Word Count: 975

~ Chapter 2 ~

Would you like to be famous? In what way?

Draco watched as Potter's eyes widened and chuckled. He couldn't help himself, it really was the most ridiculous question for the most known person in the Wizarding World.

Eventually, Potter snorted and shook his head. "I suppose it's my turn to answer first, since you did the first one."

Draco nodded his head, even though they hadn't actually agreed to those terms. He'd rather expected Potter would make him answer every question first.

"I hate being famous," Potter said, surprising absolutely no one.

No matter how much Draco had teased and prodded at Potter about his fame over the years, you'd have to be blind, deaf and a complete moron to believe that Potter actually enjoyed his fame.

"Why do you hate it so much?" Draco asked, curiously. "Even in first year… you didn't seem to like it."

"I… no, you're right, I've never been comfortable with it. I didn't know about magic before Hagrid came and delivered my letter, so being brought into the world to find out that everybody knew my name was… an adjustment, you know?"

Draco frowned. "You didn't know about magic?"

"That's a story for another day, I think. Suffice it to say that my life before Hogwarts wasn't the dream people expected. So I went from being nobody, to having fully grown adults falling over themselves in the Leaky Cauldron to shake my hand—and I had no idea why.

"Besides, being famous for surviving an attack that killed both of my parents isn't exactly a good reason to be famous, you know? Every year, I got more and more famous for barely surviving and it just… it sucks."

Draco nodded. He genuinely struggled to imagine what Potter's life must have been like when put into such stark words, and honestly, Draco was still stuck on Potter not having known about magic before he was eleven.

He'd known that Potter hadn't grown up knowing much about Hogwarts—their first meeting had proven as much—but to not know about magic at all was baffling.

"If you weren't… you, if you were just any random person and not famous, is there anything you'd want to be famous for?"

Potter wrinkled his nose. "Maybe inventing something that helps people, like a potion or something—don't look at me like that, it was just an example, you ass—or a spell, or maybe for playing Quidditch? I don't know. Probably not to be honest. Fame just… isn't for me."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, still smirking at the idea of Potter inventing a potion. He could barely follow a recipe for one that had already been invented, never mind creating a new one.

"What about you?"

Draco sobered. "I'm infamous for all the wrong reasons, aren't I? Everyone knows who I am, even if they all hate me for what I've done."

"I'd like to see what some of them would do faced with the choices you were," Potter muttered, and Draco's eyebrows arched of their own accord, because that sounded surprisingly like Potter was defending him. Potter noticed. "Don't look so surprised, didn't I tell you that I didn't regret standing for you at your trial? You were a child—we all were—and they were threatening to kill your mother. Full grown adults would make the same decisions you did if faced with the same choice."

"You wouldn't have."

"Don't be so sure," Potter corrected. "I told you what happened when Voldemort threatened Sirius. I'd have done the same thing if Ron or Hermione were in danger. They're my family as much as anyone ever could be."

"Huh. I… wouldn't have expected you to admit as much."

Potter rolled his eyes. "So, if you could have been famous for anything, what would it have been?"

Draco chuckled. "When I was younger, before Hogwarts, I used to dream of being famous. I didn't even really care for the reason, I just imagined hoards of people looking at me with admiration and respect. I thought about being a Quidditch Player, or even just 'the man about town', you know? The one that everyone either wants to be, or be with."

Potter laughed, his fingers flexing around his mug. "I can see that actually. I can totally imagine you being the 'man about town', if we'd had normal lives."

Draco rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

"Think you'll be getting anymore sleep tonight?" Potter asked, and Draco shook his head. He'd never been able to sleep after nightmares.

"Me neither. Shall we go and sit in the living room? The chairs are at least a little bit more comfortable. I'll make breakfast when, you know, the sun is at least starting to come up."

Draco watched as Potter refilled their mugs, and then wandered into the living room. So far, it had been interesting having Potter at the safe house with him. When he'd been alone, the monotony had been almost more than he could bear, and he'd only been there for a week before Potter had been dropped off.

At least now, questionable though it was, he had company. Someone to talk to, someone to laugh with.

Draco wasn't sure how he felt about it being Potter though. Their history was so entangled, and so negative that it felt odd to be able to smile at him.

Settling down in the living room, Draco pulled the paper from his pocket. "Do you want to read the next question?"

Potter shook his head. "You might as well keep at it. Your turn to answer first though, so it's up to you if you wanna do it now or not."

Draco glanced at the paper and rolled his eyes. "We can do it now, it's nothing particularly deep."

Potter shrugged. "Have at it."