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Amortentia  (4)

Harry and Ron running late to class wasn’t an unusual occurrence. They had Potions that morning, so Hermione hadn’t even tried  waiting in the Common Room for the pair. She knew all too well about the “scenic” route the Gryffindors liked to take while on their way to the dungeons. The last time they’d fooled her into accompanying them, Harry had stopped to have a conversation with a portrait for ten minutes and Ron had tried to drag them into the Great Hall again because--

“They’re serving the nice toast today, Mione!”

“...”

“I swear on my wand, they used the expensive bread, tell her Harry-!.”

“Ronald-”

“He has a point, Mione. Maybe we should…?”

“For the love of-Not you too Harry!”

So, when Harry burst into the classroom, glasses askew and hair even wilder than usual, Hermione barely flinched. She even tried stifling a sigh, and then a laugh , as Ron accidentally ran into Harry from behind, jolting the two forward and making them bump into Professor Snape, who stood glaring down at the pair with a fiercely unamused expression on his face. 

It was one of the rare times where his irritated, “Ten points from Gryffindor” was warranted. 

Both Slytherins and Griffyndors alike started snickering as Harry and Ron took their usual walk of shame to the back of the classroom to gather the ingredients for the potion they’d be making today. 

Unfortunately…. “Mr. Weasely, Mr. Potter, you’re later than usual. You’ll be grouped, separately, with those who are close to finishing.” Snape drawled over the low hum of students working about. He pointed a crooked finger at Ron. “You, with Miss Granger and Miss Patil.” 

Ron sent Hermione and Parvati a sheepish smile as he ambled over to their station. The pair assigned him stirring duty, and Hermione made it very clear that he was not to touch anything. 

“But-”

“I love you Ron, but if you mess this potion up for Parvati and me, you’ll find more comfort in giant spiders than I, after I’m done with you.” 

“And you,” If one looked close enough, they’d be able to see the barest hints of a sinister smile on Snape’s otherwise stone-like expression. “With them.”

Harry followed the direction of Snape’s hand and couldn’t help the small pitiful groan he allowed himself. Draco was looking at Snape with something akin to betrayal, and Pansy- -who had been letting Draco do a majority of the work while she dozed off with her eyes open-- looked thoroughly entertained. 

Harry tried to suppress a shudder as he entered “snake-infested” territory. Truthfully, most of the Slytherins simply glanced at him uninterestedly and looked away. There was a faint sneer-- Theodore Nott-- or quiet taunt-- Blaise Zabini-- every-now-and-then, but for the most part, it was alright...so far...

“Malfoy…” Harry mumbled in a semblance of a greeting. He leaned against their table because there were no stools to spare.

“Potter.” Draco was measuring the last bits of pearl dust needed for the potion. Harry suddenly realized he had no clue what they were supposed to be brewing-- Snape, likely out of spite, had erased the chalkboard before Harry and Ron had arrived. 

“Parkinson.”

Harry and Draco halted their impromptu staring match to squint at her. 

“What?” Pansy shrugged, but she was smirking. “I thought we were introducing ourselves.” 

“I’ve known you for a decade, and Potter here has been famous since birth.” Draco drawled. “There’s no need for introductions.”

Pansy raised her hands in mock surrender. 

“Potter, your assistance will not be required. Just stand there and try not to explode anything or set anything on fire.” Draco added the pearl dust into the cauldron and began to stir. He fixed Harry with a taunting look. “Can you manage to do that? For the next ten minutes?”

Harry’s eye twitched. 

“I dunno Malfoy, can you manage not to be a git for the next five?”

Draco’s eye twitched as well. His knuckles seemed to be turning white as his grip tightened on the ladle. Before he could humor Harry with a snappy retort, the Gryfindor turned towards Pansy. 

“So you’ve known him for over a decade.” Harry pretended to be deep in thought and then lowered his voice to a false whisper. “Has he always been such a prick?”

Pansy’s laughter echoed throughout the classroom, and Snape looked conflicted between taking points off his house or letting it be-- he chose the latter, of course. 

“My my. Draco, you never told me Potter was this funny-!”

Draco remained silent, but both of his eyes were twitching now. 

Pansy laughed again, quieter this time. “To answer your question, yes--”

“I’m not surprised-”

“Piss off, Potter.” 

Draco finally did look at him, glaring directly into his eyes. Harry’s laughter caught in his throat. Whatever snarky retort he’d been preparing to say immediately died in his throat. 

Harry could never admit it aloud, but for some reason, his eyes, Malfoy’s eyes, felt like a source of familiarity, dare he say comfort. No matter whether they were bickering at each other in the corridors or trash-talking each other on the Quidditch field, no matter whether they were first years or sixth, Malfoy’s eyes were always that same stormy gray. 

