Love Like You

2. An Unpleasant Talk

A week had passed since that visit to Draco.

In that time, the only thing I had managed to accomplish was reaching a compromise with Draco, who had (reluctantly) agreed to let me stop by once a week. Having been reasonably busy with school work during the week, I planned on visiting him again this weekend. But as you could probably imagine, he was not exactly looking forward to that. Whatsoever. At all.

Draco was everything but ecstatic to talk to me (shocking, I know.) He pretty much only spoke when he wanted to insult me or needed to answer a question. Most of the time, however, he would not even give me a proper response. Even to a simple question like "how are you doing today?" he would respond with "fine," or "alright," or even "worse now that you're here."

And the pièce de résistance? He refused to call me Harry. Instead Draco continued to refer to me as Potter, or Scarhead, or Golden Boy, or anything other than my actual name, really. (One time I could've sworn he called me Harvey, although I might've misheard due to sleep deprivation, which wouldn't be the first time.) I had told him multiple times (insisted, even) that just Harry was fine, but Draco either didn't get the message or simply ignored it.

It was clear that Draco still wasn't very fond of me.

Though all of this was still improvement in a myriad of ways, I was not nearly satisfied yet. What I wanted more than anything was to fill the deep, wide gap that had grown between us over the years. In some way or another, I'd always felt guilty for it, feeling it was my fault our relationship was this way. A part of me, a very, very small part of me, secretly wished that someday we could maybe even become friends. I'd never dare to admit this, of course, fully aware of the fact that I was longing for the impossible. He was Draco Malfoy, I was Harry Potter; the two of us were a million worlds apart. It was an ugly truth set in stone.

But with every passing second I was spending with him, my wish kept coming closer and closer to becoming reality.

"Good afternoon, Draco," I greeted semi-enthusiastically, opening the door with a loud slam. Draco, who wore a black button-up dress shirt along with black trousers, was sitting at his desk, a book in his hands that still held his attention as he spoke. "You really mustn't keep barging in here like this," he replied calmly, casually flipping over the page as if this were an everyday occurrence. And at this point, it might as well have been.

"What are you up to?" I asked as I quietly closed the door behind me. Draco did not take his eyes off of his book while responding, "Just reading."

"Yeah, I figured you'd be. It's all you do," I said, then hastily added, "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

But Draco didn't seem to have heard me. He flipped over another page of his book and continued to read. I don't think me being there would've made a difference.

I never thought I would meet a bigger bookworm than Hermione. That is, until I discovered how much of a nerd Draco Malfoy was. His bookshelves were lined with the spines of countless of books on theories and laws, and his nose was often buried in whatever book he held in his hands whenever I entered his dormitory. Now that I think about it, I can't remember the last time I saw him without a book. Considering how little I've read these past few years, I had a hard time relating to that. He and Hermione would've been great friends, though.

"So," I began, attempting to regain his attention, "What is it that you're reading?"

Looking up from his book at last, Draco briefly glanced in my direction and answered, "Atlas of Celestial Anomalies. A good read, if I may be so bold."

I gave him a puzzled look, the title not ringing any bells. "That's... fun, I guess?" Before the bookworm could resume reading, I quickly asked, "Do you have a favourite genre?"