Chapter Text
Draco is glad that the week passes by quickly. He’s rarely burdened by his friends who’ve taken to smoking under a tree on the outskirts of the forbidden forest or in Blaise’s dorm room. That’s left him to his solitude making his potions. Luna stops by but never for long, besides she’s always giving him sideways looks, saying things without saying them. It puts him on edge. Being alone was almost worse though, the quiet deafening. His decision to move his record player there is the only reason he’d spoken to Potter since the picnic. He’d been packing up the player and lining up some records to take when the messy brunette had stumbled into the room.
Draco had been unable to avoid give him a glance upon entrance. Maybe if he had, Potter wouldn’t have asked, “What album is that? Looks familiar.”
“None of your business, Potter,” Draco hears himself saying, but he’s too busy trying to hide away his prize possessions. A lot of his things had been destroyed with the rebuking of the manor, so the few things he holds onto are everything. Of course, Potter doesn’t respect that.
“Why are you still being so bitter? Lighten up,” Potter reaches over and snatches up the album he’d been looking at. Draco immediately tries to take it back but misses when the boy holds it up higher. He reads the name, “Duran Duran. What does that mean?”
“Do I have to explain everything to you?” Draco snaps, gripping Potter's shirt tightly to pull his arm back down.
“Hey!” The git yelps, grabbing Draco back and trying to give him a shove. Of course, this starts a near wrestling match with Draco trying desperately to get his album while landing as many punches as possible while Potter holds the album tightly, not letting him get close enough, “Stop fighting me!”
“Then give me the record, you arse ,” Draco lands a punch to the gut and Potter loses his grip for a moment. Before Draco can grab the record though, Potter grabs him and they tilt. Balance is eventually lost all together and they collapse with a thud. Draco takes the opportunity to kick Potter before snatching the vinyl for once and for all.
He stands and dusts himself off, tucking the album into his satchel with the portable record player and other albums. When he turns, Potter is watching him from the floor. He scowls and spits, “What?”
“Where are you taking it?” Potter questions.
“Excuse me?” Draco is taken aback.
“The record player, where are you taking it?”
“Bold of you to assume I’d tell you,” Draco huffs, turning away. He’s wasted enough time exchanging useless words and insults with him, he needed his peace. When it was just him, alone, things were always less complicated.
“Okay, keep being a git then,” Potter scoffs.
“Yeah, I will keep being a git until you get it into your head that I’m not your little Slytherin project and I’m not going to be your friend. The war has changed me, for better or for worse and I don’t hate you but I don’t like you either and that isn’t changing,” Draco says with finality.
“Why not?” Potter somewhat pleads, “Why can’t we be amicable like the others?”
“We’re not like the others!” Draco blusters, “You think nothing of me so why do you need me to like you so badly? You have everyone on your side, everyone . How are you so greedy you still want more.”
“You don’t understand! I have found no closure over this war, none,” The boy takes a second to rub his forehead, the spot where his scar ripples under his skin, “Maybe I do see you as a project but it’s not for greed it’s more…well, I want to move on and us having this grudge doesn’t feel like moving on!”
“I don’t know what to say,” Draco manages, looking down at his clenched pale fists. He hates to admit that he understands where The Chosen One is coming from. In some ways, things feel like a new beginning. Seeing the Gryffindors befriend the Slytherins, laughter in corridors people used to cower, and sun poking through a window when thoughts get too dark. Times are changing once again and Draco can’t stay in the past, even when it haunts his nights and the crevices of his mind when he lets his guard down too far. People around him are happy, they want to move on. It makes him think of Pansy. He glances up at Potter who’s frowning behind his glasses.
“Just say you’ll try,” He murmurs. But Draco can’t. Befriending The Saviour isn’t going to help him move on, and even if it would he doesn’t think he has the strength too. When everything in his life is changing, can this one thing not stay the same? Stay familiar?
“I- no.” Draco says. The brunette tries to object but he repeats more firmly, “No. It’s too complicated. It’s just too much!” That’s when he left. Draco had made sure they didn’t see each other again after that until it was unavoidable: Friday, last period. Unity Studies. This period was going to be another challenge which meant being uncomfortably close with Potter and Draco knew it could only end badly.
