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Chapter Text

Unfortunately for Draco Malfoy, he had an epiphany during the summer between 3rd and 4th year. It came to him slowly, little pieces adding up until there really was no denying it, no matter how much he might want to.

He had a thing for Harry Potter.

The revelation that he was gay was much less startling than the fact that the object of his affection was none other than the Boy Who Lived.

The first clue was a conversation he had had with Pansy Parkinson while they were sitting outside in his family’s gardens, enjoying the sunlight. Though it was nearing the end of August, there were still plenty of gorgeous flowers blooming around where they sat on a cool, stone bench, the floral scent pleasing. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of a fountain could be heard. They watched the peacocks strut about the garden and spoke of what classes they were looking forward to the most.

“Potions, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Pansy drawled, turning her head towards him and scrunching up her nose. “It’s easy to like potions when the professor is your godfather. I’m certain you can do no wrong in Snape’s eyes.”

“I can do no wrong because I’m simply the greatest at potions.” He responded primly, smirking a bit as she huffed. He reached over and gave her hand a patronizing pat as he said, “Don’t fret too much. You’re still loads better than Potter.”

Pansy groaned, shoving her face into her hands. Draco had to lean in to hear her next words as they came out muffled. “Please, Draco, for the love of Merlin, no more Potter talk.”

“‘Potter talk’?” He repeated indignantly.

“Yes, ‘Potter talk.’” Pansy looked up from her hands to fix a glare on him. “You would think that being away from him all summer would put him out of your mind, but it’s seemed to only make you talk about him more!”

He tensed, returning her glare with one of his own. “I don’t talk about Potter that much.”

“Believe me, Draco. It’s not the other Slytherins who are always bringing him up.”

Draco sat back, a bit dumbfounded. Did he really talk about Potter that much? Well, it’s not like it’s really his fault. Potter was such a nuisance all the time with his self-righteousness and his gaggle of adoring fans that it was impossible not to at least mention it.

He frowned, his eyes narrowing at his friend. “Well, fear not, Pansy. If you really think that I talk about—” he cut himself off as Pansy raised her eyebrows, “about him too often, then I will refrain from doing so for the rest of the day.”

The look of incredulousness was blatant on Pansy’s face, but Draco just lifted his nose into the air and crossed his arms, daring her to challenge him.

“Alright, alright,” She said, holding up her hands placatingly, “I believe you. Now, let’s go back inside. You’re starting to burn.”

“What?!” Draco jolted straight up, his hands flying to his face and pressing against his cheeks where he could already feel how warm they were. “How could you not mention this sooner! School starts in a few days! I can’t be sunburned for the start of the year!” He slumped back down onto the bench beside her. “Oh, Merlin, what if I peel…”

Pansy snorted at him, unperturbed by his responding scowl. She took her time rising from her seat, making a show of dusting herself off before offering Draco her hand. He took it glumly and allowed himself to be tugged upwards and back towards the Manor.

When she spoke, Draco could hear the smile in her voice. “Come along, Draco. Let’s have some tea in the library.”

As they exited the gardens, Draco couldn’t help but think that the red of the roses looked strikingly similar to the garish red of Gryffindor house.

They spent the rest of the day reading books and drinking tea, and Draco wondered why it was so difficult for him to have a conversation with one of his childhood friends that didn’t result in him bringing up Potter somehow.

For the rest of the week leading up to his return to Hogwarts, Draco found his mind wholly occupied by his rival. Pansy’s words had stirred something in him, and he was worried that she had been right. Every time he thought of the new school year, his thoughts would inevitably stray to Potter.

What would they serve at the start-of-term feast? No matter what was on the menu, Potter would certainly have a treacle tart.

What would the Quidditch training regiment look like this year? Draco had been sure to go flying every day of the summer holidays. He knew he would have to work extra hard if he wanted to beat Potter.

Who would their new DADA professor be? Hogwarts truly had terrible luck when it came to filling that position. Lupin had been a werewolf, Lockheart had been a fraud, and Quirrell had been a sniveling coward. The only one worth anything was Lupin. He at least had taught them something, like how to deal with a boggart. It was certainly interesting to find out what everyone had feared the most, like Potter’s biggest fear being a dementor—

Draco was beginning to grow frustrated with himself, and he certainly had a new appreciation for his friends for putting up with all his ‘Potter talk’ for the past three years. He needed a new hobby to keep his mind off of the Chosen One.

After searching his room, he came across an old set of paints and a watercolor sketchbook that had been given to him as a present one year for Christmas by his mother. His father had thrown a fit, claiming that painting was a woman’s activity, and Draco, gripped by his need to please his father, had discarded them immediately in some random drawer in his room. He couldn’t bring himself to actually get rid of them, not when his mother seemed so pleased that he had been excited to receive them.

So, the night before he was set to return to school, he found himself drawing mindlessly in an effort to calm the nerves that always seemed to plague him before a new school year. It wasn’t until his focus returned to the task at hand that he realized what exactly he had been sketching.

A pair of glasses, which was innocent enough, except for the fact that their circular shape was often associated with one particular wizard.

Draco threw his drawing materials onto the floor and groaned. He fell backwards onto his bed and glared at the ceiling, embarrassment making his chest clench as tears pricked his eyes.

He liked Harry Potter, and he would be seeing him tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Draco had been up half the night coming up with a foolproof plan for how to deal with his realization and make it through the year unscathed. Obviously, he couldn’t force his feelings to disappear, but he could certainly ignore them, and the best way to do so would be to avoid the object of his affection for the foreseeable future. It was simple, truly.

Now he just needed to explain his sudden change in personality to his friends.

His mother was the one escorting him to King’s Cross station; his father was too busy with a meeting at the Ministry, but Draco could admit to himself that his absence was more a relief than anything else. He would be able to greet his friends without worrying if his father found he was being too emotive and enthusiastic than was befitting a Malfoy heir and the inevitable punishment that would follow if his father deemed he was. His mother was much more forgiving in that aspect.

The station was crowded, families lingering in their goodbyes and first years rushing excitedly toward the train. The squeaking of luggage carts could barely be heard over the chatter, and as the large clock hanging off of one of the brick pillars ticked closer to departure, his mother turned to him.

Her mouth was pressed into a thin line as she placed a single hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Have a good year at school, my dear. Make your father proud.”

Draco gave a stiff nod, knowing that the single squeeze of his shoulder was the equivalent of a hug from his pureblood mother. To any of the rushing passerby, her words of parting might have seemed cold. However, Draco knew that what went unsaid was that, while he might have to earn the approval of his father, his mother’s pride was something freely given to him. “Of course, Mother.”

She allowed herself the smallest of smiles, her lips barely turning up at the edges, before nodding at something behind him. “Go. Your friends are waiting.”

He turned on his heel and wove through the crowd towards the group of Slytherins, refusing to glance back. It seemed he was the last to join their usual crew as Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all chatting among themselves as he approached.

“You’re such a momma’s boy, Draco.” Blaise smirked at him as soon as he was in earshot.

“Oh, hush.” Pansy elbowed Blaise sharply in the side before all but skipping over to his side. She looped her arm through his and pulled him towards the train. “Let’s go grab a compartment before they all get taken up by the first years.”

Draco allowed himself to be pulled along, the others falling in behind them. Draco looked over his shoulder to say hello to Crabbe and Goyle who returned his greeting with their own before he was pulled to a harsh stop, his shoulder protesting as his arm was wrenched painfully backwards by his momentum. He glanced forward to find that it seemed their group was at a standoff with Potter’s trio just before the steps up into the train, a scowl immediately coming to Potter’s face when he and Draco made eye contact as if he was already anticipating a conflict.

If this had been last year or even two weeks ago, Draco would have had a million insults ready to hurl at the Gryffindors before him, but now he was eager to put as much distance between himself and Potter as possible. So, he put step one of his plan into action: avoid Harry Potter.

He nodded politely to each of the three, the resulting angry red flush on Weasley’s face priceless, and tugged Pansy up the steps and down the aisle of the train car. He found an empty cabin about halfway down and threw open the door before slumping down into the corner by the window. He busied himself with tidying his robes and smoothing a few wrinkles as the others took up their usual positions, Pansy and Blaise beside him and Crabbe and Goyle facing them, before looking up to find four pairs of eyes already on him.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Draco widened his eyes and lifted his eyebrows in what he hoped was an innocent expression. The unamused look Blaise directed at him told him that it clearly hadn’t been too convincing.

“That.” Blaise pointed out the window to where a few stragglers were still standing out on the platform. “With Potter.”

“I’m afraid I have no clue as to what you mean.”

“It was weird.” Crabbe spoke up.

Goyle nodded. “You’ve never done that before.”

“What?” Draco snapped, wishing they would just drop it but knowing that just by getting irritated he was encouraging their curiosity. “Mind my own business?”

“Yes.”

Draco glared at Pansy who was studying her freshly-painted nails instead of meeting his eyes.

“If you all really must know, I’ve simply decided that I’m much too mature to stoop so low as to continue this childish rivalry between Potter and I.”

Blaise snorted. “Rivalry implies that you challenged each other. I don’t recall you ever beating him to the snitch.”

“Watch your mouth!” Draco hissed, leaning across Pansy who pushed him back into his seat.

“Calm down, Draco. We’re just trying to understand.” She said diplomatically.

“Yeah, Draco.” Blaise had a smirk still plastered on his face.

If Pansy wasn’t between them, Draco would have hit him by now.

He clenched his hands into fists and tried to remind himself that for his plan to work, he needed his friends to believe his story. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, willing the anger that was crackling in his veins to go away. He schooled his face into a bored expression, leaning back into the corner and crossing his legs.

“This year marks the halfway point in our Hogwarts careers.” He made sure to make steady eye contact with all of them as he spoke, keeping his voice even and slow.

“Next year we have OWLs, which means we need to decide what we want to do with our futures. Just because the Gryffindors are impulsive children doesn’t mean we need to act like that, too. I know that I was part of the problem with my compulsion to stick my nose into Potter’s business, but I’m done with that now. If you want to prove that Slytherin is the most regal house, then I suggest you join me in my endeavors to avoid Potter and his associates and do well in classes.”

He was met with silence.

He cast a glance around at their expressions, everyone seeming to be feeling something different. Crabbe and Goyle looked put upon, probably by the notion that they would need to study more, Blaise looked thoroughly disbelieving, and Pansy looked like she was analyzing him, her eyes narrowed as they scanned over his face.

Blaise opened his mouth to speak, but Pansy cut him off.

“This means no more Potter talk, right?”

Everyone’s eyes whipped to him expectantly.

“Not even a little.” Draco gave her a grateful smile as everyone else seemed happy enough with that prospect that they asked no further questions about his sudden change of heart.

The rest of the train ride passed much the same as the years before, with Crabbe and Goyle eating an ungodly amount of sweets and Blaise trying to persuade Pansy to try all the suspiciously colored Every Flavor Beans. Draco found himself laughing along to their antics, but his mind kept drifting.

When they finally made it to their destination, they boarded the carriages that would take them the rest of the way to Hogwarts. Draco rode with Blaise and Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle much too large to try and squeeze into the small carriages with them. Blaise extended his hand to help Draco up, and as he settled into his seat, he could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on his back.

Draco kept his eyes resolutely forward, engaging in conversation with the others about how many new Slytherins they thought they’d get this year, but he felt certain that if he turned around, he’d find emerald green eyes staring back at him.

Chapter Text

The feast was a blur, the nerves that had settled at the pit of Draco’s stomach making it hard to enjoy the copious amounts of food in front of him. He clapped mechanically when someone was sorted into his house, but besides that, he kept quiet. His friends seemed to notice his mood and left him alone; it wasn’t unusual for Draco to be silent during the start of term feast.

He felt on edge. He was sure that Potter and his friends had been looking at him all night, and it left his skin crawling. He wanted nothing more than to slide into his bed, shut his curtains tight, and let sleep end what was left of this day. It seemed he would have a while yet to wait as Dumbledore continued to drone on.

Draco’s ears perked up when he caught the murmur of excitement rushing through the crowd.

“A Triwizard Tournament! Can you believe it?” Pansy’s eyes were bright as she leaned over the table. Draco usually sat next to her, but today he had plopped himself down next to Blaise so that his back was to the rest of the room. He didn’t want to risk having his eyes accidentally meet those he was hoping to avoid. “The last one was two centuries ago!”

“We’re too young to compete, so I wouldn’t get carried away.” Blaise rolled his eyes, seemingly one of the only people in the entire hall that was unimpressed with the Headmaster’s announcement.

“I’m more concerned about the new Defense professor.” Draco chimed in as they left the Great Hall and made their way down to the dungeons. “He looks positively unhinged.”

And he was absolutely right.

The very first day of classes, Draco found himself being turned into a ferret. And through absolutely no fault of his own.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, as well as some other Slytherins, were sitting outside before dinner. They were lounging beneath a large tree just chatting when Draco’s eyes were caught by a head of unruly, dark hair walking across the courtyard. Potter glanced at him as he walked, Draco quickly shifting his gaze back to his friends.

He busied himself with adjusting his robes, fiddling slightly with the lapels. Before he knew it, Mad-Eye Moody was transfiguring him into a ferret and screaming about hexing people when their back is turned.

“He wasn’t trying to hex him!” One of the Slytherins cried as a crowd gathered to watch Draco be tossed about in the air.

“We were just talking,” shouted another.

“Nonsense!” Moody huffed. “I saw him reaching into his robes for his wand!”

Luckily, Professor McGonagall rushed onto the scene and rescued him. Unluckily, as soon as Draco managed to scramble upright from the dirt, he was met with the laughing face of Harry Potter and several other students. He felt his face flame and angrily righted his disheveled robes, a thousand insults on the tip of his tongue. He forced himself to swallow them. He had to follow the plan, even if he had to suffer a public humiliation.

“Professor McGonagall, he really wasn’t trying to do anything!”

Draco put his hand on Crabbe’s arm and shook his head. He murmured lowly so as not to be overheard by the jeering crowd around them. “It’s alright. It’s not going to change anything.”

He mumbled his acceptance when McGonagall informed him that his hex attempt would result in his detention, and Draco didn’t want to stick around to argue that he hadn’t been trying to hex the savior of the Wizarding World at all. He barely concealed a flinch when his eyes met Potter’s.

His eyes downcast, he spun on his heel and stalked off, the rest of the Slytherins in hot pursuit.

Later, Draco had received an angry letter from his father about how he had sullied the Malfoy name by allowing such a spectacle go unpunished. If his father had his way, Draco would have cast Crucio on Moody right then and there. He tossed the letter into the common room fire after reading only a few sentences. His father tended to be redundant when he was furious.

The rest of September was awful. His fiasco with Moody seemed to be all anybody could talk about, though Draco supposed if he had acted slightly nicer to his fellow students, they wouldn’t have been so eager to rejoice at his embarrassment. It seemed that even first years were whispering behind his back, giggling about the ferret.

“It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it?” Weasley sneered at him during one of their shared classes. “Malfoy, who’s always calling me Weasel, ending up as a ferret?”

The other Gryffindors in their class chuckled, their eyes cutting to Draco to gauge his reaction. He simply turned his body so it was angled towards the wall, his eyes staring fixedly at his textbook.

“Ignore them, Draco.” Pansy said, sympathetically patting his hand where it laid balled up in a fist atop their shared desk. “They’re being unbelievably childish.”

“What’s this, Malfoy?” Finnigan called from his seat, “Can’t stand someone bringing up your traumatic experience and need your girlfriend to comfort you?”

Draco just squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take several deep breaths. He was a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. He could keep a handle on his temper and deprive these idiots of the satisfaction of a reaction. While his silence only served to frustrate Weasley and make him try to antagonize him more, Harry had taken to staring at Draco with a perplexed expression on his face as if he were trying to work his way through a puzzle while missing several pieces.

Draco just ignored his stares and instead spent more time than usual in the Slytherin common room with his friends. He studied more often than not and had even succeeded in raising Crabbe and Goyle’s grades, much to the suspicions of the professors, though none complained. And when the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived, Draco was grateful to find that he was no longer the main subject of Hogwarts gossip.

Everyone was too busy discussing who would be putting their names into the Goblet of Fire and who would be picked or which members of the other schools were the most good looking.

“I reckon it’s Krum who’ll be chosen for Durmstrang. Karkaroff has all but declared him his protégé, so there’s really no doubt about it.” Blaise nodded towards where Krum was sitting.

Draco hummed his agreement as Pansy leaned forward, an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “Who cares about that? I’m more concerned about finding a way to make him ask me to the Yule Ball!”

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware that athletes incapable of stringing more than four words together was your type.”

“A nice face is a nice face.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “And his body isn’t bad, either.”

“I thought we’d be going to the Yule Ball together.” Draco said with a frown.

Pansy grinned devilishly. “Maybe if you ask me nicely and with lots of expensive jewelry.”

Draco groaned as Blaise snorted, the rest of dinner passing by quickly.

The three of them decided to join several other students in hanging out by the Goblet of Fire, watching as those brave enough placed their names into it. As curfew approached, the room slowly emptied itself of students, but Draco decided to stick around for a while. The blue flames were somewhat calming to him, and he allowed his mind to wander as he watched the shadows cast by the fire dance along the stone walls.

So far, his plan to avoid Potter had been going well. Though Weasley had been a thorn in his side all semester, Potter had tended to hang back and laugh along than interact with him directly. It was a small blessing.

Draco had come to a bit of a realization.

Harry Potter was like the sun. He shone brightly and pulled everyone into his orbit with a gravity that was difficult to escape. Being in his presence was like basking in the warmth of a ray of sunlight, the feeling of his attention almost addictive. However, Draco knew that if he allowed himself to get close to him, like those summer days where he had run wild as a child, he would be burned. Too much exposure to him caused Draco’s skin to itch just below the surface, and it caused him to lash out. If he wanted any peace of mind at all, it was better to stay as far away from him as possible.

He stood and walked towards the Goblet, moving an open palm towards the air above the age line and smiling a bit to himself as his hand met an invisible barrier. He let it rest there for a moment before the door being shut behind him startled him. He pulled his hand away quickly as he turned around, ready to make some excuse to whichever professor or prefect had caught him out after curfew. The words died on his tongue as he saw Harry Potter standing at the door.

“Malfoy.” The way Potter said his name held no inflection, as if he was simply stating a fact instead of greeting someone.

