Draco shivered as he held his mug of steaming hot coffee up to his lips, blowing softly on its surface, feeling the heat of the mug smother his skin. Lately he'd been having trouble getting warm, even while wearing his warmest robes.
"You're cold again?" Pansy asked, and Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Her concern was touching, really, but it was also humiliating. He could take care of himself. Always had. He didn't need Pansy's prying eyes or words of wisdom to help him out.
"What does it look like?" he snipped, teeth chattering in between words.
"No need to be rude."
But she wasn't the real reason he was on edge. Ever since the night he'd apologized to Potter and his friends, Potter had been watching him. Giving him strange looks. Acting like Draco was too stupid to notice, thinking he was being subtle. If Draco's pride hadn't been so wounded, he would have found it funny.
"Aha, I know why you're grumpy," she said, sounding as though she'd won a prize. "You have Potions with Potter next, and you don't know how to talk to him anymore after you laid your pride aside and apologized. Which I'm very proud of, by the way. In case I haven't told you."
"You've told me," Draco said sharply.
Pansy smiled. "Cheer up, Draco. I'm sure Potter really appreciates what you did, even if he can't tell you."
It had been two days. Two long days of Potter's lingering stare, and lack of anger in his eyes. Draco wanted to crawl out of his skin.
Draco also hadn't messaged him since their conversation that night. Potter hadn't messaged him, either.
"You're nowhere closer to getting what you want, you know," said Greg, ever so helpfully. "Apologizing is only the first step. If you want him, you have to show him with your actions, not your words."
Draco wanted to laugh, instead he swallowed a budding lump in his throat. "He'll never want me."
"Don't be so self deprecating this early in the morning," Pansy scolded. "It isn't good for you."
"My tactic would be to snag him out of the hallways, pull him to the nearest wall and just snog the living daylights out of him," said Theo.
"That's because you're a wild animal," Draco pointed out. He kept his opinion that Theo had practically slept with half the castle to himself.
"If you don't show a little aggression, is it even worthwhile?" Theo asked, pointedly ignoring Draco's criticism.
"You know that's not my style. And I can't be like that anyway when it comes to Potter. The situation is too . . . Delicate."
"It's unstable," Pansy agreed, "and one wrong move could wind you up without him forever. But that's because you aren't talking to him, treating him like a person. That's all he wants from you, I'm sure."
"I'm sure the last thing he wants is for me to talk to him," said Draco. "He's sickened by the sight of me, he can't stand me."
"Baby, you don't know that," said Pansy. "That could all be in your head."
"He's made it pretty obvious," said Draco, no longer interested in his hashbrowns. "And I'd only be invading his personal space."
Pansy looked dejected.
"Draco, you don't give yourself enough credit. If you were only yourself around him, he'd love you."
"I dunno how to be myself around him," Draco confessed. "He makes me so nervous, I just . . . Freeze up."
"Just treat him the way you treat us," said Blaise. "All jokes aside, you're a pretty great person. Potter has a good sense of humor, I'm sure. Why else would you see him laughing in the hallways all the time?"
"Because he's happy," Draco said, as if happiness were a crime. "Makes one of us."
"Don't talk like that," said Greg. "We're all trying to help you, you know. The least you could do is appreciate it."
And the comment hurt, because Draco knew, he knew and there was nothing he could do about it.
"I do."
"Sometimes you don't act it, is all."
"Alright." Draco pushed his plate away and stood up. "I guess I'll just go, then."
"Draco, wait, please," Pansy began, but Draco held up a hand to stop her from continuing.
"No one wants you to go, for the love of Merlin," said Greg, sounding exasperated, and Draco was choking up. "We just-"
"No, I understand," said Draco, "and it's fine. I'll see you all at lunch, yeah?"
He knew Pansy was going to come at him with some rude comment about he already wasn't eating enough as it was and there was no need to worsen it.
"Could you at least finish your breakfast?" she asked instead, quietly.
Draco sighed. His stomach churned with nausea, and he swallowed thickly. "I can't," was all he said.
Pansy looked disappointed in him. Anger he could take, anger was easy, familiar. This expression of utter heartbreak was vast, uncharted territory, and Draco didn't think he could navigate it.
"Okay," she said, barely above a whisper.
Without another word, Draco set off for class.