“Today’s lesson will be a little different,” Professor McGongall spares no time once the class is seated, she waves her wand absently and notes appear on the chalkboard, “We will be doing an exercise to practise using magical harmony. When magical signatures have good chemistry and can work together, witches and wizards are able to command stronger magic. That is what you will need to do with your partners today in order to succeed.”
On the board, her notes outline a task where a pair will be trapped in a room unable to escape until they are able to harmonize their magic and work a solution to escape. There are a mixture of responses around the room from excitement to apprehension.
“So it’s like a riddle, Professor?” Blaise questions, raising his hand from where he sits beside Pansy and Draco.
“Precisely,” Professor McGonagall smiles, “A riddle that requires teamwork.” She marches to the side of the room and waves her wand once more so a set of doors appear along the wall, “Each of these numbered doors contains a different puzzle and I’ve assigned one to each of you, get into your pairs please and I’ll direct you to your door.”
The room erupts into noise as everyone bustles to find their partners. Draco groans and Pansy squeezes his shoulder mildly, “You’ll live, Draco. Good luck!” Then, she’s rushing off to join Hermione (looking all too pleased to be stuck in a room with her, Draco thinks bitterly). Potter approaches him looking almost as dismayed as he does himself.
“Going to cooperate, Malfoy?” He dares say, giving Draco’s lanky form a once over. He feels his cheeks heat, “The more you listen, the faster we get out.”
“Bold of you to assume I’d listen to someone as dense as you,” Draco spits, rising from his seat and barging past the bespeckled git, “If anything you should be the one listening to me .”
Potter bristles but doesn’t reply as he follows Draco across the room to where Professor McGonagall is leading pairs to doors. Most pairs have already disappeared, including Pansy and Hermione. Draco wonders faintly what pair will get out first. He’s got no doubt that they’ll be the last. They’re the last to go in at least, Blaise and Luna looking determined as they enter the second to last door ahead of them. Then, McGongall glances their way.
“Ah, boys,” She looks strained, “I want no messing around. Make peace with each other, for the love of Circe. I will be monitoring every room so if there’s any dueling or hexing I will know immediately, don’t even try it.” She gives them both a look daring them to argue before waving a hand to the far door, “You’re on the end there.”
Begrudgingly, Draco makes his way to the door. He opens it more roughly than he intends, his rage getting the better of him and it bangs against the wall as he enters. Potter scoffs at him but Draco ignores it, marching into the room dimly lit by candlelight with an unsure feeling settling in his chest. The room is reasonably small, easily claustrophobic, and has stone walls etched with runes. Draco can piece together that it says something along the lines of ‘With harmony, the way opens’. It makes him shudder. Especially once Potter closes the door with a resounding click that reminds them that they’re trapped.
Potter is the first to break the silence, “You take runes, what does it say?”
Draco doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want to play nice and talk to Potter like he’s actually a person, but when he eyes the runes all he can think about his how he needs to get out of this tiny room, “‘With harmony, the way opens’”
“So, we have to work together,” Potter says tightly.
“Way to spell it out,” Draco can’t help the snappy comment. It fills him with a sense of normalcy and almost helps him calm down when he sees a glare from Potter right on cue. He doesn’t take the bait though, gritting his jaw and turning to observe the runes some more. Draco assumes he’s not really doing much, just looking for an excuse for a distraction.
Sighing, Draco looks to the runes as well, reading them over and over. He runs his fingers over the engraved lines and the different stones, wondering if there’s a key to it somehow. He feels almost ready to give up already, Potter’s presence heavy on the other side of the room, when he spots a stone sticking out on an odd angle. He presses it and it shifts slightly. At the same time, Potter gasps from across the room.
“One of the stones just shifted on this wall,” He says, turning to look at Draco, “Did you do something?”
“There’s a stone that moves on this wall too,” Draco admits.
