#therealmilo

Summary: Malfoy isn’t really okay with being cast as the villain, but maybe Harry isn’t a hero anyways.

A/N: Characters are 18+ , story is unrelated to plot (no present-day Voldy) and does not connect to the timeline in the books, pre-established that draco and harry are LGBT+ because none of us have time for that realization story arc. Ok, enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43374268/chapters/109032940

 Words: 1.5k

“I have spent the past 45 minutes explaining to you all how to use the Vanishing Spell. Now, prove to me you have been listening. Partners are listed,” a flick of the wand, and a piece of paper zinged into existence onto the classroom door, “where they always are.” 

Professor McGonagall is trying a new thing, where we switch partners every week. It hasn’t been the smoothest transition - while the Gryffindors might laugh at Seamus for burning his (and a bit of his partner’s) eyebrows off, Blaise Zabini was a bit more vain than we had realized, and partners had to be switched early or Seamus would’ve been sporting a violet eye under his bare brow. 

Last week, though, when Neville and Hermione were partnered together, there was a really touching moment when Neville finally got the specific wand flick right and hugged Hermoine, who looked surprised but warmly hugged him back. So, it hasn’t been all bad.

Making my way to the door, I have high hopes for this class, before Malfoy calls from the door, “Oy, Potter, looks like you’re with me this week!” With the cheekiest grin imaginable on his face. Pansy and Blaise are trying, and failing, not to laugh, but Ron next to me is turning a solid shade of red. 

“You can always ask to switch if he bothers you too much,” Hermione whispers, but I just shrug. 

“I’ve dealt with him for this long, one week as partners won’t kill me. Thanks, though, ‘Mione.” Ron doesn’t look like he can speak quite yet, but his eyes bug out a bit in a way I recognize as, “It’s bloody Malfoy! Shit, if he even looks at you the wrong way I’m going to shove my wand up his ass and summon a flame.” I pat him once on the back before making my way to the Slytherin side, where Malfoy has decidedly planted himself. Malfoy looks relaxed, and the smile he still has on puts a sparkle in his eyes that has me looking for a second too long.

Before he can get one annoying word in, I stick my hand out and propose,”Truce. One week. You game?” His eyes flare and remind me suspiciously of the mischief I always see gleaming in Fred and George’s. “I can behave myself, Potter; Can you?” I roll my eyes, but shake his hand all the same. He has a loose grip, like most rich boys do, but his quidditch calluses are outliers on his insanely smooth hands that I can’t shake the feel of, even after our brief handshake ends. 

McGonagall gives each team a mouse, and ours is a fuzzy little gray thing, which is just about the cutest animal I have ever seen. Malfoy, of course, immediately starts being a jerk, and corners the mouse in between his textbooks, so much so that he looks uncomfortably squished.

“Lay off the mouse, will you, Malfoy?” I sigh. Hermione’s usually the activist of the friend group, but I’m not going to let Malfoy just abuse an animal right in front of me. 

He gives me a side glance, and ah, there it is, his famous sneer. I swear it actually makes his jaw look more angular, and he only does it to make me jealousy aware of that fact.

“How are we supposed to Vanish him if we won’t stay still?”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to be cruel to him.”

“Cruel?” Malfoy scoffs, “We are Vanishing him. That in itself isn’t a showcase of your brilliant, Gryffindor morality, is it, Potter?”

My cheeks are turning red without my permission, and for some reason I can’t meet his eyes. “Well, yeah, but I dunno, we can always accio him back, or something.” 

“You weren’t even paying attention.” Malfoy’s voice is loudening, and other people have turned to stare. “You’re about to throw a living creature into non-existence, and you can’t even give a damn enough to care?” I want to shout at Malfoy, the way he’s shouting at me, but I can’t defend myself. For once, Malfoy is right. He looks disgusted with my lack of an answer, and thusly, with me. The whole room has gone quiet.

He looks up, suddenly aware of the rest of the class, and casts a perfect, “Evanesco!” on the mouse before storming out of the room.

