Aftermath (Drarry)

Chapter 10: "Messy Hair Suited Him"

A/N: I'm back! Thanks for being patient everybody :) A cheeky bit of self promo: go follow my tumblr dilsgaydads. Thanks and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

DRACO:

It was a cold Thursday evening and Draco was sat at one of the desks in the Room of Requirement (there were two now: one for him and one for Potter) working on his Potions essay. He and Potter had managed to be civil with each other since they decided to just both use the room together. Some days Draco got the room to himself, and he had to stop himself wondering what Potter was doing, and other days he decided not to go and had to stop himself wondering whether Potter was there or not. On the days they were both in there they had barely talked, just the occasional 'hello' now and again. It surprised Draco that they had managed to stop fighting with each other so quickly.

Draco didn't even turn around when he heard the door open and close as someone walked in.

"Hey," said Potter as he sat down at his desk which was a few feet away from Draco's.

"Hello."

Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Potter pulled a roll of parchment and a quill out of his bag and set them on the desk. He then rooted around in his bag for a whole minute before sighing, setting his bag down on the floor, and turning in his chair to face Draco. Draco quickly pretended he hadn't been watching him.

"Do you have any ink I could borr- oh!" Draco turned to look at him and saw that he was looking at the pot of ink that had newly appeared on his desk with mild surprise written on his face. Potter turned his face back towards him, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile. "Guess I forgot where we are." Draco wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help but smile back, although he quickly stopped and turned back to his essay, feeling his face heat up as he realised that Potter was still looking at him.

"What?" He snapped, turning back towards Potter after he clearly wasn't making any effort to go back to whatever it was he was planning to do with the ink pot he needed. Potter recoiled slightly in shock and shot him an indignant look.

"I just don't think I've ever seen you genuinely smile before, that's all." He shrugged slightly and ran his hand through his hair before turning back to his desk. Draco also turned back to his desk, although he couldn't seem to pick his essay back up. He was in shock. He hadn't even noticed it himself but that was the first time he'd properly smiled in years. He didn't think Potter paid enough attention to him to notice that. Nonsense, he thought. He had always been an arsehole around Potter so the only smiling or laughing Potter would have seen him do would have been him laughing at someone or making a joke at their expense. It wasn't like Potter had actually noticed anything, it was just that whenever he was looking Draco was always bullying. It disheartened him to think that Potter only ever saw him as a bully and a Death Eater (although he wasn't sure when he started caring what Potter thought about him).

Draco quickly glanced at Potter out of the corner of his eye. His eyes were fixed on the parchment in front of him and while one hand was holding his quill just above the parchment, the other was running through his hair. Messy hair suited him, Draco thought. He tried to turn his attention back to his essay but eventually decided his efforts were futile - he couldn't concentrate anymore.

With a quiet sigh, Draco started packing up his things. He couldn't help but notice Potter glance at him a few times as he was putting his books carefully into his bag. As he left, he took one last look at Potter, who was now writing furiously as if he had to get something down before it left his brain.

The common room was just as busy as usual on a weekday evening: there were people playing chess or Gobstones or just talking and there were plenty of people trying to study (although how they could concentrate with all the noise, Draco would never understand). He noticed Blaise and Pansy having an animated conversation on one of the leather sofas. They didn't notice him, so he went straight to his dorm.

Draco quickly got ready for bed and lay down, closing the curtains around his bed with a flick of his wand. He got his journal and a self-inking quill – he didn't want to risk spilling ink on his bed: cleaning spells weren't exactly his speciality – out of his bag and started to write.

Today Potter and I actually spoke. Well, I mean, we didn't exactly have a conversation. We greeted each other when he arrived, and he nearly asked me if he could borrow some ink before the Room of Requirement materialised some for him. He smiled at me, then. And I smiled back. Like an absolute idiot. Why did I do that? I should be able to control myself around Harry Potter of all people. Then he had to go and make it worse by saying that he's never seen me genuinely smile before. Now I can't help but wonder whether he's actually noticed that I never really smile or whether it's just because he only ever sees me being an arsehole. While I wish it was the former, I know it's the latter. If I had a list of regrets, firstly, it would be very long, secondly, being a bully would definitely be on there.

Growing up I had never been a victim, so I guess it was easy to bully people. But since father went to Azkaban and the Dark Lord started using me to punish him, I understand what I put people through a little better and I wish I'd never put them through it.

Draco looked up when he heard someone come into the room and head into the bathroom. Glancing at his watch, which he had placed on his bedside table, he decided it was time for him to try and sleep.

He dreamt that he was at the Manor (he couldn't call it home). He was in the drawing room which was set up for a Death Eater meeting with the furniture pushed up against the wall and a long table which spanned most of the room. There was no-one in there but Draco. He walked closer to the table and saw blood stains.

A hissing sound suddenly filled the room and a fire burst into life in the fireplace. Draco looked around. He couldn't place the noise. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. The hissing and the crackling sound from the fire got louder until he noticed that one of the chairs closest was also on fire. He jumped back from the table as the other chairs started setting alight too.

He reached for his wand and pointed it at the flames in front of him, but no spell would work. He shouted extinguishing spell after extinguishing spell, but nothing happened. Soon, the table was also engulfed in flame. Draco dropped his wand and backed up towards the door. Sparks started flying towards him. As if they were trying to reach him. Trap him. Engulf him. He woke up sweaty and breathing like he had just sprinted around the quidditch pitch twice.

At breakfast, Draco was hardly awake. He heard Pansy and Blaise talking about an article in the Daily Prophet, but he wasn't paying attention. He stared down at his nearly untouched plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with his fork in his hand, as if he was going to eat more.

That nightmare had shaken him. It was similar to one he'd had before but much more intense and unnerving. He didn't know what to make of it. He considered finding a book on dream interpretation in the Room of Requirement, but he knew he would die of embarrassment if anyone – especially Potter – found out.

At that moment, he happened to look up and see Potter and his friends walking into the Great Hall and sitting down at the Gryffindor table, Weasley with his back to him and Potter and Granger facing him. Draco was surprised that, even from this distance, he could make out the dark circles under Potter's eyes. He wondered if he had stayed up late finishing whatever he was doing yesterday in the Room of Requirement, or whether he'd had a nightmare like Draco had.

He shook his head slightly and looked back down at his plate, it didn't matter to him what Potter was doing.