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The Mirror of Erised.
Harry had found it again in one of the abandoned classrooms, miraculously undamaged even after the war. Restoring the school castle had been tiring work, one that made you trespass scores of abandoned classroom, offices buried in decades of dust, dueling arenas and... priceless (potentially dangerous) magical artifacts left in classrooms just waiting to cause trouble.
The first time, he had taken one look at the ornate accessory and firmly shut the door. He still had the whole seventh floor left, his team members were too tired to continue. Harry knew that he should feel exhausted too, but he felt so little these days. His magic had increased leaps and bounds, without a piece of a tarnished soul left to stifle it. But his awareness was left to a mere
wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, wake up....
Technically he knew it was a routine, something Hermione encouraged, something she forced Ron to have so he wouldn't drown in his own grief multiplied by his family. But this consistency would've driven him mad if he could feel it.
It was almost as if a part of him had died.
So when Hogwarts issued a statement that they would not be having a school year following war because the damage to the castle was too extensive, too much malevolent magic still left in halls that children might encounter, Harry felt the nothingness in him spreading to the extremities of his body numbing his fingers and toes. He could feel a storm brewing distantly in his mind, a rising helix of anger, desperation and anguish that he could not feel.
So when he came back to the classroom to sit in front of the mirror during the afternoon break, he was not surprised.
When he saw his family, now with the addition of his godfather, a werewolf and a metamorphmagus, he was not surprised. He looked on as they waved at him, laughed and joked among themselves and his father gazed at him with a proud expression he did not need words for.
When a head of white blond entered the class though, he was surprised.
The blond paused at the door and tilted his head to listen for any approaching footsteps. Harry thought of going away but immediately his curiosity won over. He stayed.
Draco Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts as a volunteer for restoration after the ministry had let him go as a juvenile case. People had voiced their outrage claiming a death eater had no place in this castle but the fact that no one was as good as him in charms for wards and healing and potions was enough for the Headmistress to forgive him and give him nearly half of the work of repairing the school's wards and brewing healing potions.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were dead
Or maybe it had to do with the fact that the boy was blind, his eyes completely black, covering the thunderstorm grey irises and the whites.
The boy sat down heavily in front of the mirror, barely a foot away from Harry, with a groan. Harry was still, hand clutching his wand, ready to defend in case of attack. But the blond simply put his hands behind his back and closed his eyes, obviously resting.
Harry wondered what he would've seen if he could see the mirror, if he would see his family too with his godfather and the people he knew growing up.
They sat there together for a long time, Harry making sure sure to mask his presence before Draco stood up and slowly went his way to do whatever he wanted. For a moment Harry fumbled, it was strange not knowing what the blond did everyday, what classes did he go to and how was he doing the homework now he couldn't see? Should he... Well, it's not like he had anything better to do.
When Harry started following him everywhere again, it was like something had slotted back into place. Ron and Hermione saw him but thought better then to dissuade him, Harry knew they were just too tired to worry about anything but themselves. This basically gave blanket permission to do anything he wanted.
He saw quite quickly, that Draco Malfoy was a friendless (none of the Slytherins had come back, they all had somewhere else they could be safe) person, unaided and bullied all the time. What intrigued him was the fact that he barely paid attention to it though. The Malfoy he saw right now was leagues away from the Malfoy he knew. This Malfoy was silent where the one he knew was loud, this Malfoy was observant where the past one had been attention grabbing, this Malfoy kept up his shield charm constantly and didn't complain to the teachers at all about finding his parchment torn, his books and clothes sullied, the occasional slurs, the broken cauldron and equipments strewn over the common room once.
(Draco Malfoy stopped working, or appearing casually in the common room then. The healing supplies would always appear on the designated time though, no matter what happened. If the assailants were guilty, they never showed it.)
Harry was overridden with curiosity just like before, the obsession coming back to him full force. The compelling desire to know everything about him. He even stopped going to the Mirror of Erised to spend time looking at Marauders map for him.
He got to learn and relearn things about Draco Malfoy.
How Malfoy still had a sweet tooth but no more sweets came from home for him; occasional packets came though, as he sat alone at the end of the table for all volunteers, presumably from his friends, that would bring a soft smile at his face. (Harry wondered if that smile tasted as sweet as it looked. He had a sweet tooth too after all, it was only natural to wonder)
("Harry you're staring too much", Hermione would say softly as his porridge spilled back into his bowl while he stared at the rare motion of those lips curling up in genuine emotion, Ron would snort, "Don't bother Mione, he crossed that line long ago.").
How Malfoy was obviously still very much interested in studying all that he could from the partially destroyed library Madam Pince had almost single handedly defended(it's not like he needed to, he didn't need employment as he still had his inheritance to live on, not to mention no one was going to employ him anyway). Harry would follow him to the library, watching as the blond sat at a table far away from the usual ones, almost hidden from the entrance. He would charm the books and they would start narrating their contents in a low, deep voice, not unlike Snape's, Harry realized after some time.
Perhaps Malfoy had his own ghosts too, that he refused to let go.