Without thinking I follow him out, ignoring McGonagall and Hermione’s joint “Wait!” He hasn’t gotten far, and is just standing against the wall a couple of steps from the door. His breaths are coming hard, and freckled cheeks are showing a pink color that has me wanting to hold his face in my hands. Malfoy looks up at me with a numbness in his eyes that’s quite disconcerting. All of the sudden, I feel a need to babble incessantly. 

“You’re right, about the mouse. I know you are. I’m sorry I didn’t -” 

Malfoy cuts me off quietly, “I’m not a bad person.” 

“I know.” I say automatically. And, at that moment, I knew it was true. Malfoy may annoy me to all hell, but he hasn’t really done anything more than feed the pre-existing Gryffindor-Slytherin feud.

“But you don’t know. No one does. Everyone hates the Slytherins for being evil, and you do too! You just asked to call a truce between us, even when I’ve done nothing! You don’t need a truce from nothing, Potter. I’m not the evil one between us, by fucking Salazar!” By the end he’s sniffling hard and barely making sense. 

“I don’t think you’re evil,” I start, and he glares at me with eyes that say he’ll not take any bullshit in the name of pity.

“It’s true! I think you’re a bit of a wad, and somethings you exasperate me to bloody hell, but I’ve never thought of you as evil, and - wait are you calling me the evil one?”     Malfoy stops looking sad and starts looking appalled. “Well, yeah! You were kind of a jerk to me when we first met.” 

“What? I don’t remem-”

“I can find my own sort, thanks,” he mimics, nasally.

“You had just called Ron the wrong sort!” 

“Oh, so you do remember! I was nervous, still taking my father’s advice for making minions as that for making friends. And please, this isn’t about your boyfriend.” 

“You were still,” I paused from the thought to address his last statement, “My boyfriend?”

Malfoy wasn’t on the verge of tears any more, though that inviting pinkness remained in his cheeks. Now, if I was reading him correctly, he looked angry

“Weaselby. You know, short redhead who looks like a psychopath when you hang around anyone else?” he sputters out.

“He’s just a protective friend! And, come on, you know he’s super into Hermione, right? Oh man, don’t tell him I told you that.” 

Malfoy had the gall to look surprised, and then went back to furrowing his brows. “Whatever.”

“Come on, Malfoy, can’t we both agree that eleven year old boys are jerks and move past this? Why do you care about what people think of you, anyways?”

    The pinkness in his cheeks darkens to a not-quite red, and I almost miss his response for debating about the hue in my head.

    “Not people.”

Not people, how coherent. There’s one confusing second, before it clicks. 

    “Please, Malfoy. I’ve seen you turned into a ferret. I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make me think of you as pure evil after that.” I give a small chuckle at that memory, and Malfoy rolls his eyes so hard I’m a tad worried for his vision.

    There’s a minute of silence, all of which I anticipate him going right back to reaming me out, when he chokes out a, “Truce?”

    I laugh fully this time, and grab his hand to pull him into one of those bro handshake-hugs. Though, I don’t think Malfoy’s ever done one of those before, and he pulls me to him with more force than necessary. He smells fantastic, like crisp green apples and expensive broom oil. We’re still tangled together when class ends and jolt away too quickly, our clasped hands the last to unfurl. Again, I do everything I can to look directly into Malfoy’s time.

    Ron and Hermione wait on the other side of the wall, thankfully with my scrolls and quills, and I make to join them before Professor McGonagall stops both Malfoy and I from scuttling away. We both glance to her, then to each other, and say doggedly in unison,”Detention.”

    “9pm, tomorrow night. Don’t be late.” Her robes swirl around her as she marches back into her classroom, and hit Malfoy and us in the face. 

    Malfoy and I look back at each other, and he winks at me before saying, “It’s a date. See you then, Potter.” Without looking back, he walks hands-in-pocket in the direction of the Slytherin dorms.

    I go to join Ron and Hermione, the former who pelts me with questions about what I did with Malfoy. I have a feeling Malfoy wouldn’t appreciate me telling my friends about his minor mental breakdown, so I just shrug and say, “I think we’re friends now.”

For whatever reason, I don’t stop grinning the entire way back to the dorms. 

AU where Milo was aged up instead of down, Jake and Dan pretend to be his nephews!