“We must need to move them at the same time, if this is suppose to be team work it makes sense since one person can’t press both together,” Potter decides. It makes enough sense and Draco is willing to try anything so he nods.
On the count of three, they both press their corresponding stones. Both of them sink into the wall with a clunk, causing the back wall to split in half and reveal another section to the room. It’s not empty either, it has -
“Instruments?” Potter laughs, bewildered, and the sound makes Draco’s stomach stir. He’s rooted to the spot as he watches the other boy approach the instruments in a row including a piano, harp, guitar and flute. He immediately sits at the piano stool and presses a key lightly, “I always wanted to learn an instrument, pretty cool how an object can make music. It’s magic without actual magic, oh look at this wall. It has more runes,” He gets up, excitedly pacing past the instruments, “Malfoy, stop being useless and read this.”
He rolls his eyes, but wanders over, running a hand along the dusty piano as he passes. The passage is wordy and a little difficult to translate. With a frown, he says, “It’s talking about the resonance of unity and …music as the bridge to- of harmony between divided…” He pauses, “Souls.”
“So we’re starting a band?” Potter wonders, glancing over at the instruments again. Draco watches him, so bewildered by the comment that he laughs. This gains an odd look from the brunette which causes Draco to flush and clear his throat. Potter scoffs, “What’s funny?”
“Your stupidity surprised me, is all,” Draco says lightly.
Potter turns away, taking his turn to flush, “I don’t have any other answers alright? The rune says magical harmony, there’s instruments, what explanation do you have?”
“Well,” Draco starts, looking around the room blankly. When he thinks about it, he doesn’t have an explanation either. Instead, he turns harshly to the brunette, “It’s not as if we could start a band, you can’t play any instrument.”
“And?” He sniffs, crossing his arms defiantly, “I could…sing! Yeah, chicks love lead singers.”
“You’re already the Saviour of the Wizarding World and now you want to be the lead singer of some Muggle band?” Draco snorts and gives a slow, mocking round of applause, “Bravo!”
“You can’t say shit, Malfoy,” Potter seethes, “You love muggle bands, you can’t even deny it.”
Draco’s at a loss with that, gaping angrily at the boy in front of him. He wants nothing more than to close the gap between them and wrap his fingers deftly around Potter’s throat, “I swear to god, Potter.” He starts marching towards him and Potter tries to stand tall, still failing to match Draco’s height to the blonde's satisfaction. Draco’s about to relish a punch to Potter’s jaw when McGonagall's intimidating voice booms around the room.
“Don’t even think about it!” She snaps, “Magical harmony does not come from fighting!”
Draco stops short, swearing and slumping down at the piano. Potter does a similar move, walking across the room kicking his sneaker along the floor. He looks between the remaining instruments, thinking and Draco taps his foot impatiently. He leans his forehead against the piano, feeling a headache beginning. It’s so hard to get along with the beef-headed git. Draco gives him a sidelong glance. He’s plucking the harp’s strings absently and the blonde feels his stomach clench. He remembers Potter’s words from earlier Going to cooperate, Malfoy? He grits his teeth and calls, reluctantly, “What songs do you know, Potter?”
“Huh?” The boy looks up, baffled.
“Don’t make me ask again,” Draco sits up tall, pretending he’s back at Malfoy Manor, sitting before his Mother in the parlor ready to play her whatever she chooses to relieve her mind, “Pick a song.”
“Erm, maybe one from your Muggle records?” Potter suggests and Draco looks up sharply, expecting an insult but the brunette looks oddly sincere, “I don’t know much wizard music.”
“Right, well what Muggle music do you know then?”
“I know The Cranberries, should we do one of their songs?”
Draco hums and closes his eyes, trying to remember the chords to one of their songs. He places his fingers on the cold keys and presses a few keys until he feels a rhythm set in and the tune takes place. Satisfied, he opens his eyes and focuses on his fingers dancing along the piano, the opening to ‘Linger’ forming. He glances at Potter who’s watching him across the room, raising an eyebrow, “Do you know this one then?”
He nods, a little baffled, but instead of singing he asks, “You play piano?”
