Thanks

or

Seven Times Draco Malfoy Said Thank You to Harry Potter

i.

The dust is still floating through the air at Hogwarts, people are still mourning over their dead, Potter is still probably handing out signed autographs and locks of his hair - and Draco is still sitting in the midst of it all, completely unable to move from his seat in the Great Hall.

"Draco, Draco, darling, you look so deathly pale - let me go get you something to eat," insists Narcissa as she strokes his hair. Her fingers feel quick and light as they comb through the pale strands and he unconsciously leans into her hand, seeking her warmth.

"I'm not hungry," he says in a low voice, closing his eyes. "Please don't go out of your way for me -"

"It'll only take a minute, darling, I promise," she says, and she leans in, pressing a kiss to his forehead and then standing up gracefully from the table and striding away with purpose in her step.

Lucius and Draco watch her go. Silence stretches on between them and Draco wants to tell his father how much he's glad that he's still alive, that they're still a family, but it seems to get caught in his throat (and there is that tiny voice in his head whispering that this was all Lucius' fault, that none of this would've happened without his stupid fucking Purist ideas) and -

"I -" begins Lucius.

"I'm going to go walk around," says Draco at the same moment.

They stare at each other awkwardly and then Draco is pushing away from the table and walking away without glancing back and then he's out in a corridor by himself and breathing heavily and he's not quite sure why. "Fuck," he says, and he stares a wall and wants to kick it but even now his Slytherin self-preservation won't allow it.

"Fuck," he says again.

"Oh, is that what you came out here to do?" asks a conversational voice and Draco whirls, eyes widening as he sees Potter walking straight up towards him.

Draco can't think of anything witty to say. "No. Just - needed fresh air."

Potter comes to a stop in front of Draco and his mouth twists a little bit and his eyes flicker amusement behind his dirty glasses but he doesn't say anything more, just holds something out for Draco to take.

"What is - oh."

It's his wand.

The same wand that had been snatched out of his hands at the Manor, the same wand that had been used so recently to vanquish the Dark Lord. His fingers are only an inch away from touching it when suddenly he jerks his hand back as if burned, glancing up at Potter with a defensive glare on his face. "Is this some sort of fucking joke?"

Potter stares at him with obvious confusion as even a - was that a flash of hurt on his face? But no, it is gone a moment later and he pushes the wand at Draco again, his mouth an insistent frown. "Take it. It's yours. No joke."

"You know it won't work for me any more," says Draco, crossing his arms against his chest and sneering at the wand that had betrayed him. "It chose you." And why wouldn't it? Potter had clearly proven himself the better of the two, the stronger, the more noble -

"I have my own wand," says Potter and he pulls out the wand that Draco has seen a thousand times, that has been aimed at Draco so many times, and it's true that that wand looks much more comfortable in Potter's hand than Draco's ever did. Hesitatingly he reaches out, uncrossing his arms and allowing Potter to slide Draco's wand into his hand and it feels as though a wave of relief has crashed over Draco as he clenches his wand in his hand.

"It is mine," murmurs Draco in slight awe, and he can tell, he can feel its happiness at being reuniting with his proper master and he glances up just in time to see Potter smiling at him - an actual smile that shocks Draco and sends warmth shooting abruptly into his stomach.

"See you around," says Potter amiably and he brushes easily past Draco, sliding his hands into his pockets and moving with the familiar shuffle of his feet that Draco has watched for six years of Hogwarts.

He stares down at his wand and he feels something hot burning his eyes because the war is finally over and - he whirls around, calling out, "Potter!" before he can even think and then Potter is turning halfway around and lifting his eyebrows questioningly and Draco says, "Thank you."

Potter smiles again, more widely this time, and nods once before turning back around and shuffling on.

ii.

The chains cut into Draco's arms and he tries not to panic because he can't move, can't even move an inch, and everyone is staring at him -

"First witness," rings out into the silent court room and Draco flinches. Who the hell is going to witness in favour of a former Death Eater? He can feel the skin on the back of his neck crawl as a heavy silence spreads throughout the room and he knows everyone hates him, knows everyone is judging him for things he could never control.