Pansy, who had been looking back and forth between the pair, eventually coughed loudly into the sleeve of her robes, alerting the two the potion was done. 

The potion was bright pink and looked very familiar, but Harry couldn’t put his tongue on the name. 

Draco, on the other hand, had been far too thrown off and flustered by the Golden Boy that he’d forgotten what he’d been brewing in the first place. 

To try and discern what it was, Harry leaned forward and took a huge whiff. 

“Ugh!” Harry made a show of recoiling from the cauldron .

“What?” Malfoy snapped. He was practically Snape’s apprentice. His potions skills were second only to Granger-- something he was averse to admitting. 

“I don’t think you’ve brewed it correctly,” Harry admitted, wrinkling his nose. 

Draco scoffed, unimpressed, “Potter. Do you really think I would take potions advice from you?”

Harry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Well if you think it’s so perfect why don’t you smell it? Oh, wait. You wouldn’t be able to because it reeks of your bloody shampoo!”

If either of the two had been more perceptive, they would’ve heard Pansy choke in the background, and notice that they now had the rest of the classes’ attention-- even Snape’s. 

Draco, clearly irritated, took in a whiff of the potion as well. “Are you nose-blind Potter? How could you expect to smell anything correctly over that horrid cologne?”

“W-what?!” Harry squawked indignantly, “What cologne?” 

“The one that you wear every single day!” Malfoy took a step away from the potion and scowled at it and then at Harry. “Did you take a bath in it today or something?”

“Oh bugger Malfoy! You’re the one with the broken nose.” Harry insisted, passionately. “It’s your stupid posh shampoo! Where do you buy it from? The muggle queen? Dunno why I couldn’t smell it before, I’ll bet all of England could smell it from here! And besides, I woke up late today. I didn’t even wear cologne-”

“Well Potter, shampoos like mine are expensive. I couldn’t possibly use it every day in good faith, so you’re nose must be broken, because I didn’t use any today--”

“Well, neither did I !”

Draco opened his mouth to ridicule Harry for his horrible sense of smell, but Pansy, finally taking pity on him , nudged him in the elbow. He paused, glaring at her, and then realized he and Harry were the center of the class’s attention. 

Without batting an eye, Snape directed a question at Hermione. “Miss Granger, explain the function of the potion we brewed today.”

Hermione cleared her throat and sent a confused Harry a sympathetic look. 

“Er, well, the potion we brewed today is called “Amortentia”. It’s hailed as the most powerful love potion in existence.” Her voice wavered a bit on the next part, “It...smells different to every person...depending on what attracts them most…”

“Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Harry felt like rubbing his ears to make sure he’d heard her correctly. 

He heard a faint, “Bloody hell” from a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ron’s in the background. Slowly, he felt the tips of his ears turn crimson. 

Draco looked as pale as a ghost, almost as mortified as Harry felt. 

Then, as if he hadn’t just humiliated Harry and Draco in front of the entire class, Snape dismissed the potions lesson, leaving Slytherins and Gryffindors to frantically whisper to each other as they filed out of the class. 

Harry remained at the table, frozen and mortified. 

Draco looked much of the same.

  “Harry! Harry!” Ron came rushing over. He grabbedHarry’s wrist in one hand and Hermione’s in the other. Harry studiously kept his eyes forward and away from the Slytherin as he was pulled away by his friends. “Harry, we need to get you to the infirmary! Or better yet, St. Mungos! There’s no way you could be attracted to Malfoy, right?!”

Hermione flicked Ron on the back of his neck for his lack of tact. “Harry…?”

“Right…” Harry agreed, weakly. There was no way... Right?  “There’s no way…”

Patronus (1)

“Potter--”

“Malfoy.”

“...”

“...”

“Potter the longer you stare at the damn thing,” Draco aggressively jutted his wand towards the wardrobe standing in front of them, “The longer I’ve to spend here with you.”

Harry shot him a dirty look. “We wouldn’t have to be here at all if it weren’t for you .”

Draco scoffed, his voice taking on a tone that reminded Harry of all the times in their first year at Hogwarts when the Slytherin would threaten him with hexes... or his father wrath. “Perhaps that scar on your head is more than just a ghastly decoration. Perhaps it truly is messing with your brain, because if I can recall correctly, you jumped me first-”

“You called me a ‘rat-brained tosser’ and tripped me on my way to my seat before I even said a word!”

“It was my way of greeting you.” Somehow Malfoy made that sound genuine which made Harry want to hex him all the more. 

Professor Lupin, however, had been… unimpressed, with their little display earlier. Since their impromptu scuffle had disrupted the class, Remus had made them return to the ‘Defense’ classroom after-hours to review the lesson he’d planned earlier for that day: Defense against Boggarts. 