“Obviously,” Draco mutters, continuing to play to distract himself from the fact he's conversing politely with the person he’s supposed to be keeping at a distance, “My mother taught me, she was fond of muggle music of course when she knew my father wasn’t home.”
“She’s different to him, isn’t she,” Potter muses, and when Draco looks into the green eyes behind his glasses, he believes he’s being genuine, “She saved me.” Draco thinks about his first comment, how right he is. His mother was a victim to the war and Voldemort more so than many, having him in her house and being handed abuse from him and her asswipe of a husband.
Draco doesn’t pause his playing as he simply says, “Yes and why she saved you, I have no idea.”
Potter just smiles weakly, “Whatever, I know exactly why she helped me. Do you know what she asked me? She asked if you were alive. When I nodded, that’s when she lied and said I was dead. She loves you more than she hates me.”
Draco just scoffs, “She doesn’t hate you, she wouldn’t spare you if she did. She wanted the war to end just like everyone else and if that meant you being the vessel…well.”
“That’s all I am, isn’t it?” Potter scoffs morbidly and it’s his frown that makes Draco finally stutter to a pause, the piano stopping with an abrupt wrong chord. The boy who lived continues, “I have always been a means to an end. I wasn’t even supposed to live, did you know that? I..I died! And now I’m back and, fuck, Hermione’s off smoking with you Slytherins and Ron doesn’t half mind Zabini’s company and I don’t even know what to do with myself!” He grips his hair in his hands and groans, “Why am I telling you this?”
“I don’t know,” Draco mutters, “You should know by now I’m the last person who will offer you pity,” He pauses, giving a glance at the clearly turmoiled Gryfindor, “I thought you’d be happy, if I’m honest. You’re a victor, you beat The Dark Lord and you’re arguably the strongest wizard alive. If anything you’re ungrateful.”
Potter just scoffs, “You don’t know me, Malfoy, you don’t know the half of it.”
“Like you’d ever tell me anyways,” Draco murmurs, unable to look at the other boy. His presence just across from him is enough, his magic signature and bravado so impossible to ignore.
“I might if I thought you weren’t going to be an arse about it,” Potter admits with a crooked look, “But that’s unlikely isn’t it?”
Draco manages a small smile, “Very.”
Potter actually grins back and then looks down sheepishly, “I’d like to see things from your perspective, honestly. I’ve met some dark, dark people. Heartless monsters, not even people really,” He sniffs and looks away, “I don’t think you’re one of them, annoying, yes, and a total git, of course, but you’re a pain at worst. I want to know why you did what you did. You’re not the only one who…” The boy bites his lip, pained, “Made mistakes.”
Draco gives a little sigh, at a loss. He really didn’t expect today to end up being a confession session with Harry bloody Potter, “I need a drink.”
“Here here,” Potter mutters, giving Draco a glance, “Play the piano, I’ll sing. Then, we can get the hell out of here.”
“There has to be something else to it though, the other instruments..” Draco looks at the flute, harp and guitar. It clicks into place and he suddenly understands their task, “The runes, they’re a charm to make the instruments play. We both have to sing, I think.”
“That would make sense, do we have to cast at the same time as well?” He questions to which Draco nods. And that’s how they end up standing shoulder to shoulder, wands raised and directed at the instruments as they simultaneously cast. It’s odd, Draco thinks, feeling his own magic and Potter’s mixing and coming together to cast the spell. He feels Potter’s magic relying on his and his own magic leaning right back. Odd indeed.
Once the instruments start playing, Linger feels less like a melody off a piano and more like a song forming. All it needs is the lyrics. Draco meets Potter’s eye and they both flush, realising what they have to do. Draco turns away, “Let’s go back to back, I can’t take your ugly mug seriously.”
“I’ll have you know this ugly mug has been on the cover of Witches Weekly many times.”
“Okay, show off,” Draco mutters and he hates that he feels himself grinning, “ Sing .”