"Harry James Potter," says a nonchalant male voice, and Draco stares as a raven-haired man steps forward. He swallows tightly, eyes raking over Potter because it's been only six weeks since his wand was returned to him but Potter looks different - looks older, more mature, as though he's come to terms with several things in his life since Draco last saw him. And then suddenly Potter is talking and his words fill the room, everyone staring as the Boy Saviour talks about Draco -

- talks about how Draco didn't kill Dumbledore when he had the chance -

- talks about how Draco was threatened on the death of himself and his family -

- talks about how Draco didn't recognise him at the Manor -

- talks about Narcissa, about Narcissa saving his life and therefore saving all of the Wizarding World, a tale that Draco has never heard and his heart is beating faster and faster with each word out of Potter's mouth and he is not the only one entranced by Potter's tale, he knows, but he is the only one that Potter is looking at as time passes.

And then everything is a flurry of movement and people are voting and speaking and Draco can't seem to take his eyes off Potter's form, and then suddenly his eyes snap to the Head of the Wizengamot as the ancient man reads out in a rumbly voice, "Draco Abraxas Malfoy, you are sentenced to three years of probation in which any illegal activity will immediately result in a direct sentence to Azkaban. You are also not allowed on any grounds to leave England and it is a requirement that you attend Hogwarts for the eighth year program set up for any seventh years returning." And then there is a bang and Draco jumps in his seat as the chains abruptly clink away and he sits there for a moment before shakily getting to his feet, legs trembling.

"I am… dismissed?" he asks, but everyone ignores him, already turning to their neighbor to discuss what his sentence is and all that Potter said - and so he turns to the closest door and slowly walks out of it and stands there for a long moment, unsure of what has happened.

"Fuck," he finally says, and then there's laughter behind him and he turns slowly to see Potter watching him from just a few feet away.

"Is that what you always say when you're by yourself?" he asks, a small grin flitting across his face.

"No - it's just what I say when you happen to be watching me," returns Draco automatically, eyes flickering curiously. "What you did back there -"

Potter shrugs. "I just told the truth."

"Still," says Draco, jutting his chin out adamantly. "You didn't have to."

"Did you not want me to?" questions Potter, stepping closer and into the light. Draco was right - he has changed. His face, his eyes, it's all different.

"No," says Draco quietly. "I just didn't expect you to."

There is a pause and then Potter sighs. "The war is over, Malfoy."

And he's moving past Draco once more, leaving him to go to another trial (there are so many of them that not a day goes by without at least three happening right on top of each other) and he's just barely reached the door when Draco swallows his pride once more and utters, "Thank you."

Potter pauses at the door, not looking back this time, and then sighs again. "See you at Hogwarts."

iii.

"Impedimenta! Expelliarmus!" and Draco is thrown to his feet and he scrambles, trying to get his bearings but his wand has already left his wand and he jumps to his feet, snarling and completely defenseless.

"Give it back," he spits, his bag dangling lopsidedly from one shoulder and his robes ripped from where he fell on them. "I'm just - fuck -"

"Shouldn't have come back, should you?" sneers one of them, and there are five of them total, all circling him with dangerously dark looks and wands pointed directly at his chest. "Should have stayed away, Death Eater."

"Fuck off," spits Draco, and perhaps it's not the smartest thing to say when surrounded because the next thing he knows he's been blasted onto his back and his head is ringing from the pain.

"Go running back to your daddy in Azakaban," calls one of them, and Draco jerks as a Stinging Hex lands on his side, sending pulsing currents of pain running through him. "You don't deserve to have a bed here or stare into the faces of those you hurt -"

"And you don't deserve to bully innocent people around whenever you feel like it," says a cold voice and Draco looks up from his place on the ground, heart leaping painfully in his chest as he spots the feet of Harry Potter.

Saving him once more.

