Author's Note: Heads up, we're switching back to Draco's POV!

Chapter 10

Draco stared at the hand that was extended out to him. He was astonished; he'd never thought that this day would come. He had always dreamed of it, yes, he dreamed of it quite often. Draco had always liked to say that he would snub any gesture of friendship Potter might ever offer him, but in reality, he didn't have a clue what he would do—he'd thought that if it actually did occur, the answer would come to him when needed. And now it really was happening, and he still didn't know! Harry Potter was asking for his friendship. His friendship, only his, Draco Malfoy's! He looked up from the hand to observe the owner's vivid green eyes and dark hair sticking up in little tufts around his face; saw him biting his lip softly, anxiously. And somehow, with that look, Draco knew.

He grabbed Potter's hand and shook it firmly. "I'd like that too," he said.

Potter's eyes brightened and his lips curved up into a smile that could melt a glacier. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "That's—that's brilliant, great."

Draco fought the urge to mock Potter's lack of knowledgeable vocabulary and half-smiled at him. He wouldn't ruin the moment. Potter was actually... beaming at him. A genuine grin that Draco had caused. He'd never thought that accepting anything from Potter would feel this good. Not even a full out, embarrassing declaration of submission could top this (although, that would still be nice).

After a few more shy smiles on Potter's part, they continued their questioning with playful conversation and light, easy banter that made Draco feel faint with the excitement of his new… friend. It was as if a heavy cloak had been lifted and they could finally breathe in fresh air. Wasn't it just positively mental? Harry Potter was Draco's friend.

~x~

Later that evening, Draco plopped down on the couch in the common room. He absently observed a couple of Fourth years playing a game of Exploding Snaps in the middle of the room, but he had little interest for them or the activity. And to be honest, Draco was still slightly too in shock by the evening's events to tell them to bugger off either. Thankfully, after a few minutes, Blaise joined him.

"Hey, where's Harry?" Blaise asked. "Didn't you just have your little session?" He waggled his eyebrows at the word 'session'.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes. He and Granger went to go visit the Weasel. Heavens knows that those bumbling Gryffindors miss their den."

Truthfully, he was a little miffed that Potter hadn't wanted to go back to Slytherin with him and spend more time together. Wasn't Draco interesting enough? But hey, now that they were friends, they could hang out whenever Draco wanted to. Weasley and Granger couldn't do anything about it, and perhaps that was the best part. Draco smiled to himself. He just couldn't get over it. Friends with Harry Potter.

Blaise made himself more comfortable on the couch and turned to face Draco. "Of course they did. So how was the session, really? Any fights? Curses? Hexes? Or worse..." Blaise's face twisted in mock horror. "Did you actually get along? Oh my, the scandal!"

Draco hit him with a pillow. "No, no, no, um, yes. I think we've… we've formed a truce, sort of. We're going to try to be friends." There was that word again. Draco could go to the Astronomy Tower and shout it from the balcony at this rate.

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "Really? Draco, that's fantastic. You're finally learning to play with others." He smirked.

Draco grinned, thinking of Potter's face when he'd accepted his hand. He didn't even care that Blaise could see that he was pleased. "Guess I am," he said.

At that moment, Pansy had walked in from the portrait, and upon seeing them on the couches, pranced over and jumped on Blaise's lap. "Blaise! Drake!" she chirped. "It's so good to see you both!" She ruffled Draco's hair affectionately and he swatted her hand away.

"Pansy, you know I hate that nickname. Stop using it," Draco complained. She just winked back at him.

"Pans!" Blaise cried, hugging the girl tightly around her waist. "Come to visit us, finally? I'm so pleased. One more minute alone with this fucker, I probably would have gone completely bonkers."

"Hey!" Draco exclaimed, flicking Blaise's ear. The other boy punched his shoulder.

