Nostalgia
| Vivons, puisque nous devons mourir. |
*Listen to Wildflower by Billie Eilish for this chapter*
Draco Malfoy stared at Potter as if he’d seen a ghost.
he felt as though he had.
Draco tried his best to brush this off, and he put his hands on his hips, head held high.
”I’m sorry, Potter, I think you have the wrong room,” Draco declared, and he wanted to slap himself with the amount of idiocy in his voice. Draco watched as Potter seemingly went through the five stages of grief in 5 seconds(Don’t worry, Harry! Draco already went through those two seconds ago.) and sighed, setting down his trunk. Why was he setting his stuff down?! Why wasn’t he leaving?!
”Sorry, Malfoy, but Headmistress McGonagall called me to her office earlier and gave me a heads up. We’re roommates for the year.” Draco heard Potter say, and he felt the world tilting on its side.
No, no. He was— he was going to get through this year without even mentioning Potter’s stupid name. He was going to be fine.
Well, his plans were going all to hell. Just like his family. Get the joke? Yeah? Good.
”Well, she’s mad if she thinks I’d be rooming with you!” Draco hissed, crossing his arms defiantly. He saw a familiar look on Potter’s face: The one he gets when he’s trying very hard to be nice. Draco remembered that face particularly when Colin Creevy was still alive and they were much younger.
Draco felt a small pang in his heart at the thought, but he quickly pushed this aside because, oh Merlin, he was rooming with Harry Potter.
“Malfoy, if you would be quiet for one moment,” Potter said exasperatedly, looking very tired. Draco raised a brow, and returning his hands back to his hips once more.
It dawned on Draco he hadn’t seen Potter in muggle clothes before, at least ones that looked nice. Normally, Potter was in the usual Hogwarts uniform, or too big, shaggy and dirty clothes that didn’t fit his lanky teenage frame. Dare he say, he looked rather nice. The soft green jumper he was wearing fit him nicely, and made his eyes feel a little bit greener than usual, and some regular jeans complimented by a black belt that for some reason made Draco’s mind wander. Until he snapped it back into place, of course. Finally he gave a loud and dramatic sigh, and allowed himself to make eye contact.
Potter’s eyes were lovelier than he remembered. “Are you done moping?” Potter asked in a huff. Draco simply gave him a look, but did not make an argument. Potter seemed to take this as an initiative.
”I’m just as upset as you are, trust me. But it’s not as though I can tell the headmistress what to do. Let alone McGonagall, she still doesn’t allow me to call her Minerva, for Merlin’s sake. We can have our respective sides, and we’ll barely have to talk. You can go on with your life, and I can go on with mine.” Potter ended this by pushing up his glasses impatiently. Draco vaguely thought that he needed to repair them. There was a tiny crack in the corner. A question popped into his head.
”Wait a moment, why didn’t she tell me anything?! The old hag!” He hissed in annoyance, and Potter’s eyebrows shot up.
”For one, shes not an old hag, and two, she probably knew you’d act like this!” Potter quipped back, already unpacking his things.
”like what?!” Draco asked, looking discomforted.
”Like a royal git! Godric, would you just—” Potter snapped, but suddenly, something orange and big darted out from under Potter’s bed. They both yelped and swiveled their heads to see…
”Crookshanks?!” Potter exclaimed, gaping. Draco hadn’t seen Hermione with him on the train, so how was he here? God, he’d never know with that cat. Crookshanks hissed in offense.
”Sorry, bud. Didn’t know you were here.” Draco watched Harry close his trunk. “Go find Hermione, hm? Or even better, Ron. Sure he’d love to see you,” Potter drawled and the cat scampered off. Draco looked at him as if he were crazy.
”Why do you talk to him like he can understand you?” Draco asked, reluctantly opening his trunk. Potter shrugged with a tiny, knowing smile.
”Trust me, he understands.” Was all he said.
Draco looked at Potter as though he were crazy. He was quite sure he was.
[ 🌷 ]
The first week wasn’t rough. Besides the mountains of homework and having to avoid people, Draco was doing fine. Besides Harry Potter’s inability to clean up after himself. Draco walked through the dorm door, and promptly tripped on a book, spilling ink on the floor.
