#cargsdoodles

Draco was reluctant to answer. He glanced over to the next table, where Ginny and Blaise were chatting away, apparently perfectly at ease. Who would’ve thought?!

Draco was still angry at Blaise for making him come here, but Blaise had threatened to set his whole wardrobe on fire if he refused.

“You can’t keep this stupid school-rivalry up forever, mate,” Blaise had said. “Grow up already!”

Draco hated it when people told him things like that. Like he was still a child. So he agreed to the stupid coffee date. He would meet Potter, alright, but that didn’t mean he had to be  nice to him. So Draco heaved a big sigh before answering, to make his exasperation perfectly clear. He didn’t want to be here and he wanted Potter to know it.

“I’m working as a potions master. I opened my own store,” he said, trying to sound as bored as possible. Potter nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

“So, business is going good?” he asked.

Draco gritted his teeth. Seriously? Small talk? Seriously??

“It is,” Draco replied curtly.

“And you like it? Being a potions master?”

Draco frowned as several thoughts entered his mind. 'What do you care? Why would I tell you? Is this really what you want to talk about? Okay, maybe I should just be grateful we’re talking about something so trivial…’

“I do like it. I was always good at Potions. I’m sure you remember,” Draco sneered. He just couldn’t help it. It was like this was his natural reaction to Potter. It always had been.

So what were Blaise and the She-Weasel expecting exactly? That they would make up? Become friends? Shed tears and hug it out? Draco mentally snorted. 

He wished he could rush this whole thing somehow. He just wanted it to be over already, so he and Potter could go their separate ways again.

“That’s good,” Potter mumbled.

“What is?” Draco snapped. His impatience was starting to get the best of him.

“You’re doing something you like. You… found your place. That’s good.”

“My place?” Draco repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me right now?” Draco noticed how his voice got higher with every word, but he couldn’t control it. Anger was seeping through him rapidly at what Potter had said.

“You’re saying it’s good being outlawed by the whole wizarding community? Yes, I’m having a blast while everyone’s still giving me these looks, talking in whispers when they think I can’t hear them. Wizards and witches coming into my store, because they know I’m the best, but barely being able to restrain their disgust when they see my face. That’s good, is it? Oh, that’s rich, coming from the person everybody loves and adores! I should have known that meeting you again would result in something like this,” Draco snarled and pushed away from the table. His chair fell over with a loud bang. He could feel several pairs of eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t planned on making a scene, had tried to avoid it even. But Potter was just so… ugh!

“That’s not what I meant,” Potter murmured quietly. “It’s really not fair people are treating you like that. They shou-”

“I don’t need your pity,” Draco interrupted him sharply. “You have no idea what my life is like. Just because we went to school together doesn’t mean you know anything about me. And just because we both survived the war doesn’t mean we have to bond over it, or owe each other anything. I owe you nothing!” Draco almost screamed, before turning on his heels and stomping away.

“Draco!” he heard Blaise call, before he decided to disapparate. He didn’t turn around before vanishing, otherwise he might have noticed Harry’s slumped shoulders, how he kept his head low and was twisting his hands in his lap.

The sight might have angered him even more.

“This was a bad idea in the first place,” Harry sighed as Ginny patted his back.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ginny said firmly.

“Yeah, we thought it might take a few attempts before you guys wouldn’t be at each other’s throats,” Blaise added.

Harry said nothing. He had expected it as well. That’s why he had declared Ginny mental when she had first suggested it. He had been sure that they would be bickering the whole time. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all, he’d thought. It would feel familiar. There was a part of him that had thought the teasing and sneering would maybe even cheer him up. But when he’d actually seen Malfoy, all the fight had left his body. He was tired of fighting. Even with Malfoy. But, Harry supposed, it had been stupid to try to have an actual conversation with the git.

“We’ll try again,” Ginny whispered reassuringly.

“What? No,” Harry protested. He definitely didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Again.

“Yes, we will,” Blaise interjected. “I’ll owl Draco later.”

Harry sighed. He knew there was no point in arguing with them when they were fired up like this. He had no idea why Ginny and Blaise were so set on making him go through hell.

