golden longings

IXX

Just a short note: thank you all so much!! The fact that this story has over 20.000 reads is absolutely crazy to me.

***

"If I want to figure the mystery out, I could use some compliance."
A stream of rather fresh air brushed against Draco and made him shudder. He imagined that the same thing happened to Potter.
"What if I do not want to be figured out?"

"Then we'll solve a different mystery. Together."
Draco looked at the boy laying next to him. He tried to study his face, hoping to find in it what Harry was on about.
Around Harry's lips Draco realized small twitches, indicating the suppressed smile dancing around them.
Possibly he was just as oblivious as the dark haired boy right next to him because he couldn't figure out what it was that Potter was on about. At least for a moment he thought of himself as oblivious.

However, as a Malfoy he was way too proud to ask what Potter was on about and thereby admit to not understanding.
Instead he changed the topic.
"What made you come up this time?"
It was something he was genuinely wondering about. The last time they had met here they stood on the bottom of the tower, neither of them having any intention to climb the stairs. Because of what had happened there.
"Couldn't I ask you the same thing?"

Observing his face Draco noticed that Potter's brows were slightly furrowed.
The indication of genuine confusion at the question satisfied Draco. Finally he had managed to get a real reaction.
"Yes, but I asked you first."
The reply came out fast, before he could stop it, and way too childish.
"What are we, like 7?"
Potter had a point and Draco tried to communicate that through a very subtle nod. He was sure that Potter saw. And that was all he needed.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to..." Draco mumbled quietly. The words were had to decipher as he was busy studying every millimetre of Harry's face right accross from him.
"It's okay. I just...kinda assumed you didn't wanna talk about it."
Draco blinked himself back into reality. As beautiful as Harry's mouth looked while moving, the words coming from it were serious.
Too bad, Draco thought to himself for a split second.
"Talk about what?"
"That. I believe you called it an "uncalled for private encounter""

Draco did distantly recall using that term.
"Not too far off... still not what I meant!"
Where did that memory come from all of a sudden? Last he checked Potter appeared as observant as a mole and his memory similar to that of a goldfish. It threw Draco slightly off that Harry seemed to remember his exact choice of words.
So instead of wondering further he added on:
"Why would you remember that anyway?"
"You have an extensive vocabulary and a interesting way of phrasing things. Stands out."

While seemingly a compliment that really hadn't been Draco's most brilliant choice of words.
"And that's what you figured that out from?"
He had failed miserably at suppressing the mocking tone the voice in his head had taken on from transferring audibly.
"No. But one might think you'd be good at subtly changing the topic as well. A seemingly false conclusion."

Draco wasn't quite sure whether that was blunt enough for him to be offended. How dare Potter insult his ability to change an uncomfortable subject?
It was essentially a life saving skill of his. How else would he have survived in a family of Malfoys for that long?
"My question still stands. Not my fault you refrained from answering."
It dawned on Draco that it was almost like some dumb game they were playing. Carefully tip-toeing around one another.

They had crossed the barrier of asking questions. That had taken some work and courage. On Draco's side at least and it couldn't have been much different for Potter.
However, once they had gotten to asking almost freely they had gone over to avoiding answers. So while they had finally gotten over themselves and found the courage to ask the other questions they had stopped answering. One step forward, two backwards. That's what it felt like.
And still Draco enjoyed the game. The friendly, playful banter with words. The elegant avoidance of concrete answers. It was like they were dancers, dancing together without touching one another.
Only metaphorically, of course, as they were in fact very much touching.