In those Eyes. [Harry Potter]

The Past.

In the past his eyes had a mischievous glint to them. His main object of torture was "the boy who forgot to die" or "the orphan of the potter clan". Curiously, these words didn't carry the same sting as I recounted them in my head.

Now, as I stood here looking out of this window he looked more lonely than mischievous. His white blonde hair made him look a tad like his father as he had it combed back and had grown it out. 

I could have stood there all night but that wouldn't have helped my cause. I turned from the window and left him to tinkering with his potions. I made my way back downstairs, grabbing a bottled butter beer from the fridge and plopping down on the couch. The newspaper was full of uninteresting things but the front page was one of those things that everyone rejoiced at.

"The Second Anniversary of the Death of Voldemort" glimmered before me as the headline of the Daily Prophet.

I spoke it out loud to myself. It had been two years since I had last seen that noseless face and those dead eyes though, I still the nightmares to remind me exactly how terrifying he was.

I popped the cap off of the bottle and held it to my lips and heard Draco before I saw him bounding down the stairs, broom in hand. He was supposed to have been getting ready for quidditch practice, it was the only reason I had even set foot into the guest room - to remind him not to sulk all day.

He had become a professional quidditch player but I had given up being a seeker and just became an auror working for the ministry. 

Today was probably the only day I would ever get off and all I could do was think. I chose a job that kept me busy enough to where I didn't have to think so hard about my problems and now that I was finally at rest, they all came flooding back to the surface.  I scanned across the crinkled, stained pages of what could be considered an autobiography to some people.

It wasn't particularly for my own personal benefit. It was just in case a child and death were near in my future. If I were to have a child, I couldn't leave them piecing together what happened to me. Although, I somehow feel as though they wouldn't have much trouble finding information on me. It would be from outsider's perspective. The facts. It wouldn't be how I truly lived, what I thought. 

So, I tried to write down something of my future. I couldn't tell what the future would be so, it makes sense that the only thing in that section of notes is giant, black dried up spots of think and smudges of my own fingerprints as I wipe at them.

I peered up to see Draco sliding into his robes and grabbing his broomstick from where it was entangled with the coatrack.

It reminded me of Ginny and the night she left, the night all of this confusion started because I wanted to help Malfoy.

He opened the door and then hesitated looking back at me. 

"Bye." 

"Bye." I mumbled, eyes on the newspaper sitting on the coffee table. My name was flashing in Gryffindor colors and there was a picture of Ron, Hermione, Draco, and I on the front cover, when we were in our sixth year.

I flipped it over. 

"Where is Potter now?" 

There was no doubt of where Draco was, he was on a professional team that played around the world. Ron worked at the ministry and had stopped a bunch of very large cases. Hermione had begun to work at Hogwarts in place of McGonagall. Then, there was me. 

I didn't spend much time out in public. Too many eyes.

I held my breath as the memories flooded back into my head but all other signs of such a thing had disappeared. The scar, for one, was gone.

I realized Malfoy was still standing in the door looking unsure. 

"You going?" I asked, throwing the newspaper back onto the coffee table and standing.

 "Not sure," he mumbled, stepping back in and closing the door, "What would happen if the public knew where you lived or even that you're alive? I mean, they know that my parents were deatheaters and I became a professional quidditch player." 

"Yes, I know; I'm at every game," I said, rolling my eyes, "I just don't feel like being watched. When I do feel like it , I will notify the press." Sarcasm was dripping from the end of that sentence, but he ignored it. The invisibility cloak was really being put to use.

Draco eyed the door, no doubt thinking about how late he was making himself with this conversation. 

"So what do you want to be? The guy who works at the ministry?" 

"Pretty much." I responded heading into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He tossed his broom back into the corner by the coatrack and followed me. 

"What if what you choose affects the people around you?" I gave him a look and then smirked. 

I watched as the mug floated over to the coffee machine and I flicked my wand so that it would be filled.

"I let you live here; I lost my girlfriend. I'm not very good at making choices." He frowned and continued to follow me around the kitchen. 

"So, your future is to be a nobody who works at the ministry with a Weasley as a wife. Who are you, Arthur?" He asked as I lifted my mug up to my lips.

"Pretty much." He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, scowling at the floor.

 "Why? Do you want to marry her?" I asked looking over the rim of my mug as I took another sip.

"No, I don't want to marry that bi-," he stopped mid-sentence as I waited for him to continue.

"Remember I am an auror, Malfoy; I know all dark magic." I hissed with no real bite behind it, stalking over to and smacking him on the back of head for good measure. 

 "So immature." he commented, rubbing his head, "So you do want to marry her?"

"Didn't say that." I called over my shoulder as I stalked back into the living room, plopping on the sofa and flicking my wand so that the TV came on. 

"Well do you?" he persisted, plopping down beside me. I sat my mug on the table and sighed, turning towards him. 

"Why does it matter?" I asked rolling my eyes. 

"It just does?"

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because? Shouldn't you be at work?"

I watched as Malfoy pulled out his wand and then flicked it towards me, forcing me forward. "What are you-?" 

His lips tasted like cinnamon.