Harry knew he’d have better luck negotiating with a pile of dirt rather than Malfoy, but he was put into the ‘House of the Brave’ for a reason, so he at least had to try. “Say, Malfoy...You and I could just tell Professor Lupin we practiced and then take this night off…?” His voice took on a hopeful tone. 

Malfoy raised a single pale eyebrow and that was enough to shatter Harry’s hopes and dreams. He mumbled something under his breath. 

“What was that?” Malfoy hissed. 

“I said I forgot you’re just a spiteful version of Hermione.”

“That mud-...” Draco backtracked at the warning look on Harry’s face. “That muggle-born and I have nothing in common.” He amended. 

“Sure you do!” Harry had no idea why he was having a full-blown conversation with Draco Malfoy , his mutual enemy-- enemy seemed a bit harsh, "rival" was likely better . But if “small-talk” would allow him to procrastinate opening the wardrobe and releasing the Boggart, then he had no qualms about it.

...Surprisingly enough, speaking to Malfoy like this wasn’t the most painful thing on Earth….

“Oh?” Malfoy fixed Harry with a look. “Do go on Potter. I'm dying to hear more.” The sarcasm was dripping off of his words, but nonetheless, Harry complied. 

“Well, you’re both insanely smart for starters.” He missed the way Draco’s eyes seemed to widen at that. “Driven. Ambitious. Annoyingly perceptive--did you know that you two are the only ones that can tell when I’m up to something? It’s terrifying really. Honestly, if she loved books a little more than adventure and if you were way less of a git, I think you’d both do well in Ravenclaw together.”

As Harry spoke, Draco’s face involuntarily warmed, casting a faint red hue on his otherwise pale cheeks. He scrambled for something snarky to say, lest Potter noticed how flustered he’d become. 

“Ah indeed, Potter but you’re forgetting one key difference between us.”

“That you’re a bloke and she’s not?” Harry’s question was posed so genuinely that Draco had to stifle a laugh. 

“ No, idiot. It’s that she likes you, and I do not.” Ignoring the way Harry’s face seemed to fall slightly at that, Draco took it upon himself to finally unlock the wardrobe, pushing Harry to stand right in front of it. 

Harry watched as the creature emerged from its hiding space, the dark essence rapidly shifting back and forth among his greatest fears. One form the Boggart took that made Harry tremble particularly violently, was a pale redheaded woman whose mouth was open in an endless scream.  

Draco stood behind, watching in morbid fascination. For a brief moment the Boggart caught his eyes, but Harry was far too distracted to notice that the creature had temporarily taken on the form of the late Voldemort and then...Harry himself. 

Draco averted his eyes, and the Boggart focused back on Harry, finally settling on the form it had taken on in the past as well: A Dementor. Draco watched as Harry lifted a shaky hand and aimed the wand for the Dementor’s grotesque figure. He watched as Harry opened his mouth to utter one of two spells, either “Riddikulus” or “Expecto Patronum” --but it was likely going to be the latter, purely based upon instinct. 

Draco waited, eyes darting back and forth between the Boy-Who-Lived and the Boggart, but no spell ever came. Harry had a white-knuckle grip on his wand. The veins in his throat were protruding as he tried to overcome his fear and force himself to recite the incantation but he couldn’t. The Dementor was moving in on him, floating closer and closer, and the moment Draco saw the creature’s first attempts at consuming Harry’s essence, he acted.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Contrary to the popular belief-- one made possible by an imposter-Mad-Eye Moody in Fourth Year…. Draco’s Patronus wasn’t a ferret. It wasn’t a snake either. 

 It was...nothing.

 At least it was supposed to be nothing. 

Draco should’ve cast “Riddikulus” because he knew, very well, that he didn’t have a Patronus animal. He’d tried for months to get one to appear but had eventually accepted the fact that though he was a prolific wizard, there were some spells that he simply couldn’t do.

However, in that moment, he saw Harry’s soul about to be sucked away by some infernal creature and he’d just acted. He hadn’t thought things through

...How very, Gryffindor of him…

In his panic, Draco frantically wracked his brain for his happiest memory. Was it his mother singing him to sleep as a child? Was it his first encounter with Pansy and Blaise at Hogwarts in the wake of distancing himself from Crabbe and Goyle? Was it his first book? His first present? His first--

He and Potter were diving for the Golden Snitch. Their brooms were racing through the sky. 

They were neck and neck. Side by side. 

Draco had caught Harry’s eye as he’d stretched out his arm, as far a child his age could reach. It was at this point in his life that he’d discovered a feeling that he’d refuse to put a name to, until many years later. 

