survive 2 @drarrymicrofic [735 words]
When Harry came back for their Eighth Year, he didn’t expect that Draco Malfoy would have a complete reinvention.
He’s grown out his hair, ditched that insufferable gel and let his hair out loosely clipped back, the shiny strands framing the angular contours of his face. He’s not as gaunt and sickly pale as he was a few months ago on trial; he’s toned and looks full of life. Those haunted grey eyes are now an inviting silver, his face soft but sharply defined. It probably also helped that he donated to like a million charities (including the one to rebuild Hogwarts) over the summer with his father’s money the second he got chucked in Azkaban.
Not to mention, he talked smoothly in class, answered questions without hesitation, and somehow managed to seem perfectly composed even though most of the Eighth Years were barely holding it together. The other years fawned over his looks and words (Hermione calls it the “bad boy turned good trope”), and even the professors seem mildly unsettled by it. Harry is mostly just confused.
Because Malfoy is this new-and-improved version of himself with literally everybody (even Ron, to his disgust), but just not with Harry.
It starts off small. Malfoy is talking to Luna, and Luna invites Harry into the conversation by asking him a question. Malfoy is mid-sentence, then he suddenly derails and stares at Harry like he forgot how to speak.
“Like I was saying- Potter, I- I mean. That’s, uhm-” Then he just stops talking, mildly mortified. He clears his throat, letting Luna talk.
Harry frowns. Right. He assumes it’s hostility, that he’s offended that Harry would intrude. It’s what makes the most sense.
Later that week, it continues to happen. “Potter, could you- actually, no, I- forget it.”
“Do you understand the assignment? Not that I think you- I mean- yes, obviously you do.”
Each time, Draco looks increasingly furious with himself. Harry assumes Malfoy wants to lash out at him but doesn’t know how. He almost wishes Malfoy would yell at him or hit him or something, because Harry didn’t know how to react to this. Malfoy was normal with literally everyone else, even the other Gryffindors.
The weirdest part, though, is everyone’s reactions to this situation. Lavender once whispered to Parvati, “He’s doing it again,” under her breath, when Malfoy nearly dropped his book just because Harry walked past.
Some Seventh-year nudges her friend when she sees them talking, sighing dreamily as Malfoy walks away. “Merlin, what I’d give for him to notice me like that.”
Seamus snorts into his potion notes. “Mate, it’s actually embarrassing at this point.”
Seamus just stares at him. “Nothing,” he says.
Harry and Malfoy have been weird with each other for years, and no one batted an eye. Why was everyone so interested now? It’s not like Malfoy hating him was anything new.
Harry sees Malfoy sitting at a library table and decides to join him. It’s not a weird thing to do, considering almost all the other tables are occupied and Malfoy’s table is empty. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table right next to it, too. He sits down, and Malfoy starts to say something, then stops immediately, looking back down at his book.
“You were saying something.”
“I literally saw you open your mouth.”
Malfoy freezes, and for a second, Harry actually thinks he’s going to get up and run away. Instead, he opens his mouth again.
“I was going to ask,” he says finally, “if you understood the Potions notes.”
“...uh, yeah, kinda. But why would you need my help with Potions?”
Malfoy closes his book, looking away.
He stands up too quickly and leaves, speed-walking away. Harry watches him, wildly confused and reeling from that interaction.
He looks to Ron and Hermione. “Did I do something to him?”
Harry looks at the two of them, frowning.
Ron looks at him almost pitifully. “Mate.”
“He only does that with you,” he says, dramatically hand gesturing to Malfoy’s empty seat.
Harry rolls his eyes, sighing. “Yeah, yeah, he hates me. I get it, guys.”
Ron and Hermione look at each other, but don’t reply.
Later that week, Harry finally sees Malfoy alone in the corridor.
“Malfoy.” He visibly stiffens.
“You’ve been acting strange around me.”
“…I don’t know what you mean,” he says.
Harry looks at him like he’s insane. Is he going insane? Was he just imagining things? What was going on? He just wanted Malfoy to treat him normally. Whatever normal was for them, anyway. They were both just trying to survive their Eighth Year.
Behind them, some of the Eighth-Year Slytherins walk past, and Zabini whispers, not even quietly, “He’s so gone dude.”
Malfoy blushes slightly, giving Zabini a Snape-level death glare.
“Nothing,” Malfoy says quickly.
Harry looks between him and the smug-looking Slytherins.
It takes him around several seconds, but things finally begin to process.
“Oh,” Harry says. Malfoy looks like he wants to die.
And somewhere behind them, someone very helpfully mutters,