("Harry! where you going mate?", Ron would shout, "Library", Harry would answer distractedly as he quickly finished his work to not lose Malfoy on the way. "What?! Why would you wa- ok never mind I got it", his friend would sigh as he caught sight of platinum hair going round the corner. "Well shit, that's all I needed to do to make him go there and study?!" Hermione would say incredulously. )
(Harry had never liked muggle fairytales much, but he thought while looking at the aristocratic figure leaning on his elbows, head bowed and chin settled on steepled fingers, butter-like sunlight filtering through the windows throwing shadows on his cheekbones, eyelashes fluttering on pink cheeks, cherry blossom lips pursed in concentration maybe, this must be how a princess locked up in a tower looked.)
How Malfoy fought, or rather defended himself daily but not with his followers anymore, alone against a number of people throwing hexes his way while his shield stayed up no matter what it endured. It was obvious to anyone who paid attention that he had superior dueling skills. His stance spoke of experience while his grip on his wand was light. Harry would watch as he stoically took all abuse hurled at him, almost as if he was used to it (perhaps, with that amount of nonchalance, he was. Who knew what he had endured servicing a cruel man who was a crueler master).
The first time his Ravenclaw assailants had called him a faggot, Blaise Zabini's bitch, Harry had been so surprised he had let his magic lash out and compel the castle to suck them into an abandoned class and keep them until the very next day. That corridor was sealed as dangerous afterwards.
(Harry took to pushing the offenders off the stairs after that. Going on stairs in groups was restricted after that and no one was stupid enough to pick a fight with a Malfoy alone without support.)
(That was the first time he thought of a lean frame and the velvety skin enveloping it. He had immediately put the thought in a corner of his mind (It would fester there, grow like the vines of Venomous Tentacula to crawl all over his mind enveloping everything till there would be no thought in his mind devoid of it but hush~) or he wouldn't have been able to look at him without blushing.(The flashes of pale skin, feel of satiny thighs and lips flushed red only came in his dreams after that.))
("Merlin Harry why are you this obvious? It's killing me, you're killing your best friend. I can't say I didn't expect this but that doesn't make it anymore pleasant.", Ron would groan as Harry stumbled on the stairs looking at Malfoy face off a particularly nasty Hufflepuff volunteer. Hermione didn't even say anything anymore, just dragging him along to keep him from walking face first into walls and people alike.)
How Malf- No, Draco(Harry knew more about him than he knew about his friends by now) rarely stumbled himself. It seemed almost as if he could still see, but Harry had watched him nearly falling from various moving staircases. He always seemed to pull back at the last moment, maybe sensing them. Harry often wondered what spell the Healers had used on him.
(Harry had tried bumping into him a few times but Malfoy seemed to give him a wide berth already. Once he was following him down a staircase when Harry had forced it to move, Malfoy had looked up with an astonished expression. His eyes had rested on Harry for for a few unsettling moments before sliding away.)
Harry didn't even notice his insides filling up with feelings until his fingertips and toes were buzzing with his magic responding to his mind, on more than one occasion he had had to stop his magic from actively seeking out Draco's. His magic was a roiling mess, it felt warm, staying in a wide area of his person like something solid. Draco's magic was somewhat similar to his own, except it felt cooler and slicker, dense like the jelly slugs Harry had acquired a taste for. He had let his magic slide slowly against the other's, mingling a bit before he pulled back, feeling the intimacy of it fizzing up on his magic field until much later.
("Moine, they're blushing. Both of them are blushing, are they legilimencing each other?" Ron whispered frantically to the girl beside him. She took one look at their blushing faces, neither of them aware of the condition of other, and blew out a long suffering sigh wondering if any Chinese monastery would be secular enough to house witches.)
So when the next time Harry stood in front of the Mirror of Erised, and Draco Malfoy stood in the reflection smiling at him warmly, touching the glass almost as if he wanted to touch Harry, Harry was not surprised at all. The revelation had slid over him naturally, that yes he liked his arch nemesis, possibly felt more than simple obsession for the boy he had spent half of his life hating. Yes, he liked the boy who persisted like bamboo in adverse conditions, who had a massive sweet tooth, who was a nerd no matter how cool he looked strutting about in his lordly glory, who liked listening to muggle trash romance hidden under advanced potions tome, whose smiles were as rare and precious as moment frozen perfect in the lap of destiny.
So when a head of white blond entered the class, he felt like his insides were filled with Blast-ended Skrewts, erupting and crawling over each other from his stomach to somewhere along his chest.
"Dra-Malfoy", he stuttered a bit.
"Potter"
Draco looked in his direction, somewhere above his head, not surprised at all.
"Finally felt like talking huh?", he murmured sitting down in front of the mirror with a groan. Harry knew now, the groan came from hunching for hours over potions only he could brew to perfection(with his eyes closed, literally).
Harry blinked, "You could tell?"
Silence.
"How?"
Again, no answer. A dark unsatisfied feeling rose like viscous fluid over his lungs, he wanted Draco to focus at him, pay attention to him, look at him even though he couldn't see Harry. He unleashed his magic, letting it quickly find Draco's. It parted the blond’s magic coalesced around his body carefully, gripped the boy by his arms and hauled him to his feet and closer to Harry.
