A/N: Nothing spectacular, just something I wrote up quick for one of my friends on lj when they were having a bad day. Pre-slash.
Disclaimer: Still Not Mine, Dammnit.
Meetings
After the last time Harry had seen Draco, running hell-bent ahead of Snape as they left Hogwarts, Harry was sure he'd never see the other boy again. At first it had been easy to be pleased by that fact, but soon he found himself remembering strange things at random times.
The way Draco had looked the day they'd first met. Flushed and excited, though he only recognized the excitement now after having known the other boy for six years.
How his hand had trembled just slightly, that day on the train, and how fast it had been snatched back when Ron had laughed at his name.
The way Draco often glanced towards the Gryffindor table, as though looking for somthing, only frowning or smirking at him after several moments of long, lingering staring.
How Draco had looked that day on the pitch, covered in bruises and blood, looking as emotionally hurt as he did physically.
How grooming and obviously sleep had gone by the wayside for him in the past year. Obviously, his family meant a lot to him.
The way he'd looked that day in the bathroom--as though his life were falling apart. And Harry couldn't help but be horrified by what he had done to the other boy. Sure, he'd been about to cast Cruciatus, but that spell... Harry could still see Draco's bloody body, slumped on the bathroom floor, Myrtle screaming literal bloody murder.
So when he saw him that morning in the Ministry, the day he'd been called to testify on Snape's behalf, it took him a long time to look away.
Draco was quick to notice. "What, Potter? Did you think I'd gone into hiding? Malfoys aren't cowards."
"No," Harry'd said in a small voice. "I just..." He took a deep breath. "Malfoy, did you ever think what it might have been like if I had shook your hand that day?"
Draco looked startled, and stared at him for a long time before he finally answered. "All the time."