Draco nodded at him, turning back towards the bench where he had left his bag, grabbing it and shouldering it as he started towards the door. He was planning on simply maneuvering around Potter and out the door, but the Chosen One had other ideas.

“Shouldn’t you be in the dungeons by now?”

With a jolt, Draco noticed that he had his wand drawn. Draco eyed it warily but made no move to grab his own. “One could say the same for you. Lost your way trying to find Gryffindor tower, have you, Potter?”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t supposed to be instigating fights with the Boy Who Lived, but he supposed old habits die hard. It was the most that Draco had said to Potter the whole year, but despite his venomous words, it seemed to relax Potter slightly. He lowered his wand slightly but still had a suspicious expression on his face.

“What were you doing in here?”

Draco tensed as he thought about his maudlin thoughts about Harry Potter and his similarities with the sun. “I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.”

His words held no real heat, and Draco hadn’t even glared, but Potter seemed to take his words as an insult. His eyes narrowed, though he did put his wand away. They stared at each other for a few moments, Draco’s heart beginning to beat faster as he noticed how close they were standing.

When it was clear that Potter wasn’t going to say anything else, he cleared his throat and inclined his head towards the door. “If you don’t mind?”

Potter frowned but stepped aside, and Draco took that for the opportunity it was and scurried past him and down to the dungeons. It took a long while for his heart to slow as he laid in bed and stared at the curtains above him.

The next day was the Halloween feast, and there was a palpable excitement in the air as everyone eyed the Goblet of Fire at the front of the room. A hush fell over the crowd as Dumbledore began his speech. As he moved closer to the Goblet and placed his hands upon it, the flames turned from blue to red, a single slip of paper bursting forth and into his hands announcing the first champion: Viktor Krum.

Blaise smirked at Draco as they all clapped, clearly pleased that his prediction had been right.

The next name, Fleur Delacour. The next, Cedric Diggory.

Blaise groaned, causing Draco to smirk. “A Hufflepuff? Really? They might as well hand the cup over to Krum now!”

“He’s a good seeker. He might do better than we think.” Draco stated diplomatically, though his hopes for Hogwarts’ chances weren’t very high.

As Dumbledore began talking again, Pansy leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You just think he’s hot.”

Draco jerked away from her, the force causing him to bump into Goyle. He sputtered, his face growing steadily warmer, and Draco was glad for the dim lighting in the room because he knew his face must have been bright red. He had never spoken to any of his fellow Slytherins about his sexuality or even his schoolboy crushes throughout the years. Most of the time they didn’t mention that sort of thing since they all knew they would be married off by their parents regardless of preference.

“What?” He finally managed to get out. “How did you–”

“Call it a woman’s intuition.” She smirked at him as she pulled back, seamlessly inserting herself into whatever conversation Blaise was having with Crabbe and Goyle.

His mind was still reeling when a fourth slip of paper was spat out by the Goblet.

The hall was silent as the Headmaster read off, “Harry Potter.”

His palms started sweating where they lay flattened against the tabletop.

This was impossible.

Potter was only a fourth year, much too young to enter the tournament. Had someone else entered his name as some sort of cruel joke? The tournament was dangerous even for those years older than them, and even then, someone had died the last time their school had decided to participate in this farce. Potter would be at a sure disadvantage. There was no way that the professors would actually let him participate… right?

Like everyone else in the room, Draco’s eyes snapped over to the Chosen One. Draco, however, found that Potter was already looking at him with a glare of pure contempt that caused Draco to flinch. He watched with bated breath as Potter walked forward and left the room, the silent crowd immediately erupting into chatter as they were all left to ponder what had just happened.

Chapter Text

Harry Potter was all anyone could talk about, which wasn’t altogether unusual, except that now the things people were saying were overwhelmingly negative.

As Draco walked to his usual spot at breakfast, he could feel the eyes of Potter following him. For the past several days, the casual glances of interest that Potter sent his way after Draco’s sudden attitude change had shifted to glares and scowls. The night after the Goblet had spit out Potter’s name, Draco had laid awake, staring at the canopy of curtains above him. He turned over that moment in his head and tried to examine it from several different angles, and his stomach had started to churn at the very real possibility that Potter believed he had been the one to put his name in the Goblet. Draco had been very careful to avoid him in the following days and keep any interactions they did have fairly neutral. Draco hoped that he was just overthinking and that Potter had done it simply out of habit.

But as more and more days passed and Draco continued to feel eyes on him, he knew that it had been a fool’s dream to think that. He felt more on edge the past week than he had when everyone was snickering behind his back about the ferret incident, and he had made it a point to always travel the halls in a group, just in case Potter tried anything. In classes, he sat as far away from him as possible, choosing to sit closest to the wall and focus solely on the professor in front of him. Though it was a bit exhausting, everything had been going as well as it could have, given the circumstances.

As the weekend neared, however, Draco’s luck began to run out. None of his friends wanted to go to the library with him that Friday afternoon, but Draco knew he had to check out some books for his charms essay if he wanted to get a head start on it. He had told his friends that this year was for studying and deciding his future path, and he wasn’t lying. It also didn’t hurt that when he had his nose deep in a book, his mind would allow him to focus on something other than Harry Potter.

So, for the first time in several days, Draco found himself walking alone down the halls of Hogwarts. He had decided to use his free period to go to the library since he knew the chances of running into Potter were pretty low, and most other students were in class. Draco took his time meandering from the dungeons to the library, enjoying his moment of solitude even though he had been hesitant to wander alone. There was only so much grunting from Crabbe and Goyle that a man could take, after all.

As he passed an alcove, an arm bolted out of the shadows and grabbed the front of his robes, and Draco couldn’t help the startled grunt that escaped him as he was slammed into the wall. He had little time to think before Potter’s forearm was pushing against his chest, pinning him in place. Draco’s wide eyes met Potter’s narrowed ones, and despite the situation, he couldn’t help but worry that Potter could feel his racing heart beneath where his arm was digging painfully into his sternum. He kept his arms resolutely by his side and tried not to do anything that might add to the anger that was rolling off Potter in waves, and for several moments, the only sound in the hallway was their harsh breathing.

“Potter–” Draco started, trying to keep his tone calm and soothing, but Potter just cut him off by stabbing the end of his wand into his neck.

“How did you do it, Malfoy?!” He hissed, leaning in closely, though Draco still had a few inches of height on him. “Why did you do it? You can’t possibly hate me so much that you want me dead!”

Draco’s first instinct was to shove him away, Potter’s proximity causing Draco to feel overwhelmed as there was nowhere to look besides his piercing green eyes. Instead, he forced his lungs to expand and contract and wrapped a hand over Potter’s wrist. He pulled gently but made no other resistance.

“Potter,” he hoped that his sincerity was apparent in his voice, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Potter yanked himself back, a hand coming up to card through his hair as he gave an almost hysterical laugh. “You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

“No,” Draco started immediately, his eyebrows drawing together as he ducked his head trying to recapture Potter’s gaze. “I don’t.”

Potter froze, all the manic energy within him seeming to escape his body all at once, leaving only a deadly calm. He turned back to Draco with narrowed eyes. After several moments of silence, Draco began to fidget, the weight of Potter’s attention making his skin itch.

“Now, will you tell me what this is about?”

Another beat.

“You put my name in the Goblet of Fire.”

Draco couldn’t help the startled laugh that burst its way out of his mouth. He brought a hand up to hide his smile, balling it into a fist and coughing to try and hide the rest of his amusement. When Potter stayed silent, Draco sobered.

“Merlin,” he breathed, disappointment hitting him in a wave. He felt his face slacken as nausea made his stomach swirl. “You really think so little of me?”

“Malfoy, you’ve been nothing but unbearable for the past three years, and I saw you alone with the Goblet the night before my name happened to pop out of it?” He scoffs. “I may not be Hermione, but I can put the pieces together.”

“I’ve left you alone all year!” Draco could handle many things but being wrongly accused like this was not one of them. Not when it was Potter taking all of his efforts and saying that they didn’t change anything between them, even if Draco had known it wouldn’t. He had tried so hard to change, and perhaps his motives had been a bit selfish, but anyone with eyes could see that Draco wasn’t acting like the insufferable prat he had been just the year before.

“Obviously because you and your Death Eater father have been planning this!” He motioned to the air between them.

“So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly.” Draco said slowly. “If I’m hurling insults at you and your friends, that means I hate you enough to put your name in the Goblet. But, if I try to leave you alone, then that means that I have some insidious plot to kill you?”

Potter said nothing, but the fury in his eyes was ebbing.

“Just,” Draco sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He felt exhausted and more than a little disappointed, though he would force the latter feeling down as deep as it would go. “Just tell me what you want me to do, Potter.”

He eyed him warily, finally taking a step away from Draco. Draco was simultaneously relieved and fighting the urge to reach out and tug Potter back towards him. He crossed his arms instead, and his father would’ve had a fit had he seen how much Draco was curling in on himself.

“You really didn’t do it?”

Draco forced himself to meet Potter’s eyes as he said, “No.”

Potter looked torn. His hand twitched by his side as if he was contemplating shoving him up against the wall again and hexing him senseless until he got the answer he wanted. Draco just stared at him, watching the emotions flit across his face until he took another step back.

Potter didn’t apologize, but Draco wasn’t expecting him to.

He simply backed further and further away, always facing Draco as if the moment he turned his back, Draco would cast the Killing Curse at him. When he finally got to the edge of the alcove they had been sequestered in, he paused.

“I’m watching you, Malfoy.”

He turned fully and walked briskly down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight, Draco let himself slide down the wall and to the floor, not even caring that he was sullying his robes. He placed his head against his bent knees and sighed.

“Yeah, I’m always watching you, too, Potter.”

Chapter Text

True to his word, Draco couldn’t go anywhere at Hogwarts without Potter’s gaze on him. His only reprieve was the Slytherin dorms, and sometimes Draco still felt phantom eyes watching him. Draco was determined to give Potter no reason for suspicion, so he kept his head down and continued studying, taking the occasional break to spend time with his friends.

One interesting development that came from the two other schools visiting was that the Slytherin table now shared its space with Durmstrang’s students. Pansy was absolutely overjoyed to have a new pool of good looking guys to flirt with, and Draco was glad to have an excuse to practice his German. His father had insisted he become fluent in it almost as much as his mother had insisted he learn French. Purebloods, what can you do?

Draco found himself playing translator for many of the Slytherins, several increasingly eager students wanting to talk to Viktor Krum. While German wasn’t his first language, he spoke it better than English, and Draco was pleasantly surprised to find that Viktor was quite friendly and witty when he didn’t have to struggle to translate everything he said and what was said to him. They quickly struck up a friendship that started out with Draco simply offering to show him around Hogwarts and ended with them finding out they had several things in common, more than just Quidditch. It seemed that Viktor was a rather lonely fellow, though he was constantly surrounded by other Durmstrang students. Draco wondered if he was tired of always being treated as a celebrity and couldn’t help making the connection between Viktor and Potter.

Draco was more than happy to be his sarcastic, scathing self, and Viktor seemed to genuinely enjoy his comments. Who knew?

So, after a few days of getting to know each other, Draco, Viktor, and a few other Durmstrang students were enjoying the last bit of Autumn sunshine in the courtyard before it truly became bitterly cold when Viktor asked him something that completely shocked him.

“Draco, what do you know of this Hermione Granger?”

The other students snickered and shoved Viktor around a bit as a blush made its way onto the usually stoic boy’s cheeks.

“Granger?” Draco tried to keep the shock out of his tone, but he knew he failed by the way Viktor seemed to recoil a bit. Draco fought down his discomfort with the subject and instead schooled his expression back into one of casual disinterest. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything.” Viktor breathed.

Draco grimaced slightly at just how infatuated he sounded. Despite his rocky history with Granger, he decided to be as honest and fair as he could, at least to spare Viktor’s feelings. And, if anyone happened to hear that he had spoken kindly about the muggleborn, then he could always chalk it up to mistranslation.

Still, he cast a hasty glance around the courtyard to ensure that no one was too close to their circle. When he was satisfied that everyone seemed to be engaged in their own conversations and were far enough away to be unable to eavesdrop anyway, Draco spoke.

“Well, she’s incredibly smart, certainly the most intelligent person in our year. She’s always studying, and she has a strong sense of justice.” Her crusade to free all house elves sprung to the front of Draco’s mind. “She’s best friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, but luckily for you, my friend, she is not romantically involved with either of them.”

The blush already coloring Viktor’s cheeks darkened, and Draco smirked. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yes,” almost everyone sitting in their small circle responded.

“Draco,” Viktor turned to him, his eyes pleading, “will you help me?”

Draco hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. Viktor looked so desperate, and Draco understood. He had similar feelings squirming around him, but Draco genuinely wasn’t sure what he could possibly do to help him. It wasn’t like he and Granger were close, and if anything, an endorsement from Draco would hurt Viktor’s chances with the girl.

“I’m not sure what I can do.” He answered honestly. “We aren’t on the best terms.”

“Ah,” Viktor visibly deflated, and Draco felt guilty immediately, “I see.”

“But I can always give you advice or be a listening ear!” Draco rushed to say. “I just can’t talk you up to her or her friends or anything like that.”

Viktor smiled, and the sight shocked Draco. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen the boy smile, even on the front pages of newspapers after securing a win for his team.

“Thank you, Draco. You are very kind.”

Draco turned away, heat rising to his cheeks from the praise. “Don’t go spreading that around or I’ll hex you so badly that you won’t be able to compete in the tournament.”

To Draco’s displeasure, Viktor did not seem to take his threat seriously. Instead, he threw his arm around him and tugged him into his side, all the boys laughing along and clapping Draco on the back and shoulder as if he had done some commendable feat. Draco allowed himself to be pulled in and pushed around by the Durmstrang boys, happy that he had the friendship that he had dreamed about as a kid.

Sure, his Slytherin friends were great, but he was always worried about saying the wrong thing and being blackmailed or having his actions reported to his father through gossip. It was freeing to spend time with people who would be gone by the end of the year and with whom he could communicate with and not worry about being overheard or understood. It allowed him to be more open and honest, and Draco even let himself smile a bit.

As the day stretched on, a chill began to fill the air, and they decided to play a bit of Quidditch before dinner. One of Viktor’s friends, Ulrich, helped Draco stand. He had light brown hair and strong arms, and Draco gave him a small smile when he didn’t immediately move his hand away. Ulrich returned his grin, bowing slightly and sweeping his arm out in front of him.

“After you.”

Draco tried not to blush at the treatment and was quickly distracted when he tripped. Ulrich quickly steadied him by curling a hand around his bicep, concern on his handsome face.

“I’m fine. Just an uneven stone.” Draco said quickly. But when their group began to walk towards the pitch, Draco looked behind him but couldn’t find any loose stone that his foot might have caught on. He frowned.

He was never one known for being clumsy.

Determined to shake off his mishap, Draco grabbed his broom and promised himself that he would be much more graceful in the air. Draco would never admit it, especially not when Viktor seemed glad to finally have someone treat him normally, but he was thrilled to go against a professional seeker. Perhaps it would give him some insight into how to beat Potter next season.

The cold wind bit at their exposed skin as they soared around the pitch. Draco was sure his normally pale cheeks would be bright red from windburn, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Instead, he focused solely on the golden blur that zipped past his face, almost flattening himself to his broom to gain any speed he could as Viktor did the same. Draco was, unsurprisingly, unable to beat Viktor to the snitch, but he did hope that he presented a little bit of a challenge.

They played several rounds, and Draco’s hands were practically numb by the time they decided to stop. Dinner was about to be served, and as the wind blew his body odor back in his face, Draco knew he would have to shower beforehand. He was about to take his broom down when he noticed movement on the edge of the pitch. He squinted his eyes as he descended, and he could have sworn he saw a mop of unruly dark hair slinking back towards the castle.

At dinner, Draco tried to ignore Potter’s stares by engaging in conversation with Blaise, Ulrich, and Viktor, but his insides were twisting as anxiety curled itself around his heart. Potter had said that he would be watching him, but for what? Draco worried that any move he made could be misconstrued to have sinister intent.

Viktor seemed to notice his change in mood because he made sure to pull him aside as they exited the Great Hall before they had to part ways.

“Is something the matter?” His friend’s face was as stoic as ever, the only slight change was a single line forming between his brows.

Draco sighed. “It’s nothing, really. Just something for me to worry about, but I appreciate the concern.”

“Draco,” he waited until Draco looked at him to continue, “I know we have only just met, but you have already promised to help me with my problems.”

Draco wasn’t sure Granger would appreciate being referred to as a problem, but he kept silent.

“You can talk to me. Besides, I’m leaving at the end of the year, so you can confide in me without worrying about any consequences.”

Draco smiled. “You would have made a good Slytherin, thinking like that.”

Viktor returned his grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment, since it’s your house.”

Draco took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand down his face, stepping forward and placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll talk to you if it gets to be too much, and you better keep me updated on all things Hermione Granger and Triwizard Tournament, okay?”

Viktor nodded, giving a wave before he made his way outside to head back to the Durmstrang ship. Draco watched him go and felt torn. It would be nice to confide in someone about his feelings for Harry Potter, though he suspected Pansy already knew, but to voice them seemed to make them more real. And more hopeless. Maybe Viktor would have some valuable insight in that quiet, reserved way of his, but Draco wasn’t going to risk it until later in the year. If things went wrong, then at least Viktor would be leaving shortly after.

“You’re looking awfully chummy with Krum.”

Draco yelped and spun around, resisting the urge to place a hand on his chest in an attempt to slow his thundering heart. Behind him stood Harry Potter, as if he was summoned by Draco thinking about him.

Draco schooled his face back into a neutral expression. “Potter.”

The Boy Who Lived was leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression sour. When Draco tried to walk past him, he stepped forward and stopped him by grabbing his forearm.

“You better not be planning something, Malfoy.” Potter’s tone was venomous, and Draco felt anger rise within him. He yanked his arm out of Potter’s grip and shoved his shoulder, causing him to stumble back into the wall.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter! It isn’t a crime to have friends!”

Potter regained his balance and stood to his full height, his wand slipping easily into his hand. Draco felt the urge to grab his own wand and hex the boy in front of him. He well deserved it by now.

