He's Still A Part of Me

2) Then don't be around.

The hall was alive with cheers and cries of victory, but Draco Malfoy hung back, a scowl forming as he watched Harry Potter soak up the attention. It was supposed to be over. They were supposed to move on. And yet, something about Potter's expression didn't sit right with him.

Draco leaned against a broken column, arms crossed, watching as the so-called "Chosen One" forced a smile through waves of well-wishers. Anyone else would have missed it—Potter's brief grimace, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He looked almost haunted, like he'd seen something in that final moment with Voldemort that no one else had.

As the crowd started to thin, Draco felt his feet move almost of their own accord, edging closer. He told himself it was nothing more than morbid curiosity. He wanted to see the cracks in Potter's heroic facade, the hint that he wasn't as invincible as everyone made him out to be.

When he finally got close enough, he called out, his tone sharp. "What's the matter, Potter?" he sneered, keeping his voice low but biting. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or maybe something worse?"

Harry's head snapped up, his tired eyes narrowing as they met Draco's gaze. He looked ready to brush Draco off, but something in Draco's expression made him pause. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry shot back, barely concealing his irritation. "Come to throw in one last insult while you have the chance?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "Don't flatter yourself. You're just acting strange, and I don't trust it. Doesn't exactly inspire confidence in our savior when he looks like he's about to be sick."

Harry's jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, lowering his voice. "It's nothing you need to worry about," he said tersely. "Voldemort's gone. That's all that matters."

"Is it?" Draco retorted, his eyes narrowing. He could sense something off, something Potter was trying desperately to hide. "Because it looks like he left a little something behind."

Harry's face paled, his mask of irritation slipping just for a moment. But he quickly recovered, his glare hardening. "Don't pretend you care, Malfoy," he muttered, his voice cold. "This isn't your business."

Draco scoffed, crossing his arms. "Believe me, I don't care. But if you're about to crack up or do something stupid, I'd rather not be around to clean up the mess."

Harry glared at him, his lips pressed in a thin line, clearly struggling to hold back whatever was gnawing at him. "Then don't be around," he replied sharply, turning away.

Draco watched him go, the frustration brewing in him only intensifying. Whatever was bothering Potter, it was something dark, something that wouldn't just vanish overnight. And though he'd never admit it, Draco found himself wondering just what it was—and if he'd end up regretting not pressing him further.

Draco spotted his friends gathered by a toppled statue, laughing about something. The lightness in their voices contrasted with the rubble-strewn hall, and for a moment, he considered shrugging off what he'd seen. After all, they'd been through a war—everyone was bound to look a little shaken. But Potter's haunted expression clung to his thoughts.

"Draco!" Theo called, waving him over. "Thought you'd gone off for some 'post-battle introspection' or something."

Blaise chuckled, adding, "Or maybe you were tracking down your favorite Gryffindor?"

Draco shot them both a look, rolling his eyes. "Please. I've had my fill of Gryffindors today," he said, hoping to sound casual.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Right. You do realize the war's over, Draco? You don't have to keep tabs on Potter anymore."

Draco crossed his arms, trying to ignore the flicker of nerves their teasing stirred. "Why would I care about Potter?" he replied with a forced shrug. "He's probably basking in all the attention as usual."

Blaise laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, Draco. You've been 'not caring' about Potter since first year. Remember third year, when you swore he was lurking around just to annoy you? Or that time in fourth year when you said you'd seen him casting dark spells in a corridor—just because he beat you to breakfast?"

Draco scowled, though he couldn't help a small smile. "I'd hardly call that an obsession, Blaise."

Theo gave him a sideways glance. "Right, so you didn't happen to notice if he was... lurking around today?"

Draco hesitated, the memory of Potter's expression creeping back into his mind. His friends waited, grinning, and finally, he sighed. "Fine. Yes, I saw him. And yes, there was something... off."

Pansy's expression softened, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Off, how?"

Draco hesitated, shrugging as if it were nothing. "He looked... I don't know. It wasn't victory on his face, that's for sure. More like he'd just seen something—something worse than the Dark Lord."

Theo crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe he's just exhausted?"

"Or maybe he's finally feeling the weight of his 'Chosen One' title," Blaise suggested, smirking. "Either way, it's hardly your problem."

Draco tried to shake it off, but the unease lingered. "Yeah, well... I just don't want him snapping and taking everyone with him."

Pansy nudged his shoulder with a grin. "Careful, Draco—you're starting to sound obsessed again."

Draco rolled his eyes, forcing a chuckle. "You all need new material," he said, but his gaze drifted back to where Potter had disappeared.