Chrysalis

Chapter 18

After everyone had left, Draco snuggled up in his bed with one of the books he'd gotten, getting lost in the words. He'd always loved books—the smell, the feel, the way the rest of the world just disappeared...

He'd only been reading for a few moments when Harry knocked on his door, calling out, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Draco responded, setting the book aside. He was glad Harry'd come to see him before going to sleep. He'd wanted to talk to him about the memories in the crystal, but it had felt awkward with everyone there watching them.

Harry closed the door behind him and settled on the bed. "You were amazing tonight, Draco. I don't even know who you are any more, you're so different from the boy I remember. Thank you for being so gracious with Ron. I know he's difficult sometimes, but he's still my friend..."

"I know, Harry. It's why I've been trying so hard not to respond to his jeers. I'm sorry I did at all tonight. I—"

"Draco, it was his fault, not yours. I know that. And you backed off as soon as I asked you to stop."

Draco smiled. "Only for you, Harry. If it had just been him and me, it would have been a match to the death."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I can see it now. Him in a loincloth, and you in a tiger-skin, right?"

"Excuse me? I think you mean dragon skin..." he smirked.

Harry snorted. "Draco..."

They both laughed for a minute, and Harry lay back on the bed, stretched out on his back looking up at the ceiling. "You know, this might be the best Christmas I can ever remember having."

"Really? I was kind of thinking the same thing myself yesterday. I really like being here..." He swallowed the rest of the sentence—'with you,' would just sound a bit too forward. To be honest, he hadn't given a lot of thought to what he knew, but he knew there was something more going on between him and Harry than simple friendship. And he liked it. If he could keep it up, he would.

Harry was looking at him now, and Draco couldn't help but avoid his eyes. He wasn't too sure why he should feel guilty, but he did. "Draco?"

"Hm?"

"That stone..."

"The memory crystal?"

"Yeah, that. Why those memories?"

Draco took a breath before responding, gathering his thoughts so that he could talk without embarrassing himself. "Well, Madam Malkin's was a no-brainer, really. It was the first time I ever saw you."

"And watching me on my broom?"

Draco felt his cheeks colour. "I...that was sixth year. I'd been so busy, I'd missed Quidditch a lot. I finally decided I just needed a bit of fresh air, so I went and grabbed my broom, and went out to the pitch. But you were already there."

Harry leaned closer. "Why didn't you leave? Or even join me? You never worried about bothering me before..."

"I didn't even think about it. I'd watched you play a lot through our years at Hogwarts, but I'd never really watched you fly. You were always just my competition. My main competition, but still... And watching you...I don't know. It just—calmed me down. Almost like I was flying myself."

Harry looked at him for a long moment before asking, "And the last memory?"

Draco had to take another deep breath before he could answer. It felt like all of the air from his body had been expelled at once. "That one—" He swallowed and tried again. "That was when I figured out what my father'd been saying about you—about us."