Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

Goodnight and Go

Draco's eyes widened momentarily as he stared at Harry, gaze intense and unfathomable. It made Harry's skin prickle.

Harry grimaced, mentally kicking himself for even sharing that fact with Draco Malfoy of all people. They were barely friends, for Merlin's sake! Harry held his breath, waiting for, even expecting, a jeering taunt.

It never came.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Potter." Came Draco's quiet murmur.

Surprised, Harry's head snapped up, startled green eyes meeting concerned gray orbs.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, searching Harry's face.

Utterly bemused, Harry could only stare for a beat before finally blurting out, "You sure you're not Polyjuiced?!"

Draco blinked then scowled, eyes shuttering. "Buggery hell, Potter. Is that what I get for showing some empathy?" He pushed himself to his feet and glowered down at Harry. "You told me you wanted to get to know the real me. I'm trying to show you but you're just too bloody prejudiced to see it."

Draco whirled around, seething, trying to swallow down the pang that threatened to engulf him whole. No matter what he did, people would never accept him or forgive him. It was simply impossible after everything he'd done despite his circumstances at that time. He would forever live under the shadow of Voldemort's evil, his father's unwilling clone, unable to get free.

He only managed to take a couple steps towards the castle doors when he was suddenly grabbed and turned right around.

"Malfoy, wait..." Harry tightened his grip on the blond's arm. "It'll take some getting used to but I'm trying, yeah? There's seven years of... tangled shite between us. Its just too much to forget about in a matter of weeks..."

Draco paused and stared into Harry's guileless green eyes. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Draco nodded in quiet acquiescence. He pulled away from Harry and made his way back to the patch of grass, gracefully sitting down.

Harry sighed, following suit. They were silent for awhile before Draco prompted him, "You never answered why you're out here, Potter."

Harry cast him a sidelong glance and muttered slowly. "I didn't mean to see it but it looked like you had a bit of a row with Zabini." His voice sounded strained as he chewed out Blaise's surname. "I got a bit worried and... well, followed you."

Draco's eyes widened --- mortified, mind racing, wondering how much Harry had seen of Blaise's unwanted advances.

"I'm a grown man, Potter. I'm no damsel in distress." Draco rolled his eyes, managing to tamp down on his panic. "I know enough curses to reduce Zabini into a fucking squib should the need arise as I'm sure you know." He added dryly, grimacing when he belatedly realized what he'd said.

Harry leveled an uncompromising glare at him but didn't utter a single word. Draco pretended not to notice. Bloody noble Gryffindor.

Draco finally sighed, throwing Harry a rueful smile before raking a nervous hand through his hair, "And what was it exactly that you saw?"

Harry shrugged, jaw tight. "He was getting pretty handsy, wasn't he?"

"You saw that...?" Draco cringed then sighed as he took out another cigarette.