Moments

1. A Key Moment in Building Bridges

(913 words)

Harry sighed heavily as he made his way along the dark corridor towards the library. The only benefit, he mused miserably, of agreeing to come back and do his eighth year was they didn't have a curfew. This way he could at least escape to the library without his adoring masses following his every move and trying to nick his quills as a 'souvenir' or trying to practically sit in his lap as he struggled through his potions homework or, worse, slip him love potions. There had been several failed attempts but, after Romilda Vane in the sixth form, he knew better than to accept random edible gifts from doe-eyed students.

He wasn't the only one who'd had the same idea of coming to the library late. Though for different reasons, he thought wryly as he caught a glimpse of Malfoy's signature white-blond hair in the gloom amongst the books.

He purposely took a table on the far side of the library, dumping his belongings down before going to the Potions aisle and selecting a number of Advanced Potions books and settling himself down to write twenty inches on the making of Dreamless Sleep potion, its benefits and the potential side-effects.

He could still see the blond-haired git if he looked up but he kept his head down, trying to focus on the task at hand. It was proving impossible. Sometimes studying seemed so bloody pointless but it was better this way, despite Kingsley Shacklebolt's offer to join the Auror corps without qualifications. He wanted to prove himself as more than just a famous name who happened to get away with an awful lot of luck and a lot of help from Hermione.

He sighed and ran his hand through his abominably messy hair. Perhaps he should work on expanding the Sleekeasy range, he'd do anything to have that shiny smoothness of Malfoy's sleek and soft-looking blond hair.

He realised he was staring and went back to his disastrous attempts to find out the side-effects of Dreamless Sleep. He'd found nothing beyond its addictive nature and everyone knew that without having to study the bloody potion. So far, the claim was unsubstantiated in any of the books he got from the shelves.

He slammed down Budge's Book of Potions in frustration, eased himself out of his chair and went back to the aisle. He scoured the shelves for something he might find useful.

'Here, try Most Potente Potions, I've just finished with it,' came a familiar drawl. It lacked the sneer of previous years.

Harry looked up into a pair of silver-grey eyes. There was an unfamiliar sadness to them. Malfoy's as unhappy as I am, he thought.

'Thank you,' he reached out awkwardly to accept the proffered book.

They hadn't really spoken to each other since they'd come back. What does one say to your arch-enemy of seven years? Especially after you've saved each other's lives and then end up speaking up for him at his trial because, really, it was obvious they were both just kids pushed into their respective roles.

Harry broke eye-contact, realising he'd been staring again and glanced over Malfoy's sharp, angular features. 'What happened to your nose?' he said, trying to hide his anger. He knew really. It was obviously broken from the large bump and the zig-zig at his bridge, and there were still signs of blood at Draco's nostrils.

'Nothing,' Draco looked at the floor.

He turned away but Harry caught hold of his arm. He didn't fail to notice that Malfoy flinched.

'Come into the light, Malfoy.'

'Leave it, Potter. It's nothing.'

'It's not bloody nothing.'

'Stop being the fucking hero for once.'

'I'm not being a fucking hero.' He hadn't dropped his hold of Malfoy but neither had Malfoy tried to shake him off. He led Malfoy to underneath one of the wall sconces and couldn't help the small hiss of horrified inhalation. The bruising showed far more under the light.

Draco tried to turn his head away in stubborn sullenness.

Harry pinched Malfoy's pointy chin and turned his head back to the light.

'You don't deserve this, Malfoy,' Harry said quietly.

Malfoy didn't answer him.

'Do you trust me?' Harry said.

Malfoy obviously didn't from the way he warily watched Harry's every move but he also seemed to automatically take Harry's words as a challenge, eventually sticking his nose in the air in a movement of defiance.

Harry pulled his wand from his jeans back pocket and pointed it at Malfoy's nose, watching cautiously as the man barely contained another flinch. 'Episkey!' he muttered and there was a slight 'crack!' as the bones righted.

'Fuck!' muttered Malfoy.

'That's better, you look like you again... but you've still a bit of blood...' Harry clumsily indicated to Malfoy's nose and the blond-haired man retrieved an already bloodied tissue from his pocket and wiped his nose. 'And try and get hold of some of Weasley's bruise removal paste. It's surprisingly good.'

'I already have some,' Malfoy mumbled.

'Can I ask who?' Harry said tentatively.

'No. But thank you.' The slight haughty edge had returned to Malfoy's voice. 'I'd best be getting back.' He turned his back and headed back to his things.

'Malfoy?' Harry called after him.

'What, Potter?'

'Do you want to wait and I'll walk back with you?'

'No, thank you.'

Harry sighed as he watched the blond man pack up his belongings and disappear into the gloom of the Hogwarts' corridors.

*****