Title: Captors of Ghosts
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco (implied)
Rating: G
Warnings: Dialogue-heavy ...none other, really. Lots of subtext, if I did my job? ;)
Summary: Three years after the war, Harry and Draco end up in the same Muggle (!) pub ... a good time for reconciliation.
A/N: This is my first Harry/Draco oneshot, and I wrote it down quite spontaneously. However, I hope this does not scare you off, as I think I captured my take on their relationship quite okay.
Also, English isn't my first language, and while I think it is good, it's probably not perfect. Unless you find mistakes to make your eyes bleed, please be gentle :)
Constructive criticism is most welcome and appreciated! thank you for your time.

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"You know I still hate you, right?"

"Get over it, Malfoy."

They're sitting opposite each other, but not particularly close, and Harry turns his glass in his hands over and over again. The once cool content long lukewarm.

An icy breeze drifts in as the door opens and shuts again.

"It's familiar."

Harry looks at him, surprised. Draco glares back steadfastly.

"Hating me is familiar?"

Draco sneers. "Yes."

Which elicits an unbelieving snort from Harry. "If that's all..."

"That's all."

They know it means two things. Harry takes another sip and grimaces at the botched taste. He feels Draco's eyes on him and doesn't quite know how to react.

Eventually he says, "You can stop now. I've stopped a while ago, you know."

Draco sneers, not pacified in the least by this revelation. "Oh really? And that while I thought it was some sort of public sport."

"Stop whining, Malfoy. You liked them to hate you."

"I did?"

"They were not - what, meeting your standards?" Harry shakes his head. "You've been raised to feel superior."

Draco's eyes are shooting daggers. "And you grew up to be it."

Now Harry looks at him, pupils wide. He's honestly startled. "You mean that?"

"Mean what?"

"I'm superior?"

"That's certainly how things always turn out in the end, yes." Draco half avoids Harry's inquiring gaze, and half challenges him with just as much determination.

Harry leans back against the rough wooden bench. "And here I thought I was doomed to be struggling for my life all the time!" He laughs, bitterly.

"You don't really think you're doomed", Draco states with enough certainty to make Harry angry again. He leans back himself, disappearing in the shadows. "You enjoyed it."

Harry almost jumps to his feet. "I enjoyed nearly getting killed over and over again?"

Draco shrugs. "You enjoyed surviving."

Silence follows in which Harry considers this. He can't remember whether he expected to survive each time; he certainly did in the beginning. He was The Boy Who Lived, after all! But that one last time, three years ago, in the woods ... he certainly didn't think he'd get out of there alive.

"I thought it was over then", he murmurs, voice somewhat heavy with memories while Draco regards him coolly. "I didn't think I was supposed to survive that last time."

Harry doesn't dare look up and takes another sip. He's giving ridiculously personal insight in what he never meant to discuss - and especially not with the boy-now-man he'd spent hating half of his life. What a mess.

"Intriguing", Draco scoffs. "No one thought you would."

"Well then, why do you-"

"Except for me."

Harry frowns as the message sinks in. "What?", he asks a little helplessly.

Draco straightens up and leans across the table. He's not really close now, either, but close enough to connect their eyes in what's crackling tension. It's like the years had never passed.

"I knew you'd come out of this alive yet again. You're Harry bloody Potter, and nothing's going to kill you."

Harry looks at him with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "This is the first time ... someone's saying that", he explains lamely. Why, of that he's not certain, but it feels obligatory.

"Of course", Draco sneers, "your little fanclub wouldn't miss out on the pathos."

"This is not my fanclub-"

"Potter, please. Don't tell me all of them love you for your smashing personality."

Harry swallows his last retort. As much as he hates to agree with Draco, the same thought had stricken him often enough. He had never been under the illusion that three quarters of Hogwarts were actually his friends.

An smug expression spreads across Draco's pointy features. He knows he's right, and Harry hates it.

"That doesn't mean they don't matter to me!", he snaps back. "At least none of them betrayed me, like your sodding housemates!"

"Quite right", Draco says, and nothing else. And Harry knows he doesn't have to; the I didn't betray you either is hanging in the air between.

"So why did you think I'd live?", Harry picks up the subject. "Apart from the fact that I'm 'Harry bloody Potter'?"

Draco smiles. "I thought that would suffice for a reason. As usual."

Harry wants to heartily offend him, but the statement definitely lacked some of its potential malice. He resorts to scowling.

"I hate you. As far as my luck goes, that would let you survive for sure."

Harry looks up, uncertain whether he's being honest or not. When he catches Draco's eye, it's glowing with mischief. Harry wants to fire back, but then something else seems more important.

"Do you really?"

"What?"

"Hate me."

Draco frowns. "I thought I'd been clear about that."

Harry fights down an inappropriate blush and shrugs angrily. He doesn't really know what to say; while he could, almost out of habit, advise the git to fuck off, he knows he shouldn't. Doesn't really want to. Maybe they needed to end up twenty-one and in a Muggle pub to have this conversation, and he has this feeling it matters.

When he looks up again, Draco is eyeing him warily. "People make up their minds, though", he says, voice seemingly indifferent.

Harry's known him too long, though. He almost smirks at the thought.

"What's so funny?"

He instantly replies. "We know each other better than people should, who ... you know. Hate each other."

It takes a little, but then an amused expression ghosts across Draco's face as well. "You think so?"

"Yeah."

Draco squints. "Well I suppose this leaves only one option."

Harry doesn't want him to explain, because he's not sure he's prepared for it. Instead, he downs his drink and casts a challenging look across the table. "Next round is on me."

It's a bit ridiculous, but Harry fears Draco might reject the offer. It's Draco sodding Slytherin pureblood Malfoy, after all, and he's probably still taking pride in that damn name - even though it means nothing after the war. For some miraculous reason, he's sporting it though.

"The hero of the Wizarding World has a drink with a former Death Eater ..." Draco makes a face. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely." Harry has the feeling he's never been so sure about anything. With a stupid smile he can't quite explain, he gestures for the waitress.

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