His first Quidditch Match against the infamous Harry Potter. 

It was the first time Draco had regarded Harry as something other than a myth or a legend, just a boy, abnormally talented at Quidditch who wanted to win as much as he did.

Draco shouldn’t have had a Patronus but--

The silver stag shot out of his wand and engulfed the Dementor in a blinding display of bright light. The Boggart, now in his original form, hastily retreated back into the wardrobe and Draco rushed over to lock it shut. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. His mind was racing. I can cast a Patronus? That was my happiest memory? Why on earth was it a “stag” of all animals? And more importantly, “Potter…?” 

The ‘Are you okay’ was left silent. 

Harry blinked, gradually coming back to his senses. “I…” He trailed off, running a sheepish hand through his messy hair.“I guess I really do need the practice, you were right Malfoy…”

Draco huffed, pocketing his wand as well, “I think that’s enough for tonight. If I have to save you again, who knows?t The Sorting Hat might find me and throw me in Gryffindor with the rest of you bloody martyrs.” That got a soft chuckle from Harry, and together they made their way out of the classroom. 

After everything that had happened, a bit of “temporary” comradery was probably the least harrowing thing they’d encounter that night. 

“Oi Malfoy?” Harry began just as they were about to part ways in the corridor. 

“What, Potter?” Don’t thank me, don’t thank me, don’t--

“I didn’t know you had a Patronus.” Draco was relieved. Harry was just being his usual nosy self. 

Neither did I. “We all have our secrets Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but then they brightened. “Well, mine’s a stag too! I bet mine is brighter than yours, or can run faster or-”

Harry’s Patronus was a stag…

Of course, it was. 

Draco shouldn’t have had a Patronus, but since he did, at the very least it should’ve been an animal that suited his nature. Perhaps a cunning snake or a semi-graceful dove. Even a dragon, purely based on namesake, would’ve made more sense than a stag. 

But it was Harry’s, which is why a stag made the most sense of all. 

And Potter, oblivious as ever, clearly didn’t understand the underlying connotations of his reveal. He clearly didn’t understand that Draco’s Patronus didn’t belong to the Slytherin, it belonged to him because Draco loved him .

Draco, however, would gladly take this realization to the grave with him. Instead of revealing anything, he plastered on his widest smirk before answering Harry’s initial proposition. “We’ll see Potter, we’ll see.” 

At last, they went their separate ways. 

Mirror of Erised  ( 2)

“ This is what you put your House Points in jeopardy for?” Draco nodded towards the Mirror with distaste, “All of this to look at yourself in the mirror? And you’d call me narcissistic-?” 

Harry bit back a sharp retort because he was already on thin ice as it was. 

If you had told him as a first-year that Draco Malfoy of all people would’ve become Slytherin’s Prefect, Harry would’ve taken you to Madam Pomfrey to get your head checked. However, as loathe as he was to admit it, Malfoy did make an excellent prefect, what with his perceptive and perpetually nosy behavior. 

It had been after curfew, and Harry had a Charms paper to write. The topic was magical artifacts, and with Hermione asleep, Harry realized he was going to need a bit of...inspiration… if he was going to write the paper by himself. So he’d snuck out of his dorm after curfew--he took great care not to accidentally wake up Ron who would, in turn, wake up the rest of their roommates, and eventually all of Gryffindor Tower. 

Apparently, his invisible cloak had been no match for Malfoy. While doing his usual search of the halls, the Slytherin had caught him no less than five minutes after Harry had snuck out of his dorms. He’d presented Harry with an ultimatum--

“You have two options Potter. Either I tell Professor Snape about your little nightly escapade and Gryffindor House pays the price...Or, you let me in on your little mystery. Who knows what the Golden Boy could be up to after dark?”

With either choice, Harry surmised he’d suffer, so he’d decided to suffer in solitude rather than bring his entire house down with him. He’d led Malfoy through the hidden corridors and through the vast labyrinth leading to the mirror in question, Harry’s chosen topic for his essay.

Harry made sure not to stare directly into his reflection in the mirror. As he’d grown up, he’d eventually come to the realization that perhaps the Mirror of Erised did more harm than good. Maybe he didn’t need to be so hellbent on yearning for his own desires...maybe it was better if he focused on the tangible good of his life in the present.

“Why go to such lengths to hide a simple mirror?” Harry glanced to the side and found that Malfoy’s face was scrunched up in deep thought as he glared at the Mirror, as if it were offending him.

“Wait a moment-... Malfoy.”

Draco was looking directly at his reflection which must’ve meant the Mirror of Erised had been “activated” for him. 

“What, Potter?” Draco continued frowning and squinting at the Mirror, trying in earnest to decipher why on earth Harry had been so keen on seeing it in the first place. 

