Capax Infiniti [Drarry]✔

.: dépaysement :.

depaysement - a longing for a place that isn't where you are right now

There used to sparrows lined on the branches of trees that grew near Harry's windows. Their chirping would make Harry company while he slowly woke up every morning along with heavily oversized cups of peppermint tea. But ever since Draco and Adelaide have moved in, the nest of birds seemed to relocate to a location further away from predators such as barn owls. 

There used to be no one sitting at Harry's table in the kitchen. So it was only silence that was pouring over Harry while he made his buttered toast and cooked eggs every morning. But ever since Draco and Adelaide have moved in, the silence was more awkward than comforting. Although there would be an occasionally amused hum coming from Draco at the other side of the table as he found a particularly interesting passage in the book he was currently reading, most of the times, both Harry and Draco didn't know how to start something similar to a conversation.

They rarely talked for more than a minute or two, but it was enough to agree that Draco would clean, Harry would cook, do the dishes and buy the groceries and each of them would do their own laundry. There were some instances when they would find some spare thoughts to share such as complimenting Seamus' new jam type and discussing the new ingredients that could be added to make the taste even better, or Draco spoiling Harry the episode of Doctor Who he caught him watching along with comments about how childish it is of him to watch it.

 "Even Teddy wouldn't find all of that amusing anymore," Draco said, smirking but Harry didn't want to mention that Draco himself must be very childish if he can still remember entire episodes of the show with such detail. Harry usually let Draco have his way because they didn't know each other - not really - and he wanted to explore Malfoy as painlessly as possible. 

So if that meant that they don't ever become anything more than acquaintances, then it won't be only his fault since Draco doesn't try very hard to connect with his roommate either. On some days, mostly Sundays, when Harry would come home for lunch with the Weasleys to find Draco reading a new book on the couch with a bunch of take-out around him and that adorable grin plastered on his face, he wished it were easier. Talking to Draco, that is. He thought about borrowing same books as Malfoy and then discussing them but Malfoy changed his books more often than he changed his socks so there was no way Harry could ever catch up with him.

There were so different, him and Malfoy, or so it seemed but still, he couldn't find a door that he could open to reach him. Harry wanted to know Malfoy and clearly, Malfoy wanted to know Harry as well but somehow they were stuck somewhere in the middle ground. Maybe if Malfoy did end up going to Hogwarts, maybe then they would be able to build their friendship more easily. 

Harry often thought of that first encounter he had with Malfoy, back at Madam Malkins when he spoke to a boy, at the first glance a polar opposite of himself: blonde hair instead of black, skin pale instead of olive, eyes such a light blue shade to contrast Harry's wild, mossy green. But still, when Draco turned to him on one of those wobbly stools they'd both been standing on, there was hope in Harry's heart that he will not come to Hogwarts completely friendless. 

"Hullo. Hogwarts, eh?", Draco asked him, almost sounding apologetic as some witch started pinning Harry's robes. 

"Yeah... Unfortunately," Harry chuckled and lowered his gaze to his feet. He'd spent the last year and a half trying to find out as much as he could on wizarding culture. Ever since he's been nine and 99% certain he had magical powers - ever since he sent a swing (which was, at the time of the 'accident', a place Dudley had been sitting on) flying a full circle over and around the crossbar onto which it was attached.

There was no way Dudley would ever manage to do that trick himself and it definitely hadn't been his fault (although, he later claimed it was in hopes to seem cool) since he was screaming all the way through the swing-flying. Ever since then, Harry was certain magic was real and nothing Uncle Vernon ever said could make him doubt that ever again. He started practising his magic, trying to control the way it flows through his fingers and his hands, but most of all he wanted to find more 'freaks like himself' as his Aunt politely told him when he asked about it.