“Oh, so you just suddenly want to be friends with the one Durmstrang student who happens to be my competition for the Triwizard Tournament? The one who is the star pupil of a former Death Eater?”

Draco went still. “His crimes were pardoned.”

Potter scoffed, a harsh sound, as he brought his wand up in front of him. Draco closed his eyes against the wave of fear that rolled through him at the sight. When Potter spoke again, Draco could barely make himself meet his eyes.

“You’re defending him?”

“Karkaroff?” Draco snorted and tried to sound more aloof than he felt. “Of course not. The man is a self-serving coward. I’m defending Viktor.”

“‘Viktor?’” Potter echoed.

“Yes, Viktor.” Draco made a show of rolling his eyes. “You can’t accuse him of something because of the past actions of his headmaster. His pardoned headmaster.” Draco sighed. “It’s not like he chose for Karkaroff to take a shine to him. It just happened because Viktor is super talented, and Karkaroff is hungry for any good publicity since he’s a former Death Eater, as you say.”

Silence.

“And,” Draco added for good measure, “him being a champion in the tournament is inconsequential.”

“Inconsequential?”

“It means that it doesn’t matter.”

“I know what it means!” Potter hissed, stepping forward until the tip of his wand dug uncomfortably into Draco’s chest. “Deny it all you want, but I heard you talking to him about me, Ron, and Hermione!”

Draco’s eyebrows drew together in confusion as he frowned. “What? When?”

“In the courtyard!”

Draco searched his mind trying to remember if Potter had been in the courtyard earlier that day but came up empty. He would’ve known if he was there. He had a bit of a sixth sense when it came to spotting the boy.

“Are you spying on me?” Draco asked incredulously. The only way that he wouldn’t have seen Potter would be if he was hiding somewhere just out of sight. The moment at the Quidditch pitch came to mind as well. He felt a chill creep down his spine at the thought, and when he spoke again, his voice was flat. “You were watching me when I was flying.”

A flash of panic crossed Potter’s face before he covered it with a scowl, but his silence was more than enough proof for Draco.

He was once again faced with the reality that Potter thought of him as some evil monster lying in wait for the right time to destroy him. Maybe, no matter what changes Draco made to himself, he would never amount to anything else in Potter’s eyes. He didn’t know what he expected or why he thought things would ever be different. Perhaps, deep down, he had been hoping that by being civil, Potter would come to like him somehow. It was like he was eleven all over again, his extended hand left hanging in the air.

He felt the remaining anger fade away, leaving only resignation. He curled in on himself, knowing his father would have been furious to see him act that way, and sighed. This was why he needed to avoid Harry Potter.

“Think whatever you want, Potter. I honestly don’t care.” Draco had never told a more blatant lie in his life. “I’m just trying to keep my head down and study, and Viktor is my friend. He’s a genuinely nice person who doesn’t deserve your suspicion.”

“I’m done feeding into whatever this is.” Draco motioned between them. “I just want to be left alone.”

He took a step away and let himself indulge in one long look at Potter before he turned back towards the dungeons. When he moved forward, he could see Potter reach out from the corner of his eyes.

“Malfoy—”

Draco wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“Don’t seek me out again.”

He walked briskly back to his dorm, ignoring the questioning gazes of his friends in the common room, and flung himself into his bed. He shut the curtains tightly behind him, not wanting anyone to be able to see how badly he was shaking.

Chapter Text

“Did you do something to make Potter mad?” Blaise asked one night as they all sat around the common room, his eyebrows furrowed. As November marched on, it was becoming more and more frigid in the Dungeons, so between classes and meals, his friends tended to gather in front of the fire.

Draco shifted his eyes away from where he had been staring into the flames to look at him, arching an eyebrow in question.

Potter had kept his distance but continued to stare at Draco more than he had in the past two months, and Draco was having a very hard time ensuring their eyes didn’t meet. Though Draco had told Potter to stay away from him, he couldn’t help but miss their fights. At least when they were angry, there was an excuse for Potter to put his hands on him.

It must have been blatantly obvious that Potter was watching him if even his friends had noticed.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to bother the Gryffindors now?” Crabbe mumbled around a mouth full of candy, crumbs falling onto his robes and the armchair he was sitting in.

Draco cringed slightly at his friend’s lack of decorum before answering Blaise. “I have no idea what I could’ve done. I’ve been positively boring this year.”

This was a lie, of course. Potter had made it clear that he had been ‘acting suspicious’ by simply carrying on like any other normal student, but Draco hadn’t actually told his friends about his run-ins with Potter. He was embarrassed by the way he had handled them both.

“I’ll say.” Pansy snorted.

“I wasn’t inviting commentary!” Draco hissed at her.

“I’m just saying,” Blaise cut in before a fight could really get going, “I don’t think he blinked once during all of Potions.”

“Well, I do sit at the front. He could’ve been looking at the board.”

Blaise narrowed his eyes. “When has Potter ever cared enough about Potions to actually pay attention to the board?”

He had a point.

“Maybe he’s trying to change this year, just like us. We should all be flattered that our actions have started a trend.”

The explanation sounded weak even to his own ears, but blessedly, none of his friends called him out on it. Instead, they talked about upcoming assignments and how Pansy was going to seduce Viktor Krum. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that his type was a bit more… studious.

His friend had been absent from meals for the past few days, working tirelessly to prepare for whatever the first task was, and Draco found himself wondering if Potter was doing the same. It seemed as if Viktor was spending all his time in the library now, but that might have had something more to do with it being Granger’s favorite haunt than it did his concern over preparation.

Viktor walked through the doors followed by Ulrich, and the pair dropped themselves down into the seats beside Draco. He pointedly ignored the flirty glances that Pansy was sending his friend’s way and instead asked where they’d been. When they mentioned that they had both been in the library again, Draco couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer.

“What do you like so much about Granger, anyway?”

Viktor choked on the sip of pumpkin juice he had taken, and Ulrich pounded a fist against his back in an attempt to help him.

“Well,” he rasped once he had regained control of his lungs, “she is very smart and pretty, and she seems to be completely uninterested in the fact that I’m a professional Quidditch player.”

“That’s probably because she’s a muggleborn. She didn’t grow up with it like we did.”

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up like he hadn’t known this fact, and Draco wondered just how much the boy knew about the object of his affection.

“She’s also very mature.” Viktor added quickly as if needing to justify his feelings.

Draco made a gagging motion, pointing his finger into his open mouth and making a very impolite noise. Viktor and Ulrich looked confused, so Draco explained, “Please don’t say such rubbish as ‘she’s so mature for her age.’”

They both continued to stare blankly at him.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched them carefully. “You know, that rhetoric that all older men say when courting a younger woman?”

Viktor and Ulrich shared a look. “Younger?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You guys do know that she’s only fifteen?” Horror dawned on their faces. “Right?”

“No!” Viktor all but shouted, shaking his head vigorously.

“We had overheard her talking about preparing for NEWTs! Isn’t that the exams your seventh years take?” Ulrich chimed in.

And, oh, this was all starting to make terrible sense.

“It’s true that NEWTs are for seventh years, and I understand your confusion, but it just so happens that Granger is such an overachiever that she worries about exams years in advance. She’s in my year which is why she hangs out so much with Potter and Weasley.”

“This is terrible!” Viktor said, dropping his face into his hands. “I’ve been courting her like some– some pervert!”

“I think courting is a bit too strong a word.” Draco drawled. “You haven’t even spoken to her yet.”

Ulrich kept patting Viktor’s shoulder in comfort, the two murmuring quietly to each other. Draco allowed himself to zone out.

His gaze wandered over to the Gryffindor table. Granger seemed to be giving Potter an earful about something, the space beside them conspicuously empty; Weasley was sitting much further down the table talking to Finnigan and Thomas. Draco was vaguely aware that some people were angry that Potter had been chosen as a champion, but anyone with eyes could see that the boy was miserable. At least, it was blatant to Draco that he was.

As he watched Potter roll his eyes at whatever Granger was saying, Draco began to wonder what Potter knew about the task. How would one even prepare for something if they were unaware of what it could possibly be? There was an infinite number of things that it could end up being. Even if Potter knew in advance, Draco would bet his wand that he would end up leaving everything until the last minute and improvising some genius plan that would lead him to victory.

It would be unfair if it wasn’t already so expected.

“Draco.”

Draco turned to Viktor and raised his eyebrows in question.

“If you knew she was fifteen, why didn’t you say anything when I first mentioned her?”

Ulrich nodded beside him.

“Honestly?” They nodded. “My family tree is so inbred, that I thought, ‘who am I to judge if Viktor's a cradle-robber?’”

Ulrich guffawed while Viktor groaned again and put his head back in his hands.

That weekend, Draco allowed himself a bit of a reprieve from studying. He was already ahead in several classes, so there wasn’t much for him to do anyway. It was amazing what needing a distraction from his obsession with Potter could do for his grades.

Viktor was busy being drilled by Karkaroff about any and all potentially useful spells, so that meant he was flying alone for the first time all semester. He had considered asking someone else to join him, but he was rather looking forward to the blissful solitude.

After grabbing his broom and making his way to the Quidditch pitch, he was slightly disappointed to find that it was already in use. If he had been with anyone else, he would’ve kicked whoever was playing off the pitch at once, but since he was alone, he decided to have a leisurely fly around the grounds instead.

He soared over the Great Lake, dodging tentacles as they burst out of the water and tried to drag him under. He circled the Durmstrang ship then jetted off to weave around the castle’s spires. He flew over the courtyard and relished in the burn on his cheeks, the wind and cold seeping through the warm cloak he had donned before setting off. He missed Quidditch, that was for certain.

When he had made his way around the grounds twice, he began to bore. He scanned the area looking for a new place to fly or some obstacle that would provide a bit of entertainment. His eyes settled on the Forbidden Forest, and his heart began to beat a little bit faster.

Ever since first year, Draco had avoided the forest like the plague. He had nightmares for weeks after seeing that thing devour the unicorn, and even three years later, the place still gave him pause.

A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Harry Potter said, Scared, Malfoy?

The answer was undoubtedly yes, but as he tightened his grip on his broom and began to move forward, he told the voice, You wish.

He whizzed low and fast over the trees, the grounds below almost completely concealed by the thick leaves, which is why the burst of fire that almost singed Draco’s eyebrows off came as such a surprise. He yelped and made a hard right, a chill running up his spine as a roar reached his ears. The first was echoed by several others, though they each sounded slightly different, and Draco instinctively knew what they were coming from.

Dragons? On the Hogwarts grounds?

There was no doubt as to what they were doing there.

Now, Draco had never been a huge fan of Dumbledore. The old coot was ridiculously dramatic, which was saying something coming from Draco, and seemed to clearly favor Gryffindors above all others, but it wasn’t too difficult to overlook those things. After all, Snape clearly favored the Slytherins. However, one had to question their headmaster’s sanity after picking such a dangerous task for children. It’s like they learned nothing from the last Triwizard Tournament!

There was no way for anyone to prepare for this, not unless they knew exactly what they were facing.

Viktor and the Beauxbaton girl had their headmasters in their corner. It wouldn’t be unlikely for them to bend the rules and warn their champions about the upcoming task. Somehow, Draco doubted that Dumbledore was rushing to tell Potter and Diggory. Draco didn’t really care about the Hufflepuff besides an objective appreciation of his face and Quidditch skills, Potter was a different story.

There must be a way to ensure that Potter knows. As Draco made his way back inside, he pondered over how to sneakily let Potter know without going against his plan of avoiding him.

Option A: He could write him an anonymous note and have it delivered during breakfast tomorrow. Would Potter even give credence to something like that? It was no secret that the majority of the school was angry at him for being in the tournament, so he could chalk it all up as one big joke. After all, who would believe that the first task would be to fight a dragon.

Option B: He could somehow try and lure him out to the Forbidden Forest so he could see the dragons for himself, but how? Either he would have to write an anonymous note, which has the same problems as option A, or he could try to trick him into going by announcing some nefarious plot that involves the Forest. Potter seems keen enough on Draco being some evil mastermind this year that he might just take the bait. He didn’t want to feed his suspicions if he could help it, though.

Option C: He could completely go back on his declaration to Potter and simply tell him face to face that the first task was going to be dragons. Potter had no reason to believe him, but maybe he would be paranoid enough to prepare for the possibility anyway. Then, when it turns out Draco was telling the truth, maybe he would gain a bit of credibility in his eyes.

He debated between option B and C as he took a warm shower to regain feeling in his numb skin. It seemed that even if it went against his famous Malfoy pride, Draco would have to reach out to Potter and tell him in person. He just needed to find Potter alone which was actually a much easier task when the whole school hated him.

Potter sat alone at dinner, obviously still at odds with Weasley. Granger sat with the redhead tonight, probably trying to force them to reconcile. Draco sat with Viktor again and decided that if he was going to go to such efforts to tell Potter about the task, he should also tell his new friend.

“Viktor.” He whispered just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of everyone eating and talking.

“Yes, Draco?” He asked with furrowed brows. “Why are we whispering?”

Draco waved away the question, instead leaning in closer. “Do you know what the first task is?”

Viktor leaned back in surprise. “My headmaster has told me that he will find out soon and inform me of what I must do. Do you know what it is?”

“I was flying over the Forbidden Forest and found them.” He paused, leaning even closer to Viktor, though he was fairly certain no one would understand what they were saying anyway.

“Dragons.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he scanned his eyes over Draco’s face. “Surely, you can’t be serious.”

“I promise you, I am. I just wanted you to know, since,” he felt himself flush as he mumbled out the rest of that embarrassing sentence, “we’re friends.”

Viktor grinned and slung an arm over his shoulders. “That we are. Thank you, Draco.”

Draco returned his smile and ate the rest of his dinner feeling a bit lighter than he had that afternoon. Even if Potter didn’t believe him, at least Viktor had.

As the Hall cleared out, Draco took a piece of parchment from his bag and scribbled a note.

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at 9.

He folded it into a paper crane and sent it over to Potter who was almost done with his meal. Draco knew that even though he hadn’t signed it, Potter would know who it was from. As the bird flew across the room, Draco quickly packed his things and left, not wanting to see Potter’s reaction to his summons.

The hour he spent waiting in the common room was one of the most torturous of his life. Even his friends seemed to notice his anxiety, as Pansy had placed a hand on his knee to stop his bouncing leg.

When 8:30 rolled around, Draco all but bolted upright, causing Pansy to yelp. He gave her an apologetic smile as he shoved the homework he hadn’t made any progress on into his bag. He ran up to his dorm to leave his bag, double checked that he had his wand, then ran out of the common room. He ignored the calls of his friends asking where he was going at this late hour. He raced up staircase after staircase, wanting to ensure that he was there first.

If Potter showed at all.

Draco hoped that Potter’s recent habit of stalking him meant that he couldn’t resist knowing what Draco had to say. And, when Potter strolled into the Astronomy with five minutes to spare, Draco breathed a silent sigh of relief. One could always bet on a Gryffindor’s impulsivity.

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.” He nodded his greeting as he came to a stop about an arm’s length from him.

“What’s this about?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “If you wanted me to stay away from you, asking me to meet alone late at night seems a little counterintuitive.”

“Counterintuitive? That’s a rather large word for you, Potter.”

So much for being civil. For someone who considered himself to be smarter than the average wizard, Draco sure ran his mouth a lot. He cursed himself as Potter visibly closed himself off, arms crossing and his gaze becoming hard.

“Did you ask me here just to insult me?”

Draco took a breath then let it slowly out through his nose. He steeled himself before meeting Potter’s glaring eyes. For perhaps the first time ever, Draco allowed his carefully curated mask slip in front of his long-time enemy.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’d rather tell you and have you disregard it than keep this to myself.” Potter eyed him warily. “I’ve seen what the first task will be. They’re keeping them in the Forbidden Forest.”

When Draco paused, Potter stepped forward, his curiosity outweighing his caution. “What? What is it?”

“Dragons.”

The word seemed to echo in the quiet of the tower.

“You’re going to have to fight a dragon.”

The silence stretched between them for several moments, broken only by Potter’s harsh breathing. When his hands curled into fists and his eyebrows came together, Draco realized with a start that he had somehow made Potter angry. He took a step back as Potter moved forward, trying to keep some distance between them as the fury rolled off of him in waves.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Malfoy, but this isn’t funny.”

Draco found himself backed into a corner in a parallel to their fight the week before. He tried to flatten himself completely to maintain the few inches between them as Potter looked ready to punch him. He swallowed as Potter’s scent reached his nose. He smelled like broom polish and treacle tart, and Draco wanted nothing more than to shove Potter away to regain at least some semblance of sanity. Instead, because he was a weak, weak man, he inhaled again before speaking.

“I assure you, Potter, this is no joke. As I said before, I don’t need you to believe me. I have preemptively absolved my conscience of any guilt should you be burnt to a crisp in the near future.” He looked away, feigning boredom, but really, he needed a break from Potter’s intense stare.

Slowly, he backed up just a fraction, his eyes roving over Draco’s face as if he could determine the truth of his statements based on the position of his eyebrows or the line of his mouth.

“Let’s say you are telling the truth.” His tone conveyed how much he doubted that. “Why would you help me? You hate me.”

“That’s not true.” Draco said softly before he could think better of it, looking over Potter’s shoulder at a chart of the lunar cycle instead of facing Potter’s reaction. “Not anymore.”

Potter jerked back as if he had been burned by Draco’s words. There was a clear question on his face, but instead of voicing it, he turned and walked away. Draco stayed in the Astronomy Tower for a long time, his gaze locked on the door that Potter left through.

When he finally forced his legs to carry him mechanically down to the dungeons, he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head that sneered that it would have been better to just have let Potter burn than be left behind staring dumbly after him. The voice sounded suspiciously like his father.

Chapter Text

After spending the rest of his night wallowing in self pity, Draco was immensely surprised to find that Potter was waiting for him outside the Slytherin common room the next morning. As soon as he stepped out the door, he was dragged down the hall and into the labyrinth to avoid any prying eyes.

“You were right.” Potter said without preamble as soon as they were out of sight. “The first task is dragons.”

The small vindication Draco felt at those words was dwarfed by his confusion. “What changed your mind? About believing me?”

“I checked.”

“You,” Draco strung out the word as incredulity flooded him, “checked?”

Harry nodded as if this was completely normal.

“You, Harry Potter, snuck out after curfew, went to the Forbidden Forest, entered it alone at night to check if there were dragons being held there?”