“Do you...Er...What do you see right now?” Harry had to concede that Malfoy was indeed a nosy prat, but Harry had his moments as well, and this was one of them. 

Draco blinked, looking back and forth from the Mirror to Harry and then to the Mirror again.

“...Are you five?” Malfoy asked very slowly. 

“....Huh?”

“Do you know how mirrors work? Did a bludger hit you on the head a bit too hard this morning?” Draco glared at him and then turned back towards the Mirror. 

“Are you...are you saying that you only see the two of us in the mirror’s reflection right now?”

“Again, Potter, do you not know how mirrors work?” Draco’s tone then turned curious. “Why? Should I be seeing something else right now?”

The gears in Harry’s brain weren’t working. It didn’t make any sense. Of course, Malfoy should be seeing something else in that moment.The mirror was supposed to show your deepest desires after all. As per the lore, if Malfoy truly did have everything he desired in life, then he’d just be seeing himself as he was. Harry wouldn’t be in the reflection along with him because that would imply that somehow he was related to Malfoy’s deepest desires and that was ridiculous-- 

“You look like you’re going to faint, Potter.” Malfoy began, in a conversational tone as he dragged Harry by the wrist and proceeded to guide them out of the labyrinth. “And as entertaining as that would be, I’d likely be held accountable...”

As Malfoy chattered on about how troublesome--"for everyone really”--it would be if the ‘Great Harry Potter’ fell ill, Harry decided not to dwell on the Mirror incident. 

 And if, he couldn't fall asleep that night thinking about the subtle magical aura that had been radiating off of the Mirror letting Harry know for certain that it had been working for Malfoy...that was neither here nor there. 

Veritaserum (3)

“...”

“Go on then!”

“Take them, Harry!”

Harry stared at the offending scones with a look of apprehension in his eyes. The look in Fred and George’s eyes, however, could’ve been described as either sinister or eager, as Harry took the buttery desserts from Lee’s outstretched hands. 

“Give them to someone you like!”

“Or someone you don’t like...”

“ Especially someone you don’t like.”

The three started snickering in unison, and Harry took as his cue to quickly thank and rush out of the common room as if his life depended on it. He was well aware of the pranks Fred and George liked to pull, and if Lee Jordan was involved-- which he almost always was-- then it was bound to be something either more elaborate, complex, or difficult to pull off.

Harry just wasn’t exactly sure how scones fell into the mix. 

A few hours later, he was sat outside on the bleachers by the Quidditch pitch waiting for Ron and Hermione to arrive so that they could study together-- or rather, Hermione could study, Ron could whine about his classes, and Harry could play out Quidditch scenarios in his head and let out the occasional “That’s awful mate” or “Of course I’ve started it, Mione.” as needed. 

His stomach growled, and as much as he distrusted the food in his possession, at the moment, the scones were looking especially tantalizing and buttery.

Perhaps...one bite wouldn’t hurt…

“There’s no eating on the pitch, Potter.”

Harry’s eye twitched. He didn’t even have to look up, he was sure he’d be able to recognize Malfoy’s voice out of one million. “Why is it that wherever I am, you always seem to be there?” 

Draco actually seemed to pause at that. It was a bit chilly outside, but the cold breeze isn’t what prompted his cheeks to warm. Harry, on the other hand, was lamenting over the fact that he’d been so distracted with his cursed scones that he hadn’t even noticed Malfoy approaching the pitch, much less take a seat one row above him. 

“Piss off Potter.”

“You first,” Suddenly, a brilliant idea came to mind. Harry was positive the Weasley's and Jordan wouldn’t have given him anything that could’ve caused serious harm to his person. But, he was weary nonetheless. There was one way for him to test the effects of the scones, however….

“Say, Malfoy.” Harry tried to sound as casual as possible, “Fancy a scone?”

Draco stared at Harry as if he’d grown two heads. Then he scowled, fiercely. “Trying to curse me out in the open, Potter? How very Slytherin of you…”

“No!” Harry shook his head. “No! I just...I...made them.”

Draco looked unconvinced. “....You made them…?”

“Yeah I made them and I...wanted to know if they’re good…?”

Malfoy’s dubious stare only grew even more perplexed. 

“You’re a prick Malfoy-”

“You’re not helping your case Potter-”

“ But …” Harry locked eyes with him, a bit taken aback but the sheer amount of gray. He cleared his throat and quickly looked away. “But I can always count on you to be honest. Brutally so...”

“Okay.”

“Just think of this as another opportunity to insult me and-” Harry blinked, “Did you just say okay?”

