Drarry Oneshots 2

To Dwell on Dreams

Harry Potter was standing in his hall.

The two had... not quite made amends, per se. But they also weren't actively trying to hurt each other, either. In fact, their delicate relationship was best aided by the fact that they hadn't shared two words since the War. Not a hello. Not a how are you. Still, they had seen enough of each other. Potter was always a guest at Longbottom's dinners. And Diagon Alley only had so many taverns. Every so often their paths would cross, and they'd greet each other with a nod or a forced smile.

It was a good arrangement. It kept Draco in check, in control, pretending. Unable to act on the things he refused to even think about.

Draco was in the hallway, about to join his mother in greeting the team, when he noticed that unmistakable ruffle of dark hair. That, and his mother's surprised expression, was enough confirmation that Potter had, indeed, been brought along on this particular mission. Draco refused to consider why he immediately turned on his heel and scrambled for a simple suit jacket to throw over his button down, why he made sure his hair was slicked back and neat, why it suddenly mattered to him very much that he look presentable.

Then he turned back and entered the hall.

His mother's face lit up, and she gestured to Draco. "My son, of course, Draco," she said by way of introduction. Half a dozen faces turned toward him, but Draco wasn't ready to face one of them yet. He smiled tightly at his mother. "I'm afraid I have some business to go over with my sister, but Draco will make himself available should you need anything. Please don't hesitate to ask."

Draco glared at her but she only leveled him with a look that reminded him why they had to play nice. That reminded Draco he was trying to be nice. He sighed, and smiled.

"Of course," he conceded. "I'll try to stay out of your way." He installed himself in an armchair in the corner of the room, near the window.

The small group of aurors set up shop, opening toolkits that tripled in size after being unlocked. They waved their wands with curious expressions, conducting sweeps of the estate to determine what they were working with. One handed Potter a very thick and heavy-looking manual, pointing to something on one of the pages. Draco watched Potter nod along in concentration, looking between the page and the auror. Draco was surprised; he didn't remember Potter being a particularly hard-working student. Then again, Draco knew how easy it was to skive off classes he found boring and only try at the ones he thought would be particularly useful. Potter clearly found this work more useful than their shared history classes.

Then Potter was thanking the auror and turning away, walking straight toward Draco. He barely had time to adjust his posture, slouching into an uninterested bored pose, before Potter was upon him. Their eyes met briefly, and Draco raised an eyebrow, before Potter turned toward the window. He looked back down at his manual, then drew his wand and uttered a curse too low for Draco to identify. A thin stream of pink emanated from the tip of his wand, lining along the windowpane like glue. Then it vanished. Potter smiled.

He turned to Draco, who quickly looked away when he realized he'd been staring the whole time. He grabbed a book from the stack beside the chair, but his hand paused on the cover when a voice spoke.

"Hello," Potter said. "How are you?"

Well. That was a first.

Draco looked up and saw a polite yet guarded expression on the other's face. Polite and guarded were not words he usually used to describe Potter's glances toward him. Normally they were curious and intense and spellbinding and sometimes something like hungry, except not quite, because there was no reason for that.