Finally, Potter had the good sense to look sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck a bit as red bloomed on his cheeks. Draco was a bit distracted watching the color spread, and he wondered dazedly how deeply that flush could go.

“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“‘When you say it like that?!’ Potter, it doesn’t sound bad, it is bad!” Draco hissed. “You could’ve been caught by someone or killed by something! What’s the point of learning what the first task is if you’re going to go off and die before you even get to participate!”

Potter gave him a crooked smile before seeming to remember who he was talking to and schooling his face into a smug expression. “Your concern is flattering, Malfoy.”

“And your lack of common sense is astounding, Potter.”

Potter’s lips pressed into a thin line, but Draco could tell that he was fighting another smile by the way the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards. He waited a moment before speaking, obviously enjoying the sight of Draco fuming. “I came to say thank you. For telling me.”

“Oh.” Draco had to take a few moments to process that Harry Potter, his old nemesis, just thanked him. He could feel the blush creeping up his face and turned his head slightly to try and disguise it, knowing that even the slightest color on his cheeks stood out against his pale skin. “Well, just make sure you pass that information along to Granger. She’s the only one of you with an actual brain.”

“Careful, Malfoy,” Potter drawled, “that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s a fact.” Draco spun on his heel and began to move back towards the main hallway. “If you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to breakfast.”

Potter let him leave, and Draco wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed by that fact. He had to firmly remind himself that this changed nothing between them; ultimately, his goal was to still avoid him and shove his feelings aside until they disappeared.

So, for the rest of the week, Draco managed to keep away from Potter with little mishaps. He supposed that this had less to do with his newfound willpower and a lot more to do with the fact that Granger and Potter seemed to either be in the library, in classes, in the Great Hall, or in Gryffindor Tower. At least, that’s where Draco assumed they were when they seemingly disappeared from Hogwarts for hours on end.

Draco took back up sitting with his back to the Gryffindor table during meals which put him opposite Ulrich and Viktor as they ate. They didn’t seem to question his sudden move, and, if anything, Ulrich seemed to enjoy knocking their knees together under the table when anything funny was said, giving him winks that made Draco flush.

The night before the first task, though, Draco found himself plagued with unease. He tossed and turned all night in his bed, struggling to drown out the snores of Crabbe and Goyle that usually lulled him to sleep. There was no way to know what time it was when sleep finally came to him, but even then, there was no break from the anxiety Draco felt.

Instead, he had nightmares about the first task, of everything that could go wrong. He saw Viktor being impaled by a barbed tail and sliced by sharp talons. He saw Potter’s torso mottled with bite marks and his skin bubbling with blisters from fire. He heard the screams of the onlookers as horror pulsed through the crowd, the shouted instructions to stand back as Madame Pomfrey rushed onto the scene.

When he woke, covered in sweat and breathing hard, he knew one thing for certain: there was no way he would be watching the first task.
That plan, of course, failed even before it started.

Ulrich cornered him at lunch, a pretty smile on his face. He pulled him aside so they were just out of the way of the double doors before leaning in closely and asking, ”You’re coming today, yes?”

Draco immediately felt guilty at the hopeful look on his friend’s face. He sighed, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. ”Actually, Ulrich, I slept terribly last night. I thought it might be better for me to use the break from classes to go back to sleep.”

“What?” Ulrich exclaimed, drawing the eyes of those closest to them. ”But you have to be there for Viktor! He’s expecting to see you in the crowd.”

Again, guilt twisted around his heart and squeezed. He knew there was no way to get out of this without telling the truth, so that’s what he did.

”To be honest with you, Ulrich, I don’t think I can bear to watch the task. I was up all night just thinking about everything that could go wrong.”

Ulrich nodded in understanding, his face free of the judgement Draco would have received from his own friends. ”I see.”

“Really?” Draco perked up, a smile already forming on his lips. ”So, you’ll tell Viktor that I wanted to watch him today but–”

He was cut off by Ulrich leaning in even closer towards him. His hand found Draco’s bicep, a finger trailing down his arm until it touched his hand. Gently, Ulrich threaded their fingers together.

”If you can’t bear to watch, then you can hold my hand, and I’ll squeeze twice to let you know that everything is going well.” To emphasize his points, he gave Draco’s hand two light squeezes. When Draco finally dragged his eyes away from their hands up to Ulrich’s face, the other boy was smiling. ”Would that work?”

Draco didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded. He knew that his face must be Gryffindor red, but Ulrich didn’t seem to mind as he smiled.

”So, you’ll sit with me to watch the task?”

Again, Draco nodded.

”Good. Now, let’s eat!” Ulrich released his hand and began walking over to the Slytherin table. Draco cast a nervous glance at the rest of his friends and found that no one had seemed to catch on to the intimate interaction between Ulrich and him except for Pansy. She was looking at Draco with unadulterated glee, and the sight made his stomach drop. Nothing good would come from having his most meddlesome friend knowing that Draco was just majorly flirted with by a handsome, Durmstrang boy.

He shook his head at her, and she simply raised her eyebrows at him. He knew that they would be having a talk later, and Draco groaned internally.

When Draco began walking back towards his table, he cast a quick glance over at the Gryffindors. He couldn’t conceal his flinch when he found Potter’s eyes already glaring at him.

Great. Draco just knew that somehow Potter had misconstrued him talking to Ulrich as them developing some evil plan. If something went wrong during the Chosen One’s task, Draco knew where the blame would be thrown.

As everyone filtered out of the Great Hall, Draco could feel his heart beginning to race. Pansy sidled up to him and looped her arm through his, tugging him along when his pace slowed.

“So, Ulrich, huh?” She said cheerfully. “I wouldn’t have put you two together. I was always under the assumption that eventually your whole will-they-won’t-they with Potter would end up with the two of you either hexing each other senseless or snogging each other senseless.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him as he sputtered.

“Pansy!” He hissed, pulling her towards the edge of the swarm heading outside. “Anyone could hear you, you know!”

“That’s the problem with what I said? I was too loud?” She snickered. “If you’re trying to hide your feelings for Potter, you’re doing a lousy job of throwing me off the trail.”

“Shut up!” Draco yanked his arm away from hers, rushing forward in the hopes of losing her in the crowd.

“Oh, Draco,” she called, just loud enough for him to hear her as he stalked away, “where would the fun be in that?”

Ulrich found him and pulled him towards two open seats at the edge of a mass of Durmstrang students. The stands were so packed that Draco was squashed against Ulrich’s side. People gasped loudly as the first dragon was brought into the arena and chained, and Draco felt slightly relieved that he wasn’t the only one who found this task to be insane.

The champions began to emerge one by one to face their respective dragons, and Draco had to fight off the urge to vomit when Diggory’s face was burned by his dragon’s fire. The smell of charred flesh made its way even to the stands where Ulrich and Draco were sitting. Delacoeur did slightly better, escaping with only her dress getting burnt, but then came Viktor.

Despite himself, Draco reached over and took Ulrich’s hand. His friend chuckled softly, but Draco could feel how tense he was beside him. Ulrich had confided in Draco once when they were alone how much he looked up to Viktor. When he had first come to Durmstrang, Ulrich had told Draco that he hadn't had many friends. He was smaller than the other boys and was picked on ruthlessly. One day, when he was backed into a corner, Viktor had swooped in and saved him. The older boy had taken Ulrich under his wing, and since Viktor was two years ahead of him, the other boys in Ulrich's year had left him alone after that. Ulrich even credited Viktor when it came to his own Quidditch skills, skills that Draco himself could attest to being rather great. Draco squeezed Ulrich's hand in comfort as the stadium quieted once again.

Draco held his breath as his friend ran around the arena, sending a conjunctivitis curse at the dragon that rendered it blind. He managed to grab the golden egg that was the true goal of the task, but several of the real eggs were crushed by the dragon’s stumbling. Draco and Ulrich jumped to their feet and cheered as Viktor exited the pitch, and Draco felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Last, of course, was Harry Potter. Merlin forbid that he go first and put Draco out of his misery. As Draco watched him step into the arena, he tried to slip his hand out of Ulrich’s, since he didn’t want to accidentally squeeze Ulrich’s hand over his supposed enemy. However, just as Draco made a move to pull away, Ulrich tightened his grip.

He looked over at Draco with a bashful smile. ”I’m still feeling a bit nervous. Do you mind?”

“No, it’s fine.” Draco squeezed his hand lightly and returned his smile.

Potter ran around the rocks, throwing spells over his shoulder at the Hungarian Horntail pursued him relentlessly. Draco felt his heartbeat begin to race so quickly that he was sure that Ulrich could feel it through his fingers as he heard a terrible, metal creak then snap.

The dragon was loose.

Potter disappeared from view of the crowd behind a large boulder, and as the dragon ran around it, it barreled past the rock before pulling up short a few thundering steps away. The crowd began to murmur as the dragon circled the arena, confused. As everyone watched the dragon, Draco noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

The golden egg lifted up from its place nestled between the dragon’s other eggs before it disappeared.

Disillusionment charms? Even the most skilled wizards struggled to use that spell to render themselves completely invisible! Potter was only fourteen! Draco scanned the arena to see if he could find any other traces of Potter, but he found none.

After a few minutes more of confusion, Potter revealed himself. He stood triumphantly holding the golden egg above his head as the crowd burst into thunderous applause, dragon-tamers rushing into the arena to subdue the Hungarian Horntail as Potter was escorted away.

”My hand.” Ulrich murmured close to his ear, and Draco quickly pulled his hand away as he startled. He had been clutching Ulrich’s hand in a vice grip, and he felt himself blush at that realization.

When the results were announced, Draco was pleased to hear that Potter and Viktor were tied for first place.

Ulrich escorted him back to the Hogwarts doors, a hand placed on the small of his back as they wove through the dense crowds. They parted ways with bashful smiles, and Draco let himself think briefly of what it would be like to fall for someone like Ulrich instead. It would certainly be less nerve-wracking than having feelings for a Triwizard champion.

He sighed to himself as he made his way down to the dungeons, wondering why, even with a handsome boy showing blatant interest in him, his thoughts were only on Harry Potter.

Chapter Text

It seemed that the excitement over the events of the first task was rapidly eclipsed by anticipation of the Yule Ball. Draco hadn’t bothered to give it much thought at all, knowing that eventually Pansy would relent and be his date. Even if she didn’t, he had no qualms about going stag. His mother had sent him his dress robes, and he was confident he’d look so good that no one would dare comment on his lack of a date.

Indeed, the only people who seemed to care less about securing a partner for the dance were Potter and Weasley. Draco felt a twinge of pity when he looked at poor Granger, though. She obviously wanted the Weasel to ask her, but the ginger seemed oblivious to her longing stares. Draco almost worried that the boy would end up asking her just before the ball which would no doubt hurt her feelings. So, Draco took it upon himself to remedy the situation.

”Viktor,” Draco started as he dropped himself into the seat beside the boy where he was studying in the library, ”I’ve decided that you must ask Hermione Granger to the ball.”

“What?” His dark eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Draco in confusion. ”Wouldn’t she much rather go with someone in her year?”

“Ah, but that’s exactly the problem!” Draco pointed a finger at him and leaned in a bit closer when the tables around them shot him dirty looks. ”The people in our year are idiots who only think of her as a know-it-all. Though I will kill you if you tell anyone I said this, we both know that she’s much more than that. I think having a professional Quidditch player escort her around will open up a few people’s eyes to her charms.”

Viktor nodded slowly, and Draco smiled. ”Okay, but why can’t you take her?”

“How could I possibly deprive Ulrich of a date?” Draco joked, smirking.

”He already asked you? He said he was going to tell me before he made his move!”

Draco’s smile dropped. ”What?”

Viktor looked confused. ”What?”

“Ulrich hasn’t asked me. That was a joke.” Draco tried to catch Viktor’s eyes as the other boy flushed and quickly looked away, beginning to pack his bag. When he stood, Draco followed him out of the library. ”Viktor, is Ulrich going to ask me to the Yule Ball?”

Viktor laughed nervously as he rushed towards the front doors. ”I was also just joking, Draco! Who knew you would be so gullible?”

“Viktor!” Draco called out, but his friend didn’t stop as he bolted out into the frigid December air. He huffed as he turned on his heel, ready to stalk back to the dungeons and complain loudly to his fellow Slytherins about Viktor’s evasive behavior, when he pulled up short.

Standing just behind him, leaning against the wall with a smug expression on his face, was Harry Potter.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Oh, shove off, Potter.” His brain was still trying to wrap around the fact that Ulrich might be asking him to the dance. He didn’t have time to fake indifference towards Potter on top of that. He made to walk past him but was stopped when Potter grabbed his wrist.

“Hey!” Potter tugged lightly on his arm, causing Draco to stumble back a step. “I didn’t see you after the first task.”

Draco couldn’t think past Potter touching him. It was like his entire focus was on where their skin met, the heat from the other boy’s hand feeling like a burn. This was perhaps the only time in their 4 years of fraught history that they were touching without it being violent, and all Draco could do was stare dumbly down at Potter’s hand on his wrist.

Potter followed his gaze and quickly jerked his hand away as if he had forgotten he was holding onto Draco. Draco tried not to mourn the loss, instead sweeping both of his arms behind his back and squeezing his hand over where Potter’s had been to ground himself.

“Sorry.” Potter blurted.

“It’s fine.” Draco thought he felt heat creeping into his cheeks, but the thought was distant as he watched color bloom across Potter’s face. He finally remembered that Potter had said something to him as he touched him and decided that responding would probably be a good thing to do. “I was there, I just went back to the dungeons afterwards.”

“So, you saw? Everything?”

Draco sighed, trying to sound put upon. “Yes, Potter, I saw your victory. Did you really have to seek me out just to brag?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he took a step back, clearly affronted. “I’m not trying to brag.”

“Then what are you trying to do?” Draco cocked his head to the side and let his eyes scan over the boy, relishing having an excuse to do so. He pressed his lips tightly together to fight a smile when he noticed Potter’s blush deepen just a bit.

Potter seemed torn, clearly holding back from saying something. After another moment’s hesitation, Draco raised his eyebrows which seemed to prompt the boy to finally say, “Nothing. I’m doing nothing.”

Draco watched him for a moment more before drawling, “Alright, then.”

He began to walk away, not pausing when Potter said, “Thank you. For telling me about the dragons. It helped a lot.”

Draco simply waved a dismissing hand over his shoulder and continued on his way.

A week before the Yule ball, Draco was starting to wonder if Viktor truly had been joking about Ulrich planning to ask him. Viktor had already asked Granger to the dance as friends, and she seemed grateful for his offer. They seemed to get along well now that Viktor wasn’t terrified to talk to her, both incredibly good students and enjoying studying together in the library. Draco only hoped that Viktor hadn’t mentioned to Granger that it was his idea that they go together. If news of that got around the school, Draco was sure that a livid Pansy would come after him and hex him into oblivion.

Weasley was noticeably grumpier during classes, a clear divide present again between the trio. He kept trying to pick fights with Draco and the other Slytherins and became even more furious when his childish attempts to incite conflict proved fruitless. The Weasel and Potter had made up after the first task, but apparently the boy was too jealous that Granger had found herself a date to act amicably towards her even though she was the mediator between him and Potter when they had been arguing earlier this year. Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the ginger’s immaturity.

As everyone around him coupled up, Draco’s own back-up date was stolen out from under his nose.

“You’re going with Blaise?” Draco’s mouth was agape as Pansy primly studied her nails. “Blaise?!”

“Well, Viktor’s off the table, so I had to find someone.” She fixed him with a flat look. “And since you seemed to be dragging your feet on asking me, I decided that I was done waiting around for you.” She sniffed. “And Blaise is decently attractive.”

“Decently?”

They both jumped as Blaise slipped into the chair next to where they were sitting in the common room.

Pansy’s cheeks darkened. “Shut up.”

Draco groaned. “Must everyone flaunt their newfound relationships in front of me?”

“We’re not in a relationship.” They said at the same time, glancing at each other and then away.

“Besides,” Pansy said, “You’re in good company. Potter and Weasley haven’t found dates either.”

“Oh, wonderful. I’m in the same league as the Gryffindors.”

His friends snorted at him, and he decided to take his revenge by complaining about his lack of a date for the rest of the night.

However, the next day, all Draco’s worries disappeared.

He was eating breakfast and chatting with Pansy when the owls swooped into the hall to deliver the mail. Draco wasn’t expecting anything, so when a bouquet of white carnations fell onto the table in front of him, knocking over his goblet of juice onto Pansy who jumped back and shouted in anger, he was surprised. Then, he was embarrassed as the entire Slytherin table descended upon him, cracking jokes about a secret admirer and trying to figure out who sent them.

As Draco inspected the green wrapping encasing the flowers, he found a small note attached to it by a silver ribbon. He quickly hid it with his hand and waited until the crowd around him dispersed to read it.

Meet me by the lake. - U

Draco's eyes scanned over the room and found that Ulrich was missing. He looked down at the flowers in his hands and smiled softly to himself.
Sweet and lovely, innocent, pure love.

Draco flushed as he thought of the many meanings of white carnations. He looked down at his partially full plate and decided that he wouldn’t be able to eat until he spoke to Ulrich. He stood, ignoring all the heckling that the Slytherins shot his way, and walked out of the hall. He chanced a glance at the Gryffindor table and saw Potter whispering furiously to Granger. He was slightly disappointed at the lack of reaction, and he shook his head to clear it as he stepped out into the cold.

Ulrich stood with his back to the castle, but he turned when he heard Draco approach. He smiled brightly at him when he noticed Draco was carrying the carnations.

”Cutting it a bit close, aren’t we?” Draco asked with raised eyebrows as he stopped just before Ulrich. ”What if I had asked someone else? Or been asked by someone?”

Ulrich’s grin widened as he leaned forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. ”I know you were only thinking about going with Pansy.”

Or Potter, Draco’s mind supplied unhelpfully.

”So, I encouraged Blaise to ask her first.”

Draco gasped, slapping Ulrich’s arm lightly. ”I’m rubbing off on you.”

Ulrich laughed, taking hold of the hand Draco was using to swat at him. He brought it down until their conjoined hands were hanging in the space between them. Draco’s heartbeat kicked up into a gallop as Ulrich looked up at him through his lashes, his face suddenly serious.