Without humoring Harry with an answer, Draco leaned down, reaching over Harry’s shoulder, and snatched a scone with his delicate fingers. It was finished within three small bites, and for some unfathomable reason, Harry watched, mesmerized as Malfoy licked the remaining crumbs of the scone from the corners of his mouth-- he noted that no crumbs fell to the stands, however, because somehow Draco Malfoy managed to retain a gracefulness even whilst eating. 

“They’re….good...”

“Really?”

Draco nodded once, seemingly uncomfortable over the idea of complimenting Harry so directly. 

“That’s all you have to say?” Belatedly, Harry realized that this could be interpreted as fishing for compliments. But in reality, he hadn’t even baked these scones in the first place , he just wanted to know what the older Gryffindors had done to them. 

Malfoy, of course, was not aware of this.

“ Really Potter? Is that not enough?” 

“Well don’t you have anything else to say?” Any side effects? Any strange sensations? Do you feel a sudden urge to break out into song or waddle around like a duck?

“They were good,” Draco repeated, clearly annoyed. “What do you want me to swoon, like one of your fangirls or fanboys?”

“Oi Malfoy-”

“The great Harry Potter gave me scones! How lucky am I?” Malfoy was smirking, and Harry could hear the sarcasm dripping off each world.

“They don’t talk like that!” Harry hissed, but his face was heating up nonetheless. He really couldn’t fathom why some people admired him for accidentally defeating a Dark Lord as a baby but he did try his best to humor them at times…that didn't mean it wasn't mortifying all the same.

“Ah, so you admit they exist.” Draco snickered. 

“I-..."

“Trust me, not everyone is as unobservant as you Potter. I hear them all the time in corridors.” And then the mocking tone reappeared, as Malfoy began to mimic Harry’s admirers. “Harry Potter is the greatest wizard I’ve ever met. He’s the reason I wake up every morning. Seeing him brightens my day, the sun could never compete. Oh, how I love him so.”

Malfoy was full-on cackling by the end, and Harry had never been so dually mortified and amused at the same time. In fact, he’d been so thoroughly "entertained", that he’d chased Malfoy off the Quidditch Pitch threatening him with curses, and had gotten a brief glimpse of what life might’ve been like if he and Malfoy had been friends.  

When he’d finally returned to his spot on the stands, Ron and Hermione arrived a few seconds afterward. They set down their bags and the three of them began their routine. Exhausted from chasing his ex-rival turned tentative frenemy, Harry stuffed both of his scones down his throat--they hadn’t seemed to do anything particularly mortifying to Malfoy so Harry thought he was safe.

“You can’t even offer us any?” Ron whined, feigning heartbreak as he watched the scones disappear in seconds.

Harry rolled his eyes, sending him a rather rude hand gesture with his mouth stuffed. 

“Harry, you’ll choke.” Hermione scolded without glancing up from her papers. “And then you won’t be able to start your Arithmancy work. Have you even started it?”

Of course I’ve started it Mione. That was Harry’s go-to response. It was a blatant lie, one Hermione never believed yet always accepted...at least for the first few times he used it. 

However…

“I haven’t started it.”

Hermione froze, whipping her head up from her papers. Ron shot Harry a baffled look.

I’ve started it. “I haven’t started it.”

Wait a moment…

“...Mione ask me another question.” Harry sincerely hoped his hypothesis was incorrect. But if not, on the bright side, he’ll at least have figured out the secret behind those scones. “A question I wouldn’t want to answer truthfully, no matter what.”

Hermione looked at him strangely, but acquiesced nonetheless. “Hmmm. Alright. Oh! I know! Back when she had a crush on you, what did you say to Ginny after she told you she liked you?”

Harry tried to keep his mouth clamped shut and bury the answer in his throat, but it was as if something was compelling him to speak. And after a valiant effort-- 20 seconds --he was unable to force it down. 

“...I said thank you…”

Hermione started laughing and Ron looked pained, equally embarrassed for his sister and for Harry. 

“Veritaserum?” Hermione asked, casually, as if she were inquiring about the weather.

“My brothers?” Ron added, knowingly.

Harry groaned, “Yes and Yes.”

It wouldn’t occur to him and until much later-- after a particularly revealing Potions class- that this had meant after consuming the scones, regardless of any sarcasm or mockery in his tone, Malfoy had been unwittingly telling the truth the entire time.

The entire time.

Amortentia cont... (5)

“There’s no way….” Harry mumbled again as he, Ron, and Hermione made their way from the disastrous Potions class and back to their dorms. He couldn’t get Malfoy or the Amortentia out of his head. But there was no way.

