On September the first, Draco Malfoy found himself in Hogwarts dining hall. As being a Death Eater had greatly taken away from his education the year before, Draco willingly accepted his invitation to come back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for "Eighth Year." That wasn't the only reason he had come back, however. Draco was reasonably sure that a certain attractive black-haired scarhead would return as well, and as Draco scanned the Eighth Year table, he found that he was correct. There was Potter, sitting between Granger and the Weasel, receiving smiles, thank yous, and congratulations from many of the other returning students, though there weren't very many of them.
"Draco," called Pansy from the back end of the table.
Draco slipped into a seat next to Pansy and across from Blaise, who gave him a knowing look.
"What did Potter do this time?" Blaise asked.
Draco sulked. "He used to stare at me when I walked into the room. I know it was because he hated me, but still! Now he won't even look at me!"
"Hmmm, I wonder why!" Mused Pansy sarcastically. "Maybe it's because you were part of a group whose main goal was to kill him?"
Draco let his head fall into his arms on the table. "Not by choice." He murmured.
"God, Draco!" Complained Pansy. "I'm only here because you asked me to be, because of your stupid crush!"
Draco sat up and practically attacked his friend. "Not so loud! What if he hears?"
"If he hears, he'll tell you off and we can leave this place and hide in your basement until people completely forget who we are! I want Golden Boy to fucking hear! Besides, the git has a girlfriend." Pansy said exasperatedly.
"No he doesn't." Interrupted Blaise. "Potter broke up with the Weasley girl over summer holiday."
Draco and Pansy both stared at him, gobsmacked. "How do you know that?" Asked Draco. "Who the fuck told you, and why didn't you tell me as soon as you fucking heard?"
Blaise wore a smug expression. "I have connections."
Pansy stared at him for a moment. "We're your only friends." Blaise flipped her the bird.
At that moment, McGonagall commanded the attention of the dining hall. "Students," she announced. "The war has ended!" The dining hall erupted in applause. "Unfortunately," McGonagall continued, "our victory came with many casualties, one of which was our dear headmaster, and my friend, Albus Dumbledore. Due to his death, I will be taking over as headmistress. Another thing that must be addressed is the number of students who have returned to Hogwarts because their seventh year was interfered with by the war. Not many students chose to return for Eighth Year, but the number is great enough that your fellow professors and I have decided to institute a temporary house for Eighth Year students. The dormitory is in a since unused part of the castle that you will be escorted to after the feast. Eighth Year students have spent a great amount of time at Hogwarts, so they will have no head of house and will be allowed greater freedoms. Now, let us commence with the sorting ceremony!"
The hall applauded again and Draco turned to look at Blaise.
"Did you hear that?" He asked.
"Ah, yes," replied Blaise. "You and I will be sharing a dormitory with the Chosen One. Hope the bloke doesn't see you drooling over him at night."
Draco scowled at Blaise, then, as subtly as he could, looked down the table to where Potter sat, his beautiful face turned to the Weasel, saying something that Draco couldn't hear over the sound of the Sorting Hat yelling out that someone was going to be a Hufflepuff.
Draco barely paid attention to the Sorting, only picked at the feast, and pretended that he wasn't staring at Potter the whole time. Eventually, the table started moving and McGonagall soon led them through a series of halls and staircases up to a small tower that Draco hadn't given any thought to before. He followed Blaise through their cozy common room adorned with red, green, blue, and yellow and the banners of every house, to the boys' dormitory, where four-poster beds stood in two lines. Luggage had already been brought up, marking where each person was to sleep. Draco walked down the line, where he found his own trunk second to the end. Diagonally, next to the wall, was Blaise, and across from Blaise, next to Draco, was… crap.
Draco watched in Slytherin silence as Harry Potter waltzed over to his bed. The raven-haired boy gave a curt nod and disappeared behind the bed curtains, which he didn't emerge from for the rest of the night. And Draco should know, he kept watch the whole time for a stolen glimpse of the Gryffindor boy's face.
The next morning, Draco awoke early, per usual. It was five-thirty a.m. and he was the only one in the boys' dormitory who was up. After washing in the bathroom and changing into his school robes, which included a grey tie instead of his usual green Slytherin one, he decided to head to the library before breakfast.
Draco had settled into a desk in the back and was reading a book on Advanced Potions, when he heard footsteps behind him.
"Uh, hey, Malfoy." Potter.
Draco shut his book and turned to look up at the adorable git. "It's not even seven in the morning, Potter. What are you doing here? I wouldn't take you as an early riser."
Potter yawned. "I'm not. Just didn't really sleep last night. And I wanted to talk to you before everyone else got up."
"Why?" Draco raised an eyebrow in an incredulous manner.
"I, uh, wanted to apologise. Your father really did push you into those things."
"I'm not in Azkaban right now, so yes, I'm innocent."
Potter nodded and held out his hand. "Truce?"
Draco smiled to himself and took Potter's hand. They shook on it.