A/N: And perhaps this is your more wolfish side speaking to me, but... Perhaps I am the moon. Ever revolving around you. Both of us caught in each other's tangle of lives.
AU Summary: It's eighth year and they're really trying to have another Triwizard Tournament. This year, however, it's being hosted at Beauxbatons, where it's been deemed to be much safer than Hogwarts. And, of course, Draco Malfoy is the Hogwarts Champion.
When Harry stumbled upon Draco in one of the bathrooms, he hadn't expected to find him. Most no one seemed to use this bathroom, so it seemed the obvious best one for Harry to use to think. He certainly hadn't expected to find Draco Malfoy crying by himself in the bathroom, and Harry was violently reminded of his sixth year. He stowed his wand away and took a careful step closer. "Draco?" he called softly.
He heard Draco hiccup and the blond's hands went to his face before he turned around. "What do you want, Potter?"
"Are you-" Don't ask if he's alright, that was a stupid question. Shit. "D'you need me to go get someone?"
Draco shook his head frantically, like the thought terrified him. "No, no, don't- I don't-"
Staring at him, Harry couldn't help it, it just stumbled out of his mouth like his mouth and his mind were on two separate tracks. "You're speaking in English, again."
His shoulders looked like they slumped, when he said it. "I learned it first, it's my native language, of course I'm going to speak it, first," he said with a distinct whining sort of tone in his voice.
"No, just…" Harry gave a small shake of his head, trying to smile for Draco to show him it was alright. "You haven't spoken a word since we got here."
"Well, my apologies, Potter, but I don't see why I should do anything to give them all more fuel for the fire," Draco snapped back at him, red in the face, though whether it was from crying, or from being upset at Harry seeing him cry, Harry couldn't tell.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense… Why are you…?" Crying? Alone? Crying alone in the bathroom?
Draco shook his head again and for a moment seemed to forget it was Harry he was talking to. "It's just bloody typical, a new school, a new year, a fresh chance, and someone thought it would be funny to put my name in the cup, so yet again Draco Malfoy is being forced into doing tasks he wants no part in." Harry easily recognized the double meaning in his words.
"They're not letting you back out?" But then, it did make sense… They hadn't let Harry back out, even when he'd wanted to. But still, Draco had always seemed… Different. Other. In something like this, surely, he should have gotten his way.
"No, they're not," he sighed. "You'd think they'd be more than eager to replace the Death Eater with an actually respectable student."
"Hey," Harry said with a frown, taking a few steps closer. "You're plenty respectable."
Draco glanced up at him and seemed to chuckle. "Incredible. The first time you've actually said anything decent to me, and it's to tell me I'm respectable."
Harry gave a small shrug. "Well, I mean… You are," he said, feeling uncomfortable before he finally made his way over to sit on the window sill beside where Draco was standing. "What is it you're always saying, anyway?"
"What do you mean, what I'm always saying?" Draco had turned to face Harry, now, a frown on his face.
Harry waved his hand when he spoke, "Whenever you're speaking French. What are you saying that's got all them laughing all the time."
He thought for a moment that Draco's flush got darker. "Just insulting the other Hogwarts students." That was it? That couldn't be it.
"Why are they always hanging around you?" Sometimes literally hanging on him. Annoyingly. Didn't any of them have better things to do?
"Oh, well, I tell them stories," Draco said as though it were some sort of secret. "About where I grew up, or how I grew up. Or sometimes about Hogwarts. They're not used to an Englishman so well-spoken, and sophisticated."
That had him laughing, "Oh, yeah, I'm sure that's all it is." He watched as Draco slowly took a seat near him. "So you're always insulting me, too?"
"...Not always," Draco admitted, not looking at Harry properly. "Sometimes I'm telling them stories about you."
"Probably make it all sound more boring than most people would," Harry said with a small shrug.
Draco looked like he was debating with himself over something before he finally gave a quiet chuckle. "I may or may not sometimes over exaggerate my own role in it all."
Harry smiled at him, leaning back against the window to watch him. "Tell me one of them."
He seemed to startle, looking over at Harry with wide eyes. "Tell you…" He looked nicer, like this. Without all the stress of their homework and the championship weighing over them. Almost younger. His face was smoother, and his eyes were almost lit up, again.
"One of the stories. One of the ones you tell them," he clarified. "I wanna hear it."
Draco shook his head quickly. "No, no, you don't want to hear any of them-"
"I do. Go on, then, I'm good and settled, ready for a proper story. I don't get to hear stories, much, so tell me one."
"Well, I-" Draco stopped himself, looking over at Harry. "Are you trying to guilt me into telling you a story?"
"That depends," Harry said, shooting him a grin. "Is it working?"
"Well…" Draco sat down at the window next to Harry's, looking down at his knees as he thought about his words. "One of the ones I commonly tell is about how we met. Do you remember, at Madam Malkin's? I was-"
"No, no," Harry said, shaking his head. "Tell me in French."
Now he looked completely confused, causing Harry to laugh. "But you won't understand any of it."
"Do it anyway. You could insult my stupid hair, and I wouldn't know."
Draco seemed to stare at him, as though he were expecting a trick, before he slowly leaned back against his own window. "Nous étions chez Madame Malkin. Vous et moi. J'étais affreux." And he was right. Harry didn't understand a word of it, but he was content to just listen to him talk. Right now, they could… Talk.