Draco was feeling pleased.
So pleased in fact, that it seemed as if nothing in the world could possibly dampen his mood.
After the events of the notorious Second Task - which, by the way, put Harry in the lead for points - Draco quickly realised what it had all meant. In the 'Good Old Days', it had been Weasley that Harry had retrieved from the lake. This made sense, Harry had no parents or relatives he truly cared for save for Sirius; who couldn't partake for obvious reasons, his very best friend was naturally the next best option.
However.
This time, Weasley was not in the lake. And this was not because Weasley in this timeline did not exist, nor because Harry was no longer friends with Weasley (that part to Draco's dismay), it was instead because of another reason.
Harry didn't not care for Weasley anymore. That much was obvious, he was heartbroken when the idiot ditched him a second time around and was ecstatic to be on buddy-buddy terms again, he also still laughed at all Weasley's shit jokes and followed him around to classes like a lost puppy dog.
The reason Weasley wasn't in the lake was not because Harry didn't like him as much anymore, Weasley wasn't the lake because Harry liked Draco more instead.
It was for this reason that Draco had become the most insufferably smug person ever known to man.
He was so smug he literally could not feel annoyed by anything at all for several hours after the fact.
Harry had panicked at Draco's teasing, blushed and immediately zipped away to waft around Hermione and let her fuss over him instead. His face was a divine shade of pink, and that gave Draco all the confirmation he needed that he was right, and that Draco was indeed the thing Harry would miss the most.
This made Draco extremely pleased. He sat and let anyone and everyone touch him and his hair and get too close and do pretty much everything he would normally immediately flinch away from, all because he was so immensely satisfied with his new information.
After that, when he and Harry snuck off to the Shrieking Shack like a pair of clandestine lovers, and Harry - seemingly having forgotten the enormous confession he had unwillingly given which left Draco reeling - was badgering Draco to start teaching him French again, Draco didn't mind at all. He even succumbed to the requests, patiently talking Harry through the correct pronunciations of the most basic level words, which for some reason Harry could not ever seem to grasp.
"No, Potter. That's wrong."
"You're not helping me at all!" Harry complained sulkily, after mispronouncing 'qui' for the one hundredth time.
"I am! I've explained it very clearly. Let me repeat," Draco cleared his throat, "Salut! Comment tu t'appelles?"
Harry straightened up, meeting Draco's gaze head on, a fierce determination burning anew in his eyes.
"Bon-shore, jem app-el Harry-"
"It's 'je m'appelle', the 'je' is separate from the 'M'," Draco corrected gently.
"Should I start again?" Harry sighed.
Draco nodded encouragingly, "Just once more, from the top, go."
Harry took a deep breath, "Okay. Bon-shore, je m'appelle Harry," Draco nodded, "kwee es too?"
"No!" Draco rolled his eyes.
"What?! How was that not right? I got it that time!" Harry said exasperatedly, holding his hands out in indignation.
"No! You keep doing that! It's 'qui es-tu'! Not 'kwee' what is 'kwee'?"
"That's what it is though!"
"No it's not!" Draco retorted, fighting back incredulous laughter.
"But it's spelt 'kwee'! It's got a 'Q'! Why would they spell it 'kwee' if it's meant to be pronounced 'kee'!"
"I don't know, Harry! I did not create French! What's wrong with you?"
They were both smiling now, and Harry shook his head.
"Ugh, this is stupid! I'm never going to learn it!" He complained, flopping back onto the pile of pillows they'd made on the bed.
"Hey, no, don't say that! Look, you just need, erm.. a little bit of practice-" Harry snorted, Draco ignored him, "We can still do this, okay? Like, let's just er- work on your writing instead."
Harry sighed again, "No, I can't be bothered now. I'm surprised you haven't thrown me off the bed by now, you're usually not this patient."
Draco glared at him.
Harry smirked, lifting his head off the pillows. Draco acted faux-hurt.
"You're such a dick. I can't even be nice to you without being insulted. Oh, 'Saint Potter' they all cry, but so few know the real you," Draco heaved a dramatic sorrowful sigh.
"Mmhm, sure. Except, you're not nice. You hate being nice. You like to be mean to me and pretend like you don't care that we're friends. It's like, your whole deal." Harry said foxily.
Draco loved when Harry teased him.
"I need to keep up my reputation, and you know what, maybe you don't deserve me when I'm nice, ever considered that, Potter?" Draco said slyly, leaning back on his arms.
"Oh, I don't? And how would I earn your kindness, O' Great Prince of Darkness?"
"Hmm," Draco hummed, slipping a hand under Harry's chin and tilting it to face him, "How about rescuing me from the bottom of a lake, when I'm held hostage by mermaids?"
Harry gasped dramatically.
"Or fighting off a dragon just for me?"
Harry blinked doe eyes at him, "But, how ever could I manage that?!" he giggled.
"What about killing the Dark Lord? Riding a stolen dragon, maybe? Breaking into a bank? I need someone with a bit of purpose." Draco met Harry's gaze, "Think you've got all that, Potter?"
Harry breathed in slowly, staring into Draco's eyes like he was trying to commit his face to memory.
"Yeah, I might be able to give one or two of those a shot."
Harry was so close to him.
So, so close. Draco could do easily pull him in. He could so easily press him back down against the pillows and put his lips on his neck and show him exactly how nice he could be.
But he didn't.
And Harry got up.
The tension in the room dissipated, Harry practically taking Draco's lust itself with him as he rose from the bed.
