“Very well,” McGonagall said. “About two years ago, Mr. Malfoy approached me with an idea.”
“What kind of idea?”
“An infant school.”
“What?” Potter’s head whipped around to stare at Draco. “That school was your idea?”
“Ah, so you do know about it.”
“He took me there,” Potter murmured without taking his eyes off Draco. “But I didn’t know…”
“Well, he was rather persuasive,” McGonagall said with the tiniest hint of a smile. “How did you put it? ‘We don’t need another lunatic who wants to take over the world because he thinks he’s better than everyone.’”
Draco snorted. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“What convinced me most,” McGonagall continued, “was what you said about wizarding children being united before they come here. While dividing them into houses isn’t meant to be pitting them against each other, I can’t deny it’s a natural course, especially with Gryffindors and Slytherins.” Her mouth curved upwards. “But it’s nice to see that can turn out well.”
Draco coughed, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.
“Oh, before I forget,” McGonagall said, “Professor Flitwick wanted to give you some documents on spellwork. He was going to owl it to you, but since you’re here…” She got out of her seat. “I’ll be right back.”
Draco could tell Potter was dying to talk to him, but he waited until McGonagall had closed the door behind her.
“Are you fucking serious?” he blurted.
Draco tried to keep his face impassive. “What?”
“You don’t just volunteer at that school! It was your idea? It’s your school?”
“Nobody knows about this Potter, about my involvement at least. Pansy and Blaise know, oh, and Luna, but I made them swear not to tell anybody.”
“Why?”
“Not everybody wants to be in the spotlight,” Draco shrugged.
“Yeah,” Potter said thoughtfully. “But still, what you’re doing—”
“Let’s not talk about that anymore,” Draco interjected. The way Potter was looking at him, almost awestruck, was making him uncomfortable.
“But—”
“Maybe what McGonagall said wasn’t the worst idea. We could need more help.”
Potter still looked flabbergasted.
“Who would have thought it would come to this?” Draco quipped, shaking his head. Potter seemed to regain his composure at Draco’s words.
“I can’t believe you dragged me here and—”
He stopped talking when Draco squeezed his hand.
“Don’t you feel better now?” he asked.
Potter shot him a dark look. “Maybe,” he grumbled. “Still, you could have at least warned me.”
“I thought it was better this way. You always did your best work under pressure,” Draco smirked. “I wouldn’t have done it if I thought you couldn’t handle it.”
Potter briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“I guess it was a pretty nice thing to do,” he murmured. When he opened his eyes, they were so soft and warm, it felt like he was seeing right into Draco’s heart. “You knew what she was going to say, didn’t you?”
“Obviously I didn’t,” Draco snorted. “Otherwise, I would have been prepared to be exposed.”
“But you knew she wouldn’t be disappointed in me.”
“That I knew,” he murmured. “I hope this makes you realise that most of the pressure you’ve been feeling was put on you by yourself. It’s your life, your choices, nobody else’s.”
Potter looked like he was about to tear up. He was obviously trying very hard to hold it back. His mouth curved into a grateful smile before he leaned forward and brushed their lips together.
“Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing Draco’s hand again.
“Yeah, sure, I, um—”
“Ahem.”
They both startled, hastily jumping apart and finally letting go of each other’s hand.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Malfoy,” McGonagall said as she handed him a large envelope.
Draco felt himself blush, mentally cursing his existence.
“We’ll be on our way, then,” Draco said, keeping his eyes on the envelope.
“Thank you, Headmistress,” he heard Potter murmur. “I really appreciate it. Everything.”
“Don’t mention it, Potter. But…will you promise me something in return?”
Draco peered at Potter from under his lashes. He looked a bit nervous.
“Stop being your own worst enemy.”
Potter opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Before he could say something stupid, Draco reached for his wrist.
“Thank you, Headmistress,” Draco said, tugging Potter towards the fireplace.
“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, and they both turned around. She gave them a look Draco couldn’t read. Her eyes were sparkling and there was something about the curve of her mouth that looked completely out of place. Was it…amusement? “If I may speak freely one more time,” she said, raising her chin. “It’s about damn time, you stubborn, oblivious boys.”
Thursday, 31 July 2003
