What Happens After Dark - Drarry

𝟙𝟚

New word count: 1.1k
Date (re)published: November 12th, 2020
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— Sunday - The Courtyard - 1:20pm —

Harry was daydreaming again.

It wasn't much of a surprise, especially considering the fact that he was only with Ron and Hermione at the moment. His mind always seemed to be wondering off nowadays, not that his friends minded.

He was thinking about Draco again. He was thinking about how the two would relax, normally sitting on separate chairs or sofas, and just talk. They loved to talk to each other. Harry always found himself losing himself in the blond's velvety, rich voice as he complained about Pansy, or ranted about the Bloody Baron scaring the first years until they vomited all over the common room carpets.

Harry always found Draco's stories of the Slytherin Common Room to be quite intriguing. He'd never thought Slytherins could be fun, let along the Bloody Baron. He'd pay to see the ghost scaring first years, which was a bit rude, but Harry couldn't always be sunshine and rainbows.

'Oh Merlin! Does the Bloody Baron ever scare you?' Harry'd asked that one night, and the long pause he'd been acquainted with afterword gave him a pretty good idea of the answer.

'Of course he does!' The response was rushed and snappy. 'The twat floats through the walls into my dormitory in the middle of the night and screams until all of us are awake just for the kick of it!'

Harry laughed out loud at the memory, and was shot some pretty strange glances by Ron and Hermione. "Do you really think poetry is that funny, Harry?" Hermione asked with her head cocked to the side, a goofy smile playing on her rosy lips. Harry watched the light snowflakes drift down from the murky gray skies and pretended that he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"Sorry, did you say something, 'Mione? I was just admiring the snow." Harry smiled brightly and laughed a bit. Hermione just scoffed, which Ron copied dramatically shortly afterword, leaving the group in giggles.

After the giggles had subsided, the three actually looked at the snow, smiling as it fell down in tufts and clumps of soft white. The Courtyard looked as if it were covered in soft, pillowy cotton that glistened in the afternoon sunlight. Harry thought the idea of rolling in it would be fun, but when he reached down to touch the white powder, he remembered that snow was cold, and that he was not immune to such temperatures. "The snow's cold, in case you were wondering." Harry joked, before shoving his freezing hands back into the warm wool gloves Mrs. Weasley had given him to match this year's sweater. His friends chuckled quietly again, and Harry soon found himself drifting off.

His mind wandered to pleasant things, like quidditch, Draco, and whatever plant Professor Sprout had insisted be planted around the castle that made it smell so lovely. When Harry had asked Hermione about the plant, she'd responded: "I've read about those! Oh Merlin, I've forgotten the name. The plants are kind of like Amortentia in a way, giving off strong scents of what makes you most comfortable and relaxed. Also like Amortentia, the plant smells different to every person, and sometimes it even looks different! But, however, it is not a lust inducing plant in any way, shape, or form, and it hasn't been proven to persuade any different behavior."

And now Harry found his thoughts changing from plants that resemble twisting, winding vines covered in multicolored lilies that sparkled like shimmering stars, to ones of a blonde-haired silver-eyed boy, who was coincidentally walking past the group. Harry watched as Draco didn't even look back as he passed by but instead headed straight for the same tree he'd sat in during fourth year. The blonde climbed the tree quickly, slipping his leg over the branches expertly. Harry averted his eyes quickly, taking notice of the way his friends glanced in the Slytherin's direction with a look of disgust. He sighed, hoping that one day that look would disappear and be replaced with a friendly smile.

•••

Draco was in a fucking tree again.

Harry didn't know why the idiot did it to himself. He would just burst out of the castle, allowing the cool air to kiss his face lightly before tackling the feat with great agility. It was a fantastic waste of time, and completely stupid. Draco wasn't a squirrel, but he sure did act like one, and Harry wasn't sure why.

Draco was sitting on a particularly strange branch, that had very few leaves and was twisted and bent in every direction. It was loopy, and ugly, but he liked it and would fight anyone who said anything bad about it. It was his branch, and he wasn't going to except criticism.

Harry thought that this was bizarre, and he watched as Draco peered out across the Courtyard in search of nothing in particular. The Slytherin was sitting on a bench with his two best friends, an obnoxiously attractive smile plastered on his face.

Harry decided to make his way over and speak to Draco, since Hermione was still going on about poetry. When Ron saw that Harry was leaving him to speak to Draco, he asked for Harry to pass on a message, and Hermione scolded him for leaving.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked when he finally approached. His smile widened when he seemed to notice Draco finally zoning his attention on him. "Ron wanted me to tell you that you're a ferret, and Hermione wanted me to sit my arse back down on the bench."

"How lovely." Draco didn't crack a smile at Harry, which was slightly off-putting. "And you can tell the weasel that his insults haven't improved since he was shot out of the womb."

Harry laughed at this, and looked at the ground for a bit. His attention then seemed to resurface on Draco, and he smiled again. Draco, however, did not return the grin. He, instead, redrew the mask he'd been trying so hard to be rid of and shot Harry a peculiar glance.

"Potter," he started to speak, before stopping to regroup his flighty thoughts. "What right do you have speaking to me? I've no time for your shenanigans, and would appreciate a bit of well-deserved space. We don't like each other, remember." When Harry didn't blink, he tried something else. "Leave me alone, Potter!" He bellowed quite loud; his hand would've flown to his mouth had he not been grasping the branch for his dear life.

Harry obliged, knowing that it would confuse the hell out of the ferret.

•••

Harry didn't go see Draco that night.

Draco didn't like him, and he never would.

They couldn't be friends.

He just wanted to feel Draco 's long arms wrap around his torso and tell him that everything was going to be okay. He just wanted reassurance that he didn't deserve.

But he would never feel that. He would never understand any emotions except for loneliness, and he had come to terms with that concept.

Loneliness was cool, he decided.

•••