”Draco, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

“As friends?” Draco breathed out.

”No,” Ulrich squeezed Draco’s hand, ”not as friends.”

Draco didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded, and Ulrich practically beamed at him. He whooped out loud, using their conjoined hands to spin Draco under his arm, both of them dissolving into laughter as they stumbled in the snow.

Ulrich walked him back to the castle, lingering in the doorway as if he was reluctant to part with him, and Draco hid his smile behind his bouquet. Both of them jumped as the hall suddenly grew noisy as students emerged from the Great Hall in droves, breakfast clearly over. Draco made to step back, to remove his hand from Ulrich’s, but his friend simply followed him, held his hand tighter.

”Ulrich,” Draco began hesitantly, hyperaware of all the gazes on them and the whispers that were beginning to spread throughout the crowd.

”They’ll see us at the Yule Ball, anyway.” He shrugged, smiling as he stepped even closer, the whispers growing in volume at the action. ”Besides, I always thought you liked being the center of attention.”

Draco said nothing, but he knew the blush on his cheeks was answer enough. ”I have class.”

“Alright. Go on, then.”

Draco stepped away, Ulrich finally letting him do so. The crowd parted to let Draco through, and he refused to listen to any of the whispers aimed his way. He turned back once, briefly, to look at Ulrich who just waved at him.

Draco was pretty much useless for the rest of the day. He zoned out during classes and participated little in the conversations of his friends. His friends just gave him sickeningly smug smiles as he floated around Hogwarts in a daze.

Reality came crashing in that evening when he received mail as he was sitting at dinner. A letter from his father, and a small package from his mother. A chill ran down his spine as he imagined what his father might have to say about his attending the dance with a boy.

“Draco.” Pansy stared at him with worried eyes as his hands began to tremble where they were holding the envelope.

“Don’t follow me.” He told her harshly as he stood from the table and walked out of the hall. He didn’t want to go back to the dungeons. He would have no privacy in the common room or in his bedroom, so he had to go somewhere else. He began ascending the stairs with no real destination in mind, his breaths beginning to quicken.

He lost count of what floor he was on but threw himself down one of the hallways, his eyes scanning each room until he came across an empty classroom that seemed sequestered away enough that no one would find him. Just in case, he cast a muffling charm and locked the door behind him. He walked until he stood just before a window, the view nothing but darkness, and ripped open the letter.

Draco,

I would have thought you smarter than this, but perhaps I should lower my expectations seeing as you constantly fail to meet them. I have been alerted by one of my associates who has a child at Hogwarts that not only have you consented to attending the Yule Ball with another boy, but you chose to do this in front of the entire school. You will remedy this immediately and publicly. When you return to the Manor for the holidays, we will be taking you to St. Mungo's and have you examined. One can only hope that they will be able to cure whatever impairment of the brain you seem to have contracted to act in this manner. Fix. This.

Lucius Malfoy

Nausea roiled in Draco’s gut as his father’s words washed over him. He should have anticipated this. He should’ve turned Ulrich down, privately, and found some other girl to take since Pansy was off the market. Instead, he had let his own desires cloud his judgement. He was the Malfoy heir. There was no world where he could be free to make his own choices, including who he wanted to pursue. He had to carry on his family line.

But could he do it? Could he publicly scorn the boy who had been so kind to him? Could he alienate the only people Draco felt truly comfortable around? He wasn’t sure.
Slowly, he turned his attention to the package his mother had sent him. It was small, only the size of his hand. It wasn’t wrapped in paper. It was simply a cardboard box with twine wrapped around it and tied in a bow. Draco opened it up and pulled out its contents.

It was a flower. Not a corsage, but a boutonniere.

He brought a hand to his mouth as a sob burst out of him. He cried as he clutched the flower to his chest, a warmth spreading through where it was cold before. Eventually, he calmed himself and looked once more at his father’s letter. He smiled.

“Incendio.”

A flash of heat and then nothing remained of the letter but ashes.

Maybe one day he would have to settle down and marry a nice, pureblood girl. But right now, this year, he would be attending the Yule Ball with a strapping young man on his arm.
Every day until the Yule Ball, Draco had received a letter from his father, and every day, Draco burned it in front of the entire Great Hall. If his father was getting his information from one of Draco’s fellow students, he wanted him to know that he couldn’t care less about his father’s opinion on this matter.

The night of the Yule Ball, Draco readied himself with the rest of his friends, everyone laughing and joking around as they got dressed and styled their hair. Everyone seemed to be heading towards the Great Hall in one great masse, and Draco had to weave around those just outside the doors. Eventually, he spotted Ulrich and made his way towards him.

His date was dressed similarly to Viktor, who was standing beside him, both in warm-looking dress robes that were high-collared and had a fur-lined cloak attached to one shoulder. Ulrich’s brown hair was slicked back just enough that there was no threat of the longer strands falling into his eyes, the boutonniere Draco’s mother had sent popping out brilliantly against the red of his robes.

”You look very handsome.” Ulrich said as soon as Draco was in earshot, and Draco felt himself flush.

”As do you.” He smiled, turning to Viktor. ”Granger hasn’t come down yet?”

“Not yet.”

His friend looked nervous, so Draco placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. ”I’m sure she’s just ensuring that she looks beautiful for you.”

His friend looked affronted. ”She always looks beautiful.”

Draco laughed. ”Of course.”

McGonagall came by then and told Draco and Ulrich that they needed to make their way inside, so with one more reassuring smile aimed at his friend, the pair entered into the Great Hall.
It was rather gorgeous, Draco had to admit. Huge Christmas trees and an orchestra were at the back of the room, food and drink-filled tables at the front by the doors. All the tables had been cleared out leaving tons of open space for dancing, the walls painted a stunning silver. Huge ice sculptures were placed around the room as well as several additional tables for sitting.
Draco and Ulrich claimed a spot in the crowd near Pansy and Blaise as the champions entered the room with their dates. His eyes found Viktor and Granger first, the girl’s appearance shocking. She looked great, even by Malfoy standards.

Then, Draco saw Potter with one of the Patil twins. Draco was never sure which one was which, especially when they weren’t wearing their uniforms. Potter was dressed similarly to Draco in black and white robes, but it was clear that he hadn’t tried to put as much effort into his appearance as Draco. His hair looked much the same as usual, unruly and disheveled, and his bowtie was slightly askew.

Draco watched as he stumbled his way through the first dance, all his moves slightly behind the beat of the music. His date looked like she was trying very hard to keep a bland smile on her face. Draco let his eyes slip away from the champions, jealousy burning in his chest, and smirked when he noticed that he wasn’t the only one staring with longing at the couples twirling around in front of them. Weasley was very obviously pouting as he watched Viktor lift Granger effortlessly, her smile more genuine than it had looked in the weeks leading up to the ball.

Eventually, everyone began to join the champions on the dance floor, but Draco instead pulled Ulrich towards the drink table. He handed Ulrich a glass of red punch before taking one for himself. He glanced around before producing a small flask from his inner-robe pocket and quickly unscrewed the top to dump some firewhisky in their cups. Ulrich grinned as he clinked their glasses together and took a sip, immediately grimacing. Draco laughed at his sour expression.

”This is great, Draco, but wouldn’t you like to dance?”

Draco’s hand stilled where it was bringing his cup to his mouth for another sip. He looked at Ulrich, his eyebrows furrowed. ”I only know how to lead.”

“That’s alright.” He nodded his head back towards the mass of dancing couples. ”I’m sure we can figure it out.”

Draco sighed. If he was going to defy his father, he might as well commit to it all the way. He chugged the rest of his spiked punch, set down the empty glass, and took hold of Ulrich’s hand.

”Let’s go.”

Ulrich grinned and let himself be led to the dance floor.

It was a little bit of a struggle at first, neither of them knowing where to put their hands or switch positions, but eventually they figured it out enough to not stand out among the rest of the students. Ulrich grabbed Draco’s waist and lifted him in time with everyone else, and maybe it was the firewhisky, but he threw his head back and laughed out loud as his partner spun him in the air. They kept waltzing until the orchestra finished their set and were replaced with a rock ensemble, the pair eventually ending up near the rest of the Slytherins. Draco danced with Pansy who also seemed a bit drunk, and he spun Blaise around who simply laughed and rolled his eyes.

After a bit, Ulrich and Draco decided to refresh themselves with more punch. When Draco went to add more firewhisky to their glasses, he found that his flask was empty. Perhaps that was why the room was still spinning despite his lack of dancing. Viktor came up to them and grabbed two glasses as well, a small smile on his face.

”Having fun?” He asked them, and Draco had to lean against Ulrich as he giggled and nodded his head.

”Oh, yes. The punch is phenomenal.”

Viktor shook his head but continued to grin. ”I’m sure it is.”

Granger appeared by Viktor’s side, looking slightly ruffled. She eyed him coolly. “Malfoy.”

“Granger!” He smiled at her, and her eyes widened. “You look lovely, by the way. I hope Viktor’s treating you well.”

“I– yes. He is.” She looked torn between pleased at the compliment and confused at Draco’s sudden friendliness. “I didn’t realize you were so close.”

“Of course we are!” He turned to Viktor. ”We’re friends, aren’t we Viktor?”

“Yes. Friends.” He spoke in his slightly stilted English. “You are drunk, Draco.”

“Perhaps.” He waved the accusation away, his body swaying with the motion. He giggled again. “Maybe I should get some air.”

Ulrich nodded, seemingly unfazed by the amount of alcohol they had been consuming. It made sense, seeing as the boy was a wall of muscle. Draco was much more lean, perfect for being a Seeker, but disastrous for binge drinking.

”You stay here.” Draco told Ulrich. ”I’ll be right back.”

He stumbled out into the hall, glancing around to make sure no professors were nearby to catch him in his drunken state. He righted himself and walked down one of the side halls, feeling a bit more clear headed when the pounding music was muffled by the doors shutting behind him. The air was cooler here. Several pairs of students were huddled close together, talking, laughing, kissing. He kept walking until he found a small, empty alcove. He leaned against the stone wall, the cold seeping into his back through his robes.

He smiled to himself. He was having fun. Yes, he’d be returning home for the holidays tomorrow, and his father would certainly be livid with him, but he would always have this night to look back on.

“Got a thing for Durmstrang boys, Malfoy?”

Draco turned slightly and saw that someone was standing at the edge of the alcove. The form was backlit by the light from the hall, and it took Draco’s eyes a few extra seconds to discern that it was Harry Potter standing before him.

Draco’s sluggish mind struggled to come up with a response, so he said a bit dumbly, “What?”

“Are you,” Potter took a step towards him, “are you drunk?”

Draco shushed him then giggled. “Someone could hear you, Potter! You wouldn’t want to get me in trouble, would you?”

Potter just stood there and watched him. Draco stared back at him, the voice that usually told him not to look too long at the other boy blissfully silent. In fact, there wasn’t a voice in Draco’s mind telling him not to do anything. He could do whatever he wanted.

“Harry Potter.” Draco pushed himself off of the wall and swayed dangerously forward, Potter rushing forward to steady him with a hand on his shoulder. “Harry, Harry, Harry.”

Draco hated calling Harry by his surname. He had started it as a defense mechanism when his friendship had been rejected, but it felt too distant. The handsome young man in front of Draco wasn’t Potter, he was Harry.

“Yes?” Harry breathed, his voice much softer than it had been before. Draco picked up his head and tried to focus on the face so close to his own. He brought a hand up to cup Harry’s jaw, tracing it with a finger. “Draco?”

Draco shivered but not from the cold.

Even in the darkness of the alcove, Harry’s eyes were a brilliant green. “You have such pretty eyes.”

“Thanks.” Harry said after a beat, his voice cracking slightly. “I got them from my mum.”

Draco hummed, the hand on Harry’s face moving to tug on one of the long strands of his hair instead, frowning. “But this hair…”

Harry laughed, perhaps the first time he had done so because of Draco. “That’s from my dad.”

Draco curled the strand around his finger and tugged slightly, Harry’s head moving with the motion. “It’s always so messy.”

“It never listens.”

Draco wasn’t sure when, but the hand that had been on Draco’s shoulder was now on his waist. He brought his gaze from Harry’s hair back up to his eyes and found that Harry was already looking at him, his eyes wide, the pupils wide.

“It’s ridiculous.”

Harry nodded rapidly, his body and face moving closer. “So stupid.”

Draco couldn’t comprehend what was happening, but the air around them was charged. Was Harry going to kiss him? Was he dreaming?

Their bubble was popped by arguing coming from down the hall. Harry pulled back, his eyebrows furrowed, and that was when Draco realized the voices belonged to Granger and Weasley. Slowly, Harry stepped back.

“Stay here.” He moved to the edge of the alcove. “I’ll be right back.”

Draco nodded and watched him walk off. He leaned back until his back was once again pressed against the wall and allowed himself to slide down until he was sitting. He couldn’t fully comprehend what had just happened.

Draco waited.

And waited.

It wasn’t until a hand was shaking Draco’s shoulder that he realized he had fallen asleep. He groaned lightly, struggling to peel his eyes open.

“Harry?” He murmured, and the hand pulled away.

”No.”

Draco’s eyes snapped open, and mortification hit him like a slap to the face. Ulrich was squatting in front of him, a hurt expression on his face.

”You didn’t come back to the dance, so I came to find you. Everyone has gone to bed.”

Draco nodded and took the hand that Ulrich extended to him. He swayed once he was standing, and Ulrich took his arm.

”I’ll walk you to the dungeons.”

Ulrich wouldn’t look at him.

”Ulrich–”

“We can talk about it tomorrow, but right now you need to sleep.”

Draco felt tears come to his eyes, a knot forming in his throat. He said nothing, just let himself be pulled along. Here he had such a great guy in front of him, and all he had done was make a mess of things in the hope that Harry Potter would come back to him. He was a fool.

Ulrich bowed to him at the entrance of the Slytherin dorms, turning and walking away quickly before Draco could say anything.

Draco took his time getting ready for bed because he knew, despite how guilty he felt, his dreams would consist of nothing but Harry and their almost kiss.

Chapter Text

Draco awoke to a foul taste in his mouth and a pounding in his head, groaning as nausea washed over him. He was glad that he at least had the forethought to close his curtains before passing out, so there wasn’t any sunlight creeping in to add to his headache. He laid there for a few minutes as the events of the night before came back to him in pieces; dancing, laughing, drinking. An almost kiss. A hurt friend.

This time, Draco’s groan had nothing to do with his hangover and everything to do with his disappointment in his past self.

It was one thing to have unrequited feelings while going on a date with someone else. It was something else entirely to abandon that date just to wait around for scraps of attention from the object of said unrequited love. Draco had messed up, big time, and he wouldn’t even have the proper time to apologize since he was set to return to the Manor today.

Luckily, Draco spotted Ulrich as he was heading towards the Great Hall, the other boy just about to leave the castle and head towards the Durmstrang boat. He picked up his speed, about to call out, when—

“Malfoy!”

Draco faltered slightly in his step but continued on.

“Hey, Malfoy!”

Ulrich was out of sight now, having slipped through the front doors.

“Hey!”

Potter had finally caught up to him and had grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling him to a stop. He snatched it back out of the other boy’s grip as a new wave of embarrassment washed over him. He had forgotten who he was last night: not only the heir to the Malfoy name but Draco Malfoy. He would accept no treatment that wasn’t worthy of him, and being left alone in the hall for who knows how long was definitely not befitting treatment.

“Shove off, Potter. I’m busy.”

He began walking towards the doors again without even a glance towards the other boy, but he could tell that he was being followed. His intuition was proven right as Potter continued to speak to him from fairly close by.

“At least let me explain.”

“You know, funnily enough, I don't really need to hear your excuses.” Draco picked up his pace, hoping the few inches he had on Potter in height would aid him in leaving the boy behind.

It didn’t.

Draco had just gotten outside and scanned his surroundings to try and find Ulrich when Potter grabbed him again. “Just listen, you git!”

Anger crackled in his veins, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in close to Potter’s face and hissed, “Unhand me.”

“It was Hermione, alright? She and Ron got into it at the Yule Ball, and I sort of got dragged into it when I went to check on them. She told us both off and made us go back to the tower, and you don’t just argue with an angry Hermione.” He huffed a laugh.

Draco supposed maybe he could be a bit more sympathetic about dealing with an angry Granger after having been on the receiving end of one very strong slap last year, but he found that Potter’s explanation fell flat.

“That’s it?”

Potter’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You left me out in the hallway waiting on you for Merlin knows how long because Granger told you it was bedtime?”

“I think that’s discounting the issue a bit, but—“

Draco cut him off with a raid of his hand. “As enlightening as this was, I need to go find Ulrich now.” He inclined his head in a mock-polite gesture. “Goodbye.”

“Ulrich?” Potter raced after him. “The guy you took to the ball?”

“Yes, Potter, very astute observation.” He drawled, leaving the courtyard and heading down to the lake.

“Why do you need to see him?”

“Frankly, I don’t see how it’s any of your business what I do. Now, kindly leave me alone before I hex you.”

Perhaps it was the venom in his voice or the way he was already reaching for his wand, but Potter finally stopped following him after that. Ulrich was out of sight now, which meant he had gone onto the boat. Draco cursed under his breath as he looked for a way to enter the ship and found none.

On his second circle of the boat, Viktor came down to speak to him.

”He doesn’t want to see you right now, Draco.”

“But,” Draco felt himself shrinking beneath the disappointment in Viktor’s gaze, ”He said we would talk about it this morning.”

Viktor sighed, crossing his arms. ”He’s very hurt. I think he just needs some time to feel a bit less raw.”

“Okay.” Draco nodded. ”Will you at least tell him I stopped by?”

Viktor stared at him for a minute, and a new wave of guilt washed over Draco. He seemed to be incredibly skilled at pulling others into his own problems. Finally, Viktor said, “He knows.”

The wall back to the castle was heavy with defeat. He wanted to make things right before he left for the holidays, not just because his friend deserves better but also because he wasn’t sure what his father had in store for him once he was home. It wouldn’t surprise him if he was about to be cut off from the world for the next few weeks.

He sat with his usual group on the train ride back to Kings Cross but said nothing. Everyone seemed to notice his foul mood and let him wallow in peace, though halfway through the journey, Pansy did take Draco’s hand in hers. When the train finally slowed and families could be seen standing on the platform waving, everyone fell silent. No one moved even after the train had stopped and those around them were rushing out the doors into the arms of waiting parents.

