bloodline|drarry

6|rainfall

"if you don't shoot, you'll never know"

Harry watched as Malfoy's face dropped when he saw him at the door, he gulped, recognising now that this was a horrendously bad idea. Blaise was stifling a laugh, looking Harry up and down before giving him a dirty look; he backed slightly out the door, the three Slytherins in the room intimidating him.

Malfoy stood up, all of them laughing at something that Harry assumed had happened before he knocked. The tall boy stopped at the door, leaning on the frame with his elbow, his other hand was wrapped around a crystal glass filled with a burnt orange liquid. His face was faintly tinted red and his shirt was unbuttoned to his collarbone, revealing milky skin that was shimmering from the heat of the room; his tie lost somewhere.

"yes...?" Malfoy asked, he could hear the other two snickering inside. Harry quickly remembered that he was just standing silently in the doorframe of Pansy Parkinson's dorm. "Uh, yes, can I um..speak to you about something?" Harry cringed at his reply, Malfoy raised his eyebrows, scoffing. "Well? Spit it out then?" Harry rapidly lost all of his confidence, stepping even further into the hallway. "Can I speak to you in the hallway?" he mumbled, Malfoy turned around, mouthing something to Pansy and Blaise before stepping into the hallway to join Harry.

Harry was normally a pretty confident guy, but right now he might as well be a puddle on the floor. Not only was he admitting he was struggling with something everyone thought he was good at, he was admitting it to his sworn enemy; and then he was going to ask him to help him out with it. It was arguably the most embarrassing moment of Harry's life.

"You're good at potions." Harry started awkwardly, Malfoy smiled smugly, "thank you for stating the obvious, is that all you wanted to say or can I go back to my game? Harry's eyes narrowed, standing up straighter, throwing Malfoy a glare before continuing. "I'm not good at potions" was all he managed to say, the other boy's head flew back as he let out a deep laugh, coming back up to stare at Harry. "Do you want a medal? If that's it I will be going now." Malfoy's hand reached for the doorknob, Harry panicked, tugging his hand away swiftly. "No!" Harry grimaced at his urgency, Malfoy's face contorted in disgust; wiping his hand on his trousers. "What?" he spat, backing away from Harry. "What do you want, Potter?"

"Please can you help with potions this year?"

To Harry's amazement, Malfoy's face softened, his mouth curling up into a small smile. He stepped closer to Harry, leaning over him. "Fine" Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "But you owe me a pack of fags and a bottle of firewhisky."

Harry smirked, "deal"

-

The first Hogsmeade weekend of eighth year was a long awaited event, Harry couldn't wait to go to the three broomsticks with his best friends again, they had a lot to catch up on. They had been back at Hogwarts for around a month now and the trio had spent approximately no time together unless they were studying, a butterbeer in their favourite booth sounded like heaven just now.

The October air was sharp, biting at his hands and the tops of his ears, the copper leaves swirling around his feet as Harry dawdled his way to Hogsmeade village. The autumn day made Harry's thoughts turn scarlet and gold, welcoming in the fresh cool air and fragrance of the season. He could hear Hermione's soft giggle whistle through the wind, Harry could see the colourful buildings of Hogsmeade appearing up ahead, his stomach filling with excitement.

The soft tingle of the bell announced the trios entrance into the three broomsticks, the loud chatter instantly hitting him, Harry beamed. Hermione pulled Ron's hand over to their usual booth, ordering three butterbeers-one with ginger-and settling them down in the velvet chairs. And they sat, and they talked, and god it felt good.

It almost felt like the war hadn't happened, they were just teenagers having a drink and a laugh at the pub. Harry didn't feel any worry at all, he wasn't looking over his shoulder in case someone was trying to kill him, he was just all shiny and happy with his two best friends.

"So Harry, Malfoy drove you mental yet?" Hermione bubbled, downing the last of her second butterbeer. "Barely see him, i've had about three conversations with the boy since coming back." Harry was lying through his teeth but he couldn't be bothered dealing with Ron and Hermione telling him everything that was wrong with talking to Malfoy, he knew all that without their lectures.

Ron raised an eyebrow, casting a questioning look at Harry, "didn't you have detention with him?" Harry's eyes widened a little, trying to get his story straight. "Yeah, didn't speak to him though" he muttered, picking his glass up and drinking what was left; Ron just left it, changing the conversation to quidditch.

They were talking for around two hours, but Harry could notice Hermione getting tired and Ron needing to get up and walk about, "shall we go then?" he suggested, his friends nodding furiously. They paid, said thank you, and left the comfort of the three broomsticks.

It had gotten dark outside, Harry didn't realise how long they had been in there; the whole time felt like five minutes. Ron and Hermione both turned to walk back to Hogwarts, but Harry had to show up to his dorm tonight with a bottle of firewhiskey and a pack of fags, he couldn't exactly just pluck them out of thin air. Harry unsuccessfully tried to sneak away without them noticing, Ron and Hermione following him to the only shop in Hogsmeade that sold those things.

He walked out of the little shop with goods in hand, bumping right into his friends. "What did I tell you about smoking Harry?" Hermione swore, looking into the bad, pulling out the bottle of firewhiskey, "and you're drinking?" She stared at him in utter disbelief, Harry just pushed past them, mumbling a "they're not for me"

"Why do you have those things Harry?" Ron said, asking genuinely. Harry swallowed, looking at Hermione, "I found someone to help me 'Mione" her mouth fell open, gaping at Harry and then at Ron. "he's getting Malfoy to help him with potions" she stared at him blankly, he looked at Ron, who was practically turning purple.

"MALFOY! You're buying these things for MALFOY?" Ron bellowed, not caring that they were in the middle of the street, Harry tried to move closer to him to calm him down but Ron backed away, "are you fucking serious Harry? Not only are you getting bloody tutored by him, you're buying him fags and drink? What the actual fuck?!" Ron was fuming, looking at Harry like he was something he found on his shoe, "Ron i-" his friend just pushed right past him; stopping right at his shoulder. "Fucking save it"

And then him and Hermione were both marching away from him.

-

Draco was sitting in his favourite armchair, reading to himself, the only other sound in the room was the rain that had just started to fall. He stood up, opening the window so he could hear it in the whole room. Sitting back down and opening his book, he was fully relaxed just listening to the rain tap faintly on the windowpane. The door bursting open made Draco almost jump out of his skin.

"Fucking hell Potter, do you have to make a dramatic enterance everytime you walk into the room?!" Draco snapped, breathing out a little bit. Potter didn't say anything, just slammed the door shut and walked over to the windowsill. He put his hand out the window, letting the rain fall gently onto his palms. Draco crossed the room to sit on the windowsill too, letting his own hand fall out of the open window, feeling the cold rain patter down onto his fingers.

The sky was low and grey, a distant flash of lightning was seen under the clouds, Draco counted the seconds, and then said, "eight miles, more or less." Potter gave him a confused look, Draco explained further.

"If you count the seconds in between the thunder and lightning it tells you how far away it is. My mum used to tell me that when I was younger, it calmed me down during thunderstorms."

Potter's expression didn't change, he pulled his hand out from the window, he pointed at a bag sitting on Draco's bed. "Your stuff is in that bag, when can we start?" He muttered, Draco stood up, walking over to Potter, "meet me at the place where you had your little club in fifth year, at nine tonight." He didn't wait for an answer, leaving Potter in the room.

As soon as he closed the door, his eyes widened.

Why the hell did I just invite Potter to the room of requirement?