Tale as old as time,
Two eleven-year old boys meet in Madame Malkin's Dress Robes shop, both shopping in preparation for the upcoming school season. One has a messy nest of black hair, dark, warmly toned skin flecked with faint freckles and there's a pale, raised scar of a lightning bolt crackling across his forehead over strikingly bright emerald-green eyes. He's nervous; his eyes flicker all around the shop, and his expression is painted with a mixture of emotions; shock and disbelief and wariness and utter awe.
The other is the opposite; snow-white hair, gelled back in a sweeping wave, matched with a smooth, pale, flawless complexion, rosy lips and cheeks and icy blue eyes- like a human incarnation of winter. He seems cold, too; all soft cheeks, but his clothes are immaculate and harsh. He radiates confidence; from his posture and his clothes to the way that he is so comfortable in the situation.
"Hullo," he says. "Hogwarts, too?"
True as it can be;
Maybe they spend seven years together at Hogwarts.
They are shown as the absolute opposite; but, in reality, they are more similar than most could ever hope to understand.
They are both children born in the midst of a war, born of parents following someone who beholds their beliefs; a powerful someone. Both are expected to grow up, to take responsibilities of their leader; to lead their allies against each other. It is an expectation that sits heavy on their shoulders; they aren't even adults yet- not really.
Barely even friends,
Those seven years they spend together, they spend at each others' necks.
One goes to unhealthy lengths to be noticed- staying up all night to make badges; conducting over a hundred students in a chorus; climbing trees and making a fuss over their injuries and pretending to be a soul-sucking creature just to get a rise.
One gets the attention without even trying, but spends their time carefully monitoring the other; going so far as to be nearly stalking the other for over a year. They hurl insults when they meet; to raging rivers of passion, of beliefs and cares and an ice-cold storm clashes with the burning heat of a raging wildfire, uncontainable by any other.
Then somebody bends-
The war is over.
One boy wins his life; the other loses everything but his life. At a court hearing, the winner stands up for the defeated. Speaks of how they both saved another life. He rescues him from his own mistakes. The defeated boy is set free. Once the trial is over, he seeks out the boy who saved him.
And he thanks him. It's the first time he has ever truly thanked somebody and meant it. Unexpectedly.
Just a little change,
After that, they cross paths multiple times.
They cross paths during work; and outside of it; at the pub; with their friends; in the park; their friends come to like each other, and arrange for these "coincidental" meetings to keep occuring.
"Back to stalking me, Potter?" one asks the other. They don't argue. They make small, rather awkward talk about one's family, and the weather, and one's friends, and the public and the appearances, and their jobs, and how you-were-sixteen,-Malfoy,-you-can't-be-held-accountable-for-anything-so-please-just-accept-it and then they part, rather awkwardly; but they haven't fought, and that's just about the first time that has ever happened.
It's a change; a little one, but a change nonetheless.
Small, to say the least,
They keep bumping into each other; and if one resorts to old habits- well, it's not really his fault that damned Malfoy is so hard to find nowadays. He only wants a potion checked out by the world-renowned potions master, is all, Hermione, and he's not sixteen anymore- although when he was, he was right.
