Saturday and Sunday passed with no sign of Malfoy, and something odd stirred deep in Harry’s stomach at this thought. Pushing the feeling away, he tried to instead focus on all the homework he had to finish.
But Malfoy also hadn’t told anyone about Harry’s claustrophobia, he realised, his quill stilling in his hand, dripping ink all over the empty parchment. Harry hastily stowed it in the ink pot before charming away the mess. Normally Malfoy would love to tell all his slimy Slytherin friends and then harp on about it for weeks. But not this time. Maybe Harry had been right in thinking Malfoy was different, maybe he was changing. But then again, he couldn’t really trust Malfoy. Obviously that Slytherin git was just waiting for the right time to reveal this new knowledge about Harry.
The excitement of the upcoming announcement of the Triwizard Tournament competitors forced most thoughts of Potter out of Draco’s mind, until halfway through Monday. As he caught sight of the messy black mop, his footsteps faltered before he continued to stride down the corridor.
“Potter”, he snarled at the black-haired boy, putting as much vehemence into his voice as possible in order to cover up the shiver that had gone through his body at the sight of those green eyes.
“Malfoy”, was spat out in reply, but his eyes were curious, and he tilted his head in question. Draco brushed past Potter, sweeping away in the best imitation of his godfather he could manage.
That night Draco heard the familiar name thrown into the space, “Harry Potter” echoing in the silence that accompanied it. He wouldn’t be that stupid, surely. Draco should’ve known that something like this was going to happen.
The next morning at breakfast Draco watched Potter through the flurry of owls arriving with mail. With his head down he ate fast, clearly wanting to get out of the busy hall. When he looked up, his brilliant green eyes caught Draco’s immediately. Draco watched him mutter something to his friends before pushing his chair back and exiting the room. Draco stood up, shooting a glare to Pansy's open mouth, quelling the question that was already forming. He hurried to catch up to the footsteps now fading up the stairs, and soon he stepped around a corner to find Potter waiting for him, a scowl on his lips.
“I didn’t put my name in the Goblet of Fire, ” he burst out defensively. “I don’t even want to do the tournament I-” he broke off as Draco raised his hands as if to fend off the rushed words.
“OK!” He paused, considering his words. “Ok I believe you.” He hesitated before asking “Does this mean you can’t do Friday?”
Potter blinked, startled for a moment before raking a hand through his already messy hair, making it stick up all over the place. Draco fought the urge to reach out and stroke it. He could imagine how soft it would feel under his fingers if he could brush it back. He forced his eyes away from the mop as Harry spoke.
“Yeah, I’ll probably be busy.”
“Okay.” He would just have to wait until Potter was free. “Also Potter,” Draco drawled, stopping him with a hand on his arm before he could leave, “No one can know that we’re talking to each other, okay?" His grip tightened at the thought. "Do you understand? No one.” Potter nodded, dazed by Draco’s sudden intensity, and Draco let go, leaving Harry on the stairs.