As usual these days, he was early for Potions. Slughorn greeted him and Draco politely reciprocated. However, to his utter shock, he wasn't the only one who'd arrived before the majority of their classmates.
Potter was sitting at their desk, staring right at him.
"Malfoy," Potter greeted, looking at him with that expression again.
Draco nodded a greeting, averting eye contact. He wouldn't talk to Potter if he could avoid it.
Unfortunately for him, however, Potter seemed keen on making conversation.
"How are you today?"
"What do you care?" Draco asked.
Potter rolled his eyes. "Forgive me. I'll go back to not caring if it makes you feel better."
It was Draco's turn to feel annoyed. "I have trouble keeping up with you. It's like one minute you hate me, the next you don't. Which is it already? Make up your mind."
Potter looked like he was going to be sick, and Draco was alarmed.
"I don't hate you, Malfoy."
Draco scoffed. "Uh huh, and the sky is purple."
"But I-"
"No. You don't get to sit there and tell me how you feel about me when your actions have already made it quite clear."
"What are you talking about?"
"For Salazar's sake, Potter, you're about as thick as the wood on this desk."
"Help me, I'm wounded," Potter said dully.
Draco wanted to punch him. "You . . . Show me how much you hate me, all the time. And now all of a sudden you're being . . . Not . . . Yourself, and it's . . ." Making me uncomfortable. "Weird."
"Oh yeah? And what makes you think you know me, Malfoy?"
Oh, and Potter always managed to turn the conversation around on Draco somehow! Draco wanted to kick and scream and fight somebody.
"I-I-"
"You don't know a thing about me, Malfoy, and don't you dare start pretending like you do."
Students began trickling into the classroom, but Draco felt like they were the only two people in the room.
"I know you enough," Draco said coolly. "And you've treated me a certain way all your life-"
"You mean the way you deserve?"
That stabbed Draco square in the heart.
"I don't-"
"You apologized, and I was trying to take that into account. But if that's too much for you to handle, then I guess I'll go back to pretending like you don't exist. Makes no difference to me."
What was left of Draco's heart was squashed to a pancake.
"I wasn't-"
"You know, Malfoy, you may act all arrogant and tough, but I know underneath all that you're just a big baby."
Draco stared at him, shellshocked. He knew Potter could be vicious, but he hadn't expected him to take it that far.
A blanket of regret unfolded over Potter's face. "Malfoy, I'm . . . That wasn't what I-"
"It's fine." Draco's tone was tight, and his chest was tighter. "You're only telling me how you really feel about me. I'd rather have the truth than hear you make up some lie."
"But that isn't how I-"
"Next time you hear me crying out for help, do what any sensible person would do. Just walk away. Leave me to stew in my own self loathing."
"Malfoy-"
"Oh, and by the way. When someone apologizes to you, that doesn't mean they're offering you the world. Just that they want some peace and quiet for a change."
Potter looked stricken. "Malfoy, I'm so sor-"
"Don't." After choking out the word, Draco glanced down at his wrist where the name Harry Potter was permanently inked. The tattoo was invisible to everyone but him- Potter could only see it if Draco willed it. And that would never, ever happen.
Ever.
"Look, I didn't mean it," said Potter.
"Maybe we should work on not saying things we don't mean," Draco said patronizingly. "And I'm the baby."
Potter looked ashamed.
Draco glared at him and didn't answer, which was just as well because class was beginning. He and Potter barely spoke as they brewed their potion, and when it was time to pack up Potter gathered all the spare ingredients and walked away without a word to Draco.
As usual after class, Granger and Weasley approached his desk so they could walk with Potter to Transfigurations.
"Ready, Harry?" asked Granger.
Potter nodded.
Draco watched them leave, standing close together as they walked, with Potter in the middle.
Later that day, Draco sat in the library with his friends working on Magical History. He decided to go out on a limb and message Potter.
Hey.
Hey yourself. Haven't heard from you in a while. Everything okay?
I'm fine. There's something I need to get off my chest, though.
You can tell me anything.
It was everything Draco could do to suppress his smile, but the same couldn't be said for the warmth blooming in his chest.
It's about my soulmate.
Tell me.
Draco wondered what Potter would do if he ever found out it was him. At best, Draco would be barricaded.
We . . . Got into a disagreement the other day. Then we made up, and ever since then he's been treating me differently.
If I may ask, what was the disagreement about?
That's personal.