There was no way he could be attracted to--

I can’t get the smell of his shampoo out of my head…

I can’t get the smell of his shampoo out of my head and I can’t stop thinking about his eyes and I could pick his voice out in a crowd of a million and I know his Patronus is a stag because he saved me and the two of us, simply being together, existing together, fulfills his deepest desires and he’s witty and smart and driven and ambitious and he’s...

He’s in love with me. 

And I’m….

Harry locked eyes with Ron. Then with Hermione. And then Ron and Hermione locked eyes with each other. 

“Oh bloody hell I’m-”

“Oh my goodness you’re-”

“Holy shit Harry’s-”

And in unison, “...in love with Malfoy.”

+1

Draco had been avoiding Harry like dragon pox or the plague ever since the whole “Amortentia” debacle. For two people who lived in separate Houses and could hardly be classified as “friends”, Draco actually found himself having great difficulty with this task.  He’d walk into the Great Hall for breakfast, and the first thing he’d notice was a pair of striking green eyes. He’d amble through the corridors with Pansy and Blaise flanked at his sides and yet still somehow manage to bump into Potter, who almost always glanced at him, like a frightened stag prompting Draco to speed-walk away. 

To say it was driving the Slytherin mad would’ve been a vast understatement.

“That look on your face is making you a perfect candidate for our third Dark Lord,” Blaise commented, eliciting a few low snickers from the Slytherins who were sat by close enough to them in the Common Room. Draco shot him and then the others a nasty glare, but Blaise continued on, not deterred in the slightest. “I think you’d last longer than He-Who-Must-Not-Be named. Right, Pans?”

Pansy, who sat on the couch's armrest, legs dangling over the side, nodded in “earnest”. “I should hope so! Draco, if you let a newborn baby end your reign of terror like the last one did, we’ll have to unfriend you, sorry.”

“You two would be awful disciples anyways,” Draco growled. “Blaise would procrastinate going to war, and you , Pansy, would probably start insurrections ‘for fun’.”

The Slytherins in question cackled at the accuracy, and even Draco felt his pout subside momentarily, until...

“You should speak to him, you know?” Pansy’s voice had quieted down. For as devious as she usually was, there was a hint of something more genuine in her tone. “To Potter I mean.”

“I think he knows what you mean.” Blaise quipped, ignoring the glower Pansy shot his way. “But she’s right. Moping here with a scowl won’t change anything. You’re ruining the atmosphere.” 

“We’re in a dungeon Blaise.” Draco snapped. “There wasn’t a spectacular atmosphere to begin with.”

However, for as much as he griped about these two being the most unreliable people he’d ever met, truthfully, Draco felt as though it was quite the opposite. And he knew they had a point. He couldn’t just wallow in his own misery-- according to the potion, Potter liked him too, right? Or was at the very least attracted to him…

But that didn’t mean Draco had any clue how Harry actually felt about him.

He’d thought Potter had hated him, and then as the years went by, had gradually grown to simply dislike him. And lately, he’d gotten the feeling that perhaps his days of rivalry with Potter were over and they were on the verge of something... better. 

The fact that Harry could feel even a fraction of what Draco felt for him, in any realm of possibility, had thrown Draco for a loop. In true Slytherin nature, he’d run away from the situation, letting his feelings bubble inside of him, and at the moment, it felt like he was going to explode. 

He wanted to know what Harry felt for him-- if Harry felt anything for him at all besides mere attraction. 

But… “I’m scared.” It was mumbled so quietly that Pansy and Blaise could’ve pretended they hadn’t heard him.

“So am I.” Blaise admitted with a shudder. “Could you imagine how many tubs of ice cream Pansy and I would have to lug here from Hogsmeade if he rejects you?”

“Bloody hell...” Pansy sounded genuinely terrified at the thought. “And our pockets would run dry, what with how many tissue boxes we'd have to buy …” Blaise shuddered again.

Draco’s head whipped back and forth between the two, furious then incredulous, and then, against his wishes, his face was contorting with laughter that soon had him, along with Pansy and Blaise who’d joined him soon afterwards, clutching his stomach and gasping for air. 

“Draco, you might be the least scared out of all three of us,” Pansy noted with a grin, wiping a stray tear of laughter from her eyes. 

“Which means by default you have to be the most brave,” Blaise explained, as if he were making any sense. “Temporarily, of course.”

“Parkinson? Zabini?” Draco turned towards them, smiling now.“ Do piss off.”

The laughter started again, but this time, Draco took their words to heart.

---

I can do this. 

It’s just Potter after all. He was my rival, for goodness sake. Worst case scenario, he rejects me, and we go back to being bitter enemies. 

I’m no Gryffindor, but I can be brave...

Temporarily. 

Draco had been psyching himself up all afternoon. He had Harry’s schedule memorized to the T-- in his defense, he was well aware that Harry had essentially “stalked” him during the sixth year, so if his actions were creepy, Harry’s certainly were, and Draco could live with that. 

