Two Sides of the Same Coin(DRARRY)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

He would not be able to ignore Potter today.

As if thoughts were magnets, Draco turned his eyes toward the Gryffindor table. Potter's mop of hair was just visible over the edge of the Daily Prophet, which he appeared to be using as a screen to hide behind rather than a vehicle of news as it was intended.

Draco was equal parts disappointed to be thwarted in his effort to get his first view of Potter since the Acknowledgement (as he was referring to it now, not quite as willing to define it fully conscious as he had been half-asleep), relieved to avoid what was sure to be a disconcertingly evocative reaction to Potter's familiar – though not any less striking for it – face, and anxiety that that reaction would now be doomed to take place in person.

Draco's own owl deposited the Daily Prophet on his plate then. Potter's face blinked up at him from the front page. The headline announced the Ministry's desire to name their new wing after the wizarding world's poster child. Seeing the miniature Potter fidget in the frame – it was a posed photo, presumably from some victory photo shoot or another – gripped Draco with a fresh wave of panic.

What was he thinking, nursing a crush on Potter? It was ludicrous!

Potter was... well, he was Harry Potter, the darling of the wizarding world. And Draco was a Malfoy – the scourge of the wizarding world. Gay or not, Potter would never consider Draco that way. The fact that even a tiny bit of him held a flame of hope for this possibility proved how barmy Draco's mind had gone around the edges.

Draco evaluated the food on his plate and came to the obvious conclusion that there was no way he was going to be able to keep it down – if he was even able to force it down in the first place. Not feeling as he did, nearly sick to his stomach with anxiety and uncertainty and a nagging hope that he couldn't quell no matter how many times he said firmly to himself, "Harry Potter will never fancy you. Harry Potter will never fancy you."

Across the hall, Harry Potter violently shook out his sagging newspaper like it was Voldemort's eighth Horcrux, so that it stood straight again. Draco pushed his plate away, food untouched.

"Be calm," he told himself while walking to Potions a few minutes later. "Deep breaths. Relax. It's only Potter. The same prat he was yesterday. There's no need to get so worked up just because you might possibly fancy him, just a little bit."

He'd been making progress until he mentioned the last bit, which had the adverse effect of jump-starting his pulse. Again.

"Seriously," he lectured himself, "get a grip. He is not going to find out, because you are not going to tell him. And he is not going to be able to tell, because he can't read minds – Snape said he was a crap Occlumens, so I'm sure his Legilimency is just as pants. So just keep it cool, and it will remain your secret. Nobody will ever know, and you will only think about it a little bit, and it will be fine."

Draco paused outside the classroom, then took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Potter's head was bent over his textbook, so Draco would be able to take his seat without incident. It was going to be fine, it was, but then –

But then Potter looked up and straight at Draco with those eyes that seemed to have been specifically designed to disrupt Draco's composure. Draco froze next to his seat.

Draco hadn't, of course, expected this to be an easy transition – from thinking of Potter as his prat Potions partner to the person who set his heart to pounding – but he wasn't prepared for the deluge the sight of Potter would spawn in him. Excitement, titillation, nervousness, panic, and even anger (that Potter had the power to put Draco in such a state) flooded into his stomach, churning into one incomprehensible mess that spread throughout his body so rapidly that in a matter of seconds his skin was flushed and his hands were shaking and he felt a bit lightheaded.