Thought so.
Hey, you knew what you were signing up for when you started messaging me. Nothing too personal. You know that.
I know, it's just . . . Frustrating sometimes, thinking I'm getting somewhere with you, but then you shut me out again.
Draco swallowed thickly.
I'm sorry it has to be this way, but it's for your own good. Trust me.
What are you so afraid of telling me? I already told you I won't hurt you. I understand being shy, if anyone understands being shy it's me because I've had to live publicly for the past seventeen years. I only now have found a sense of privacy. But what is it?
I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't.
When I talk to you, I feel like you already know me so well. And strangely enough, I feel like I know you, too. Whoever you are, I want to know you. The real you.
That can't happen. You know that.
Okay . . . So you were telling me about your soulmate. You two got in a row, but you made up and now you said he's treating you differently. How so?
He's almost treating me like I'm fragile, like I'm glass, like I'll break at any second. He isn't mean to me anymore, he doesn't even glare. When he looks at me, it almost feels like . . . Like . . .
Like what?
Like he forgives me.
Talk to him. You need to talk to him about this.
Draco found himself shaking his head, and he realized too late his mistake.
"Messaging Potter again?" Blaise asked.
Draco sighed. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."
"You so are," said Pansy. "I see that smile trying to pop up."
Draco couldn't help himself. He smiled.
"You're such a sap," said Greg. "Seriously, mate. It isn't even funny how gone you are for him."
"If only you'd talk to him," said Pansy.
"I am talking to him," Draco said cheekily.
Pansy rolled her eyes.
Suddenly, Draco heard footsteps coming from behind him.
"Oi, Death Eater."
His heart lurched.
"Hey, you'd better back off," said Blaise, standing up. Draco followed suit, turning around to face their intruders.
It was two boys and a girl, none of whom Draco recognized. But by the looks of it they were either sixth or seventh years.
Hello?
I'm sorry, I have to go.
Okay.
"No, you listen here, Zabini," said one of the boys. "I have a little something to say to Malfoy." He turned his attention to Draco.
"Malfoy, are you aware that You-Know-Who tortured and killed my parents?"
Oh god oh god. Draco wanted to throw up.
"And are you aware that he tortured my sister into insanity? She can't talk anymore because of him. Because of people like you."
Nausea swirled in his stomach, consuming all of him.
"I didn't-"
"Don't you fucking dare," growled the boy, shoving Draco hard. Draco stumbled back into the table, elbows slamming down on the mahogany surface.
"That's right, did that hurt, you little Death Eater? You filthy piece of scum?"
Draco stared him down. "Is that the best you can do?"
The two boys looked at each other, snarling. "Oh, you are asking for it."
"Hey, leave him be," said Pansy, standing up. Greg stood up as well.
"Just settle down," he said.
"No," seethed the boy. "My family is gone and he needs to pay."
"You're picking a pretty shitty place to do it, don't you think?" asked Pansy. "Out here in the open. Anyone could see you and report you."
"They aren't gonna, though. Are they?" leered the boy. "Because they're probably just wishing they were the ones who got to do it."
Draco looked down in shame. Because the boy was probably right.
"But you know what?" the boy asked. "It's not even worth it. You're not worth the punches. You're a waste of space, a waste of time. Anyone who spends their time on you is a certified joke."
"Then what are you doing?" Draco asked.
"Good one, mate," said Greg, slapping his back.
The boy's face morphed from calm into anger in a nanosecond.
"Don't you dare fucking get smart with me, Death Eater. You should be ashamed of yourself. Taking his name, his Mark, torturing people. I bet you liked it, too. You sick fuck."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I hated it. I hated every second."
"You know what?" laughed the boy. "I don't believe you."
"Just go," Draco said quietly.
The boys exchanged another glance. "Whatever, Death Eater. We'll go. But watch your back."
Without another word, the three students turned around and walked away from the scene. By this point, several heads had turned to watch.
"Show's over," said Draco, voice cracking.
"Draco," began Pansy, but Draco held up a hand to silence her.
"Just don't."
Pansy looked dejected. "Okay."
"I think I'm gonna go lie down for a bit," said Draco. "I don't feel well."
Pansy nodded, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.
As Draco headed back to his room, he reflected back on the events that happened in the library. He'd have to get used to things like that happening to him; it was commonplace now, and so was he.
