Authors note: Is this how you do this? lol. Just wanted to say thank you for reading this! I have chapter 3 in progress so it should be up soon. Feel free to tell me what you think and leave feedback or something :)

Harry has been holed up in the Library with Hermione and Ron for the past hour and a half. He is awfully bored but this potions essay is due next class and he really doesn't have another chance to get it done. So he is hunched over his parchment, quill in hand and multiple books open to chapters on the inner workings of the draught of peace.

Ron, it seems, is in a whole other world. He has his books open and his materials out but he has been staring at the same place on the page for about ten minutes. Hermione is beside them, scribbling furiously on her third roll of parchment. Harry tiredly finishes his sentence and puts down his quill. He really needs a break.

He stretches his arms and back and cracks his knuckles, then leans forward once again, elbows on table, head in hands. And that's when he notices the platinum blonde hair a few tables away. He just barely notices the quick turn of the blond's head as Harry looks at him, as if he had been watching Harry. After a few moments, however, it seems that Malfoy is too deeply concentrating on his own homework to have been noticing Harry. He seems to be scribbling almost as fast as Hermione.

Harry almost turns back to his own essay but he suddenly remembers his talk with professor Lupin. It was Malfoy who had told, and the question of Why had he done that had been running through his head quite a lot.

So Harry pushes up from his seat, causing both Hermione and Ron to be knocked from their thoughts and looking up at him.

"I'm just gonna go have a word with Malfoy."

"Harry… Why do you need to." Hermione pleads.

"Hermione I'll be fine, we aren't gonna get into any fist fights, so don't worry."

"You go have those words pal…" Ron says and returns to staring blankly at the textbook.

Harry ignores Hermione's disapproving looks at him and he stalks over to Malfoys table in the corner. After a moment, when Malfoy doesn't look up, Harry pulls out a chair and sits himself down, leaning back until the two front legs of the chair are lifted a few inches off the ground, and Harry can swing his legs up onto the table, startling Malfoy from his essay.

"Potter! What do you want?" Malfoy glares at him. "And get your dirty feet off the table." He says, shoving hairrys legs off the table.

"Malfoy." Harry says in greeting.

"Potter."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Absolutely nothing Potter in fact I'd say I'm nearly perfect. You however…" Malfoy looks Harry up and down but finds himself unable to finish the sentence, instead he just glares at Harry with a disgusted look on his face.

"Alright then…" Harry says annoyed. "Why did you think it was any of your business to talk to Professor Lupin?"

"I didn't,"

"Liar."

"I may twist the truth, but there are no lies."

"Lies." Harry hisses at him.

"Potter?" Malfoy sighs in exasperation.

"Malfoy," harry mocks, making it sound breathier and more dramatic.

"I do not sound like that."

"Have you heard your voice?"

"Shut it Potter."

They both just glare at each other for a few moments before Harry speaks up again.

"It was none of your business."

"I know."

"So why did you tell Lupin?"

"Why not?"

"You just want to spread all of my problems round the school don't you?" Harry asks angrily.

"Don't be so full of yourself Potter, I didn't tell anyone else."

"Malfoy, I cannot for the life of me figure out what your angle is on this." Harry says. "You don't care about me so you couldn't have been worried, you don't like Lupin so it wasn't to please him, You don't care about defense against the dark arts class so you weren't being a kiss-ass to help your grades, and you didn't tell anyone else so you weren't trying to embarrass me." He sighs. "So what was your point?"

"I need a point?"

"I just want to know you ass."

"I was worried."

"No you weren't," Harry narrows his eyes.

"Is it really that hard to believe potter? Am I really so mean to you that you can't imagine me being worried when I see that you are clearly hurt?" Malfoy whispers viciously.

"yes, you are that mean."

"Fuck off Potter."

"Draco Malfoy… Son of death eater: Lucius Malfoy… Caring about Harry Potter of all people… Chosen one… destroyer of the dark lord himself… what has the world become?" Harry puts his feat back up onto the table, laughing at Malfoy.

"Shut it Potter, You have no proof!"

"What to do with this new information?" Harry teases, folding his arms behind his head.

"Potter you know full well that I hate you!"

"Do I?"

"Yes! You do!"

"But you still care about me?"

"Well I do have feeling you know?"

"Really?" Harry exclaims, taking his feet off the table and leaning in close as if prepared to hear an interesting bit of gossip.

"Shut up."

"Nah. I don't think I will" Harry chuckles.

"Well if you don't, I might give in to temptation and just push you off that chair."

"You wouldn't dare Malfoy."