Pansy laughed. "Merlin, I've missed you two. Gryffindor is like my own personal hell," she declared, fixing Blaise's collar absently. "They're all so… strangely accommodating. I've pulled about thirty pranks in the last week, and none of them have even attempted to prank me back. Can you believe it? And they try so hard to be nice to the rest of us. Except for Weasel." She wrinkled her nose. "He's still a prat."

Draco laughed. "Yeah, that's Gryffindor for you."

Blaise grinned at him. "You would know!" he accused. "Hanging about with the pride of Gryffindor himself."

Pansy frowned. "Godric?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "No, Harry."

Pansy's eyes widened and she leaned in, as if this were some sort of juicy gossip she had missed out on. "Really, Drake? Oh love, that's adorable! I always knew you had a thing for him." She clutched his arm. "Have you made it official yet? I'm thinking you should hyphenate. Malfoy-Potter. Actually, Potter-Malfoy sounds a bit better, no offence."

"What?" Draco gaped at her. "It isn't like that!"

Pansy leaned back now and folded her arms across her chest. "Don't tell me he's not your boyfriend yet, Draco."

"I—No! He's not my boyfriend!" Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I don't want a boyfriend."

Blaise snorted. "Really?" he asked. "So I suppose you like to stare at his shirtless chest every night in a completely platonic way? Because that makes sense. It's not like you literally drool over him or anything."

"I don't drool!" Draco protested angrily.

"Potter gets shirtless?" Pansy squealed.

"Oh, Potter," Blaise moaned, mimicking Draco's distinct drawl. "Let me see that chiseled body, unngh, get inside me!" He moaned again, louder. Pansy shrieked in laughter. She had actual tears streaming down her face.

Draco snarled aloud. "That's enough!" he shouted.

Blaise shrugged and grinned, repositioning himself on the couch again. "Why don't you just admit it, Draco? You want it." He waggled his brows and Pansy giggled, causing Draco to glower at the both of them again.

"You're both fucking loons," Draco grumbled, leaning back into the couch to sulk. Both of his friends ignored him and continued to banter.

~x~

The next morning Draco was sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, eating and chatting with Blaise, when Dumbledore suddenly appeared at his podium. Draco put down his fork and rolled his eyes. Oh gods, what now? The Headmaster only came to the podium when he had something important to announce, and from the look in his eyes, it seemed that he did.

"Hello students," Dumbledore chirped. "I hope you are all having a lovely morning." Draco sighed. What did the barmy old coot have up his sleeve? The students immediately quieted down for the Headmaster and Dumbledore smiled at all of them. "And I hope to make it an even lovelier morning, as the professors and myself have all planned a wonderful treat for you."

Draco could see Snape roll his eyes from his spot.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "There is to be a Formal Ball this Saturday from 7 PM to midnight. It is a function for Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth year students to have a bit of fun before diving into more difficult studies." The older students tittered with excitement and Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Of course, the younger students will have a small get-together as well, but it will end at 9PM. More details will be available if you wish to ask a staff member. I wish a marvelous time on all of you."

Draco furrowed his brow. Normally, he was in the know about these "special" events before the announcements came, as Snape would inform him beforehand so that he could properly prepare for them—but there had been no word this time, and now he was caught off guard. Draco hated to be caught off guard. Why hadn't Snape told him? Draco scowled. The damned baby was sucking up all of his attention. He glared at the little bundle cradled in one of Potter's arms, hoping that it knew just how much he sacrificed for it. The price of parenthood, dear Merlin. Potter looked up and noticed Draco, giving him one of those glacier-melting smiles. Draco just looked away. He had to stop doing that.

Potter refused to be ignored and nudged him. "Sounds like fun, you going?" he asked.

Draco shrugged, still not turning his head. He knew that he was conducting improper manners, but his mother wasn't here to scold him and it was Potter, for Merlin's sake. He wouldn't know manners if they had sung him a tune and then slapped him in the face. "Most likely," he replied. "Are you?"

He could feel that blasted smile on the exposed side of his cheek. "Probably, yeah," Potter said.