Draco had confided in his Slytherin friends about what his father had sent him, and though Slytherins were never going to be as physically affectionate as Gryffindor or as fiercely loyal as Hufflepuff, his friends were still immensely protective of each other.

Draco sighed. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“Speak for yourself.” Blaise drawled, stretching his legs out and putting his hands behind his head. “I bought quite a bit from the trolley, and there’s a functioning bathroom on board. I think I’d be quite content here for a bit.”

Draco huffed a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I agree with Blaise.” Pansy piped up. “And, if we run out of food, we can always eat Vince and Greg.”

The other boys protested while the rest of them laughed.

Draco smiled at his friends before standing up and dusting off his robes. “I’ll see you all in a few weeks.”

Pansy caught his hand as he made to step out of their compartment. “You will write to us, won’t you?”

“If I can.”

Before anyone else could protest, Draco swept out into the corridor and out of the train. The crowd had ebbed a bit since he had taken his time leaving his friends, so it was easy enough to spot the ramrod straight figure of his father. Draco’s heart began to race when he noticed his mother was nowhere in sight.

“Father.” Draco said as he approached, refusing to cower under the withering glare his father had fixed upon him. “Where is mother?”

“She is visiting family in France.” His father turned sharply on his heel, his robes billowing out behind him. He threw out over his shoulder, “I wanted to spare her this.”

Like a single drop of water, dread slithered down Draco’s spine, sweat beginning to collect on his palms. He cast a look behind him and caught Pansy’s eye. She stood just at the edge of their group of friends, facing him with her eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t bring himself to give her a reassuring smile.

The trip back to the Manor was spent in tense silence, his father refusing to even look at him. The only time he deigned to touch him was to take Draco’s wand and slide it into his pocket. When they arrived home, his father immediately led him down into the dungeons. Draco began to feel nauseated when his father stopped just outside a cell. He inclined his head in a manner that implied he wanted Draco to enter the damp, stone room. When he hesitated, his father grabbed his arm and pulled him forward before pushing him inside.

Draco stumbled, the toe of his shoe catching on an uneven bit of stone on the floor, catching himself on the far wall of the cell. Before he could turn around, he heard the sound of the metal door slamming shut behind him.

“You will have plenty of time to think about the decisions that have led you here until you return to Hogwarts.”

Draco spun around. “Father, wait—”

It was no use. His father continued walking away until Draco was left completely alone in his home’s dungeons. He slid down onto the floor, the chill of the stones seeping into his skin through his trousers. There would be no fire to keep him warm down here, and as he cast a glance around his cell, he found that his father had left him no blanket either.

It was only for a week. He just had to manage for one week, then he would be back at Hogwarts like nothing happened. He thought of his mother. Did she know what was happening under her roof while she vacationed in France? Even if she didn’t, how could she abandon him when she must have known how livid his father would be after the Yule Ball?

There were no windows in the dungeons, so Draco could only make estimations of how long he sat in his cell before he saw another living creature. He supposed he went a day without food and water. Eventually, a house elf brought him a small cup of something to drink but nothing to eat. Draco struggled to sleep due to the chill in the air and the unforgiving rigidity of the floor, and he found his mind wandering with nothing to occupy it.

He thought of Ulrich and the mess he had made of their friendship. He hoped more than anything that he could make it right between them and reconcile with Viktor. He pondered through many different approaches to an apology and finally settled on telling the truth. Ulrich deserved that much, at least.

He thought of Potter, too. Draco wanted him so much that he ached, but he also knew that he was sick of half-measures. He wanted to be wanted, openly and without reservations. A large part of him knew that Potter wasn’t ready for that yet, and he doubted he ever would be. There were so many obstacles between them, much more than just his father’s disapproval. A smaller part of him still dared to hope. Draco hated that part of himself.

Draco had begun to lose track of time when his father reappeared before him. He sat up groggily and wiped at his eyes, sure he looked a mess.

“Is it time to return already?"

“Not quite.” His father motioned to a house elf who quickly hurried forward and opened the cell door. His father strode into the small space, looking down his nose to glare at his son in disgust. “Remove your shirt.”

Draco’s heart stopped for a beat before beginning to race. He slowly lifted his head to stare at his father with wide eyes. “Pardon?”

“You heard me, Draco. Do not make me repeat myself.” His father lifted his cane from the floor and gripped it tightly in both hands. Draco could see that his father’s knuckles were white even from his position on the floor.

Draco knew there was no point in trying to delay the inevitable. Still, it was difficult to remove his shirt when his hands were trembling from dehydration and fear, but he managed somehow. He turned slowly until he was kneeling with his face to the wall and his back exposed to his father.

“I fear I have been too lenient with you, Draco. Your mother has made excuses for you over the years, for your inability to beat the Potter boy in Quidditch despite every advantage afforded you, for your inability to beat a dirty mudblood in your studies. As if that wasn’t shameful enough, you decide to disobey my wishes and attend the Yule Ball with a boy.” He heard his father’s heeled shoes click along the stone floor as he drew closer. “You forget yourself, Draco. Until I am dead and in the ground, I am the head of this house, and you will obey me. My word is law, and you would do well to remember that.”

Without warning, he brought the cane down across Draco’s back. Draco cried out, his palms skidding painfully forward from the force of the blow, scraping along the floor. His father stuck again before Draco could catch his breath, and Draco’s teeth clacked together loudly as he grit them together. There were two more strikes before his father spoke again.

“I control your future. You will do as I say without complaint and with a smile on your face.” He had to pause to catch his breath. “Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, not trusting his voice, and was rewarded with another hit across his back.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father.” He croaked out, his voice wavering.

It was a struggle to stay upright until his father left the cell, but once he was alone, Draco allowed himself to collapse forward. For the first time since his imprisonment, Draco was glad for the cool stone as it was a relief against his sweaty forehead. He was also glad that he had been starved for the past few days as nausea rolled over him as the wounds on his back stretched painfully when he laid himself down onto the floor. He tried to hold himself together, but he lost his inner battle and began to cry anyway, his heaving sobs causing his back to hurt which only made him cry more.

He knew his return to school was approaching when he was finally granted food. He ate slowly, not wanting to upset his achingly empty stomach. He was brought out of the dungeons and allowed to shower, the water stinging the lashes on his back. Draco distantly wondered if they were infected as he stared at himself in the mirror. They were bright red, just beginning to turn purple at the edges. His face looked gaunt, the circles under his eyes the color of plums. His father still hadn’t returned his wand, so there was no way to heal himself before he was being dropped off at the Hogwarts Express.

Before he and his father left the manor, his father performed an unbreakable vow between them.

“You will tell no one of what’s happened this week or of this vow, and for your insolence, you will let these wounds heal the muggle way. Do you understand?”

Draco looked at the threads of magic swirling around their joined hands and swallowed. “Yes, Father.”

Just before he stepped onto the train, his father slipped Draco’s wand back into his hand. Draco rushed onto the train without waiting for a dismissal, wanting to find an empty compartment before they were all gone. There was no way he was facing his friends at that moment.

He was blissfully left alone until they all had to take the carriages to get to the castle. Pansy cornered him almost immediately, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. Draco hissed sharply, trying in vain to shove away from her, but she was relentless.

“You promised to write!” She chastised him, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed into his chest. Eventually, she pulled back enough to give him a once over. “You look awful.”

“Let go of me!” He said, his voice strained.

She let her arms drop to her sides, her brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His breathing was heavy as he willed away the pain that was racing through him. “Let’s just find a carriage, alright?”

She looked as if she wanted to ask more questions, but she stayed silent. She led him back over to where the rest of their friends were waiting for them, and Draco was glad that none of the other Slytherins were as affectionate as Pansy. He was left untouched for the rest of the evening.

The return feast was much the same as usual except that Viktor and Ulrich were sitting at the opposite end of the table from him, and Potter was staring at him the whole time. Draco went right up to his room once they were dismissed, sliding into his bed and shutting the curtains behind him. He sighed in relief at the soft mattress that was so different from the floor he had been sleeping on for the past week.

The next few days were difficult for Draco. He was exhausted after having so little sleep for so long, and his back smarted from such simple movement that he declined to join his friends in most things, instead choosing to lie awake in his bed and read or think of how he still hadn’t managed to talk to Ulrich or Viktor since his return.

Draco had started to sit on the end of the Slytherin table, not wanting to risk being jostled by his peers, and after plenty of reassurance to his friends, he was finally able to sit alone in peace. It was blissfully quiet and uneventful, except that Draco was always painfully aware of just how much easier it was for Potter to stare unabashedly at him when he was no longer surrounded by his friends.

It was starting to get on his nerves, and at dinner one night, he had reached his breaking point. There were only so many longing and kicked-puppy glances he could take from the Chosen One. He was just about to walk over to the Gryffindor table and give Potter a good talking to when two bodies blocked his view of the other boy.

”You look terrible.”

Draco was already smiling before he looked up and made eye contact with Ulrich and Viktor. At any other time, he would’ve been horribly insulted by the observation, but the quick glance he had thrown the mirror this morning had him shrugging in agreement.

Ulrich sucked in a breath. ”Now I know it’s bad. Was your father really that angry with you about going to the Yule Ball with me?”

Draco nodded, and the two boys sat down across from him. Draco almost sagged in relief at the unspoken forgiveness he was receiving.

”What did he do to you?” Viktor’s voice and gaze were cold as he regarded Draco fiercely.

Draco winced as he felt the magic of the vow surge under his skin. ”I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Draco,” Ulrich’s voice was soft as he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of Draco’s, ”you can tell us. He can’t hurt you here.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Draco tried to convey his meaning through his inflection. ”I can’t tell you.”

His friends looked at him as if he had grown another head before turning to each other with furrowed brows. Draco watched their faces closely as they seemed to ponder the hidden meaning in his words. Finally, it seemed to dawn on Ulrich.

”He has made it impossible for you to do so. With an Unbreakable Vow? Or,” he lowered his voice and leaned forward, Viktor following suit, ”the Imperius curse?”

Draco wished he could say something to defend his father, to say that he would never use an unforgivable curse against his only son, but Draco was beginning to wonder if that was true after the past week. Even without this revelation, the vow seemed unwilling to let Draco confirm or deny anything, so Draco just stared at them with wide eyes.

”I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Ulrich said.

Draco allowed himself to relax, then. At least there were two people who had some inkling as to what he had been through. It hurt his pride to admit that he had been in such a vulnerable position, but there was no denying that what his father had done to him was wrong. Even his father knew it, since he sent his mother away for it.

With that small weight off his shoulders, Draco took a deep breath, looked Ulrich right in the eye, and asked, ”Would you please join me for a walk down by the lake? I have some things I’d like to say to you.”

Ulrich glanced briefly at Viktor before turning back to Draco. ”Okay.”

They stood from the table and made their way outside, the walk down to the lake’s edge spent in silence. The Durmstrang boat was creaking lightly in the winter wind, and Draco wrapped his robes tighter around himself before casting a few warming charms on himself and Ulrich. They stopped just before the water’s edge and began walking parallel to the water as Draco spoke.

”I wanted to say that I’m sorry for my behavior at the Yule Ball. And, honestly, my behavior before that, too.” He looked Ulrich in the eye in the hopes of conveying his sincerity well. ”I have feelings for someone else, which I’m sure you’ve gathered already. I wanted so badly to leave those feelings behind me, and then you showed up, breathtakingly handsome and flirty. It wasn’t fair of me to use you to try to move on, and I shouldn’t have accepted your offer and all it’s implications until I knew my previous feelings were in the past. You deserve more than that.”

They paused in their walking so Ulrich could face Draco fully. ”And you still have feelings for him?”

Draco nodded. He wished he could say otherwise, but his need for Harry Potter was always there, just under his skin. It was like an ever present hum in his ear, a constant reminder.

Ulrich smiled, and it was only a bit sad. ”Then he is a lucky man. I understand how difficult it is to rid yourself of feelings you wish you didn’t have. I’m a gay boy in a very strict boarding school, so I’ve been there.” He grinned when Draco chuckled. ”Thank you for being honest with me, and I wish you luck with your Champion.”

Draco blanched, his heart rate picking up.

”You knew?” Draco croaked.

Ulrich shrugged. ”It’s fairly obvious to those who know where to look. It also helps that you said his name when you were half-unconscious at the Yule Ball.”

Draco shoved his face into his hands and groaned, Ulrich patting him lightly on the back.

”Please just kill me now.”

Ulrich laughed. ”That’s not in my nature.”

Draco groaned again while his friend continued to chuckle at his expense. After a few moments of silence, Draco dared to peek at him through his fingers. ”Are we still friends?”

“Of course.” Ulrich slung an arm around Draco’s shoulders, and Draco managed not to flinch too hard at the pain that friendly action caused. As the pair began walking again, Ulrich asked, ”Shall we head back inside?”

“You go on,” Draco smiled and ducked under his friend’s arm, ”I’m going to stay out here for a bit longer.”

Draco found a patch of ground that wasn’t covered in snow and plopped himself down, recasting his warming charms as he stared out at the lake. The ground was firm in a way that only occurred during winter, and it sent waves of discomfort shooting up his back. He cast a cushioning charm below him, and that was when he heard it again: a twig snapping. He had ignored it before, since he wanted to give his full attention to Ulrich during their conversation, however two times in such a short period was suspicious.

He sighed. “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

At first, he was greeted with silence, but soon he heard the telltale crunching of leaves and twigs as someone approached him.

“I could’ve also been out on a walk, you know.”

“Without one of your other Gryffindors?” Draco drawled. “Fat chance.”

Potter took a seat next to him, shivering. Draco’s hand twitched as he restrained himself against casting a warming charm for the other boy. He was still angry at him, and it wasn’t like Potter was incapable of casting one for himself, even if he sometimes forgot he was a wizard.

“I resent that comment.” Potter said after settling.

Draco snorted. “Resent it all you like, doesn’t make it any less true. Now, are you going to tell me why you were following me?”

Potter didn’t look at him, instead watching his hands as they fidgeted in his lap.

“Come on, Potter, spit it out.”

Quietly, very quietly, he said, “I wish you would call me Harry. Like you did at the Yule Ball.”

Draco stiffened, frowning. “I do believe you forfeited that privilege when you left me out in the hallway all night.”

Potter looked at him then, eyes wide and pleading, a bit of a whine in his voice as he asked, “Are you still mad at me?”

Draco scoffed. “Am I just supposed to magically forgive you? With absolutely zero effort on your part?”

“I apologized to you!”

“No, you made excuses. Poor ones at that.”

“Well,” Potter huffed and dragged a hand through his already unkempt hair, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you, and if I'd known that it would’ve led to this, Hermione would’ve had to drag me away from you.”

Draco felt his resolve crumble just a little bit at the earnestness with which Potter said those words, and he had to remind himself that he had standards.

“That’s a nice sentiment,” Draco stood and brushed the dirt off of the seat of his trousers, “but it doesn’t change what happened. Even if Granger sent you off to bed, you’re telling me there’s no way you could’ve snuck back down to me?” Draco huffed a bitter laugh. “With all the stories I hear of you and your friends’ antics, I’m sure you could’ve found some way. You just didn’t think of it because it wasn’t important enough to you, and I’m not going to accept that.”

Potter grabbed his hand when he moved to step away. “How can I make it up to you?”

Draco tugged his hand away. “Certainly not be stalking me and eavesdropping on my conversations with my friends. I refuse to hold your hand through your apology to me, so figure it out on your own. Or get Granger to help you, since her word is law to you.”

Draco turned and briskly walked away, already emotionally exhausted by the conversation and the boundaries he was having to set and maintain. He heard Potter stand and run after him, and Draco had to bite back a groan. He still couldn’t run, not with his back the way it was, so he increased his speed as much as he could.

“Wait!” Potter called, “Draco, please!”

Potter was able to move much faster than Draco. His hand wrapped around his bicep, wrenching his arm backwards sharply as Potter tried to stop him. The sharp movement caused his back to bend and stretch his barely scabbed wounds, and Draco couldn’t help the strangled cry of pain that ripped from his throat at the motion.

Potter snatched his hand away as if he had been burned, a look of horror and concern on his face as watched Draco double over and place his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Draco’s back was beginning to feel wet, and he was glad he was wearing his robes so that no one would be able to see that he was rapidly bleeding through his white shirt.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Potter’s hand hovered over his back as if he wanted to comfort but was scared his touch would cause more pain.

“Don’t touch me!” Draco hissed out, then softer, “Please, don’t touch me.”

“Draco, tell me what’s going on.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. He gulped down one final, large breath of air before straightening. “It’s none of your business, Potter.”

Potter took a step back, his expression of concern morphing into one of anger. “Of course it is. You almost just collapsed in front of me!”

“Just leave it.” Draco began to walk away again, his back smarting and the blood he was sure was staining everything he was wearing rapidly cooling in the winter air. He almost thought that Potter was finally listening to his instructions until the boy spoke again, his tone cold.

“Does Ulrich know what’s going on?”

Draco turned sharply on his heel, anger flaring inside him once more. “You know what, Potter? Yes. Yes, he does, because he’s actually my friend and cares for me more than whatever this is.”

“This?” Potter asked flatly.

“Yes, this.” Draco motioned between them, his moves short and jerky. “This random attraction you find yourself saddled with, this game you seem content to play with my feelings.”

“This isn’t a game to me, Draco.”

“Then, prove it!” Draco shouted, his chest heaving. “Prove it with your actions, not pretty words, not excuses. Otherwise, I want you to stay as far away from me as possible, because I’m tired of this.”

Potter looked crestfallen, his eyebrows furrowed over his piercing, green eyes and a frown on his lips. Draco refused to let himself divulge any more of his feelings to the other boy. What he had already said was mortifying enough. He was already bleeding, so Draco decided there was little harm running away could do at this point except slightly injure his pride, so he made a hasty retreat back to the Slytherin dungeons.

He cried in the shower that night, but he told himself it was just because of how badly the warm water was stinging his back and had nothing to do with Potter.

Draco threw himself into his friends and his studies after that. Potter was blissfully absent from his life as the champion prepared for the second task, Granger loudly nagging him constantly about figuring out what it could be. Viktor had already opened his golden egg and, with the help of his headmaster and Ulrich, figured out that it had something to do with the merpeople in the lake. Unlike the first task, Draco had no desire to pass this information along to Potter.

