Love or Death || Drarry

Chapter eleven

"We should celebrate," Harry says, his wide smile had died down to a small grin in the short minutes the two had sat there. Harry was happy, he had finally offered a truce like he had wanted to since the train ride. He just didn't think Malfoy would agree, but he had. He wouldn't have to force a scowl or glare every time he saw Malfoy, he wouldn't have to pretend anymore. Well, he would, if they were in public, but Harry could easily just ignore the boy. Which would be hard, Malfoy really was a piece of work and exceptionally hard to ignore at the best of times, especially with those eyes. Gods, the grey could kill Harry if he stared hard enough.

Stop thinking like that, you just offered a truce, don't ruin it, Harry scowled his inner monologue.

"Celebrate?" Malfoy's asks, his eyes turning suspicious. Although the smile remained.

Harry crossed his legs. "Yeah, we could go to the kitchen and steal some butterbeer,"

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. "I prefer firewhisky," he mumbles, "And we can't right now, we could get caught,"

"Since when do you care about getting caught?" Harry muses.

"Since I'm on probation from the ministry." Malfoy replies.

Harry nods his head in understanding. "Right. Then, tonight? I'll steal the firewhisky," Harry offers.

Malfoy thinks about it for a moment. "What are we celebrating, exactly?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Isn't it obvious?"

"What, like... extinguished animosities?"

Damn him and his fancy words. "I was thinking more like an end to a feud, but sure," Harry replies.

Malfoy smirks. "Okay, tonight then." he stands up and straightens himself, patting his shoulders. Harry feels a stab of disappointment at obviously seeing the boy getting ready to leave. But before he does he turns and points accusingly at Harry, "And I don't want any of that cheap stuff, imported firewhisky is the best, I shan't drink anything else."

Harry had never heard anyone say shan't in real life. "Sure, whatever you want."

Malfoy watches him for a moment, sussing him and his answer out. He lowers his finger, obviously finding whatever he's searching for. "Okay, good." And then he turns to leave.

Before he can disappear into the bathroom though, Harry quickly yells.
"I'll come get you later!"

He gets a grunt in reply and Harry realises his cheeks might just crack at how much he's smiling. But he notices a little too late that this sounded oddly like a date. Why did he yell that out? It did sound awfully like Harry was asking Malfoy out. Harry realised with a strange tingling in his stomach at the thought, that he might not mind that after all.

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Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner. Hermione and Ron were across from him and dean was sitting next to him, talking to Seamus as usual.

Hermione was glaring at Harry. Harry couldn't pretend like he didn't know why. But he did anyways. "What?" He asks her as he piles some potatoes on his plate. Her glare felt like it was burning a hole in Harry's head.

"Don't what me Harry, where were you in transfiguration?" She was gripping her fork so hard Harry was sure she would snap it.