"We should go somewhere." He said.
"Where do you wanna go?"
Harry turned away from him.
"Harry?" Draco got up too, moving to stand beside him.
"I think we should do something worthwhile."
Draco frowned, "Like what?"
He looked at Harry, and Harry looked back. He had that glint in his eye. That one he always got when he was about to do something very Gryffindor.
"How are you at the Patronus charm?"
—-
"Harry, you know I don't have one!" Draco complained.
They were making their way back up to the Castle, the dusky February light was making everything look dark. The glittering warm lights of Hogwarts had never looked so inviting.
Harry was in one of those determined moods. Once he'd set his mind on something there was no stopping him now.
"You just didn't have a good enough memory! Trust me on this Draco," He turned around to face his disbelieving companion. "The memory I used when I first cast mine wasn't even real. As long as it's happy, anything can work. You can do this."
"I can't, Harry seriously. I had a wonderful childhood and not even a memory from then could help me conjure one." Draco responded sadly.
"That's because you tried to learn in the war, you were surrounded by too much sadness. Look, if I can learn French, you can do this."
"But you can't learn French!" Draco said, looking even more put-out than before.
Harry rolled his eyes, turning to keep trudging up the hill. "Thanks."
"Well," Draco crossed his arms, "It's true. You're not exactly a gifted linguist."
Harry simply rolled his eyes again, even though Draco couldn't see.
-
They reached the Room of Requirement in no time, Harry stopping outside of it and doing the necessary pacing to get the door to appear.
Draco raised his eyebrows at the location.
"Are we sure using here is a good idea? Aren't there some, er, unsavoury memories attached to this place?"
Harry nodded, "Yeah, but what I've asked it for will look completely different to the Room of Hidden Things. We won't even notice where we are."
Draco was uncertain, but complied nonetheless.
Once Harry pushed open the door, Draco saw that Harry had been right. The room they ended up in looked nothing like the hideous Room of Hidden Things, it was a grand, tall-ceilinged, ornate thing. The walls were a dark wood, mahogany, perhaps, and the detailing adorning the edges of all the walls were a shining bronze. A great bookshelf stood on one side of the room, and a crate of magical props on the other, in the middle was a large expanse of empty floor.
It was ideal for practicing spellwork.
"Okay, yeah, fair enough. I take back what I said."
Harry grinned at him.
They moved to the middle of the room, and in the fireplace at one end a large, orange blaze sprung up in the grate.
"Okay, it's difficult until you get your first wisps, after that, it's not much harder." Harry said, moving to stand beside Draco.
"Great. I have nothing, so that really helps." Draco snarked back. Harry ignored him.
"Now, think of a memory. A really happy memory. And it has to be just one, not a couple or a few. It doesn't matter if it's old or new or even if it's from a dream, it just needs to bring you a strong sense of happiness."
Draco thought first of his mother, at Christmas time, before a stronger thought entered his mind. The thought of how he felt today, after Harry had denied his affections and blushed before running off. The way it had made Draco feel like he'd won the Quidditch World Cup all by himself, and how the feeling had lingered for hours after. In fact it was so strong he was still feeling slightly lightheaded even now.
"Okay. I've got it."
"Good. Now focus on that. Really concentrate, not on the memory but on the way it made you feel." Harry's voice carried around the large room, echoing off the walls.
Draco thought of Harry. Of the overwhelming joy he'd felt at being Harry's prized possession, being better than Weasley, being his favourite.
"You know the wand movement?" Harry asked. Draco nodded, "Okay. Try it."
Draco concentrated as hard as possible on those feelings of happiness, "Expecto Patronum!" He cried.
A feeble glow flickered from his wand before dying.
"Yes! That was amazing!" Harry cheered.
"I barely conjured a thing." Draco raised his eyebrows.
"Doesn't matter, there was something, and that's what matters!"
Draco smiled sheepishly, "Whatever you say, Potter."
They continued for another hour or so.
Draco was growing better with each passing go. By his final try, he watched as a large shape sprung from his wand. Draco couldn't see exactly what it was, but it seemed to have hooves.
"Harry! Merlin, did you see that?! That was almost corporeal!"
No response. Draco turned.
Harry was heaving great gasps of breath, clutching his forehead like a lifeline.
"Harry!" Draco cried, running towards him. He gripped his shoulders, trying to see Harry's face, "Harry? Harry!"
Harry collapsed into him, going limp in his arms and shuddering horribly. He continued to clutch at his forehead, breathing turning from ragged to erratic, when all of a sudden he let out a terrible cry.
"HARRY!"
Harry tore himself from Draco's grip, curling into himself on the floor, he screamed in anguish, pulling desperately at his hair.
Draco didn't know what to do. He wanted to fix it, to help, to take away whatever pain was torturing Harry at this moment. He felt overwhelmed, he'd never felt such a desperate need to help someone before, to make things better. It was like he understood all at once why people would do anything for those they loved. He just wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.
The screaming seemed to last an age, when suddenly Harry was silenced, he sat there trembling on the cold floor.
"Harry..?" Draco asked concernedly, crouching next to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Harry leaned into Draco's touch, letting Draco pull him in close. They held each other for several moments, Draco rubbed soothing lines up Harry's back. He'd never been one for comforting, but for Harry he would try. He stayed in that position until the trembling ceased and Harry was calm enough to turn to face him.
Harry looked up at him with terrified eyes, shaking all over.
"He's back."