That night, Draco couldn’t sleep. He was tossing around in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Damn it,” he muttered, as his thoughts drifted back to earlier that day. He had known that meeting Potter again wouldn’t leave him cold. But it irritated him more than he had hoped. There was one thing in particular that bugged Draco. Why hadn’t he fought back? Potter had seemed so… empty. Almost resigned. It bothered Draco immensely.

He cursed under his breath when he heard a sharp tapping against his window. He tried to ignore it, but it just wouldn’t stop. He threw back the sheets angrily and marched over to the window, to let the owl in. He snatched the note from its leg and began reading.

Draco,

why do you always have to be such a prat? That was really unnecessary. We’ll do it again. Tomorrow. Same time, same place. Don’t be late. And don’t even try to get out of it. We’ll do this over and over again, until you and Potter can have a civil conversation. So get over yourself and your big ego and apologize to him tomorrow. I mean it, Draco! No excuses!

Blaise

PS: I’m holding your favourite scarf hostage until you come to your senses.

Draco balled his hands into fists, crumbling Blaise’s note. What was his best friend up to? Why couldn’t he just leave it be? Fuming, Draco climbed back into bed. He stared at the ceiling, trying to shove the image of Potter’s face out of his mind. He was doing it again. Haunting him. For no good reason at all. Alright, if Blaise thought he was so clever, Draco would outsmart him. He would play along. As long as he didn’t have to see Potter ever again after this.

“So… I guess… I’m…” Draco just couldn’t bring himself to say it. Even if his new plan, to trick Blaise into thinking he had finally complied, would work, Draco hadn’t really thought about what that would entail. Apologizing. To Potter. Draco gritted his teeth as Blaise threw him a stern look from the next table. They were at the Witches’ Brew again and apparently Blaise was watching him like a hawk. Draco cleared his throat, resolute to go through with his plan.

“I’m sorry,” he said firmly.

Potter’s eyes widened as he looked at him. Draco leaned back in his seat smugly. Yeah, Potter hadn’t expected that, had he? The smugness didn’t last long, however. It lasted for about two seconds.

Then, Potter began to smile.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “You have every right to be upset. Although I really didn’t want to rub it in. So, I’m sorry, too.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. What was Potter doing? Who did he think he was? He felt another surge of anger course through him, but he didn’t want to give Blaise the satisfaction of chastising him again. So, Draco decided, he would just have to turn the tables.

“So, what about you? What have you been up to?”

Potter didn’t answer at once. He seemed to think about it for a second. Then, almost unintelligibly, he murmured,

“I’m… kind of in between jobs right now.”

Draco stared at him. Last he had heard, Potter was still working for the Ministry. Had he been fired?

“What happened?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

Potter sighed. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about this. 'Well, there you go,’ Draco thought, 'that’s what you get for pushing me.’

“I quit, two years into Auror training. I thought it’s what I wanted to do, given my history and all, but… I just realized, I was tired of running after the bad guys. Tired of fighting. Tired of being… the hero.” Potter scrunched up his nose as he said the last word. “I also realized that my wish to become an Auror was simply because I had no idea what else to do with myself. I knew I would be good at fighting dark wizards, but what if there was something else I’d be good at, but just didn’t know about it?”

Draco wasn’t sure he was following. Was the great Harry Potter doubting himself? What was he even talking about?

“As if there’s anything Golden Boy can’t do,” Draco snorted. Potter rolled his eyes, but, it seemed, in an amused way.

“Right. My Potions grades speak for themselves, I think.”

Draco snorted again, but this time without venom.

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve been doing nothing for the last three years?”

Potter’s eyes darted to the table in obvious embarrassment.

“I occasionally help Hermione with her cases and watch her children whenever she and Ron need some time for themselves…”

“You…” Draco couldn’t process. He didn’t understand. How had that happened? How could his archrival have sunk so low? The one person that had pushed Draco to surpass himself, become better, faster, wittier… at basically everything?! It felt wrong that that person was sitting in front of him, the picture of misery. Where did that leave Draco? He had spent half his life competing against Potter, trying to measure up.

Draco could have felt pleased with himself. Finally the day had come. He was the superior one. All these years ago he had acted that way already, but he had always known that it was just a facade. A lie. His heritage hadn’t allowed him to show weakness. So he had covered it up with fake self-confidence, haughty comments and sneering at Potter.