"Harry!" says one of the boys and Draco scowls at him. You don't know him well enough to call him that, he thinks angrily, even though, well, he doesn't either. "We were just -"

"I can see what you were doing," says Potter, voice still taut with fury. "And he's here because it's part of his sentencing, so don't go fucking with him because of it. He's been punished enough; leave him."

There is a brief scrabbling and then the boys all start tripping over each other to leave - and Potter is saying, "I'll take that," and then there is silence. Draco stares at the ground for a long moment, wondering if Potter is going to leave as well - and then, "Hey."

He looks up through sweat-soaked fringe to see Potter's hand held out for him to take, right in Draco's sight line. Swallowing, Draco takes it, watching as Potter's arm contracts as he heaves him up - and then they're standing directly next to each other and Draco realises that he is just barely taller than Potter, just enough that (if he wanted to) he could tease him about it.

The courtyard feels too hot.

"This is yours," says Potter abruptly and he shoves Draco's wand in his direction, taking a subtle step back so that they're not nose to nose any more. "Sorry about that; people are pricks."

"Yeah," says Draco, licking his lips. His mouth is dry. "You didn't -"

"Have to do that, I know," says Potter wryly. His eyes are smiling behind his glasses. "So you keep telling me."

"Yeah well," mutters Draco, looking away with an embarrassed flush. What a nice reminder that Potter has to continuously save his arse. "I could have handled that. I do it all the time." And it's true; it's November and eighth year has been going on for nearly three months - and at least once a week, he's been attacked for what he formerly was.

Potter looks troubled at that. "You do? I didn't know -"

"You don't know everything that goes on at Hogwarts, Potter."

"I know that," says Potter testily. "But why haven't you told anyone? Someone - a professor, Hermione, me - we would have done something to stop it."

"I'm not some damsel in distress," Draco mutters. "I don't need saving for every problem that comes my way."

"Yeah, but you're not alone either," says Potter and now he looks angry at Draco as well and they stand there for a moment, glaring at each other before Draco looks away.

It's hard and he doesn't want to say it but it comes out anyway, grudging and borderline sarcastic. "Thank you."

When he glances back, Potter looks surprised. "You're getting worse at saying that each time you say that, you know."

Draco hesitates and then smiles, just barely, just half-a-smile, but it is the first time he's ever smiled at Potter - and indeed, the first time he's really smiled since coming back to Hogwarts at all. All the eighth years have been crammed in the same common room and the only other Slytherin to come back was Nott, who doesn't seem very interested in spending quality bonding time with Draco (or anyone, really). It's been a lonely year so far and he hates Potter for being the one to make him smile but he smiles anyway. "I know."

iv.

Draco sighs to himself as he enters the Great Hall in late November, only a week after Potter saved him from his tormentors - and he scans the tables with a moody gaze, knowing that there is nowhere for him to sit. Like always. There are the four separate house tables, of course - and he usually just sits at Slytherin, even though they all ignore him now - but there is also a fifth, circular table in the corner for all the eighth years that choose not to sit with their former houses. He's never sat there before, never even considered it, and now, for some inexplicable reason, he finds himself turning to that table and slowly walking towards it, mind unwilling but feet moving anyway.

There is, of course, the Golden Trio sitting in their usual spots - because for some reason, Potter doesn't seem to like to sit at the Gryffindor table (too much crowding, probably), and then there is Finnigan and Thomas, Terry Boot and Hannah Abbott, Padma Patil and her twin, Neville Longbottom, Something Macmillan - and someone that Draco has never noticed sitting here before, Theodore Nott.

He blinks. Since when has Nott been sitting at the eighth year table?

Only, now that he thinks about it - he actually hasn't spotted Nott sitting at the Slytherin table this entire time either. Has he made a mistake by isolating himself? Has Nott been able to do what Draco never could - integrate himself with the other houses?

Slowly, cautiously, Draco approaches and swallows hard before dropping his bag to the floor and sitting down in one of the spare seats. He stares at the table and then glances up at the silence that meets his ears - and flushes as he hears Finnigan whisper loudly, "What the hell is he doing here?"

