Drarry One-Shots

Coffee, parchment and ink

 He knew that smell. It was kind of familiar, it was something sweet, something that made him comfortable and warm inside.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked him.

"Yeah" He said without looking up from his cauldron.

When the class ended and they exited the potions classroom, Ron and Hermione were babbling about they potion they just brewed, talking in hushed whispers that Harry could still hear.

"What did it smell like to you?" Ron asked him.

"Rain" He lied. Well, half lied. He did smell rain in the potion, but the greater smells were the other ones, the ones he couldn't tell to what belonged.

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The 8th year common room was warm when they entered. The fireplace was lit and some of the 8th years were already seated on the floor and chairs.

After the war things were hard, really hard. Hogwarts was different and it would never be the same, everyone knew it and everyone was starting to accept it.

Without a word, they sat on the floor, near the fireplace, and looked at the others. There weren't many 8th years, not everyone had decided to come back.

Seamus was the first one to talk. It was routine, it was something that happened every night, something that was safe and connected them, something that made them see each other's point of view.

Since the year had started, they sat together every night and shared stories, told things that happened to them before or during the war. Whether they were Ravenclaws, Slyhterins, Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors, they started understanding each other like they never did before.

While Blaise was telling his own story, Harry started smelling that sweet scent again and a warm feeling settled in his stomach. He looked around trying to understand why he had only felt the smell in that moment, after three stories had already been told, but the only difference in their positions on the floor were that Susan moved closer to the fireplace and Malfoy had gotten up and went to the bathroom, and Harry couldn't tell where the sweet scent was coming from.

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The next time Harry smelled the scent was on the Quidditch pitch at a friendly game between the 8th years. He was looking for the snitch when, all of a sudden, mixed with the smell of the air and the rain, he felt it in his nostrils, heart and on the pit of his stomach. He stopped his broom in the air and looked around but the person closer to him was Malfoy, also on his broom, looking for the snitch.

When the little golden ball appeared, both boys looked at each other, smirked with the shine of familiar challenge in their eyes, and dived in, with their right arms stretched in front of them, ready to catch the snitch.

It was when Malfoy was right next to him that it him. With a surprised gasp, he stopped mid fly and Malfoy took advantage of that to catch the snitch.

And Harry finally understood. Malfoy had just passed him by on the common room when he smelled the scent and he was right next to him just moments ago, and Harry could only see one explanation, now he just had to be sure it was really Malfoy and find out why he had smelled him between rainy Quidditch pitches and cakes in his Amortentia potion.

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"You seem down today, Harry. What happened?" Hermione woke Harry from his daydream.

"Do you know anyone that smells like coffee, parchment and ink?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

"I don't know, Harry... It's not like I go around smelling people." Ron said through a mouth full of food.

"Why do you ask?" Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "Don't tell me you smelled that in your Amortentia!"

"I didn't!" He denied too quickly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, knowing he was lying, but didn't drag the conversation, changing it to their homework.

Unconsciously, Harry looked at the Slytherin table, his gaze falling on the blond boy who looked up, feeling someone looking at him, and Harry couldn't help thinking that he would like to stare at the other boy's eyes from much closer.

Harry shook his head, like he was trying to get rid of the thoughts he didn't want to be having and started eating again.

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When Harry finished eating he told his friends he was going to the library to study a little before he went to bed. They looked at him weirdly, as if they didn't believe in what he was saying, but Harry wasn't lying, really.

In the library, he went to the shelves with the potions books and searched for something that could make him understand why he had smelled Malfoy in the Amortentia potion he brewed in class.

Without finding anything that Slughorn hadn't already said in class, Harry sighed and exited the library. In the 8th year common room, after he had gone to the bathroom, Harry said goodnight to the others and went to bed, diving into a night full of blond hair, grey eyes, coffee, parchment and ink.

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"Potter" someone said behind him.

Harry didn't have to look to know who was behind him; there was only one person that could say his name that way.

"Malfoy."

Without answering, Malfoy sat in front of Harry and put the book he has on his hands on top of the table.

"Where are your Gryffindors?" He asked without looking up.

"Went on a date. Didn't you go to Hogsmade?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"You don't need to be so sarcastic."

"You think that was being sarcastic? That wasn't anything, Scarhead."

"When are you going to stop calling me that, ferret?"

"When I feel like it." He shrugged.

"Thank you" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Look who is being sarcastic now."

"Shut up" Harry couldn't help but smile a little.

The situation was strange, Harry never thought that he and Malfoy would be having a decent conversation between books in the library, but here they were and Malfoy smelled like coffee and parchment and ink and, somehow, Harry knew that he wouldn't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, if given the choice.