o could practically hear his grin.

He bit his tongue, hoping he wasn’t blushing. If only Potter knew. “I’ll also admit you’re giving me a headache. You seem to be awfully happy about causing bad reactions.”

“Feeling nervous isn’t always bad.”

Before Draco could stop himself, his eyes darted up to Potter’s. For one fleeting moment, Draco thought he saw something there, something that made him inhale sharply.

“Speaking of your outstanding traits,” Potter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was kinda impolite, the way you ran off last night.”

“I did not run off,” Draco said defensively.

“Either way, I thought it was a shame you didn’t stay longer.”

Draco couldn’t help but feel suspicious. This felt like a trap. But he couldn’t see where Potter was going with this, yet; he only felt sure the goal was to embarrass him. And post- cock-gate-Draco really wasn’t up for any more embarrassment.

“We’re not talking about last night,” he said, already feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Relax, Draco,” Potter chuckled. “I know you didn’t touch me up intentionally.”

True. It was true. Still, Draco felt like he was hiding a dirty little secret. Which, technically, he was.

“Good, as long as we’re clear on that,” he said, grabbing more raspberries. “I would never touch you intentionally.” Even though Draco had always taken great pride in being an excellent liar, he wasn’t sure if his face was betraying him just then. Judging from Potter’s look, at least, something wasn’t right.

“Of course,” he muttered, poking at his eggs. Draco cleared his throat. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly shifted, making Potter’s presence more ufortable. If that was even possible. A part of Draco just wanted to kick him out. Another part wanted to cling to him and never let go. Never let it be said Draco Malfoy can’tpromise.

“So,” he said, sending his and Potter’s cup back into the kitchen for a refill with a wave of his hand, “with what kind of momentous activities are you upying yourself, now that you’re not the Ministry’s lapdog anymore?”

Potter let out a humourless laugh. “Mainly enjoying that I’m not the Ministry’s lapdog anymore. Even though it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh?”

The two cups came floating back and Potter grabbed his as swiftly and elegantly as he always had with the Snitch. Maybe it was a testament of adulthood that Draco could finally admit that without grinding his teeth. Although he was still convinced the word ‘elegant’ had no place anywhere near Potter.

Draco watched as he drank his coffee pensively, his expression turning more serious.

“After the war—”

Oh no.

“—I didn’t really know what to do. Bing an Auror…it was something that seemed right at the time, you know, when everything was falling apart around me. The thing is, everything kept falling apart, but there was no more war. I had no idea how to deal with that.” Potter put down his cup and from what Draco could see, he started wringing his hands in his lap, his eyes fixed on the table. “As soon as I started training, I realised I wasn’t going to be happy there. But…I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“Disappoint?” Draco echoed, furrowing his brows. “As if you could do anything to—”

“That’s exactly the point,” Potter intercepted. “People have this idea of me, this image they created, based on what I did to defeat Voldemort, when in reality…” Potter pressed his lips together. It looked painful. “No matter what I do, it will always be a disappointment. It will never be good enough. Like, can you imagine what would happen if I started telling people I’m not bing an Auror anymore? The public would go mad! And then there’s other people, like McGonagall.” He let out a sigh. “In fifth year, she vowed to do everything in her power to help me get that job, and she did. What do you think she’s going to say if I told her all her efforts were for nothing? But…I just couldn’t go on like that.”

“So you’re basically lying to everybody?”

Potter’s face twisted and it took a moment before he slowly nodded.

“Do Granger and Weasley know about this?” Draco asked.

“They…They know I’m on sabbatical. We talked about it a few times, and they were really understanding, but…”

“You’re worried you’ll disappoint them, too?”

Potter looked up, his face paler than usual. “It’s not like that with them. I know they’ll support me no matter what. I just—It’s so hard, explaining it to them.”

The following silence felt so pregnant with meaning, it was stifling. Potter, opening up like that, showing Draco all his vulnerabilities…He had no idea how to process that.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked carefully.

“You asked,” Potter shrugged.

“Not really.”

“Look, Draco, it’s not like I enjoy talking about these things, I just—The others…They don’t really get it. I mean, we all lost people, so they understand the grief, but…I just felt lost after the war, and my friends…they didn’t really understand what it was like for me.”

“Oh?” Was Potter implying Draco would understand? He didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Yeah,” Potter murmured. “They didn’t seem to have that much trouble, finding their place. Meanwhile, I’m still struggling every day to just…keep it together.”

Draco shifted in his seat. This conversation felt too meaningful for Potter to have it with him of all people. But, even though he didn’t like it, he had to admit, he did get what Potter was talking about.