Instead, he busied himself with tutoring Crabbe and Goyle, studying with Pansy and Blaise, and chatting and laughing with Viktor and Ulrich. He was ahead in all his classes, and when his back had finally scabbed over again, he began flying with the utmost caution. And, as the second task rapidly approached, Draco was pleased to find that Potter was plaguing his mind less and less.
Of course, nothing good lasts forever.

Draco gasped for air, disoriented, as Viktor pulled him along. People were cheering and whistling, and Draco whipped his head around to try and make sense of what was happening. He quickly figured out that this must have something to do with the second task. Someone helped pull him out of the water along with Viktor, and his friend was quickly swarmed by people offering him their congratulations. Draco was still coughing up water rather ungracefully to the side when attention was turned back on him.

Draco finally noticed that people were staring at him when a low murmur began spreading around those closest to him. He turned to find himself being watched with expressions of pity, concern, or, in a few faces, satisfaction. Draco looked at Viktor in confusion, but his friend looked so angry that it startled him.

It was then that Draco remembered he was wearing a white shirt. A white shirt that was now completely soaked through with lake water, turning the material practically transparent. He knew based on the reaction of the crowd that they had seen what remained of the wounds on his back. They were still healing, the bruising just beginning to lighten and the places where his skin had split an angry, deep red.

Slowly, McGonagall stepped forward with a blanket. “Take this, dear.”

Feeling numb, Draco took the offering and wrapped himself in the warm, dry fabric. While he was worried about how this would affect his reputation, there was something else that concerned him more. This news was sure to get back to his father. Draco shuddered to think what his father would do to him when he learned that everyone at Hogwarts now knew of what transpired over the winter holidays.

Draco took a step forward, then another.

“Congratulations, Viktor.” Draco croaked.

The crowd parted as he continued walking away.

He didn’t stop until he was back in his room, the curtains to his bed shut, and several charms to impede those who might come looking for him cast around him.

Chapter Text

“Come on, Draco! It wasn’t that bad,” Pansy called from outside his curtains. “You’re making the rumors worse by hiding, you know!”

Draco had refused to leave his bed after the second task, even going so far as to skip his classes that Friday, and had ignored every attempt by his friends to coax him out for the rest of the weekend. He could still hear the whispers of the crowd, could still feel the weight of their judgment upon him. There were many things that a Malfoy could take in stride, but embarrassment was not one of them. His one reprieve in all of this was that Potter hadn’t been around to see it. Of course, there was no doubt that he had heard about it by now, but Draco wasn’t allowing himself to think of that.

Relief flooded him when he heard Pansy huff and walk away until she said, “He’s all yours, Professor.”

Unhurried footsteps approached his bed, and Draco felt sure he knew who was standing on the other side of his curtains even before he heard the familiar bored drawl of his voice.

“Do not be so foolish, boy, as to think some simple charms will impede me.” Draco held his breath as if he could somehow fool his godfather into leaving him alone if he stayed quiet. “Either you will open these curtains of your own accord or I shall, though my thin patience will depend upon which option you choose.”

Draco sighed before deciding to follow the path of least resistance. He lifted the charms that kept his curtains glued shut and hesitantly opened them just a sliver to peer out at his godfather.

“It’s good to see that you still have some sense.” Snape said, whisking open the curtains fully and sitting down on the edge of Draco’s bed.

Draco frowned as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and Draco was painfully aware of how he must look. He hadn’t washed his hair in days, so his blond hair hung about his face in oily strands. His pajamas were wrinkled, and Draco didn’t even want to imagine how unpleasant he must smell.

“Why are you here, Professor?”

Snape sighed, sounding thoroughly put upon as he explained, “Miss Parkinson as well as several other students have expressed concern for your wellbeing. And, since you have refused to leave the dorms like a sulking child, I have been forced to come to you.”

Draco felt his face heat at the chiding.

“Now, remove your shirt.”

“I beg your pardon?” Draco asked, latching onto the feeling of indignation as he was beginning to feel exposed. He wrapped his arms even tighter around himself as if that would delay the inevitable.

“I will not repeat myself, Draco.” His voice was stern, but his brows were furrowed as he watched Draco’s reaction.

It was one thing for a crowd of his peers to see his back through a wet shirt. It was another thing entirely for him to bear his shame in front of the godfather he so admired of his own volition. His back was proof of his weakness. It was proof of his father’s hatred.

Draco untucked his arms from around his knees and extended his legs, careful not to kick his godfather. Slowly and with slightly trembling fingers, Draco unbuttoned his pajama shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders, the black fabric making the paleness of his skin seem even more stark. Snape made a circle with his finger, and Draco let out a breath as he turned until he was facing his headboard, his back on full display.

Draco had been hoping that perhaps his back wasn’t in as terrible shape as his peers had made it out to be, but that hope shriveled up and died when his godfather sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. Snape said nothing, but after a moment, Draco felt a finger softly trace the largest of the wounds on his back. He tried not to flinch, but Snape withdrew quickly anyway.

“Your father did this, boy?”

With the unbreakable vow that he had made with his father, he couldn’t confirm or deny what Snape asked of him. He sat silently before he heard the rustling of robes and a canister being opened, the scent of dittany wafting over to him. Draco spun around quickly, his back protesting at the sudden movement, and slapped away the salve-covered hand that Snape had begun to extend towards him.

“You can’t!”

Snape arched an eyebrow at him as he slowly lowered his hand. “And why not?”

“Just–” Draco hesitated, unsure of how much he could reveal to his godfather, “no magic or potions. Please.”

Snape watched him for a few more moments before nodding. He stood from the bed, his robes fluttering behind him, and made for the door. “I’ll be back. You’ll stay right where you are if you know what’s good for you.”

Draco watched him leave, completely bemused by this turn of events.

Pansy’s head popped into view as she peeked at him around the doorframe. “May I come in?”

He sighed, but motioned her into the room with a wave of his hand. “It seems my pity party's over, anyway.”

“Oh, darling,” she cooed as she sat next to him on the bed, “you’re absolutely right.”

Without any warning, she smacked the back of his head.

“Hey!” Draco rubbed the sore spot and shot her a glare.

“That’s for not telling me something was going on, and this,” she gave his head another smack, “is for shutting me out. I get everyone else, but me? Seriously, Draco?”

Draco took a moment to really look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips pursed. The beginnings of dark circles could be seen under her eyes, and Draco shied away from the intense concern in her gaze.

He stared down at his lap. “It’s not just you. I didn’t tell anyone.”

Pansy reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. When Draco finally looked up at her, she had a sad smile on her face. “That just means you were dealing with this all alone.”

He swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat at her words, the action almost painful. Crying in front of fellow Slytherins was a recipe for disaster, even close friends, so Draco blinked furiously until the burning in his eyes dissipated. He was saved from having to answer her by the reappearance of their Head of House.

Pansy quickly vacated her seat, and Snape motioned for Draco to turn around once more as he sat down.

“But, Professor–”

“Hush, child.” He held up a bright yellow tube of something for both Draco and Pansy to see. “This is a muggle creation. No magic or potions involved, but it will help prevent infection and aid in healing.”

Draco moved to face his headboard, listening to the rustling sounds of Snape preparing the muggle invention behind him. He flinched as his back was suddenly touched by cool fingers, some sort of ointment being spread across the worst areas of his back.

“How did you know about this muggle thing, Professor?”

“You forget, boy, that I’m a half-blood,” Snape drawled, bitterness in his tone.

It was easy to forget that his godfather wasn’t a pureblood, especially considering the circles he ran in. With how obsessed his father was with blood purity, it was almost shocking that he had chosen a half-blood to be the godfather of his only son.

When Snape had finished applying the salve, he tapped Draco once on the shoulder. “Let this sink in fully before dressing or laying down. Be sure to apply it twice a day to keep your wounds clean. Without magic, this is the best I can do.”

He dropped the tube into Draco’s open hands, and Draco held it almost reverently as he looked up at his godfather. “Thank you, Professor.”

Snape stood, staring down his nose at him. “This wallowing will cease now, Draco. I expect to see you tomorrow in Potions, ready to learn.”

Draco dropped his gaze, dread beginning to pool in his stomach. “Yes, Professor.”

With a curt nod, Snape was gone, leaving only him and Pansy in the quiet of his dorm room.

“So,” Pansy said, “what’s your plan for tomorrow?”

Draco groaned and shoved his face into his hands since flopping back onto his bed wasn’t an option until the ointment on his back had sunk in.

“Mass obliviation?” Draco murmured, his voice muffled by his hands.

Pansy snorted. “You know, for some reason, I don’t see that working out for you.”

He sighed heavily as he dropped his hands back into his lap. “I guess I’ll just try to go about as normal and hope my father doesn’t send me a Howler at breakfast.”

“Look, Draco.” Pansy strode up to him and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to stare up at her. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Blaise, Vince, and Greg. You’ve even got a couple of Durmstrang boys wrapped around your little finger! We’ll be by your side through this, okay? And if anyone tries anything, they’ll be staring down the wrong end of six wands.”

Draco smiled, though he was sure it looked odd with how Pansy was squishing his cheeks together. “You’re the best, Pans.”

She shot him a wolfish grin, removing her hands from his face to flick her short, black hair over one shoulder dramatically. “I know.”

The next morning, Draco was sure he was going to vomit right outside the Great Hall. He wasn’t sure that he had ever been this anxious, but the thought of all those eyes on him made his fingers tremble and his stomach roil. Pansy was by his side, and she took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. Draco only had a moment to feel guilty about how sweaty his palms probably were before she was tugging him inside, and he suddenly had other things to worry about.

Everyone was looking at him, or at least it felt that way. The usual noisy hall was nearly silent as the whole room watched his trek to the Slytherin table. Pansy lightly pushed him into a seat with his back facing the other students, bracketed on both sides by Crabbe and Goyle. Across from him were Viktor and Ulrich, the latter shooting him a bright smile, and Pansy sat next to them with Blaise on her other side. Draco felt himself begin to shake in earnest as the whispers that were making their way around the room reached him.

“Just focus on us,” Pansy said firmly before making him a plate. Draco wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to eat, but he appreciated the gesture. Slowly, the hall returned to its usual volume, and Draco felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. He didn’t participate in his friends’ conversation, one eye on the windows in expectation for a Howler or some other rebuke from his father, but the normalcy was comforting all the same.

When the owls finally made their dramatic entrance, Draco tried to calm himself by breathing deeply. His eyes followed the paths of several owls, wondering which one would be delivering his father’s letter. Eventually, he spotted the eagle owl that his family used for correspondence, and it felt as if his heart was beating too quickly and not fast enough at the same time. With great finesse, an envelope with the Malfoy family crest was dropped into his open, trembling hands. When Draco broke the seal and opened the letter, he was surprised to see his mother’s elegant script addressing him instead of his father’s. He took a deep breath and began to read.

Dearest Draco,

I do hope Hogwarts is treating you well. I hate to have missed you over the Winter holidays, but your father believed it was a good time for me to visit family in France. Life at the Manor is much the same, but I recently had tea with several ladies who have children at Hogwarts. I was rather shocked to hear of the thrilling conclusion to the second task, and I must say, I wish you had written to me about such a major event. However, I know you are busy with your studies and your friends and may not have had the time to write.

I was so surprised by the news I had heard about the second task that I had to have a serious talk with your father about what the results meant. It seems he was confused as well, because he had little to say. Luckily, some of our house elves were much more informative when I posed my questions to them.

Enough about the Manor. I’m sure you find the topic rather disinteresting as of late, what with the excitement of the tournament. I enjoyed my trip to France immensely, and your cousins are quite eager to make your acquaintance after hearing me speak so highly of you. I believe it would be nice to summer there this year. Your father, of course, will be too busy with his Ministry work to accompany us, so it would just be you and me in the French countryside, I’m afraid.

Please write back at your earliest convenience about whether or not this suits you.

Love,

Your Mother

“Draco?”

He glanced up from the letter to find several pairs of eyes on him.

“Is everything okay?” Pansy’s tone was as soft as if she were speaking to an easily spooked animal.

Draco nodded numbly, handing her the letter to read for herself. With a voice that was only slightly croaky, he said, “I think my mother is leaving my father.”

Pansy took the letter from him gingerly, holding it out so that all of his friends could read it at once. After a minute of silence, Pansy nodded firmly. “Good.”

Everyone gave their assent, and Draco took the letter back, slid it back into its envelope, and placed it in the pocket of his robes. He would be sure to write his response later, perhaps after dinner.

Draco picked up his fork with only slightly shaky hands and was about to spear a piece of potato with it when everyone seemed to quiet once more. Draco refused to look up from his plate, not wanting to meet the eyes of those who were sure to be looking his way.

Blaise let out a low whistle. “Somebody looks worse for wear.”

Confused, Draco looked up at him, but Blaise was focused on the entrance of the Great Hall. Draco turned his head an inch to the side and used his peripherals to look at the door. There stood Harry Potter with a split lip and a nose that was slightly more crooked than it had been the last time Draco had seen him.

Before he could stop himself, Draco asked, “What happened to him?”

“Rumor has it that the Chosen One got into a little tussle to defend your honor, dearest.”

Draco whipped his head towards Pansy, mouth agape. “He what?”

Pansy was staring at her nails, putting on an air of nonchalance that Draco didn’t believe for a second. “You didn’t know? Oh, that’s right. You were too busy pouting in your bed all weekend to hear this juicy piece of Hogwarts gossip.”

“What happened?” He bit out through gritted teeth.

Pansy hummed, placing her hands flat on the table as she leaned forward to smirk at him. “Apparently, some older Ravenclaw kid was saying that you deserved whatever beating you had gotten, and little Potty didn’t like that. He didn’t even bother to use his wand, just leapt at him and started wailing on him until McGonagall stepped in. Doesn’t look too remorseful, does he?”

Draco didn’t even bother with pretending he wasn’t looking this time. He turned in his seat and stared at Potter just like everyone else as he walked to the Gryffindor table flanked by Weasley and Granger. Pansy was right; he didn’t look guilty at all. In fact, he looked rather smug as he passed the Ravenclaw table and an older student flinched away from him.

Draco huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “What a ridiculous rumor. Potter would never fight over me.”

He was finally able to pull his gaze away when Potter took his seat, not wanting to be caught staring. He picked up his fork and began eating small bites so as not to upset his still roiling stomach.

Pansy tilted her head to the side, watching him. After a moment, she said, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Draco ignored her and continued eating, relieved that his friend seemed content to let the subject drop for the moment.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, his friends surrounding him like his own personal bubble in every class. Snape had even given his version of a compliment to Draco, saying his potion was acceptable. Students were still staring at him, but he was pleasantly surprised that no one bothered to approach him or hassle him.

The rest of the week passed in much the same way, and by the weekend, Draco felt his guard beginning to drop. Sunday was cold and dreary, a light mist keeping most students bundled up in the warmth of their common rooms. After a week of being flanked by his friends, Draco found himself going a bit stir crazy, and he decided to take a stroll around the castle alone.

“At least let one of us go with you, Draco. Just in case,” Pansy pleaded, her eyes wide.

“If it’s quiet you want, just take Vince or Greg.” Blaise pointed at the two boys who were huddling in front of the fireplace playing Exploding Snap.

Draco rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help feeling a bit touched by their concern. “I’ll be fine. I’ll even stick to the secret passageways if it makes you feel better.”

Pansy bit her thumbnail, a sure sign she was anxious, but finally relented when Draco gave her a pathetic look. With a book tucked under his arm, Draco left before Pansy could change her mind. He tried not to run out of the Slytherin dorms, but he was sure he had failed. It seemed like a lifetime since he had any time to himself, even though only a week had passed. He kept his promise to Pansy, though, sticking to back hallways and secret passageways to avoid any other students who might be roaming about.

When he came across an empty classroom on the fifth floor, Draco slunk inside quickly and shut the door behind him. He transfigured a desk into a plush beanbag chair and sank into it with a sigh. He pulled his book out from under his arm and flipped to where he had placed his bookmark, wiggling around until he was completely comfortable. After only two chapters, the door to the classroom opened and closed, but nobody appeared.

As quickly as he could, Draco pulled out his wand, aiming it at the empty space in front of the door. “Who is it? Reveal yourself!”

The air by the door shimmered slightly as an invisibility cloak was slowly lowered to reveal Harry Potter.

“Potter?” Draco knew he must have a dumb expression on his face, but he was so confused as to how Potter had found him and why he would even be looking for him in the first place that he couldn’t seem to close his open mouth.

“Er,” Potter smiled sheepishly, taking a step closer, “hi.”

Draco lowered his wand, though his tone was suspicious as he asked, “What are you doing here?”

Potter looked down at his feet while he scuffed the toe of one shoe against the dusty floor of the classroom. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but there hasn’t been a moment where you’ve been alone all week.”

Draco couldn’t help but snort. “Tell me about it.”

Potter looked up, his lips quirking up slightly at the sound of Draco’s laugh. He pointed to the beanbag and asked, “May I sit?”

Draco shrugged but made room on the beanbag anyway. Potter walked over quickly, all but slumping down into the space beside Draco, their arms faintly brushing together. Despite himself, Draco felt his heart quicken at the contact.

He cleared his throat, determined to sound nonchalant though he knew what the answer to his question would be before he asked it. “What was so important that you had to seek me out like this to talk about it?”

Potter shifted so that he was facing Draco, their knees pressed into each other due to their proximity. His gaze was determined as he met Draco’s eyes, and Draco swallowed nervously, his throat clicking.

“I heard about it.” Potter jerked his chin towards Draco. “Your back.”

“Ah,” Draco tried to smile, but he was sure it looked strained, “that.”

Potter nodded. “Yes, that.”

Draco squirmed under Potter’s gaze, his focus so intense that it felt as if his skin was catching fire. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, curling in on himself.

“Draco,” he looked up when Potter placed a comforting hand on his arm, his stare no less intense but incredibly kind, “it’s okay. I understand.”

Draco felt himself straighten a bit in his confusion. “You understand?”

Potter glanced away, staring at a spot just over Draco’s left shoulder. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, appearing torn for a brief moment as if he were dreading what he was about to disclose. After a moment, he seemed to steel himself and looked back at Draco.

“How much do you know about my upbringing?”

