Getting along is ... easy?

Draco had been on his way back to the Slytherin dorms when he was suddenly dragged behind a tapestry. The only reason he isn't pulling his wand on the person behind him is that he recognises the scent.

Quickly freeing himself by elbowing the boy into the stomach, he whirls around, glaring daggers at the Gryffindor. Trying to calm his heart down; after all, he knows who pulled him aside, so why isn't he calming down?

"Have you lost your mind, Potter? Why would you do this? What if someone saw you?"

"Ow, well, I was careful!"

The Slytherin notices that there is something that the other isn't telling him. He is acting rather dodgy and avoiding looking directly at him; he catalogues it for later and moves on.

"I saw it!! You showed me your star!!"

Potter interrupts him with an excited expression before he could open his mouth. It took a moment for Draco to remember what Potter meant before his mind finally caught on.

"How?" Furrowing his brows in confusion, the weather has been awful for the past four weeks. Truly what one would expect of British weather. The professors even had to cancel practical astronomy lessons, and much to everyone's protest, one of the Quidditch matches had to be postponed.

"I just went out every night until I could see what you meant. The clouds were really stubborn, you know; it took me weeks until the sky was clear enough, and then weeks trying to figure out what you meant."

Draco is speechless, staring at the boy in front of him. He knew Potter was persistent, but when he showed him the location of his star, he didn't think the other would get this invested.

"I almost caved and asked Sirius about it."

His chest constricts, and he feels cold fear crawl up his back; his stomach drops as his mind immediately complies with a multitude of bad outcomes. If Sirius knows they are talking, it will not be long until his mother or father knows; surely the three of them wouldn't understand.

"Stop imagining the end of the world; I did eventually get it all by myself...or, well, mostly. I did ask Professor Sinistra about a map of the stars over the Quidditch pitch for that assignment we have. You know the one."

Potter continues to ramble, but Draco couldn't listen to him much longer. His eyes were still watching as the other boy passionately tells him all about the process of finding out that it was Draco's Star; it is rather impressive Potter found it out at all.

"Your constellation is just as pretty as you; I mean, really, Malfoy, you are such a prick. Everything has to be... like, ugh, I don't even know, but it is so unfair. I bet even your hair looks perfect when you roll out of bed. Mine looks like a bird built a nest in it, even after I styled it."

Smiling amused, he watches as the Gryffindor starts pacing, still rambling about whatever comes to mind. As soon as he realised that he wouldn't stop by himself, he interrupts him.

"You should grow it out a little, if your hair reaches your shoulder you can use charms or those muggle bands or hair pins to keep it out of your face and tidy it up."

"That... That could actually work! Why haven't I thought of that?"

"You really should have, your godfather has hair which is on the longer side as well, correct? Which is why you should have had the idea years ago if your hair bothered you that much."

"Thought about my hair a lot have you" Potter grins smugly, crossing his arms in front of him while leaning against the wall.

The Slytherin knew he had two choices, either he admits that he had that idea in second year when they were playing for the snitch and Potters hair kept blowing in his eyes, or he could lie about it. He can barely hear his thoughts over his own heartbeat, roaming his eyes over the other for a moment.

"What if I had?"

Apparently this wasn't the answer the other had expected, as Potters eyes widen, he bangs his head against the wall as he scrambles forward. "You're lying!!"

"I usually do not make a habit of it, it is unbecoming. If I absolutely have to, I bend the truth"

"You have not thought about my hair!"

"I imagine every person that has ever met you has thought about the mystery that one might call your hair. It is rather ominous, I assume that it is somehow resistant to your Grandfathers sleazy potion?"

"You don't have to rub it in" Potter answers sullenly while running his fingers through his hair, looking rather dejected about something. Most likely something that Draco had said, which meant he inherently is somehow responsible for the kicked puppy expression on the golden boy's face.

"It is not that bad, stop looking like I told you to shave it off... I think it has its own charm somehow, though I have no doubts the only person that could pull that style off is you."

Potter is finally smiling again "careful Malfoy, one might mistake that for a compliment."

"So? It was. I think your hair suits you and only you."

He smirks smugly after seeing Potter splutter and fail to come back with a clever retort of his own, if his eyes weren't mistaken he...was blushing as well? That surely can't be right. Everyone knows Potter and the Weaslette have heart eyes for each other, it's only a matter of time until they would start going out.

but what if...

"You should stay back this Hogsmeade…"

"Why would I do that?"

Apparently the floundering Gryffindor has finally found his voice again, however now he is narrowing his eyes and staring at him.

"Perhaps I could be convinced to help you with those abysmal potion skills you seem to have"

Somehow, that doesn't seem to settle any concerns Potter might have had. Now he looks even more confused, visibly thinking his answer over, and Draco is starting to feel nervous now. Had he miscalculated?

"Sure, why not" he hesitates for a moment, staring intently at Draco which makes him want to shift, but he forces himself to stay perfectly still as those green eyes watch him.

It feels like he could see right through him.

"It's a date, then."

Potter looks bravely straight at him. That utter idiot had the gall to look absolutely unashamed while leaving Draco flounder for an answer. He could feel how his face heats up as he glares at him.

"Absolutely right, you better not be late Potter!"

He had to have had the last word before pushing Potter out of his ways and quickly retreating back to the common room, definitely not fleeing right away as he heads back to their room.

Pacing quite a bit, working himself into a frenzy because what the actual fuck just happened? His mind is spinning, did he really ask Potter out on a date? A potion date, nonetheless?  What was he thinking? Was he thinking at all?

"I never told him a time..."

Apparently not.