Rewound (Drarry)

Who knows their happiest memory?

Draco was feeling pleased.

So pleased in fact, that it seemed as if nothing in the world could possibly dampen his mood.

After the events of the notorious Second Task - which, by the way, put Harry in the lead for points - Draco quickly realised what it had all meant. In the 'Good Old Days', it had been Weasley that Harry had retrieved from the lake. This made sense, Harry had no parents or relatives he truly cared for save for Sirius; who couldn't partake for obvious reasons, his very best friend was naturally the next best option.

However.

This time, Weasley was not in the lake. And this was not because Weasley in this timeline did not exist, nor because Harry was no longer friends with Weasley (that part to Draco's dismay), it was instead because of another reason.

Harry didn't not care for Weasley anymore. That much was obvious, he was heartbroken when the idiot ditched him a second time around and was ecstatic to be on buddy-buddy terms again, he also still laughed at all Weasley's shit jokes and followed him around to classes like a lost puppy dog.

The reason Weasley wasn't in the lake was not because Harry didn't like him as much anymore, Weasley wasn't the lake because Harry liked Draco more instead.

It was for this reason that Draco had become the most insufferably smug person ever known to man.

He was so smug he literally could not feel annoyed by anything at all for several hours after the fact.

Harry had panicked at Draco's teasing, blushed and immediately zipped away to waft around Hermione and let her fuss over him instead. His face was a divine shade of pink, and that gave Draco all the confirmation he needed that he was right, and that Draco was indeed the thing Harry would miss the most.

This made Draco extremely pleased. He sat and let anyone and everyone touch him and his hair and get too close and do pretty much everything he would normally immediately flinch away from, all because he was so immensely satisfied with his new information.

After that, when he and Harry snuck off to the Shrieking Shack like a pair of clandestine lovers, and Harry - seemingly having forgotten the enormous confession he had unwillingly given which left Draco reeling - was badgering Draco to start teaching him French again, Draco didn't mind at all. He even succumbed to the requests, patiently talking Harry through the correct pronunciations of the most basic level words, which for some reason Harry could not ever seem to grasp.

"No, Potter. That's wrong."

"You're not helping me at all!" Harry complained sulkily, after mispronouncing 'qui' for the one hundredth time.

"I am! I've explained it very clearly. Let me repeat," Draco cleared his throat, "Salut! Comment tu t'appelles?"

Harry straightened up, meeting Draco's gaze head on, a fierce determination burning anew in his eyes.

"Bon-shore, jem app-el Harry-"

"It's 'je m'appelle', the 'je' is separate from the 'M'," Draco corrected gently.

"Should I start again?" Harry sighed.

Draco nodded encouragingly, "Just once more, from the top, go."

Harry took a deep breath, "Okay. Bon-shore, je m'appelle Harry," Draco nodded, "kwee es too?"

"No!" Draco rolled his eyes.

"What?! How was that not right? I got it that time!" Harry said exasperatedly, holding his hands out in indignation.

"No! You keep doing that! It's 'qui es-tu'! Not 'kwee' what is 'kwee'?"