The question was unexpected, and Draco found himself saying, rather dumbly, “What everyone knows, I suppose.”

“That I was raised by my muggle Aunt and Uncle?”

Draco nodded.

“What nobody really knows is,” he hesitated, his lips pursing, “they abused me.”

Draco gasped softly, just a small intake of breath, but Potter heard it. He smiled, though it was a little wobbly.

“I spent the first eleven years of my life sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. They would lock me in there sometimes, refuse to feed me, yell at me, and my aunt would even hit me with a wooden spoon if I misbehaved. My uncle is a large man, and he would often drag me about if I had embarrassed him somehow, and I would wake up the next day with bruises on my arms from where he had gripped me so tightly.”

Draco thought back to every mean thing he had ever said to Potter. He had made fun of his oversized clothes, insulted his parents, and ridiculed the friends who had become the only family he had ever known. Red-hot shame caused his face to flush, and he clenched his hands into fists where they had been resting in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, because he knew he needed to say something, and it was the only words the all-consuming guilt he was feeling would let out.

Potter shrugged, turning away. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, I know.” Draco waited until Potter was looking at him again. “I mean, I’m sorry for everything. The things I’ve said and done to you and your friends the past three years aren’t acceptable by any standard, but they seem especially callous now that I know what you’ve had to deal with.” He paused, knowing he was opening himself up to be hurt again as he said, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry smiled, the sight taking Draco’s breath away. “You called me Harry.”

“Yes, well,” Draco returned his smile, “we are having a heart to heart. When did we both become such Hufflepuffs?”

Harry huffed a laugh before sobering. “I accept your apology. I already forgave you a long time ago.”

“Well, now you have a memory that you can bottle and show to your friends. I doubt that they’d believe that I’d apologized to you without proof, so you’re welcome for that.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Harry smiled again, and Draco felt some of the tension he’d been carrying during their conversation leave him. “You’re too kind.”

Draco straightened as another thought occurred to him. “Wait. You don’t have to return to your muggles over the summer, do you?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, that’s simply unacceptable! How could the professors send you back to them? Don’t they know?”

“They know, but,” Harry hesitated, “it’s complicated.”

“Like bloody hell it is!” Draco stood, fury needing some sort of outlet, and began to pace. The air began to crackle with his magic, and Draco dragged his hands through his hair as he said, “They couldn’t find literally anywhere else for you to stay?”

Draco paused midstride when Harry grabbed his wrist, guiding him gently back to the beanbag. He collapsed heavily into it, huffing in frustration at being led like a child.

“I’m safer there, Draco.” Harry leaned forward until he was in Draco’s eyeline, giving him a small smile. “Plus, they aren’t so bad now. They’re much too scared to do something to me now that they know I can send a hex their way.”

Draco shook his head, grumbling, “Just because they’re ‘better’ doesn’t mean leaving you there is okay.”

“I know.” When Draco glanced at him, Harry’s smile was rueful. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For caring.”

Those words were a bit too close to the truth for comfort. It became apparent in that moment that Draco had let his guard down once again, and the realization frustrated Draco as much as it frightened him. Draco stood, brushing off his robes before extending a hand to pull Harry up.

Harry took his hand, and Draco helped him stand. “You’re leaving already?”

Harry didn’t let go of Draco’s hand, and he felt his face heat as he spoke with an unnaturally casual tone. “If I’m gone any longer, I fear my friends will send out a search party for me.”

“I see.” Harry continued to stare at Draco, the warmth from their conjoined hands slowly spreading up Draco’s elbow.

Draco gave Harry’s hand a squeeze before stepping back and letting it drop. “Thank you for telling me about your childhood. I know you haven’t told many people, and I promise to keep this between us.”

Harry grinned. “If I end up reading about it in the Daily Prophet, I’ll know who spilled it to Skeeter.”

“Oh, please, Potter.” Draco scoffed. “I have a bit more self respect than that. I’m saving this tasty morsel for my autobiography.”

Harry shook his head, but his expression was fond. “Of course.”

Draco quickly transfigured their beanbag back into a desk, neatly levitating it back to its place before he and Harry walked to the door. They said their farewells, Draco heading back down to the dungeons and Harry heading back to Gryffindor tower. Upon his arrival back to the common room, he was met by a vaguely hysterical Pansy and a thoroughly exasperated Blaise, and the night continued on as any other.

School seemed to fall back into its normal routine, though there was one major difference. The conversation between him and Harry seemed to give the latter the impression that he could now approach Draco whenever he wanted which wasn’t helpful in the slightest for reducing the stares and whispers the other students sent Draco’s way. Though Draco was safe in the Great Hall, as Harry apparently was not willing to brave Draco’s barrier of Slytherins and Durmstrang students, he was constantly dealing with Harry by the lake or in the library.

One such day, Draco had decided that enough was enough. Draco had been sitting alone at a table by the window in the library when Harry had slipped into the seat across from him without even asking for permission. Draco had dutifully ignored him, but it had grown impossible to study with all the eyes upon him.

Without looking up from his parchment, Draco whispered, “You should be more careful to be seen with me, you know. People tend to come up with the most ridiculous rumors.”

From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Harry lean forward, his chin on his hand. “Oh?”

Draco sighed and put down his quill, fixing Harry with what he hoped was a reproachful glare. “Yes, oh.”

Harry grinned now that he had Draco’s attention, knocking their feet together beneath the table. “And what ridiculous rumors have you heard?”

Draco huffed a disbelieving laugh at how uncaring Harry seemed to be about the whole thing. He began ticking off his fingers as he went through the list. “Oh, you know, that you’re using me to get insider information about Viktor’s plans for the third task or that you’re falling behind in your classes due to the tournament and need me for extra tutoring.”

“Well, that one doesn’t even make sense.” Harry smiled. “I would just go to Hermione for that.”

Draco rolled his eyes, trying to find a rumor that he heard that would really shock Harry. When he recalled what Pansy had told him in the Great Hall, he smirked.

“I also heard that you beat up a Ravenclaw to defend my honor.”

Harry chuckled, sitting up and crossing his arms in front of him on the table. “That’s not a rumor. That’s a fact.”

“What?” Draco spoke too loudly because of the shock, and several students shushed him. He took a minute to glance around to make sure they weren’t about to be thrown out of the library before leaning in towards Harry. The nuisance had the audacity to flash him a smug grin. “There’s no way that’s true. You’re telling me you beat up some random kid because of me?”

“No,” Harry spoke slowly as if that would help Draco comprehend this lunacy any better, “I beat up a random sixth year because they were making jokes about child abuse and saying you deserved it.”

Draco’s brain stuttered as he tried to make sense of this new information. “But that’s… that’s… a sixth year?”

Harry nodded, looking rather proud of himself. “A sixth year.”

Draco dropped his forehead to his arms on the table, letting out a muffled groan. “Ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous.”

Harry grazed his fingertips along Draco’s forearm, the touch featherlight. “I’m sorry. Did that get you in trouble with Ulrich?”

Draco lifted his head slightly to stare at Harry with furrowed brows. “Ulrich?”

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged, no longer looking at him. “Aren’t you two together?”

It would be easy to lie and say that he and Ulrich were together. Ulrich would surely go along with it if asked, and it would be the easiest way to put a stop to whatever Harry was angling for. However, Draco thought back to these past few weeks and found that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push Harry away anymore. So, instead of lying, he shifted so his check was resting on his arms and looked up at Harry.

“No,” Draco felt a spark of excitement when Harry’s head whipped towards him, his eyes wide, “we’re not together.”

The grin Harry gave him was blindingly bright, and he didn’t even try to tamp it down when he said, “Sorry to hear that.”

Draco snorted. “I’m sure you are.”

After that, Harry’s presence became even harder to ignore. He was calling out to Draco in the hallways, flashing him smiles across the courtyard. Draco was almost glad for the break in attention when Harry became too busy learning hexes with Granger and Weasley in preparation for the third task to bother him.

The morning of the task, the families of the champions arrived at Hogwarts. Despite his distaste for the Weasley family, Draco could admit that he was happy that Harry had people to cheer him on. He was a little angry that they seemed completely happy to monopolize Harry’s time for the whole day, leaving Draco with few opportunities to wish him luck.

Draco followed the Weasleys out to the lake, hanging back by the school enough to remain out of sight. He thought he had been doing a decent enough job at remaining hidden until he spotted Harry walking his way with a smile on his face.

“Draco.”

Draco nodded in greeting. “Harry.”

“Is there a reason you’re following me and the Weasleys?”

Draco spluttered before he could stop himself, sure that his face was turning a vibrant crimson. “I am not following you!”

Harry raised his eyebrows but wisely said nothing else about it.

Draco coughed into his fist and looked away. “I wanted to wish you luck today.”

Harry’s teasing expression melted into one of fondness. “Oh?”

“Yes.” At Harry’s expectant look, he continued somewhat awkwardly, “So… good luck.”

“I think it’s tradition to give the champion you’re rooting for a good luck kiss.” Harry winked at him.

Draco gaped at Harry, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Color bloomed high on Harry’s cheeks, and his expression turned sheepish.

“Is that a no?”

Somehow, Draco managed to regain his composure. He straightened, looking imperiously down his nose at Harry. “I only give out kisses to champions who win.”

Draco meant it as a joke, but Harry sobered immediately. He looked at Draco with such determination that he was tempted to take a step back.

“Then I’ll see you tonight with the Cup in my hands.”

Before Draco could even think of responding to that statement that Harry made with such confidence, Harry was spinning on his heel and stalking back to the waiting Weasleys. Draco walked back to his dorm in a daze, preparing for that evening without thinking. He followed his friends down to the Quidditch pitch, splitting off from them to find Ulrich in the crowd.

Draco spotted Ulrich in the stands, his friend waving to him, and he quickly weaved his way around the fellow onlookers to take the spot next to him. He slumped onto the hard wood with a sigh, sending a smile Ulrich’s way which he returned. The excitement of the crowd was reflected in its volume, and Draco had to lean in and yell to be heard as they discussed the task before them.

Soon, the champions were brought out with their headmasters, and Draco waved at both Harry and Viktor. They were sent off one by one into the maze, and everyone began to chat amongst themselves about who they thought would win.

Draco felt his chest tighten, and he said, “They’re the ones competing. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Ulrich smiled. ”It’s because you care. Don’t worry, I’m nervous, too.”

The air grew more strained after Fleur was ejected from the maze and taken away. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they waited to see who would be out of the running next. Viktor appeared next, disoriented. Draco felt torn between relief and disappointment. Relief that Viktor was okay and Harry still might win, and disappointment that his friend had lost. It was down to two, and Draco could hear his blood thrumming in his ears.

Then came Cedric. Ignoring the cheers of the crowd and the shakiness of his legs, he rushed over to Dumbledore and spoke to him in frantic words that were lost to the noise of the crowd. Dumbledore was soon joined by McGonagall and Snape, their heads bending together as they spoke, occasionally glancing at the maze. Draco felt dread begin to pool in his stomach. Harry was the last one in the maze. He should be the winner, so where was he?

”It shouldn’t take this long.” Draco turned to Ulrich with wide eyes. ”Why is it taking this long?”

“Maybe he simply hasn’t found the Cup yet. I’m sure he’s fine,” but he didn’t sound too sure.

Minutes continued to tick by with no end. Finally, finally, Harry appeared with the Cup. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Draco knew something was wrong. Harry was kneeling on the ground, holding onto the Cup limply with one arm. The other was gushing blood, the sleeve of his shirt torn to reveal a long, deep cut down the entirety of his forearm. One of his legs was bent at an odd angle, and Draco felt his stomach roil dangerously at the sight.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape rushed forward. When Harry finally lifted his head, Draco could see even from a distance that there were fresh tear tracks cutting through the dirt on his cheeks. The crowd seemed to falter at the serious display in front of them, and above the din, Harry spoke words that chilled Draco to the core.

“He’s back. Voldemort’s back.”

The crowd let out a collective gasp, someone even going so far as to let out a scream. Dumbledore motioned for Mad-Eye Moody to take Harry away as he tried to calm the anxious crowd. Draco watched as Mad-Eye carried Harry off of the pitch, wishing that he could talk to him. Eventually, they were all escorted back to their dorms and placed under a strict curfew. Students gathered in the common room to discuss all that had happened, but Draco hurried up to his bed and closed the curtains behind him. He would have to talk to Harry tomorrow and make sure that he was okay. Sleep evaded him that night, the image of Harry bleeding and broken haunting him every time he closed his eyes. As soon as it was a respectable hour, Draco dressed himself quickly and rushed to the Hospital Wing.

Harry was lying on a cot, his color much better than it had been the night before. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and took Harry’s hand in his, watching his peaceful face until he awoke.

“Draco?”

He squeezed Harry’s hand. “Yes, Harry. I’m here.”

His heart clenched painfully as Harry began to cry. He didn’t sob, but his entire body shook as tears fell silently down his face. Without thinking, Draco pulled him into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on his back and cooing comforting words in his ear.

When he calmed enough to speak, he told Draco of everything that had happened: the Cup being a portkey, the graveyard, Voldemort rising, seeing the ghosts of his parents. He talked about how Moody was supposed to take him to Madame Pomfrey but had led him to his office instead. How Moody had seemed morbidly interested in Voldemort and the Death Eaters. How Moody claimed to have helped Harry win the tournament and admitted to cursing Viktor. How he was secretly Barty Crouch Jr. and was going to kill Harry until the professors rushed in and stopped him. Draco held him through it all, conjuring some water when Harry began to grow hoarse.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Harry.”

There was a pause before Harry said, “There’s something else.”

Draco nodded, though he realized Harry couldn’t see his face from where he had his tucked into Draco’s chest. “What is it?”

“Your father… he was at the graveyard.”

Draco snorted, causing Harry to glance up at him in surprise. “I could’ve told you that.”

“Draco, this is serious!” Harry’s voice was stern. “I’m scared for you.”

Warmth bloomed in Draco’s chest, and he rested his check against Harry’s head. “If it makes you feel any better, my mother is leaving my father, and we’re spending the summer in France to be away from him.

“That does make me feel better, actually.” Harry sighed, sinking a bit more heavily into Draco before pulling back enough to give him a watery smile. “Do winning champions still get kisses if they’re all snotty and gross?”

Draco laughed, using the sleeve of his robe to dry Harry’s tears and wipe under his nose. Distantly, he thought that his mother would’ve had a fit if she saw him do that. He ignored the thought and tilted Harry’s chin up, giving him a warm smile.

“Yes, they do.”

Their first kiss was short and chaste, nothing much more than a pressing together of lips, but it left Draco lightheaded anyway. When Draco slowly sat back, he found it adorable that Harry’s eyes were still closed. His eyelids fluttered open, and he smiled dazedly.

“That was worth the wait.”

Draco grinned as Harry swayed in to try and kiss him again, moving just out of reach. At Harry’s frown, Draco chuckled. “Patients need their rest, and you’re not the only champion I need to check in with today.”

Harry frowned but waved him away, and Draco set off to find Viktor. He was down by the lake, watching the water with vacant eyes, when Draco came across him.

”Viktor?” He spoke softly, but his friend still startled. When he saw Draco, he visibly relaxed.

”Draco. What are you doing up so early?”

“I was visiting Harry in the Hospital Wing. He told me what happened in the maze.” He intentionally left out the name of the curse in case it upset Viktor. ”How are you doing?”

Viktor sighed, tightening the hold his arms had around his knees. ”I was cursed. They wanted me to take out the other champions, and no matter how much I screamed and fought inside my mind, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I used an Unforgivable in the maze, Draco. I tortured Diggory.”

Draco raised a hand to comfort his friend but let it drop when Viktor flinched. ”I can’t imagine how that felt. I’m so sorry, Viktor.”

He shrugged, keeping his gaze out on the water. ”I plan to apologize to Diggory today and accept whatever punishment I am given.”

“I don’t think Diggory is the vindictive type, especially if he knows you were cursed. It wasn’t as if you were doing those things because you wanted to.”

Viktor shrugged again, and silence fell over them. Eventually, Draco stood, motioning for Viktor to do the same.

”It’s about time for breakfast. I’m sure Diggory will be in the Great Hall, and you can apologize there.”

Viktor nodded and stood, and the pair walked back to the castle. Viktor broke off to talk to Diggory, and Draco watched from his place at the Slytherin table. When he saw them shake hands, Draco finally allowed himself to serve up a plate and dig in.

Soon, the year was ending, and everyone was readying themselves to return home. Everyone gathered in the courtyard to wish the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students farewell, and Draco was no exception. He pushed through groups of hugging and crying friends until he found Ulrich and Viktor, flashing them both a bright smile as he handed them each a slip of paper.

”That’s the address of where I’m staying in France this summer. I expect weekly letters from both of you.” Draco looked at them sternly, pleased when they both chuckled at his antics.

”Of course, Draco. I’d be worried you’d come all the way to Durmstrang to yell at us if we didn’t.” Ulrich smiled, both boys giving Draco their own addresses.

Viktor shuddered.. ”I can see it now. Draco bursting in and dragging us out by our ears.”

“Oh, hush.” Draco smacked his friend lightly on the arm, grinning. After a minute of looking at the pair, he was hit with the reality that they would be departing momentarily. He sobered slightly, fidgeting with his sleeve as he said, ”You know, meeting you both was the highlight of my year.”

Draco glanced up when a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder. His friends were grinning from ear to ear, and as their headmaster gave the final call for Durmstrang students to board their ship, he was pulled into a bone crushing hug, Ulrich on one side and Viktor on the other.

”We’ll miss you,” Ulrich said as he pulled back, and Draco was unable to return the sentiment due to the emotion clogging his throat.

He waved as his friends disappeared out of sight, sighing to himself as he turned around to find his fellow Slytherins. Together, they boarded the Hogwarts Express and chatted about their plans for the summer once they had claimed a compartment. Draco let his gaze unfocus as he stared out the compartment window, sitting up a bit straighter when Harry walked by. They exchanged small waves, and Pansy shot him a knowing look which Draco dutifully ignored. Though he and Harry had kissed, they hadn’t spoken about what that meant for them. He frowned slightly to himself, letting his mind drift to the sound of his friends’ conversations, thinking over everything that happened over the past several months. It had certainly been a wild ride.

He was certainly nervous to see what fifth year had in store for him, but as the train began to move, Draco felt that he couldn’t wait to come back.