But now… what was he supposed to do? He didn’t feel like kicking a man when he was already down. Not even Potter.

It also made Draco angry again. How dare Potter become such a slacker! Draco had standards. Potter was supposed to raise the bar, not lowering it! It made Draco feel like he was being dragged down with him.

It was ironic, really, but Draco just couldn’t accept it. Potter being this way was insulting to him. He hadn’t picked a rival who was weak and sluggish. Potter had been his rival, because he was the best. Just like Draco was the best. He slammed his fist on the table before he even knew what he was doing.

Harry wished he hadn’t said anything at all. It was one thing to confess his failings to another person. But to Draco Malfoy? Really?

Okay, so after another good night’s sleep it had started to make sense to him what Ginny had said.

“Look, maybe meeting Malfoy will help you find your way again. I’m worried about you, Harry. You seem to have lost your willpower. And seeing you like this… it makes me really sad.”

“But how will meeting Malfoy make any difference?”

“I just thought he would maybe spark something inside you. Like he used to at Hogwarts…”

Harry had laughed it off at the time, but the more he thought about it, he had to admit that Ginny might have a point. And admitting to Malfoy that his life was basically one big failure since they had left school, was indeed sparking something in Harry. He felt ashamed, embarrassed. He suddenly felt the urge to do better. To prove to Malfoy that he was perfectly capable of turning his life around, that he deserved better than that weird look Malfoy was giving him.

“That just won’t do, Potter!” he suddenly heard Malfoy snarl. “Come meet me at my store tomorrow. 2 o'clock.”

Harry stared at him.

“Meet you? Again? Tomorrow? At your store?”

Malfoy let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Repeating snippets of what I just said doesn’t make you sound any smarter, you know. Then again, you never were the brightest conversationalist to begin with,” Malfoy smirked.

Rather than feeling hurt, Harry felt challenged.

“Shove off, Malfoy,” he growled, “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Malfoy said, his smirk widening. “See you then, Potter.”

Harry stared at the empty seat, after Malfoy had vanished. What did he just get himself into?

“Where’d Draco go? Did you fight again?” Blaise asked, rushing over.

“Weirdly enough, no,” Harry said frowning. “I think… I think he wants to help me find a job. I’m supposed to meet him at his store tomorrow.”

Blaise looked like Harry had just asked him to solve a difficult runes translation.

“He… what? Are you serious? You sure you didn’t misinterpret that?”

Harry snorted.

“I’m almost sure. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what he’s really after.”

'This was such a horrible idea!’

Draco closed his eyes, mentally slapping himself over and over again. How had he not seen this coming? Helping Potter find his true calling basically meant they had to go through everything Potter liked and disliked, everything the prat was good at and – the most horrible thing of all – Draco grudgingly complementing him.

“What about Quidditch? You were always a good flyer.”

“Oh, so now you admit it?” Potter replied grinning.

It took everything Draco had not to boot him out of his store right this second.

“Stop being smug. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. Get over yourself and concentrate,” he said, making another note on the list he’d started.

They had crossed out everything to do with the Ministry, herbology and magical creatures thus far.

“Hmm… I don’t know,” Potter said after a moment, “I always liked Quidditch. But I never thought about doing it professionally. I feel like it would ruin the fun.”

“Alright then,” Draco sighed, crossing it out as well. “The way I see it, you might as well just start a career as a figureskater. I’m at a loss here.”

“How do you even know what a figureskater is?” Potter asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Draco rolled his eyes, not planning to dignify that with an answer.

“It’s late,” he said after glancing at the clock, “we’ve been at this for hours.”

Potter’s shoulders slumped a bit as he stood up.

“Oh, sure. Sorry. Didn’t mean to hog all of your time.”

Draco stretched his arms over his head, feeling the stiffness in his neck.

“How about we grab some dinner? Maybe our minds will work better if we’re properly fed.”

When Potter didn’t say anything, Draco turned his head to look at him. He was just standing there, staring at Draco.

“What? You’re not hungry?”

“No, I am,” Potter said, snapping out of his trance.

“Good,” Draco said, getting up, “I know just the place.”

