It hurts, to see Draco Malfoy so defeated. Once upon a time, Harry thinks he would have relished seeing Draco like this, atoning for everything that he did. Atoning for everything that he had to do to save his family.
Once upon a time isn’t now.
“I’m sorry,” he lets out in a rush. “You shouldn’t have gone to Azkaban.”
The smile that Draco sends him at that is dry. “Have you forgotten the things I’ve done?”
“No,” Harry shakes his head, and then he meets Draco’s eyes head on. “No, I haven’t.”
“What is this, then?” The smile turns into a smirk. “The Golden Boy’s feeling guilty?”
“Don’t call me that.” Harry glares. It’s getting harder to stay calm when Draco’s so decided to be an asshole. “Look, Malfoy, there’s no deeper, ulterior motive to this. Can’t we just. I don’t know, be friends?”
Draco flinches and looks away, mouth curled downwards. “We lost the chance for that back in first year. Too late for friendship bracelets now,” he mutters.
Harry recalls it, 11-year-old Draco and the hand that he refused. He blinks, surprised at Draco’s reaction. Surprised that Draco still remembers that moment and thinks much of it.
Draco sighs, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. “And besides, why would you even want to be friends with me?”
“Merlin knows why, you’re such an irritating git,” Harry responds, mimicking his sigh. He points his fork at Draco. “But I’m staying, so stop trying to pick a fight with me. I don’t want to explain to Narcissa why I taped your mouth.”
Draco raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m actually asking serious questions here. You’re the one being all defensive about it.”
Harry flushes with shame, because he knows that that’s exactly what he’s feeling right now. He shoves a piece of toast in his mouth. “Sorry. I just want to do it, okay? Isn’t that reason enough?”
The look that Draco gives him tells him that no, it is not enough. Draco still looks like he wants to ask another question, but in the end, he just takes the napkin from his plate and unfolds it on his lap.
“Potter.”
“Hm?”
“Stop eating like a Neanderthal. You’re making a mess.”
Harry swallows down his toast. He grins. “Sorry, Malfoy.”
“Potter,” Draco says, three days later. Breakfast and lunch has both come and gone, and this is the first time Draco has spoken today.
Harry looks up from his book.
Draco peers at him and then his book, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. He tilts his head. Swallows. It takes a while before he talks. “What are you doing in my house again?”
“Reading?”
Draco blinks, and his eyes clear. He sags back in his wheelchair, as if tired from the effort of coming into the world again. He clears his throat, swallows the dryness in his voice away. “Merlin, I thought they sent me to Azkaban, not some other dimension where you actually have the refinement to read a Potions book.”
“I do want to pass my NEWTs this year, Malfoy.”
“I’m not betting on it.”
“That’s why I asked Narcissa to let me borrow your books.”
Draco’s eyes widen and he glares. “Those are my—! Get your germs off them.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Why did I even worry about you? You seem fine for somebody who just spent three months in Azkaban.”
Just like that, there is a flash of hurt in Draco’s face. “What did you expect? A—”
And then he’s gone.
Harry is stunned. The guilt starts to eat at him, quick and sharp.
“Sorry,” he says, an hour later, Potions book tucked carefully away in Draco’s trunk.
Draco looks at the trunk, and then at him in exasperation. “Well, don’t start getting shy on my things now, Potter. Go on. Merlin knows you need all the help you can get.”
“No, not just for that.”
“For what, then?”
“For what I said.”
“You say a lot of idiotic things.”
“Malfoy.”
Draco sighs, waving his hand. He looks tired today. Like it took more effort for him to come back. “For the record, I think it’s safe to say we expected the same thing to happen when I entered that godforsaken place.”
Harry relaxes, now that he’s forgiven. The guilt recedes into something less piercing. “Well, to be honest,” he replies, trying to look wistful. “I kinda expected you’d be nicer after you got out.”
Draco gives him a deadpan stare. “I went to Azkaban, Potter, not a daycare center.”
Harry shrugs, and the joke, surprisingly, makes him smile.
Draco looks away from it. He swallows. “I expected you to be swimming in your horde of fans, lording over everyone, giving out autographed posters of you holding You-Know- Who’s severed head. Not skulking around here in my room.”
“Would you like an autographed poster?”
That earns him a startled laugh.
Harry feels victorious.
And that’s how they spend their time together. Draco gets better in the mornings after that. It still takes him a while to really wake up and be present, but it doesn’t take him hours now.
The days are quiet. Peaceful. Undemanding.
Draco disappears in the middle of conversations, sometimes, but they pick it up as soon as he comes back. Sometimes, it takes a while for him to remember, but Harry waits patiently, every time.
The days pass by in a haze of breakfast and small conversations.