He’s stunned when Potter has a melodic voice, though he supposes he shouldn’t be. The boy seems to have the knack of being good at anything he decides to try. It takes a second for Draco to get over his surprise before he can join in, singing along with his nemesis until the door on the far wall makes a cheerful clicking sound and swings open. Draco feels almost drowned in relief and they both run for the door, neither stopping their enthusiastic singing until they’ve thrust themselves back into the classroom. They land in a pile on the floor before an impressed looking Professor McGonagall.
Draco scrambles off the floor, giving Potter a slight shove. He stands before the professor but looks around the empty room, confused, “Where are the others? Did we fail so badly that they’ve all left?”
“No, the opposite. You two are the first out,” McGongall explains, sounding even more surprised than Draco feels, “A miracle, I know. See how well you two can get along when you put your issues aside?” She looks between them both meaningfully. Draco gives the brunette a glance. His green eyes flash with something but Draco doesn’t know what, either way it makes his chest tighten in an odd way.
“I suppose, professor,” Potter offers and Draco looks down at his feet, unsure. Luckily, it’s then that Hermione and Pansy burst through their door, laughing and looking overjoyed at their success. They bound through with what looks like rose petals falling out at their feet after them. Draco realises they’re holding hands as Hermione snatches hers away and scratches the back of her neck. She looks shy for a second before she realises that they’re the only ones in the room, then it’s her turn to be surprised.
“Did you two finish first ?” She grins widely, “Harry, I’m so proud of you!”
Potter looks bashful, but Draco isn’t worried about that. He’s staring at Pansy who is giving him an embarrassed and shell-shocked expression. She must know that Draco will be unforgiving in questioning her.
“They did remarkably well, and so did you ladies,” Professor McGonagall praises them, “Your whole group has done wonderfully. In fact, you four may go early if you wish. Just make sure you’ve written a follow up essay on today’s exercise by our next lesson.”
It takes no other word for Draco to grab Pansy’s arm and drag her out of class. They’re barely down the corridor when Draco is demanding, “You better start talking!”
Pansy is sour, crossing her arms and lifts her chin, “About what?”
Draco gives her an incredulous look as they march back to the common room, “About the fact that you were holding hands with Hermione Granger . Did something happen in there? Is this more of last time because Pansy this isn’t-”
“It’s not what you think, alright! We had to hold hands to solve the puzzle. We’re not-” She blushes furiously and turns away, “We’re not going back to where we were, that’s for sure.”
“So you didn’t snog to open the door?”
“Of course not!” Pansy snaps, her wild temper flaring. Draco’s almost missed it, “It was a charmed room, it looked like a garden. We realised we had to be physically touching to communicate with the plants and escape.”
“So holding hands was the answer to the puzzle?” Draco tries not to laugh.
“Like you can talk, how did you and Potter escape? You both looked rather flustered and Old McGonagall was very pleased.”
Draco flushes, wondering how she’s turned the tables so easily, “We had to sing, alright? An enchanted room with runes and bits, it was stupid if anything.”
“I’m sure you thought hearing Potter’s sweet voice was stupid. Did you play your muggle music for him on the piano? Look into his soulful eyes?” Pansy teases as they round the last corner before their dormitories.
“You held Granger’s hand,” Draco reminds her dangerously.
“What? So you’re allowed to sing love ballads with Potter but I’m not allowed to hold a pretty girl's hand?” They enter through the portrait, still bickering.
“Ah, so you admit you think she’s pretty,” Draco gives her a triumphant look but when she looks defeated he can’t help but have sympathy for her, “Pansy…She’s not just a pretty girl, she’s Hermione Granger and, I mean, if it didn’t work out then-”
“Stop, Draco. Please, I just-” She looks close to tears which is so atypical for her that Draco does relent. Her voice ends in a whisper, “I can’t right now.”
This is when Blaise somehow breaks through the portrait hole behind them, waving an amber bottle, “Want to get messy tonight?” Pansy’s look of sadness switches so quickly to a devilish grin that Draco should be concerned. She and Blaise look at him expectantly and he can only sigh. How Blaise got back from class so fast and with a bottle of liquor, Malfoy will never know, but he will know why he has a disastrous headache the next morning.