Draco sighed as he felt Potter's gaze leave him to go back to his breakfast. Draco poked at his own eggs. Was he really going to go? Of course he was, he never missed these things. Still, the idea wasn't particularly catching his fancy at the moment. He glanced over at Pansy, who was currently arguing with Weasley, and shrugged. She would go with him; they'd always gone together and had had a sufficiently pleasant time together. Then Draco snuck another peek at Potter, who was immersed in his bacon strips by now. Potter. Who was he going to go with? Draco felt a tiny pang of jealousy at the prospect. Potter had better not take that Granger. She seemed to have been making eyes at him across the table the whole morning, and he had not discouraged her from it. Draco gritted his teeth. I swear I'll—

Blaise tapped him. "Ready to go?"

Draco nodded, shoving his plate away. It was just as well. He'd rather not finish that thought anyway.

~x~

That night, Draco sat at his desk and rearranged his homework for the next day in a neat pile, ready to pick up in the morning. It was a ritual of his, and no matter how many times Blaise and Potter made fun of him for it, Draco still did it every evening. It ensured that he wouldn't lose any of his assignments; he was a model student, after all. His two lazy friends obviously just didn't understand. He was meticulous! It was in his nature.

Just as he finished, Nott and Potter walked into the room together, talking animatedly about something or another. Draco climbed onto his bed, watching them with curiousity. Nott and Potter never conversed like that unless they were arguing—and Draco always liked a good tussle before bedtime. But after another look, Draco realised that they didn't seem to be fighting... They were just playing a game. He wilted a little in disappointment before Nott's voice found its way into his ears.

"Hey Malfoy," Nott called over. "Who do you think is more fit, Hannah Abbott or Luna Lovegood?"

Draco wrinkled his nose at Nott's question. "Is that what you two are discussing?" he asked. "Honestly, get a fucking life. Anyways, I wouldn't pick either one of them. They're both horribly unappealing to me." It was true. Hannah Abbott's bulgy eyes scared him a bit and Lovegood was too... Lovegood. Need he say more?

Potter laughed. "Horribly unappealing?" he repeated. "That's a bit overdramatic, even for you, Malfoy." Draco scowled at him in response.

"Well, how about you then, Potter?" Nott asked. "Which would you choose?"

Potter tapped his chin. "Luna, I suppose," he answered. "She's a good friend of mine, and plus, she's got gorgeous hair." He paused and grinned at Draco. "Did you know that I have a thing for blonds, Malfoy?"

Draco felt himself flush and he muttered, "Ha ha, too bad you're not funny, Potter." Draco hadn't known that Potter fancied blond hair. Or did he? Perhaps he was merely pulling Draco's strings for fun. The annoying git was doing that a lot lately. But would Draco really mind if he did?

Nott waved his arms around to regain Potter's attention, which still seemed to be fixated on Draco. "Okay, I've got another one," he announced. "Parvati Patil or Hermione Granger?"

Blaise popped his head into the room, having heard the game and recognising it in a heartbeat. "I choose Patil, that girl is fit," he declared. "Did you see that skirt she wore last Hogsmeade trip? I could have shagged her right then and there." Blaise grinned now. "Plus, Granger's a bitch—no offence, Harry. I can say that because she's my wife!"

Blaise flounced into the room now and high-fived Nott, who was laughing. The two ignored Potter's spluttered protests in the background. "Good one, mate!" Nott exclaimed. "I wholeheartedly agree: Patil, there's no contest. Which would you choose, Malfoy?"

Draco made a face. Why were they even including him in this nonsense? "I'll pass on this one, too," he sneered. "They're both too Gryffindor for me." Although it was true that Parvati had a pretty face and a fantastic body, there was something about her that Draco just didn't find attractive. It was strange how his tendencies changed so quickly—before this year, he probably would've picked her in a heartbeat. And besides, Granger... just no.

"Harry!" Blaise shouted. "Your turn!"