No, he was below commonplace. He was trash. The dirt someone scraped off the bottom of their shoe.
When he got to his room, he prayed he'd be alone. He didn't know if he had the energy to face Potter right now.
But of course, as he opened the door, he saw Potter perched on his bed, reading.
Perfect.
"Evening, Malfoy."
"Evening, Potter."
"You look tired."
Draco was so tired of Potter pretending like he cared about him!
"And you care why?"
"I mean . . . if you aren't sleeping, I can probably sweet talk Pomfrey into slipping us a few sleeping draughts. I may as well, anyway, because sometimes I need them, too."
Draco felt his mouth drop open in shock. Here Potter was, extending kindness to him. Actual kindness. What had this world come to?
"I-I mean . . . That would be great, actually, if you did that. Thank you."
Potter smiled at him. Soft and slight, but a smile all the same. "You're welcome."
Draco could have fainted.
Unsteady on his feet, he drifted over to his own bed and pulled back the sheets.
"Another early night?" Potter asked.
Draco nodded. "I was studying, but I got cornered by some kids in the library who made it their mission to tell me how unwelcome I am here."
Potter sighed, and Draco had the strangest feeling it wasn't due to exasperation.
"Malfoy . . . People shouldn't be bullying you. It's a new year. We fought a war to end all of this."
Draco pursed his lips as he climbed into bed, facing Potter. "Well, you're forgetting it's me. I'm the exception to all the rules. I'm the Death Eater."
"You're not a Death Eater, Malfoy."
The words sent a cardinal of hope soaring through Draco's chest.
"O-Of course I am," he said, because he hated himself.
"No, you're not."
Potter's sturdy insistence bloomed inside him like a flower.
"You really don't think so?"
"No." Potter rotated in his bed to face Draco. "I really don't think so."
"Are you forgetting I hurt people? Tortured them? You said it yourself I got off on their screams-"
"I was angry, and you hadn't shown a single sign of remorse. You can't ever erase what you did, you know. You'll have to live with it for the rest of your life. But you can move on from it."
"I'm trying, but I feel like I'm getting nowhere."
"It's going to take time. People lost their families in the war, and they want somebody to blame since Voldemort is gone."
"I know, but I'd prefer not to have a massive target on my back everywhere I walk."
"Listen, Malfoy . . ." Potter paused, chewing on his lip. His shoulders rose with his intake of breath. "If you ever need . . . Help, or someone has it out for you and won't leave you alone, you come tell me. Tell me who they are and I'll help you."
Draco froze, openly gawking at his roommate. Because it just simply wasn't possible. Potter, wanting to help him? No. No.
"Alright, that's it." Draco sprung out of bed, standing as straight and tall as his short form would allow him. "First you've stopped giving me nasty glares, next you openly accepted my apology, then you called me a baby in class, and now you're offering to help me? Please try to make up your mind, Potter, and while we're at it, let's get one thing clear: I don't need your charity, or anybody else's. I'm not a damsel in distress. I don't need you coddling me and telling me you'll help me when you've made it very clear you want nothing to do with me."
Potter frowned at him. "When did I say anything about charity?"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "You didn't have to."
"I was just trying to be nice, but if that's too damn difficult for you, then just forget about it."
"Fine, I will."
"Fine."
Potter went back to reading, and Draco went back to pretending he wasn't in the room.
A few minutes later, Draco felt a tingling on his wrist.
I have a problem.
Draco turned away from Potter so he wouldn't see him reading his wrist.
As you know, I'm here to listen.
It's about Draco Malfoy. I know you're probably sick and tired of hearing about him by now, but I can't get him out of my head.
Wait.
What?
Why not?
Ever since he apologized to me and my friends, he's just seemed . . . Different, somehow. Like all the fight has gone out of him. To be honest, I think he's looked like that since a few days ago and I just didn't pick up on it.
Funny what perspective can do.
What do you mean?
Nothing, I just . . . Maybe our conversation from the other day struck a chord with you. Maybe now that you're seeing him differently, you're noticing things that went over your head before.
I did something really stupid just now. I just offered him help. What is wrong with me?
Besides being a compassionate, sympathetic, caring person? Nothing.
He didn't appreciate it. He just threw it right back in my face.
You don't know that. Maybe he's scared of being vulnerable around you, and is fending you off because anything other than complete animosity is unfamiliar and scary to him.