"I would too Potter! But with the way you keep leaning back like that I might not have to."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Harry sarcastically laughs.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and goes back to writing on the parchment. Harry taps his fingers loudly on the table just to annoy Malfoy, who is trying not to get agitated. Harry just watches him, light smile unconsciously falling onto his face. When did their sharp exchange of insults become friendly banter? Harry notices the way Malfoy sticks his tongue out while he's writing and how his hair keeps falling into his face, making him flick it back with a shap head movement. After the third time the blond hair falls into his eyes, Harry laughs, stopping his loud finger tapping.

"I am trying to do my potions homework." Malfoy says.

"Yeah well, so am I."

"You don't have parchment. Or books. Or your quills." Malfoy says.

Harry looks at Malfoy thoughtfully. The boy seems almost human. A rude human. An evil and vile human. Very annoying and unnecessarily mean human… But still human.

A boy who struggles with making friends. Who works hard for his grades, who gets annoyed quite easily.

"Potter?" Malfoy asks, huffing his breath out in agitation.

Harry squints at Malfoy, tilting his head as if trying to see him from a new angle or in different light. In the end he finds himself looking off in confusion before he is able to regain his glare at Malfoy as he stalks away from the blondes table and sits back down with Ron and Hermione.

"Well, how'd it go mate?" Ron asks, finally out of the trance that potions homework put him into.

"It went fine."

"What did you need to talk to him about?" Hermione asks.

"He was being an ass." Hermione glares at him but Harry ignores it.

"So Harry, how are you doing on your potions essay?"

"I don't know. Hermione'll need to proofread it."

"Any chance I can copy it?" Ron asks hopefully. Hermione glares at him in warning and Harry looks back to Ron cautiously.

"Ya know Ron you should really start doing your own work," Harry says, eyes on Hermione. Ron deflates and Hermione looks pleased. But once Hermione is back to writing her essay, Harry mouths to Ron 'Later.'

Draco Malfoy is a slytherin. A pureblood slytherin at that. So where the hell did all his pride go?

Not only was was he worrying about another person, but said person was a gryffindor. And said gryffindor was HARRY BLOODY POTTER. There must be something seriously wrong.

Malfoy is pulling on some silk slytherin pajama pants and admiring his hair in the mirror. He looks rather tired. He sees in the reflection that his eyes have bags under them and his hair is beautiful but not as soft as it should be. He really ought to take better care of himself.

He lets himself fall back into his bed to think.

Harry boody Potter. The chosen one. Boy who fucking lived. Golden boy.

"Draco, we're heading to dinner." Blaise says, peeking his head into the room.

"I think I'll get something from the kitchens later."

"Alright."

Once Blaise and most of the rest of the school is down at dinner, Draco pulls on a shirt and some robes and grabs his broom.

Down at the quidditch pitch, he mounts his broom, pushes up off the ground, and leans forward against the wind. Draco flattens himself against his broom, rushing up and spiraling as he gathers height and speed. He pulls back once he can feel the clouds mist and slows down till he's looking down through the fog at the fuzzy outline of the castle. The mist moistens his shirt and pants and it's sticking to his skin. It's cold and refreshing and after all the contemplation and thinking that's been fogging up his mind, the coolness on his skin and wetness on his face makes his mind feel clearer. The breeze makes him feel alive and he speeds up again, flying in quick circles just to feel the cold wind whipping through his hair.

Through the clouds and mist he can see the faint glow of the sun behind the castle, lowering slowly into sunset.

Draco spends a while doing stunts and tricks on the broom. He finds himself practicing quidditch, diving and pulling quick out of dives. He flies until he feels that he's got it perfect. Till his face is numb from the cold and his hair is so tousled he'll need to run a comb through it a dozen times to get it back to its neat state.

He dives one last time, speeding with exhilarating speed straight towards the ground. Once he sees the green of the quidditch pitch, he prepares himself, and grips the handle of the broom tighter. Then, just seconds away from hitting the ground, he pulls out of the dive and into a flip, catching sight of a familiar figure standing by the stands.

Draco almost loses his grip, his hands slip and he feels the broom jerk a bit as he loses concentration, realizing he is nearly completely upside down, he struggles to grab back on as his feet fall down with gravity, he's hanging on just with his hands before his broom rights itself and in seconds the whole thing is over and Malfoy is back safely on the broom. He brings himself to a landing, looking in the direction of the figure that caused him to lose his grip… and of course that's who it is. Harry bloody Potter. Draco scowls at him, but from this far away, he doubts the golden boy can tell.

