#ftm!draco

And maybe, just maybe, it was those memories that triggered the visceral response he had when he saw the white-blond head of hair walk out of the kitchen and toward the eighth years’ table. He stood up from his seat, hands clutching the sides of the table, eyes not leaving the other boy (well, a man now). Hermione gasped and tugged at his sleeve urgently.

Malfoy didn’t notice his outburst. He was looking at the ground. His hair was a bit longer than it had been the last time Harry had seen him. Filled out his robes more, though. Reminiscent of when they were younger, both young and spry, treating each other as silly childhood rivals. Harry was struck by how much older he looked.

Not a bad older, either. Malfoy’s jaw had sharpened and he looked stronger. Despite all of the glares or grimaces he received from the students around him, there was an air of confidence surrounding him that made Harry’s stomach twist.

***