He should go. He should just leave - just continue sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table by himself where no one can bother him, but dammit, he's so fucking lonely, and eating three silent meals by himself for the past three months has taken its toll on him -

"What are you doing, Harry?" asks Ron, interrupting Draco's harassed thoughts, and Draco looks up again, blinking as he finds Potter standing right next to him.

"Potter," he said hesitantly.

"Draco," says Potter, and he thrusts his hand out, his chin clenched with determination, his eyes flashing with expectation. "I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you."

They stare at each other for a long moment, silent understanding passing between them, and then Draco slowly reaches out and takes Potter's hand, feeling the roughness and the calluses that come from playing Quidditch, and shivering as Potter purposely grips his hand hard and stares into his eyes. "Draco Malfoy."

And then Potter (HarryPotterHarryPotterHarry) smiles, that entrancing smile that has bewitched so many people before Draco and he's returning to his seat and there is another beat of silence before Longbottom loudly introduces a subject about classes and Draco is left by himself to eat in peace.

He pulls a bowl of potatoes towards him and then looks up across the table to look curiously at Potter (Harry) and finds the Gryffindor staring back at him. Draco bites his lip, looks around to make sure no one is watching, and then mouths, "Thank you."

From then on, he sits at the eighth year table and things aren't quite as lonely as before.

v.

"I - come on - God dammit -" grits out Draco in frustration as he stands on his tiptoes and strains to reach the book he needs, which is conveniently located directly at the top of the shelf. "Just a little fucking more -"

"Language, Malfoy," says Harry from behind him mildly and then, "Accio book," and said object flies out of the shelf and lands easily in Harry's hand. "Here you go."

"Thanks," grumbles Draco and he turns, ignoring Harry as he walks back to his table.

But Harry follows. "Why didn't you have your wand?"

"I do have my wand - right there," says Draco, pointing to the innocent stick which is laying on top of another stack of books. "Just didn't think I would need it for one damn book. Typical."

"So, people haven't been -" Harry hesitates and then Draco rolls his eyes.

"No, they haven't. Word got around that someone would maim them dreadfully if they did, apparently. Mmm, wonder who the hell could have started a rumour like that."

Harry smiles, appearing satisfied with this news, and then drops into the seat opposite Draco, obviously getting comfortable. "Good. I'm glad. What're you working on?"

"Potions."

"Really?" perks up Harry and Draco looks up, lifting his eyebrows with a questioning look that anyone other than Snape would ever sound excited about Potions. "It's just because I haven't finished that essay either and I was needing some help?"

Draco sighs. "Bloody hell - fine."

"Great!" beams Harry. "I'll just go get it - I had a table over there - be right back -" And then he's gone, back in a flash and dumping all his things next to Draco without prelude. "And, also, have you figured out those Transfiguration questions because -"

"Because they're due in one period," points out Draco with a dry expression, sitting back in his chair and watching with growing amusement and slight alarm as Harry successfully spreads his things all over the table - and conveniently pushing Draco's out of the way. "What happened to you just using Granger for all your study needs?"

Harry's frantic digging through his things quells as he comes up triumphantly with a quill and then he makes a face at Draco's question. "She's with Ron all the time - now that they're together. They like… doing things."

"Oh - ew, I did not need that mental image, thanks a lot, Potter," says Draco, his face matching Harry's and for a moment they just sit like that for a moment, sharing their equal disgust. Then Draco makes a move to drag his parchment forward and Harry shuffles his books around and the moment dissipates. "Anyway, it's not like you really need this," continues Draco nonchalantly. "It's automatically guaranteed that you'll get into the Auror training program."

"Yeah, well… maybe I don't want to be an Auror," mutters Harry lowly, and Draco looks up, surprised.

"Why not?"

And Harry digs a nail into the wooden table, staring pointedly at it and pursing his lips before suddenly Draco gets it. He gets it. "Oh. Because… you've already had enough fighting."