I never thought about it that way before. That . . . actually makes sense. I feel bad now. Should I say something to him?
Only if you feel like it will help solve things between you two. If he isn't worth it to you, then don't bother.
I don't know how I feel, to be honest. This is all very confusing. But I do know that it bothered me enough to reach out to you, so that has to mean something.
I'm not going to tell you what to do. If it feels right, talk to him. If it doesn't, then don't.
I should say something. I can't leave things the way they are.
How are things?
Not great. But since when do I care how things are with Draco Malfoy?
Since now, I guess?
This is infuriating. The git always manages to get under my skin no matter what. Alright, I'll talk to him. He's in the room with me right now.
Good luck.
Draco pretended to be distracted with his book while Potter shifted in his bed to face him.
"Malfoy?"
"Yeah?"
"Listen, I'm . . . I'm sorry. I know my offering you help kinda came out of the blue, but I want you to know I meant it. I won't hold it over your head or anything like that. I genuinely mean that if you're in a sticky situation, you can come to me afterwards and I'll take care of it. My name happens to hold a lot of power around here, and I might as well use it to my advantage for a time or two."
Draco had previously thought that Potter already had used his name any time he wanted to get his way. But the way Potter was talking made it sound like he reserved that privilege for special occasions.
Draco was a special occasion to him?
He felt himself flush.
"You mean that?" Draco asked.
Potter nodded. "And I'm sorry about class earlier. I was completely out of line talking to you like that."
Draco felt his eyes widen. "I . . . Thank you?"
"Seriously. I'm sick of all the animosity and fighting. I just think we should . . . put it behind us, you know?"
Draco couldn't believe his ears. Potter was offering him a truce. And he didn't know if he was brave enough to take it.
"Y-You think we can do that?"
"If we're willing to try." Potter pushed away the covers on his bed and stood up. Draco mirrored his actions, taking a step closer to the Gryffindor.
"It's not going to be easy. The urge to insult you is strong."
"Good one, Malfoy. Right in the heart."
"And if we want . . . this to work, do you think we should be friends?"
"Friends?" Affronted, Potter scoffed and shook his head as though the idea disturbed him. "Who said anything about friends?"
And all the cardinals of hope that had been flying in Draco's chest smacked against his sternum and died.
"I-I didn't . . . That was . . . I only meant, that wasn't what I-"
"This is about civility and nothing more, Malfoy. I'm sorry I didn't make that clear. I'm sure the idea of being friends nauseates you, so we don't have to do that. This is only so we no longer want to kill each other, yeah?"
Draco bit his lip to prevent it from wobbling. "Yeah."
Potter breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Okay, now that that's squared away, we can shake on it. Truce?" He stuck out his calloused hand.
Draco walked tentatively closer to Potter, sticking out his pale hand and grasping Potter's. They shook firmly, and let go as soon as physically possible.
Draco turned back around and retreated to his own bed. He burrowed back under the covers, making sure to face away from Potter as he felt his wrist tingle.
It worked. I think we finally put all the bad blood behind us.
I'm glad you could work things out.
He misconstrued my peace offering as an extension of friendship, which I think really spooked him, but I recovered pretty well.
Draco felt his heart stop.
Can you explain?
I think deep down, I really do want to be his friend. But we can't, not after everything. Besides, my best friends would have my head, and rightfully so.
Rightfully so? I thought you forgave him for his wrongs?
That doesn't change the fact that he did them. I'm not sure what kind of person he is, but I know he's capable of evil even if he feels badly about it.
Draco's heart shriveled up.
It's more complicated than it seems, but it sounds like you have it all figured out. I'll let you be for tonight.
What is complicated about that? He tortured innocent people in the war.
He probably had a wand to his head.
What difference does that make? You think I've never had a wand to my head?
Not everyone is as brave as you, Harry.
Don't you dare start with the hero worshipping.
I'm just reminding you of a fact.
Well, things with Malfoy are definitely going to be different now. I made a truce with him, and he knows if he ever has any problems with bullies he can come to me.
That's good of you, Harry, and I don't think you're being the hero by doing that. I think you're just looking out for somebody who's had a hard time.
I may have forgiven the git, but he did it to himself.
I think he knows that.
Potter didn't reply, so after a few more minutes of reading Draco shut off his lamp and went to sleep.