He instantly twirls around, his magic raising dangerously as a cobra would. I remember the grave timbre of my private tutor saying; "Keep your back straight in the eyes of danger. But think fast and protect what you cherish". And that makes me reconsider the purpose of my presence. I thought Potter would have stayed the same person I knew, brash and bold. I thought I would encounter self-righteous resistance and arrogance. Potter had always been a walking disaster but now, his magic tasted like unknown danger. It seems I haven't learned anything at all.
His magic escapes my eyes every time I focus on it, but I still can sense its maddening power. It made my heart tighten in my ribcage during the entire time I was on the platform, a few meters away from him. I couldn't even concentrate properly so, I lost track of time and almost lost him. But here he is, right in front of me. His white oxford shirt nonchalantly coming out of his dark green trousers and sleeves rolled back on his forearms. "Dark green?" This thought secretly amuses me for a second. A flash of thunder set fire to his eyes in the dull light of the stormy morning. I wonder again if it was such a brilliant idea to follow him. For a brief moment, I see vulnerability in the widening of his striking gaze. But he quickly takes a long deep breath and straightens. His magic curls back around him, almost as if it wanted to soothe him. Suddenly, a thought flashes in my mind; "If he was another man, and if only I was a different person too, I know I could let myself fall on my knees, right at his feet, because of how powerfully thick his magic felt on my skin." And what a disturbing idea is that? But my mind shifts back on reality and I feel shivers spiralling down my neck, as his entire posture harden. He slowly puts his hands in his pockets and rests his back against the cushioned back of the bench, chin set high in a vindictive manner. Time seems to contract and stop, while none of us utter a word. Feigning assurance, I casually settle with my left shoulder against the cold wall of the entrance, arms crossed on my torso. I lift an eyebrow, nervously waiting for a snap retort. After a few more seconds of silence, he turns his head towards the window and let his eyes wander across the outside scenery. In a shrieking cry and a large puff of black smoke, the train begins its journey.
"Why are you here, Malfoy?", he asks in a neutral controlled tone.
"So straight-forward, as always a Gryffindor", I privately think. "But this might be a good beginning. His voice contained none of the previous venom you learned to hear whenever he speaks to you. And, even you couldn't fake true animosity", I add to myself a moment later. But the problem now is answering the question. I thought I came here with a purpose, but my mind is completely blank, and I can't summon an articulate reply. I silently observe him. At first glance, he seems relaxingly neutral, but the rigid muscles of his shoulders tend to say otherwise. He almost looks like he's in pain. I quietly move across the compartment and sit down on the opposite bench. The tendon of his neck abruptly stands out as he clamps his jaw tight. His magic threateningly rears back. "Wrong move, you idiot", I mentally admonish myself.
"I, Draco Malfoy, want to sincerely thank you, Harry Potter… For everything that you've done for my family during the War", I carefully say.
His magic stills for a moment. The silence reverberates itself on the compartment's walls. He seems surprised and if I'm being honest, so am I. That wasn't supposed to come so quickly in the discussion I planned, but it's already too late. I incline my head, right hand resting on my heart, in a sign of respect that my family instilled in me a long time ago. I don't dare to move until I feel a slight shift in his magic. In the corner of my eyes, it looks like a blurred smoky veil draping his head now. I see a tendril leisurely crossing the space between us, hanging up in the air for a brief instant before it finally decides to caress the hand resting against my torso. A short gasp escapes my traitorous mouth. "So blazingly hot", I muse.
Abruptly, he turns his head and those fucking emerald eyes of his are solely focused on me. The fiery magical touch ignites burning waves of unknown desire in my belly. Delectable spikes of pure want reach a place I would've never imagined being awoken in Potter's presence. I look up into his eyes, with my neck and ears slightly red, dignity be damned. I feel the tendril reach my wrist, sensing my pulse. Another one I didn't see approaching strokes my chin, snaking along my jawline to the back of my neck, prompting my head to stay put. I'm like a deer caught in the headlights, the headlights of his gaze. Against all beliefs, I decide to let some of the protective barriers of my mind fall down for the very first time in so many years. "I need him to see how honest I am." Since I entered the compartment, the clock of Time seems to have stopped in its course and the fact strikes me in this instant.
"If you need quiet, you're welcome to stay", he finally says.