Empty Spaces

Chapter 21

"You sleep okay?" Potter asked, steering the subject into less uncomfortable places.

"Yea. You?" Draco replied, sipping on his espresso as they walked through the village towards the school gates.

"Good enough," Potter said honestly.

"I know what you mean," Draco nodded. "How's your back?"

"What? Great, I can't even tell," Potter said, sounding impressed while Draco smirked with pride. If nothing else, growing up as Lucius' son had given him a certain set of unique survival skills. Too bad none of them were things he felt he could build a career from. He was good at healing, really good, and he'd had far too many awkward– and painful– discussions with his teachers as to why he had no interest in pursuing this as a career path. He'd given every excuse in existence except for the truth: That the prospect of facing the memories every damn day was something he just couldn't bring himself to do.

They found themselves on the topic of Quidditch again, which carried them all the way to the school gates, and Draco wondered what was coming next now that they'd crossed from the relative safety of anonymous life in the village to the very public arena of school. But Potter just continued walking at his side all the way to Potions, gushing about Holmberg in a way that somehow had Draco prickling with jealousy– he did like Holmberg a lot, almost everyone did, but there was something in Potter's eyes that made Draco want to hex their teacher simply for existing. And then they entered the classroom.

They weren't late, but they were close to the start of class, which meant Granger and Weasley were already at their usual table up front with the middle seat saved for Potter. Draco supposed they all had reputations to uphold, so he quickly made peace with it and headed over for his own spot in the corner. Except that when he sat down, Potter took the empty space next to him.

"Do you mind?" Potter asked, although they both knew what the answer was.

"No, go ahead," Draco said, a million questions running through his mind. What power move is this? Do I now owe you, or do you now owe me? What are you trying to tell me? What does this mean? What game are you playing, Potter?

"I can go someplace else if you'd rather," Potter said quietly, and Draco kicked himself internally for letting his emotions show.

"No, stay if you'd like," Draco said, quickly correcting his expression. You can just ask, you know.

A Malfoy doesn't ask these questions. A Malfoy plays the game and plays it well.

But Harry isn't like that.

"You okay?" Potter asked for the second time that morning, getting out his Potions book and settling into his spot.

"Why aren't you sitting with Weasley and Granger?" Draco forced himself to ask the direct question. It felt like he was squeezing every word out, and he could hear the stiffness in his own voice.

"Dunno. I just felt like sitting with you," Potter shrugged.

What the fuck, Potter?

Really?

Could it be that simple? Nothing is that simple. Nobody does anything just because they feel like it. Do they?

If anyone did anything just because they felt like it, it would be Potter.

"You sure you're okay?" Potter asked, now looking concerned.

"Yea," Draco said, forcibly silencing the chatter running through his mind. Potter isn't like that. Potter isn't like that. Potter isn't like that...

"Yea, well, let me know if there's anything I can do to help, okay?" Potter offered.

Draco was trying to find the words for it– Nobody does anything just because they feel like it, that's not how the game works– but was interrupted by Holmberg striding into the classroom, telling everyone to get started. Potter's potion-making had improved significantly this year, Draco noticed, probably due to Holmberg's meticulous and incessant attention to detail. He then couldn't help showing off a bit by holding a rather thorough conversation in German when Holmberg came over to their table to inspect their work and give feedback. It was petty, he knew, but he wanted to make sure that if Potter had a thing for languages, it was somehow weirdly important to show that this was something he could certainly deliver.

Granger and Weasley came over to talk with Potter after class, Granger going on about Holmber's lesson and Weasley looking like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to be there or not. Draco made to take off and leave them to whatever it was Potter did with his friends, but Potter subtly brushed his hand against his, not quite taking it but clearly no accident either, and finally, Draco was able to read the subtext loud and clear:

Stay.

So he did.