After the war, both Harry and Draco isolated themselves. They would take any excuse to leave the chaos; whether it be climbing out the window onto the roof of Gryffindor tower, or sneaking out through a trapdoor in the dungeons to sit under the big oak tree text to the lake.
They would look out into the sky or over the water and sigh, because nothing would ever be the same again.
Some evenings, while the sky was bright with reds, oranges and pinks, Harry would glance towards the lake, seeing a lone figure sitting under the
Some mornings, when the sky was dusty pink and mottled with dark blue, Draco would stare up at the roof of Gryffindor tower and see the silhouette of somebody sitting on the roof.
People asked Harry if he was okay.
People asked Draco if they could help him.
Until one day, they met in the middle. They wanted to know who the mysterious person on the roof or by the water was. They walked through the castle before bumping into each other.
They looked at one another and then looked away, not sure what they could say. Draco looked up at Harry, his silver eyes laced with regret. He took his hand and gently touched Harry’s face and turned it towards him.
Green eyes met grey, and they both knew that the mysterious person that they were searching for was standing before them.
“I’m sorry.” Draco whispered, his hand still resting on Harry’s cheek, as tears gathered in his eyes.
Draco’s hands shook from the effort it took to not let out his emotions. He was a Malfoy. No matter how disgraced, he would always be a Malfoy. A monster. A Death Eater who didn’t deserve to even be near the Savior.
“Don’t be.” Harry replied softly, surprising the Slytherin.
Draco couldn’t help the tears that slid silently down his face as both boys stood closely together in the deserted corridor. Harry brought a thumb up and wiped away the tears staining Draco’s porcelain cheeks.
“Please, never be sorry for what you were forced to do.” Harry whispered as the tears kept flowing, before pressing a soft kiss of reassurance into his forehead.
The black haired wizard pulled the blonde into a tight hug, wrapping his arms tightly around the crying Draco’s back; Draco rested his chin softly on Harry’s shoulder.
"I had no choice. God, I’m a monster. I’m so selfish.” Draco wept into Harry’s neck, but Harry didn’t mind.
"No, you’re not. You did what you had to do, as did I-” Harry took a deep breath a Draco’s sobs slowed. “the past is behind us. All we have left if the future.”
And thus began a friendship. A friendship that nobody but themselves could explain the origins of.
The friendship turned into love. A type of love so strong it had to be fate. But nobody but themselves knows the origin of.
After a lot of complaining from him, I finally convinced Draco to go to my favorite coffee shop in London, which happens to be muggle, this morning. Even once we were there, he continued to grumble under his breath, but he shut up really quickly once he tasted his coffee. The look on his face was priceless, evident that he really liked the coffee but didn’t want to admit it. He must have been in a good mood because he didn’t even have a rude comment to throw my way when I snapped this photo of him, he just rolled his eyes and continued to sip his coffee. Oh, and did I mention that he looks absolutely incredible? I think he’s the only person that could pull off a plain white tee-shirt that well.
Anyway, it’s time to go enjoy the rest of my Saturday with Draco. If I take any longer writing this, I’m sure he will walk in to question what I’m doing, see the journal, and have a right fit, which I’m really not in the mood for right now, so I’ll continue to keep this a secret from him for the time being.
He stopped abruptly as he clapped a hand over his mouth, wide-eyed all over again.
Irritation dissipating, Draco frowned worriedly. “Damn, I should have asked—can you eat lamb? Sorry, I was only meaning to get some decent protein and fat into you, I didn’t even think—”
Potter waved his free hand to cut him off. A few seconds later, he uncovered his face. “Bloody hell, Malfoy. This is delicious. You didn’t make this, did you? When did you have the time?”
More startled by Potter’s effusive response than anything else since he’d first darkened his doorway, Draco could only gape at him for a moment. “God, you startled me. It’s one thing to stomp on your face on purpose, but I thought I’d accidentally killed you.”