Harry jerks his head up. "How did you know?"

Draco shrugs awkwardly. "Aren't we all tired of fighting?"

And then Harry is smiling that little smile of his at Draco again and to distract himself from the warm feeling in his stomach, Draco forces himself to ask: "What about the girl Weasley? You could be studying with her. We're technically in the same year now. Sort of."

"She's with Dean," shrugs Harry, not looking bothered by this in the least.

Draco is, once again, surprised. "You don't care?"

"Why should I? We haven't been dating for months now."

"I just thought…. After the war. You two. Happily ever after and all."

"I learned a few things about myself during the war," says Harry, laughing. "One of them was that I didn't fancy women. Ginny wasn't offended. In fact, she took it remarkably well."

"Oh," says Draco, blinking, and then, "Oh."

Harry looks at him, eyes curious. "Do you care?"

"What - I - no," sputters Draco, looking pointedly away as the tips of his ears flush dark red. "Most wizards are anyway, or at least have a fling here or there -"

"Are you?" interrupts Harry with a twinkling in his eyes.

Draco narrows his eyes. "We're here for Potions, Potter. Either stop distracting me, or go somewhere else. And don't expect me to thank you every time you Accio a book for me, also, that was a one time thing."

Silence falls and then Draco distinctly hears Harry murmur, "Sure it was."

vi.

Draco breathes in the night air that is currently skating over the empty Quidditch pitch, loving the scents it drags towards him. Dew-covered grass, cold winter, tauntingly sharp air. He feels a smirk (and hasn't it been a while since one of those crossed his face?) start to grow and he grips his broom tighter with one hand as cold grass crunches behind him.

"I can hear you, you know," he says, and he hears a muttered curse. "Are you following me again?"

"No," says Harry petulantly as he comes up beside Draco. He's holding his own broom and decked out in Quidditch gear and his hair is so black it's almost blue, framing his face in the night. "Just -" he shifts edgily, "One of the worst things about being an eighth year is not getting our own Quidditch team."

"I see people playing informally all the time, though," pointed out Draco. "You could join them. Finnigan, Thomas, Weasley - every fucking free period they're down here, making a God awful amount of noise."

Harry shrugged. "You could too."

"I like the dark better."

"So do I."

"Or you just like stalking me."

"Seeker's match?"

"Sure."

And then they're both simultaneously mounting their brooms and kicking off and Draco can see that Harry's somehow brought a Snitch with him and where the hell did he even get that?

"Ready?" Harry calls and he grins fiercely at Draco's nod, letting the Snitch go and then they both just sit there in mid-air for a moment, watching each other and was it Draco's imagination or did something flutter in between them, did something whisper through the night air as green eyes locked with gray? And then, just barely audible, Harry says, "Go," and they're off, zooming and twisting and suddenly they're not even searching for the Snitch, they're just both showing off and flying circles around each other and if Draco didn't know any better, he would almost say that they were dancing.

"BET I - CAN GO - HIGHER," shouts Harry and they're laughing and breathless and darting higher and higher until there is nothing between them and the sky, until they are the highest beings at Hogwarts, in England, in the world.

Suddenly, Draco spots it.

There.

And he's zooming down, down, flying so fast that his robes are flat against his skin and his hair's rippling in the wind and he can hear Potter shouting curses at his back and his hand is outstretched and it's just a few feet away and Harry is on his tail, almost there, right there -

Draco's hand closes around the Snitch.

He doesn't notice how close he is to the ground until he's there and he just barely pulls up, too sharply, and rolls of his broom five feet off the ground, landing in a roll and an 'Oof!' and a pained grunt.

"Draco - DRACO -" Harry lands far more smoothly than Draco did, running after him with a face full of worry. "You fucking idiot, did you break anything?"

Draco laughs. He laughs and laughs. "I caught it - look, Potter, look who caught it - when there's no one around to see, no one around to notice." He holds the Snitch high into the air, holding it awkwardly as he's still laying on the ground, and sighs happily as Harry stares down at him.