Malfoy doesn't move from the spot where he landed, attempting to catch his breath and calm his beating heart. As Potter starts to walk across the pitch towards him, he tries to play off his breathlessness and need to take a rest by looking around at the sky as if admiring the view.

The sun is almost right behind Hogwarts by now, casting golden light over everything it can touch. It spreads across the quidditch pitch and over Hagrid's hut. It reaches up to the trees at the edge of the forbidden forest and only does it disappear deep within the thick trees.

As Harry Potter approaches, Malfoy can see that the golden liquid light washes gently across the golden boy as well. And suddenly the nickname golden boy is very, very appropriate.

Harry nears… when did it become 'Harry'? And Draco tries to look casual and cold. But his soaked satin pajama bottoms and soggy t-shirt that sticks to his chest is probably giving off a very bedraggled and stupid looking appearance.

"Potter." Malfoy sneers.

"Malfoy." He says back coldly.

"What brings you here then?"

"I'm going for a walk."

"Why?" Malfoy asks with a snort.

"Because the sun is nice after dinner, I like to come out and see it, maybe fly a bit, ya know, enjoy the view." Potter says as if it's obvious.

"Right. Well, I suppose it is rather nice, huh?"

"Yup." Potter pops the 'p' and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Draco can't for the life of him see why Potter decides to wear muggle jeans, but currently, his mind must be pretty muddled because he definitely isn't minding.

The sun washes over Potters skin, making him appear to glow, the golden light warms his face and softens the colors, making his face looks so smooth and soft and the color of his eyes…. making each individual shade of green stand out and blend together at the same time. His messy hair is worse than usual, but Draco thinks he makes it work. Plus, his odd sense of style (usually consisting of muggle clothes) fits him quite well. Overall, as much as Draco hates to admit it, Harry Potter is certainly quite attractive.

"Malfoy?" Potter asks, shit, was he staring?

"Yes Potter?"

"Kinda lost ya there. I said that you looked like you just came crawling out of the lake, maybe you should put on some dry clothes,"

"Why do you care?" Malfoy snaps.

"I don't." Potter says shortly and runs his hand through his hair.

Draco tilts his head up, challenging Potters statement, and Potter wipes whatever thoughtful look he had on his face, -he was always thinking about something, wasn't he? -and replaces it with a smirk.

(Switch pov)

Harry pushes the thoughts that had been begging for his attention firmly to the back of his mind and Smirks at Malfoy.

"You wish I cared."

"I wish for no such thing!" Malfoy says defensively, combing his hand through his damp and knotted hair.

"Really?" Harry Questions.

"Why would I want you to care about me?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Malfoy hesitates for a second, and Harry thinks for a second he won this round, but then; "Why do you have to be so full of yourself Potter?"

"I'm not Malfoy."

"Yeah right."

Harry just glares at the blond boy, he had stepped into this one, but Malfoy had still hesitated. What could that mean?

"Well Malfoy, as much as I would love to stick around and insult you, I think I'd rather continue my walk." Harry says, and begins to walk away. Then for some reason, he calls behind him, "Feel free to join me." and for reasons not even Malfoy himself could come up with, Harry turns to see that Malfoy has in fact jogged up beside Harry.

Harry must have been going insane. And Malfoys brain must have been damaged when Neville spilled that potion in class last week, because the two of them walked in silence together for a while, reluctantly enjoying having someone to walk beside. Harry commented on a few of the places he knew of throughout the grounds, and Draco laughed or nodded in the right places, and for once in both of their lives, it was civil.

When the sun had gone down, and the golden light had faded to a hazy wash of sun, then finally the light had slipped away completely, the two boys were once again nearing Hogwarts. It was dusk, so the dark was only just arriving. Harry stood just inside the castle doors beside Malfoy. They were looking at each other. Neither could have been asked to describe what had changed, Harry still felt a deep hatred for Malfoy and Malfoy definitely didn't like Harry either. But maybe they were overplaying the hatred. And a brief thought flit across Harry's mind. What if I don't actually hate him? What if it's how I think I should feel. Not how I actually feel. It was something Hermione had said to him that put the idea in his mind, and lately it was all he could think about. But he tried to brush it off. Of course he hated Malfoy. How could he not. He was an ass.

But now, looking at the boy, he felt as though maybe he was being a bit dramatic. Sure he had reason to Hate malfoy. But does he actually hate him?

And with that, Potter pushed the thought away, returned Malfoys sneer with a glare and stalked away, muttering a "goodnight" behind him. He almost thinks he hears Malfoy respond.

"Good night Potter."