Like butterfly wings 3

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Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Author: black_ellebore ( on ao3)

(there might be some spelling mistakes because I translated this from Italian to English, it might say she or her instead of he and him sometimes.So watch out to see who is talking.)

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Draco listens to the sound of his own footsteps in the deserted loggia. His gaze wanders beyond it, towards the lawn of the courtyard outside, framed by arches that follow one another identical to the other.
All that brooding is not good for him, a little air is what it takes to distract himself; it is colder than he expected, but when it goes down into his lungs it feels as if it is cleaning him inside and out.
He surrounds his chest with his arms, shirt and sweater are not enough to protect him from the biting air, so hurry up to cross the deserted loggia and return indoors.
But here a silhouette emerges from the opposite side, directed towards him and, in spite of himself, he would recognize that silhouette among a thousand, if only for that shapeless tangle that is his hair.
Potter.
Why is cruel fate so fond of making fun of him?
And why is he alone? He is never alone. Where have his inseparable friends gone? And his admirers?
Draco would feel a lot calmer if someone else was around, but he can't help but keep walking, turning around would make it too obvious that he wants to avoid him.

Harry hurries, his hand in his pocket tightly gripping a small emerald lace bullet. That light little thing seems incredibly bulky, she has to get to the dorm and hide it as soon as possible among her things, before the others return from Hogsmeade.
Footsteps come from the back of the long loggia: someone in a hurry like him. And suddenly a ray of the pale sun, piercing through the arches, makes a hair so blond it seems almost white.
Harry's hand grips the delicate fabric even tighter, it almost stops in place, but he manages not to make that mistake. She doesn't want to make him understand her discomfort. Throw your eyes here and there: there is no one around. Curse.
Slow down your pace, try to recover a few seconds to reflect. How should it behave? To greet? Give a nod? To apologize? Being casual, indifferent, pretending nothing happened?

Draco decides that the best thing is to proceed as if nothing had happened, he tries hard not to walk too fast, so as not to give the impression that he is running away, but keeps a steady pace, hoping to discourage the Gryffindor from trying to do anything, whatever. thing.
And he feels like an idiot, because certainly Potter has no intention of doing anything, just go his own way and forget about Draco Malfoy's existence, as he always does.
The sound of the footsteps of both boys fills the length of the loggia, the Slytherin keeps his eyes down, the marble slabs of the pavement follow each other quickly in front of him, but when Potter's shadow crosses them, Draco can't help it. to look up for a moment: he crosses that of the Gryffindor, who in turn glanced at him in passing.
His heart beats so violently that he is afraid that Potter, already behind him, will hear him.
He just has to hold out a little longer, just long enough to get away enough to be able to take a breath and count this moment among the most pathetic of his life ...

"I haven't told anyone."

Draco remains frozen, halfway between one step and another, while the echo of those words dissolves under the high vault.
It wasn't a cry, but it wasn't a whisper either.
He is almost tempted to pretend nothing has happened, to continue without looking back. But now he has stopped, proof that he has heard those few syllables.
He stands with his back to him for the time it takes to take a deep breath, then turns around.
Potter is now looking at him openly, motionless, with his hands in his pockets and his lips slightly parted, as if he were about to say something else. But the silence persists, it is clearly waiting for a reaction from the blond.
Draco swallows. "And ... To continue like this, what do you want?"
He appears surprised by that answer, almost confused. Draco doesn't know where it came from, he reminds himself that the one in front of him isn't a Slytherin.
But ever since that incident in the locker room, he struggles to see Potter as before, a simpleton of Gryffindor.

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