Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

Light Amidst Darkness

Draco blinked, forcing a smirk onto his face. He wrenched his gaze away from Harry and pointedly stared at the latter's abandoned Potions essay. "Really?" He drawled. "It certainly didn't seem like it minutes ago."

Harry turned his attention towards his desk and groaned, "Bloody essay. I've already ran out of things to write and I'm barely half a foot of parchment in."

"Write bigger, then." Draco deadpanned, picking up his quill, carefully averting his face away as Harry stomped towards his own desk.

"I thought you offered to help." Harry grumbled, slumping back into his chair. He picked up his quill and began twirling it idly in his hand, scowling darkly at his essay.

Draco watched him furtively, amused. He knew he'd come dangerously close to revealing his feelings to Harry. It was practically written on his face and he was having a hell of a time regaining his composure.

"I'm glad I came back."

Harry's voice had been gentle, filled with meaning. It was still reverberating inside Draco's head. Taking a deep breath, Draco shut his eyes, mentally berating himself that Harry could've meant anything by it, but his traitorous heart couldn't seem to let it go.

Then why did he look at you like that? It softly asked, prodding him.

Why, indeed?

Harry's eyes had softened, turning mossy green. That was the first time Harry had ever looked at him like that. These past seven years, every time Harry had stared, glared, or scowled at him, Harry's eyes had been as hard as emeralds, harsh and filled with contempt. It had never reflected something that Draco could only refer to as affection. Until today. Until that moment just now.

Draco chewed his lip, his heart thundering in his chest. He wondered if Harry could hear it from where he was sitting, seemingly oblivious to the maddening effect he had on Draco.

Could he really dare to hope that maybe... just maybe... Harry was beginning to care for him as someone who was more than just a passing acquaintance?

Why would he? After what you've done... after everything that's happened... There's far too much darkness between the both of you that nothing else could possibly take root. You're a fool for even hoping. He's Harry Potter. The living embodiment of all that's good and noble. The reason he's accepting of you now is the same reason he'd saved you from Fiendfyre; the same reason he'd spoken for you at your trial --- Harry Potter is simply incapable of watching another suffer injustice, even if the other person is someone undeserving of his compassion, an enemy. Someone like you.

In his mind, the scathing voice of rationality --- Lucius' voice --- reared its horrific head and sneered at him, driving home the ugly and painful truth.