Potter was climbing onto the bed next to Draco now. He seemed to be getting a bit tired. "Hermione, obviously, since she's my best friend and all," Potter said, shrugging. "Besides, you guys don't know Parvati. She's sort of clueless."

Draco felt that pang of jealousy again and his lip curled in disgust. Why couldn't Potter just act like a proper bloke for once and say Patil? Anybody with eyes could see that she was a hell of a lot more developed than Granger. Why did it matter that Patil was sort of an idiot? Trust Potter to take the sentimental choice.

Nott seemed to think the same thing. He snorted. "We're not asking who your best friend is, Potter, we're asking who's more fit. Merlin."

Potter glared at Blaise and Nott when they both started cackling. "Oh, come on!" he argued. "Hermione isn't a bitch. She's my friend, and I would choose her over anybody any day. She's gotten me out of a lot of horrible things in the past!"

"Oh Merlin, now that makes her really fit!" Blaise hooted, now doubled over and clutching his stomach with laughter.

"Yeah, I'm sure she's gotten you out of a lot of things, because you sure as hell haven't gotten anything in!" Nott added with a choked gasp. He was practically having a seizure rolling around on the ground.

Potter puffed up his chest in mock defiance. "Fine, she's fit too, you twats," he yelled. "Now shut the fuck up!"

With that, Blaise threw a pillow at Potter and now they were all laughing hysterically—except for Draco. He frowned and lay down, turning his back to them and glaring at the floor. Potter thought that Granger was fit? What sort of blind prat was he? It was so obvious that he was completely mad for her. Draco clenched his teeth. Why did it even matter anyway? Perfect Potter could go fancy whomever his perfect self wanted to. Draco didn't care at all. He didn't even turn and watch when Potter took off his shirt before falling asleep. That was how much Draco did not fucking care.

~x~

When Draco woke up again, it was dark and still nighttime. He sighed, snuggling deeper under the sheets, trying to savour the warmth and will himself back to sleep. Mmmm. He was so comfortable, he could almost feel the warmth enveloping him—wait, no. Draco's eyes shot open. He could actually feel warmth enveloping him! He twitched his hand, now confirming that there was something brushing against it. Was it Rebecca? She didn't normally feel this soft. Draco sat up, confused. But when he saw what the source of the warmth was, he almost wished that he hadn't. Almost.

Potter was sprawled out on his side of the bed, his sleeping form illuminated by the sharp contrast to the deep green bed curtains. The blankets were shoved down to his waist, exposing miles and miles of smooth, unblemished skin. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his hair was splattered across his forehead, dark and tangled, just barely covering the famous scar. And most important of all, his hand was stretched out towards Draco, a few of his fingers latching onto Draco's palm. Holding it.

Draco gulped, hard. The only thing that would make this picture more captivating would be if Potter's emerald eyes were staring back at him. Gods, Potter was warm! Draco looked down and saw that their hands were still touching and Potter's little finger had curved around his thumb. Draco couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. What was this? He looked down at himself. Oh fuck, he was so turned on right now. By hand-holding!

Draco shook his head frantically. No, no! He didn't look at blokes, and he certainly did not look at Harry Potter! Well… maybe he did… But he fancied girls, loads of them—Draco felt his stomach twist as he compared his reaction of Parvati Patil to the one he had just now of Potter. He felt a pang of realisation. Of course he found her unappealing; she didn't have the right… parts. Draco shuddered. Okay, so maybe he had looked at other blokes before. There's nothing wrong with that, right? Draco knew that even his father had a period of "experimentation". It didn't mean that Draco was suddenly having a huge, momentous change of heart—especially not for Potter! He forced himself to look away from the sleeping angel beside him, even when his treacherous fingers closed themselves around Potter's.

"I do not fancy you," Draco whispered aloud. Potter shifted a bit in his sleep, causing Draco to freeze. But Potter continued to snore lightly and Draco wiggled back down to his pillow, where he lay stiffly for a few minutes.

"I do not fancy him," he murmured again, as he drifted off. "I do not fancy Harry fucking Potter."