”Potter!” He yelled, throwing his stuff on his bed. It was strange, because Draco had felt like it would’ve been a more out of body experience. Being back at Hogwarts, that is. But they had the same homework as always, breakfast, lunch, dinner. There hadn’t been any mention of quidditch, it seemed, as far as he knew. So Potter spent his days studying in the dorm, since Draco was either cooped up in his own bed or out on the grounds in a hiding spot, being utterly pathetic.
”What?!” Potter said, sticking his head out of his bed curtains. Draco gave him a disapproving look, hands on his hips. He knew he looked like an idiot, but he often seemed to around Potter. He watched Potter look down at the floor, and he sighed.
”Reparo,” he said lazily, flicking his hand out, the inkwell repairing itself. This made something flutter in Draco, but he pushed this down. It had come to Draco’s attention that Potter could do simple wandless magic a lot, but he didn’t do it often. “Tergeo,” he added to the spill of ink on the floor before he closed his bed curtains once more and disappeared behind the drapes. Draco sighed, which he was doing a lot of this year.
”You really need to start cleaning up after yourself,” Draco grumbled, stepping over a woolen jumper of Potter’s.
Draco had gone to end the day with a shower, and by the time he got out, three Gryffindor’s were in his dorm room rather than one. He yelped, staring at the three. Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Hermione waved awkwardly.
”Sorry to intrude, Malfoy. But we were just telling Harry that since there’s no quidditch this year, the eighth years are going to sneak onto the pitch tonight and mess around!” She explained excitedly. Draco found himself raising an eyebrow.
”Since when have you been one for breaking the rules, Granger?” He asked with a scowl. To his surprise, Granger smiled and laughed.
”Eight years with these two boys will do that to you, I think!” She said as Crookshanks slipped through the open door and found her lap. Ron scowled at the cat, looking almost jealous. Draco decided to save that information for later.
”Have fun getting caught, then,” Draco said haughtily, and once again stumbled over a stray piece of clothing.
”Potter!” He growled in annoyance, and picked up the jeans and threw them at Potter’s face. Potter yelped, yanking the pants from his face and throwing them back at Draco. Draco gave a loud “eugh!” and threw them back. Potter threw them again.
Ron and Hermione’s heads bounced between Draco and Harry for a good few minutes before Draco finally gave up and stormed out of the dorm, fuming. Potter looked triumphant.
”He reminds me of Ginny when she hit her teenage years…” Ron grumbled, shuttering at the mere thought. Hermione rolled her eyes, but Potter nodded and agreed.
”You aren’t wrong. Has the skincare for a teenage girl, too,” he said, leaning back on his hands.
”Harry! Be nice, at least he isn’t trying to hex you, anyways,” Hermione tried, but Potter and Ron rolled their eyes. As if that made the situation any better.
”Still have to share a dorm with the bastard,” Ron defended Potter, shaking his head. Hermione huffed.
”Oh, bollocks!” She said in a rage, standing up. “If I’m being honest, Malfoy is right! You two will both be getting caught tonight by McGonagall, or if not her, someone else! Goodnight, the both of you.” she stormed off, Crookshanks following after her in a hiss.
[ 🌷 ]
Draco had found himself walking through the halls of Hogwarts, silently staring at the portraits.
He kept getting waves of nostalgia, reminders of his younger years. As if he wasn’t still young, though. Eighteen. It was hard to believe he hadn’t been eleven once, walking these halls with his only concern besting Potter in anything and everything. If he was honest, that was still his main concern. Or at least something he could have to keep his mind off of everything.
at some point, he came across the a trophy display, and he decided to take a peek at the Quidditch section, remembering how Granger had mentioned their apparent rendezvous across the pitch tonight. A name caught his eye.
Regulus Arcturus Black, Star Seeker Award 1977.
Draco vaguely remembered Regulus Black. His mother had mentioned him a few times, often with a tone of regret and reverence. Draco had never saw the appeal, although he did seem quite good-looking from the family portraits. Shame.
Draco turned and continued down the hall. One thing he did remember about Regulus Black was his mother mentioning how he had died a death eater.
For some reason, that seemed to be a very nostalgic feeling.