An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Isolated Thunderstorms and Scattered Showers
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, Anthony Goldstein/Wayne Hopkins, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley - Relationship
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, Anthony Goldstein, Wayne Hopkins, Harry Potter Characters, Original Characters
Additional Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Invisibility Cloak (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Pining, Denial of Feelings, Some Humor, Panic Attacks, Harry Potter has Anxiety, Apologies, Questioning Sexuality, Brief Mention of Coma
Post-war, Harry needs space. Everything is too much all at once, and time and time again, he finds himself pulling the invisibility cloak over his head, just for a bit of peace.
Returning for eighth year is hard, especially when you're considered a war hero, and your name is Harry James Potter. It's just that things go a little wonky when Harry starts following Malfoy, and finds that he can't (or doesn't want to) stop.
Malfoy seemed to finally notice his sleeve was still rolled up and pushed it down hastily. "Why have you been doing it?"
"I don't know. Everyone is always looking at me, or talking about me, or something." Harry couldn't believe he was telling this to Malfoy, this thing he had never said out loud, but now that he was talking he didn't know how to stop. "Sometimes it feels so hard to breathe, like the pressure of what everyone expects is sitting on my chest, or…." Harry trailed off, suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know."
Malfoy let out a slow breath. "I understand."
Harry sat up a bit straighter, turning to face Malfoy. This close, openly staring at each other, both soaked, it felt terrifyingly intimate.
"The son of a Death Eater, a Death Eater in my own right—people are always wary around me. You know, crowds will part as I walk through, because no one wants to be near me."
"I'm near you," Harry said dumbly.
"Yes, I see that." Malfoy smirked.
"After that moment on the train, I just…." Harry wanted to look anywhere but Malfoy as he said this, and yet he couldn't look away from those glittering grey eyes, which seemed to be prying out every secret Harry had ever held. "I couldn't stop looking for you."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow nonchalantly, but Harry could see his fingers tighten, gripping the stone. Harry brought his own hands down to the cold steps, which cut into his fingers painfully.
"It was like sixth year all over again," Harry bemoaned, letting that admission hang heavy around them.
The rain was finally beginning to let up, the setting sun sending light scattering across fresh puddles and rippling across the grounds.
"Hopefully not, since you thought I was up to something."
Harry blinked against the sudden brightness as the sun shimmered across the Great Lake in the distance. "No, not this time." Harry let his hand shift an inch towards Malfoy's. "And… I'm sorry," he bit out, something inside him rearing at the idea of apologising to Malfoy, but he tamped it down. "I'm sorry, for erm, in the bathroom."
Malfoy nodded curtly. "Well if we're giving apologies, I suppose I'm sorry for, you know, most of it."
“I—No, I am sorry. For all of it. I was… a real twat. I was terrible, more than terrible. I hated myself, and I hated everyone around me, and it’s not an excuse, but I see that now. How terrible I was, I mean. I made mistakes, and I want to make up for them. And I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
Harry moved his hand another quarter inch. He wasn’t sure how to respond to something so sincere. "You really were a twat."
"You're not supposed to agree with me, you git."
“Then what would be the point of your apology?”
“You’re right,” Draco sighed. “Prick.”
"Of course I am." Harry crept his hand even closer. There were only a few centimetres separating them now. “Dickhead.”
"Well, I don’t," Harry said, and he realised that he meant it. He could sense Malfoy's hand next to his own, and didn’t dare to move any closer. Could Malfoy feel it too?
The sun had almost set, and a chill carried on the evening air. "What are we going to do now?" Malfoy asked.
Harry shrugged. "Well, we’re not enemies."
"No," Malfoy agreed. “But we’re not friends.
Harry nodded. “Not friends, but not enemies.”
"Even though I have the dark mark?"
Harry couldn't forget the images of green skulls bursting across the night sky, the floating masks in the graveyard, the dark mark slithering across people's wrists when Voldemort called for them. But he also saw Malfoy's blotchy and terrified face as he showed the mark to Dumbledore, and right now, sitting on the steps, he saw that Malfoy's knuckles were white.
"You made mistakes, you did bad things, but that… doesn't mean you're a bad person."
"Saviour Potter strikes again—"
Harry felt a tiny flare of anger. "Oh fuck off, Malfoy, I'm not trying to be all holier-than-thou. I'm serious. Snape had the dark mark, but he took actions to prove himself more than that."
Malfoy sighed, turning away, and Harry pulled his hand back to cross his arms.
"We should go inside," Harry said, standing up.
"Wait, Potter," Malfoy said, grabbing the edge of Harry's robes. He stood up awkwardly, dropping his arms to his sides. "If we're not friends or enemies, then what are we?"
"I think…" Harry started, steeling himself. "I think we’re nothing on the way to being something."
"What does that even mean, you idiot?"
"It means I don't want to use the invisibility cloak anymore, and I don't want you to avoid everyone anymore."
"The school year is almost over. Isn't it a bit late for that?"
Harry shook his head. "It's only spring, Malfoy."
"Whatever, Potter. I'm cold and wet, I'm going inside."
"Cast a drying charm, or aren't you a pureblood wizard?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes, pulling out his wand. He rolled it in his palm. "Why did my wand react to you?"
"It felt different after you gave it back to me."
"Do you think it's because of… us?"
Malfoy scowled, and Harry steeled himself, holding out his hand. Malfoy regarded him with surprised disdain. Harry imagined they were both aware of the parallels, and for a moment, he worried Malfoy would just turn around and walk right into the castle. Say fuck all to apologies, to being a better person. Harry had rejected him once, why give him a second chance? But, tentatively, Malfoy clasped Harry's hand. Malfoy—no, he was Draco now, maybe had been for some time—Draco’s grip was firm but his skin soft. And just like when Harry had held on to Draco’s wand, he felt a rush of energy, of comfort, the feeling of coming home, and judging by Draco's widening eyes, he felt it too.
"What does that mean?" Draco whispered with a tremor in his voice, as they let their hands drop to their sides.
“I’m not sure,” Harry replied honestly. “That there’s more to all this than we thought?”
Malfoy smirked. “I guess we’ve always kind of gravitated towards each other.”
Harry tried to quell the blush that bloomed on his cheeks, but when Malfoy’s eyes glinted and the tips of his ears turned pink, he knew he had failed. Harry turned, and Draco finally cast those drying charms.
Silently, they headed back into the castle. Even though people whispered as they walked through the Entrance Hall, Harry felt better knowing it wasn't just about him anymore, but him and Draco, that they were sharing this burden. There were still lots of things to talk about between the two of them, but they had made a tentative start. Harry wasn't sure what was going to happen next, and as they made their way to the eighth year table in the Great Hall, he wasn't even sure what he wanted to do after all this. Stay on at Hogwarts? Or was there something better out there waiting for him?