We Open at the Close (Drarry)

One Galleon

It took less than a week for Harry and Draco to start arguing again, but they managed to refrain from throwing more than words at one another. In both of their opinions, this was still significant progress. Harry grudgingly pressed the Galleon into Draco's hand, half-suspecting that Draco had deliberately started the argument for the sole purpose of winning the bet. He wouldn't put it past him, but the thought was more amusing than annoying.

To Harry's surprise, he found talking to Draco to be quite therapeutic. He liked being able to talk to someone who didn't treat him as though he were so fragile he'd break if he heard an honest opinion, and at least he could always count on Draco to be brutally honest with him. More surprising still was what an attentive listener Draco proved to be. Harry had only ever heard him brag about himself to anyone who would listen. Although Harry realised that this always seemed to be the case whenever Harry was within hearing distance, and he began to wonder whether this had always been a performance on Draco's part just to get a rise out of Harry. Now that they were friends, he certainly seemed less prone to bragging.

It made him all the more curious to imagine what Draco had been like in quieter moments when he was with his friends in the Slytherin Common Room, or indeed, whether he'd ever had any real friends. Draco didn't spend much time talking about any of them when they were together. In most of the stories Draco shared, he was more often than not alone and Harry became increasingly self-conscious at how often his stories included Ron and Hermione.

Harry found himself surprised to discover that, although Draco's level of sarcasm hadn't diminished, it had lost its malicious edge, and Harry actually found his observations quite funny. What struck Harry most was Draco's alternative perspective towards life, one which Harry had always thought was selfish, but on further inspection found to be quite realistic. He could be accused of having a more tainted and cynical view of the world, but no more than Harry had of the world.

In all, they were getting on quite well. So much so that Harry now considered Draco to be a friend. It still felt strange and new to be friends with Draco Malfoy, but pleasantly so.

Harry continued visiting the cottage more regularly, appearing every other day to help Andromeda around the house, playing with Teddy and spending more and more time with Draco. Andromeda would often shoo them out of the house for a couple of hours saying she wanted peace, and they would go for long walks in the surrounding fields and woods, talking about everything and anything. They'd always come back in time for dinner and Harry would wave them off before Apparating back home later in the evening. Draco was quietly pleased with this new routine. As much as he enjoyed taking care of Teddy, he wasn't much of a talker yet. Andromeda was good to chat about some things, but Harry provided something that the other two couldn't. He was someone his own age with similar interests, something tangible and familiar from his past. One of the few things he didn't want to leave in the past either. They had a surprising amount in common, divergent but equally lonely childhoods which they were both careful not to mention too often, a passion for Quidditch and flying, and were both— to Harry's relief —atrocious at wizard's chess.

"Fuck this," snarled Draco, throwing a chess piece angrily onto the board, having lost the match against Harry. The white knight shook his tiny fist at Draco, but he ignored him. "Quidditch is much better than this."

"Agreed," Harry smiled.

A tap-tap-tapping sound drew their attention away from the chessboard. They wandered into the kitchen to find an unfamiliar barn owl at the window. Draco opened the window and the bird hopped inside. Draco took the bundle of letters and a long, thin package from around the bird's leg before it spread its wings and soared back out of the window. Draco looked bored as sorted through Andromeda's mail, placing it on the kitchen table, only to frown when he realised that one of the letters was addressed to him. Tearing it open he read in silence for a moment. Harry followed Draco's intent grey eyes as they darted across the page and then widened. He dropped the letter and tore at the paper package, grinning widely as he pulled a wand— his wand —out of a box.