For the first time he noticed the dark flush making its way over Draco's cheeks to his neck, slightly breathless and the wide eyes, narrow nostrils fluttering over pursed lips. It made him pause, look again, deeply. The way black eyes flew, tracing where his magic held him, his hunched shoulders and the slight trembling in his fingers, the fluttering of his eyelids.
One observation surprised him, the other knocked him breathless.
He could feel the words rise up his throat, but he stopped them. Not now.
He wanted to tell Draco Malfoy that he liked him. And was 80% sure he liked him back....ok, maybe 65% ('There is no way above a 43%', a voice suspiciously like Hermione said in his mind).
"You- you can see something right? Can you see the- uh, the magic?", he said haltingly, waiting for Lord Malfoy to rip himself off and start swearing blue and black, maybe he should’ve cast a shield of his own before starting this confrontation.
Instead, Draco took a sharp breath, set his eyes on Harry's unerring. This felt like a confession all in itself. "I can. I can see yours, the castles and everyone else."
Draco's eyes were completed black, shiny and reminding a bit of therstrals. The words floated higher over the back of his throat, making Harry clench his teeth.
"Is that how you knew where to move without bumping into someone?", he asked curiously.
"Yes, and how to avoid the tripping stairs, hexes and people in general.", Draco answered quietly.
For a moment, both pause.
"Why have you been following me? Hasn't it been long enough to tell you I'm not up to something?", Draco dropped his eyes to his polished shoes. His face remained closed off.
"What? No! No!! That's not why I-", Harry flushed a bit, "That's not why I'm doing this at all."
A long suffering sigh puffed out of the blonde's lips, "Then why are you doing this Ha-Potter?"
That one slip up told everything Harry had to know about his Second observation.
"I love you", Harry blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth as swiftly as he saw Draco's face snap up to him, he was sure the crack that came from the neck was painful.
An awkward silence was filled with Draco's face turning Weasley red.
"Uh, I'm, uh, hoping to take you to Hogsmeade...... this Friday?", Harry cursed his awkward speech. Merlin and Morgana both, he wanted to redo the last minute so much.
"Yes, I would like that.", Draco looked even more surprised at the answer than Harry did. And that was saying something considering Harry had to look with his magic, making sure no one had impiriused the young man.
Then he called his magic back to the important task of draping all over Draco's. The blond didn't mind it either, if that slightly upturned curl of lips was any indication. Harry smiled too, though the blond couldn't see it. Relief, but mostly astonishment, poured all over the desperation, the nerves and the Blast-ended Skrewts like healing salves.
"Before that, I would like to talk to you though. About what has happened and about ourselves.", Draco said suddenly. His face was resolute. At least, resolute in the quiet way that was his since the War.
"We can't move towards anything without talking it through.", Harry was so grateful at that moment for the blonde's better composure. Honestly, he would've told him exactly how cute looked with that slight frown but he was sure he would get hexed.
"Yeah, yeah we should do that.", at this point, Draco could've asked Harry to buy him a dragon egg and he would've agreed. He had really wanted to know what it was like to hold hands with him now that he could (if he asked nicely enough).
He could also-
"Can I kiss you?", Draco whispered as if he expected to be spurred and laughed at. The whisper quickly wrapped itself around every other thought in Harry's head. He nodded his head before realizing that wouldn't mean anything.
"Yeah", if his voice came out a bit squeaky, well, he was only a teenager whose crush(Obsession? Boyfriend? Lover?) had asked to kiss. It was not like he had imagined this moment dozens of times over years in different situations as their worlds around them progressed towards and against each other, ready to collide at any moment.
So when soft, dry lips pressed against his, when Draco's magic reached out to draw him closer(the feel of his magic touching his skin almost made his knees buckle, is this how Draco always felt?) he stopped thinking at all. It was painfully chaste, just a press of lips that they fit around each others. It was nothing very special yet their breath quickened, eyelids fluttered closed and they pressed close.
The next few moments, which stretched into minutes as both were too eager to explore their rights on each other to stay away for long, let Harry know that yes, Draco tasted sweet (maybe from the sweets he had seen the boy sneaking from Kitchen), yes his lips were thin but oh so soft and warm, no he wasn’t allowed clutch tightly at his waist(his hand stung from the sharp slap but was soothed by the hot press of a wet tongue on his earlobe).
So when Harry came back to his friends in the common room all rumpled and in a haze with his lips swollen, all they did was roll their eyes and went back cuddling on the sofa muttering about 'F**king finally' and 'Who had a bet on Tuesday? I chose Monday. Dammit couldn't he just grow balls one day earlier?'.
Harry knew he should probably care more for that, but he was filled to brim with Draco, his touch, smell, smiles and oh, his love. He had hopes for future. Maybe they would go back to their fighting without a cause later, but for now he lay on his bed with a blanket of contentment over him, secure in the knowledge that they both were going to try their best to make it work. Make them work.