“It seems to me, an awfully big part of your life involves pleasing others.” And boy did Draco know what that was like. Even now, with his father in Azkaban, he often caught himself wondering if he would approve of Draco’s actions. It always took a lot to remind himself he wasn’t supposed to care about that anymore.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Potter murmured. “I can’t help it. It’s always been that way.”

“You died for fuck’s sake,” Draco said, irritation flaring up in him. “You died to save all of our arses. You don’t owe anybody anything. If anything, the rest of the world owes you!”

Judging from the look on Potter’s face, he hadn’t expected Draco to say something like that. Honestly, Draco hadn’t expected himself to say something like that. But it was true, wasn’t it? Potter had saved bloody everyone. And now he still felt like he had to do what people expected of him?

Draco sighed, dreading what he was about to say next. “You do realise it wouldn’t be selfish of you to live the life you want for yourself, right?”

Potter’s eyes widened.

“You’re not doing anybody any favours, being all tortured and broken up about it.” As he reached for his cup, Draco made sure his eyes didn’t leave Potter’s. It was harder than he had anticipated. He was being a hypocrite. Because that was exactly what he was doing, but, apparently, he was better at hiding it than Potter. But it wasn’t like he wasn’t working on it. He was trying to be better. It just took time. Apparently.

“I…I haven’t thought of it that way,” Potter said, astonishment written all over his face.

“Well, as my mother always says, you can’t make other people happy if you aren’t truly happy yourself.”

Potter looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent and simply nodded. Draco inwardly snorted. How had this turned into a Mind Healing session? It was utterly absurd.

“Are you happy?” Potter suddenly asked. Draco’s mouth dropped open involuntarily. His instincts told him to reply with something snarky. But…after Potter’s honesty, baring his insecurities, it just didn’t feel right.

“I don’t know,” Draco sighed. “I think I’m happier than I was right after the war.”

He didn’t want to get into too many details. Just because Potter feltfortable sharing his secrets with Draco, didn’t mean he had to do the same.

“You ever think about getting a job?” Potter asked.

Draco snorted. “As if anyone would employ me.”

“I don’t think it’s like that anymore.”

Draco shrugged. “Be that as it may, I can’t really see myself working for someone. I have my family’s inheritance, which is about the only thing the Ministry didn’t take away from me. I made some investments, so honestly, I don’t need to work.”

Potter seemed to ponder that. “Yeah, but…don’t you want…a purpose? In life?”

Draco sneered, acting as though that was preposterous. Potter didn’t need to know he had been struggling with that for years. Luckily, he had found something to give him purpose.

“I’m not as restless as you are,” he said. “I can very well sit back and enjoy living the life that was intended for me as the heir of a pure-blood family.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” Potter said, a small smile starting to form on his lips. “Maybe one day I’ll get it out of you.”

Draco threw his head back, snorting, suddenly feeling caught.

“Hey,” Potter added, nonchalant, “how about we go out for drinks again?”

Draco blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Drinks. Again?” Huh. That…was not what Draco had expected. “I honestly see no reason for that,” he said slowly.

“Um, because it’s fun?” Potter said. He almost sounded like Blaise. “And so we can get to know each other better.”

“Potter, we’ve known each other for years, there’s no—”

“Do we really, though?” Potter interrupted.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, tell Potter to bugger off, but…he knew what Potter meant and if he was being honest, the offer was rather intriguing. But could he really risk it? There was a reason he had mostly avoided Potter all those years.

“You want to have another heart to heart?” he said, teasingly. Potter shrugged, as if he wanted to say ‘Why not?’ “I’m not a big fan of crowds,” Draco said, tapping a finger against his cup. “And your Gryffindor friends aren’t exactly—”

“Oh, no. I was actually thinking it’d be just you and me.”

Draco stopped moving, his mouth going dry.

Just you and me.

Was—Was this—Was Potter asking—No, that wasn’t possible. The more plausible explanation was that he simply needed a drinking buddy.

“You free tonight?” Potter asked.

Draco willed his heartbeat to slow down as he found Potter’s gaze and held it. “I guess I could spare an hour,” he drawled. He tried hard not to react to Potter’s grin, but failed. He could feel the corners of his mouth lifting upwards without his permission.

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile at me before,” Potter said quietly. Before the smile died on Draco’s lips, Potter leaned forward. “I like it.”

It was as though an erumpent had suddenly been let loose in Draco’s head, stomping on every brain cell that had survived Potter’s ridiculous revelation.

“Alright, I think I’d better get going now,” Potter said, already rising from his seat. “Can I use your floo?”

Draco nodded, numbly. He led the way to the parlour and wordlessly gestured to the fireplace.

“Right.” Potter paused. “I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”

Draco nodded again. It was ridiculous, really, that Potter had the ability to render him speechless like that. He watched Potter as he took a pinch of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

“See you then,” he said. And right before he vanished, he smiled.

How Potter

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