disappointed?

"Wait," Harry said suddenly, "were you just-"

"What? NO," Draco backpedaled, shaking his head emphatically. "That is, I mean...I still have to follow you around, or at least make a show of it. My father expects regular reports from me, and he does have...other sources," he grumbled.

"Oh," was all Harry could think to say, again.

"But if you sneak out..." Draco said meaningfully.

"I wasn't planning to-" Harry protested.

"Because you always follow the rules, is that it?" Draco interrupted. "For Merlin's sake, don't lie about it," he continued, rolling his eyes. "You're even worse at it than Crabbe."

Harry at least had the decency to look sheepish. "I don't know how I could manage to get out of the castle without anyone knowing," he said, frowning, "but even if I did, I have no idea how I could let you know about it, without giving the entire thing away."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Draco replied with an enigmatic smile. "I'll find out about it."

Harry's brow creased in a frown. "Okay…" he said slowly, not quite sure if Draco meant it, or if it was more bravado than belief. Sighing, Harry turned and leant his back on the railing. "God, this is so weird," he said, half to himself.

"Of course it's weird," Draco said, a bit of his more usual scathing tone creeping through, "you're involved, Potter."

"This isn't going to last, is it?" Harry mused aloud. "This...whatever this is. You're going to have to keep being a complete prat, aren't you?"

Draco looked thoughtful. "Yeah," he said, "for now, anyway. "Things can't change too quickly or someone will start asking questions."

"This is stupid," Harry complained, but he couldn't argue with it, either. "Half of the Gryffindors would be on my back if they found out I was being even halfway decent to you."

"Especially Granger, I'd imagine," Draco huffed.

It was Harry's turn to go thoughtful. "I don't know," he said, thinking back on earlier this evening, "I'd be more worried about Ron trying to knock some sense into me than Hermione. She would just reason me to death," he grimaced.

Draco gave a dry chuckle. "I can see that."

They sat staring out into the darkness for a bit longer, Harry at the castle, and Draco off into the distance. When the cold began to seep through even their warming spells, Harry shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "We should probably go in," he said gloomily. "It's probably past curfew."

Draco didn't say anything, but gave him a long look. "You...you won't tell anyone about this, will you?" he asked, with a hint of a plea.

Harry caught his gaze squarely, although he didn't feel nearly as confident as he was trying to look. "Who would believe me?" he asked instead.

At this, Draco only nodded. "I suppose," he said tiredly. "You go on. I'll follow in a few minutes." Harry hesitated, but Draco just waved him on. "I know the prefects on duty tonight, they'll let me off. You, however," he said, giving Harry a pointed look, "would get detention with Professor Snape."

"If you're sure," Harry said, looking more like Hermione in this moment than he would have guessed. "Um, well… bye, I guess."

Draco just nodded and waved him off.

All the way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry was lost in thought. Of all the things he would have thought possible, the idea of Draco not being a git was one that he just couldn't fathom. He thought about telling Ron and Hermione about this, but he had meant what he said: Ron, at least, wouldn't have believed him, and Hermione...well, she would probably read more into it than it was. Draco liked him, wanted to be his friend...right? He wasn't sure how he felt about that, let alone if he...well, never mind. He was going to have to keep acting like he hated Malfoy, even if he was now completely asea about his erstwhile rival.

Draco stayed on the Stone Bridge for quite a bit longer than he'd intended to, following his...conversation with Potter. No, Harry , he corrected himself. He'd taken a risk coming after him tonight, and even speaking to him like they were just two normal people, and then his mouth had gotten ahead of his brain and he'd slipped. He hadn't intended to tell Harry that much, and it had been all he could do not to flinch when the inevitable rejection came.

Except, of course, that it hadn't. Harry had always been ridiculously easy to read, and among all of the reactions the other boy had had to Draco's unintended revelation—surprise, but also curiosity and puzzlement—disgust hadn't even registered. The sinking pit in Draco's stomach had lightened, then, although it was soon replaced with a stabbing anxiety that Harry, with his stupidly open face would immediately go tell the rest of the bumbling trio, and that would be the end to any hope of escaping his father's wrath. So he'd risked again, and gotten...if not quite reassurance, then at least an acknowledgement of the futility of revealing the nature of their interaction. So, in spite of all he had ever learned at his father's behest, Draco found himself daring to trust in the stubbornness and unthinking loyalty of a Gryffindor.

Draco sighed, shaking his head at his own foolishness before making his careful way back to the dungeons.