Often Draco wished that Harry had been sorted into Slytherin instead, that the hat had proclaimed him of great ambition and announced what seemed to Draco to be his birthright. After all, Harry was the boy who lived, and such power to thwart the Dark Lord belonged undoubtedly in Slytherin; it would, too, make it easier for the boys to see each other, away from judging, suspicious eyes of classmates.
It was difficult to be so open with one another in front of dozens of Gryffindors, difficult to be anything but what was expected, and Draco longed for a day when that would be over, when he could go over and just talk to Harry without the watchful, threatening gazes at their backs, when he could wrap his arms around those familiar shoulders and laugh about some silly joke Harry'd just told him, when he could slip into the common room and play a prank on the sleepless, oblivious Potter.
It would be a dream come true, and Draco wished each and every day that Harry would walk into class wearing a green tie, that the past few years of House separation would end up having all been a pesky dream he'd gladly woken from.
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