As they were walking to the restaurant, Harry couldn’t help taking sideway glances at Malfoy. He was being as irritable and haughty as ever. But they had never spent this much time together not fighting. Hell, they had never spent this much time together, period! Malfoy was apparently dead set on helping Harry, although Harry had no clue why.

“I hope you like Vietnamese food,” Malfoy said, not sounding concerned at all. Harry just shrugged and immediately flinched. They were walking close by and him shrugging resulted in his right hand bumping Malfoy’s. The unexpected touch ran through Harry like an electric shock. It left his hand all tingly. Malfoy made no sign of being affected by this whatsoever and Harry berated himself for his foolishness.

Still, he blushed a little bit as Malfoy held the door open for him and pulled out the chair at their table. 'It’s just the way he was brought up,’ Harry told himself as he sat down, 'of course he has manners.’ Harry realized just how good his manners were as the evening proceeded. The way Malfoy was holding his wine glass, the way he twisted the fork in his hands, the way he dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin… Until now, Harry had no idea such mundane things could be so graceful and mesmerizing.

Harry chocked on his wine as he finally watched Malfoy eat dessert. He closed his eyes as he tasted his sweet corn pudding. He pulled the spoon very slowly out of his mouth and licked his lips afterwards. It made Harry feel very hot all of a sudden. So he was quite grateful when the check came and he could dart out of the restaurant. He welcomed the cool night air, hoping it would calm his flaming cheeks.

They walked back to Malfoy’s store silently. Harry felt Malfoys gaze on him a few times and had to watch his feet, otherwise he would have surely tripped. When they reached the front door, Harry suddenly felt his heart beat faster. He wasn’t sure what to say or do. It was late, he shouldn’t bother Malfoy anymore. But this had been nice. Harry felt reluctant to go.

“So,” he started nervously, “thanks for everything. I guess I should be going now.”

Malfoy was playing with his keys in his hand, not looking at Harry.

“Sure,” he simply said.

Both of them just stood there, rooted to the spot, not moving a muscle.

'You should really just go,’ Harry thought. So he finally turned around, taking a few steps. When he heard a clanking noise and shuffling, his head turned involuntarily and he saw Malfoy opening his door.

Seeing Malfoy’s back, not knowing what his expression would look like, suddenly gave Harry some strange sense of self-assurance. Without thinking, he threw himself forward, pressing his chest against Malfoy’s back and wrapping his arms around Malfoy’s torso. Harry felt him stiffen in his arms, which only made him more determined. He tightened his grip and stepped closer.

“I mean it, Malfoy. Thank you,” Harry whispered in his ear. They stayed like that for a few more seconds, Malfoy still as stiff as a poker, before Harry let go of him and disapparated on the spot.

Arriving in his living room, he found Ginny sitting on the couch, apparently waiting for him.

“There you are,” she said with a yawn, “Where have you been?”

Harry tried to keep a straight face while getting rid of his coat.

“I told you, Malfoy wanted to meet me at his store,” he shrugged.

Ginny looked at him dumbfounded.

“You’ve been there this whole time?”

“Not exactly…” Harry said, not sure why he was feeling so awkward. “We just had dinner.”

As soon as the words left Harry’s mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything. Ginny’s eyes were impossibly wide and she was gaping at him.

“You… you went to dinner??” she practically shrieked, “And you didn’t kill each other?”

Harry made a face, ready with a retort, when a loud hoot made him look at the open window. An owl was sitting there, looking expectantly at him. But since Ginny was standing closer to the window, she snatched up the letter. Harry watched her as her eyes darted over the words and her lips spread into a huge grin.

“Gin, do you mind?” Harry said frowning, “That’s my mail you’re reading.”

“Which you wouldn’t be getting if it weren’t for me,” she said smugly, handing him the letter. “He wants to meet you again. Tomorrow. At the Witches’ Brew. To go over 'the list’,” she said making air quotations around the last word. Harry felt a blush creep on his cheeks again.

“I think Blaise and I will sit this one out,” Ginny said, winking at him. “Although…” she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I want you to say it.”

Harry frowned at her, puzzled.

“Say what?”

“That we were right,” Ginny said, corssing her arms in front of her chest, looking very pleased with herself.

Harry rolled his eyes, biting his lip. He really really didn’t want to say it. But, he had to admit, this had taken quite a turn.