"You're mad," Harry finally decides. "Completely barking."

Once again he is hauling Draco off the ground.

Once again they are face to face. "Thank you," says Draco, and Harry blinks.

"For what? I didn't let you catch it, you know. You did that all on your own."

"I know," smiles Draco.

He is finally getting better at thanking Potter.

vii.

It is Easter break and everyone is gone, it seems - Draco would have gone too, but his mother wrote at the last moment, telling him that it would be best for him to stay at Hogwarts. He knows she's trying to keep away the nightmares, knows she knows just how much returning to the Manor scares him - and he won't admit to anyone just how grateful he is that she's provided him with an excuse to stay.

It helps that Harry is staying too.

It is the third day of break and Draco is wandering around the empty corridors of Hogwarts, feeling melancholy and wistful and longing for something he doesn't want to examine too closely - and then suddenly he's not alone and there is a boy walking next to him, neither one speaking.

They walk like this for some time, both content not to speak and then suddenly Harry stops and he's looking at Draco with dark green eyes, his expression anxious.

"Where's Hermione and Ron?" asks Draco to break the silence, feeling uncomfortable.

"Probably snogging somewhere," says Harry dismissively. "Draco -"

"I would've thought you would go home for break," interrupts Draco, looking away. "To Weasley's house, at least."

Harry pauses. Chews on his lip for a moment. Debated internally. Then, "I knew you were staying."

Draco looks up at him sharply, eyes flashing surprise and confusion and suspicion. "How?"

Harry obviously did not expect this rebuttal. "Umm… I asked you about it, remember? In the library. Six days ago."

Oh. Right. After their midnight Quidditch game - no, before that - after the day in the library, suddenly Draco had found himself shadowed by this tall Gryffindor, always with the excuse that Hermione and Ron were snogging or studying or doing something without him - and it occurs to Draco just now that Harry must have been lying at least some of the time, because he knows Granger and Weasley would never shun their best mate that much, not all the time.

Library study sessions, stealing seats by each other at the eighth year table, continuing their midnight flying - and Draco flushes heatedly, taking a small step away from Harry and flushing even darker when Harry follows him forward. "What does it matter if I was staying? You hate me."

"I don't," says Harry immediately, and Draco sees it in his eyes - he doesn't hate Draco. Maybe he hasn't hated Draco since he first handed him back his wand. Maybe he hasn't hated Draco for even longer than that. Maybe he has never hated Draco. "I just -"

"I'm a fucking mess, Potter," says Draco, and he backs away again and Harry follows.

"Harry."

"What?"

"Call me Harry," says Harry quietly.

Draco's eyes flash and he feels his will crumbling and he feels his walls falling and how has this happened without him noticing it? "Harry," he whispers.

The Gryffindor smiles, senses submission, steps closer. "And I don't care if you're a mess. I'm a mess too. We're all fucking messes."

"No - you're not," protests Draco, shaking his head; he can't think of anyone less of a mess than Harry bloody Potter and -

And Harry steps forward and he brings a hand up to catch Draco's cheek and hold him still and he leans in, slowly, cautiously, sucking in a quiet breath before his lips touch Draco's and then they're kissing. Kissing warm and soft - before Harry grows confident and the kiss grows urgent, urgently hard and urgently fast, both of them melting into each other.

Harry pulls away again, green eyes fluttering open and watching Draco shyly.

"Thank you." The words are out before Draco can even properly catch his breath.

Harry cocks his head. "Thank you?" And he can't seem to understand what it's for this time, why he's being thanked - and Draco smiles.

"Just say you're welcome and fucking kiss me again, you prat."

a/n: good grief, this is a long oneshot. I'm honestly not even sure what happened, this is supposed to be a DRABBLE, ugh. whatever. I can't believe I'm actually updating a day later. Let's see how long I can keep this going, yeah? This one is for Jayme for listening to me spiel off what the word count was every five minutes or so.

cheers xx