I Think I Like Him

18. Déjà Vu

Word Count: 1794

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A grin reached his cheeks before he could stop himself, and he looked up to see if Draco was watching, only to find him staring at him already; a subtle smile clinging to the corners of his mouth.

"You don't have to stop them from jumping out, do you?" Harry breathed, not remotely certain he had said the words aloud in his mildly dazed state. Draco's eyes broke from his and he dipped his head, laughing; "It took you that long to catch on?" He positioned his wand over the potion and non-verbally allowed something to entangle with it.

Harry couldn't tell what it was, but the blurry shiver of the inside of the cauldron and Draco's cloak behind that, reminded him of the gas hob he had to switch on many times in his youth when making the Dursley's breakfast. The gas-like substance dulled the glowing gold to a metallic brown, that swirled without the need of mixing.

The Gryffindor waited until he had filed his wand back into his pocket; "Is it ready?" He was given a nod in reply, as Draco leaned over the cauldron and picked up a silver ladle that contrasted greatly with the dark contents it was dipped in.

The Blonde lifted it out again and smelled it, only to recoil quickly, causing half of it to fall from the large spoon, back into the brewing pot. "I always forget how putrid the smell really is.." this earned a chuckle from Harry, who lent down to smell the potion, only to give the same reaction. "Godric-" Harry said, covering his nose. "Yep." Was Draco's reply.

He tipped the rest of the potion still left in the ladle into an empty vial, before plunging it back into the cauldron and pouring in another spoonful. Stopper-ing it, he placed it on the desk. "That's us done, Potter" Draco said, motioning for Harry to sit. Harry did, and Draco followed, closing his potions book and putting it back in his bag.

Harry had spent the short time between their run-in in care of magical creatures and now, to go over what he would say to Draco during their impending talk. It was as if he had sobered since the day before, and was now looking over their situation with new eyes (which was probably true, since he was now on much milder pain-reducing potions since his side had begun healing properly). He was going to tell malfoy that he was sorry that he may have given him the wrong idea, but them being friends would simply not work. They were too different, like it or not.

That was what he had planned to say, anyway. He had been reciting those words religiously in his head, but found it much harder to believe them when he was actually in the company of the Slytherin. And now, after the potion, he couldn't even find it in him to pretend to want any of that.

It was a small gesture, sure. But it had definitely changed something, and now there was another commodity lingering in the air between them, that Harry couldn't place. No, it was a bad idea. It would surly end in disaster for all parties involved.

But then.. Harry would think back to those days in the hospital ward. They would sit and talk for hours. There were no awkward silences, and speaking to Draco was more natural than even Ron, in some aspects. He honestly didn't know if Harry's genuine enthusiasm for the Blond's stories had been due to Draco's clear conversationalist skills, or if his childhood had indeed been that interesting to him.

"....until dinner?"

Harry looked up, "Hm?"

"I said, since we've finished early do you want to have that talk now, or wait until dinner?" Harry hesitated, weighing his options. He glanced around at the students around him who were still brewing, but not everyone seemed busy enough for there to be no chance of them eavesdropping, "No, I- I think waiting till dinner will be best."