Draco couldn't pin point the exact moment things changed. Ever since that first day at Hogwarts when Potter had denied his offer of friendship, he had watched him. He'd kept a close eye, watching for things to fuel his hate, things to laugh about with friends in the Slytherin common room, things he could use to goad Potter on in the hallways. But something had changed. He no longer scoffed at the way Potter wore dratty muggle joggers and jeans, the hem of which were always too long and fraying at the ends. He no longer found his table manners, or lack there of, abhorrent. The messy scrawl he called handwriting ceased to offend him as it once had.
But that wasn't the most concerning change. Draco had started to notice little things about Harry that he never had before. The way he would scrunch up his nose when his glasses started to slip, rather than just pushing them back up. The way he would constantly sigh and blow the little strands of his messy mop of hair out of his face, rather than tuck them away. The way he chewed his bottom lip raw when he was concentrating.
The most startling realization Draco had made was that he had started refering to him as Harry in his mind.
He told himself it was the pressure of the war that was making him go mad. There was no other explanation. The stress was overwhelming, and it was simply making his focus on Harry go beyond its normal proportions.
He was behaving like a bloody fool. They were in the middle of a war. He was being forced to commit murder for the dark lord to save the lives of him And his parents. And all he could think about were bright green eyes. Messy black hair. Ridiculous round glasses. A lopsided grin.
He looked up to see those green eyes locked on him. His heart fluttered. Harry gave him a perplexed look. Draco's cheeks colored as he quickly looked down.
He was utterly fucked.