He knew that right now, Harry was supposed to be on his way to the Quidditch pitch to study with Granger and the Weasley which meant that Draco had ample time to prepare himself and--

“Malfoy…?”

“...”

Harry was supposed to be on his way there.

Draco froze, any courage he felt disintegrating as he stood staring at the objection of his deepest affections and desires. 

“...What are you doing here?”

Draco was currently posted outside of the dungeons, standing next to the Slytherin entryway. His plan had been to initially self-ruminate for a few more minutes and then hopefully run into Harry before he’d gone outside. 

 “I...er…I was looking for you actually.” He sounded a bit sheepish.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, er, I just wanted to...apologize? For avoiding you these past few days-”

He was avoiding me?  

“Why are you apologizing Potter? It’s not as if we’re friends.” Draco snapped before he could reel it in. 

Harry’s face fell. Draco found himself waiting for one of Harry’s usual retorts, or perhaps an aggravated “Bugger off Malfoy” but neither of those came. Instead, “I guess you’re right. See you in class then.”

And then Harry was turning around and walking away, shoulders slumped and forehead bowed towards the ground. 

Shit...

I can be brave. Right? 

Temporarily...?

“Wait!” 

Harry paused in the middle of the corridor. Thankfully, there were no other students milling around to witness what was surely going to be a mortifying ordeal for Malfoy.

As Harry made to turn around Malfoy yelped, “No don’t! I’m not as brave as you Harry, don’t turn around! ” Harry complied, and even let out a soft gasp in awe of his first name coming out of Draco’s mouth. It had been a panicked accident, but, unbeknownst to one another, they both liked how it sounded. 

I’m in love with you. 

Just say it. It’ll be the hardest thing you ever do then it will be over. 

Just say it. 

“Are you in love with me?” Shit.

“Er...Apparently, yeah.”

Huh? “...'Apparently?’”

Draco watched as the back of Harry’s head bobbed up and down.

“What the hell does that mean then?!”

“I don’t know!” Harry sounded genuinely distressed. “It’s just that for some reason--well, many reasons actually--I’ve come to the conclusion that I.. er...I’m in love with you.”

Draco’s breath caught in his throat. He tried in vain to suppress a smile. “‘Apparently’” He teased.

“Bugger off Malfoy.” Harry’s voice cracked at the end. “And what about you?”

“Potter, you can’t be that oblivious.”

“Piss off...I just...I want to hear you say it.” It gave Draco great satisfaction to know that he could make someone as stubborn and unshakable as Harry Potter as flustered as this. He would use this knowledge to his advantage in the future and in the present. 

“I love you, Harry.” Draco’s hands were shaking a bit but he paid them no mind. “I always have.”

Harry finally turned around, and rushed towards Draco. He gently tilted Draco’s head downwards and stood on the tips of his toes, pressing a warm kiss against Draco’s cool cheek. It was so soft and unhurried, much unlike anything Draco had fantasized about before --and he had fantasized about this moment, and many others like it, far too many times. 

This was perfect. 

Harry leaned back looking up at him with a smile Draco had never thought he’d be on the receiving end of. 

“Your eyes are really nice. I really like them. A lot.”

Draco snorted at that. He wondered if every time Potter spoke, he’d just fall deeper and deeper in love. 

“And your hair. It’s even softer up close.”

“Potter…”

“Your voice too. I mean, at first, it was grating, but overtime, it’s become my favorite.”

“P-potter--”

“ You’re my favorite.”

“Harry!” Draco buried his face in Harry’s shoulder.

“What?” Harry asked, confused. “I’m telling the truth-!”

“You can’t just say those things, idiot!”

“Why not? Aren’t we dating now?”

“...Are we?”

“...Aren’t we?” When Draco pulled back, he was delighted to notice Harry’s face had gone just as red. 

“We are , I suppose. But you wouldn’t want me prattling on about how much I adore your smile and the rat’s nest on your head, would you?” To his relief, Harry was grinning. 

“...You’re shite at romance aren’t you, Malfoy?”

“I am not! Those were compliments.”

“Bloody hell…”

“They were!”

“It figures you’re more romantic when you don’t even mean to be.”

“What?”

“...What?”

“What do you mean ‘When you don’t mean to be’, Potter?”

“Er… Would you look at the time? Ron and Mione must be looking for me...So…” Harry gave him one last quick peck on the cheek and started sprinting out of the corridor as if his life depended on it-- it did, Draco followed in hot pursuit right after him. 

And even as they chased each other down the corridors, ignoring the looks of frightened students and scandalized Professors alike, neither could wipe the wide smiles off their faces.