"Can I help you, Potter?"

Can't take a compliment

Harry jumped down from his broom, grinning at Draco. An awful scowl on his face and his arms tightly folded, it was the first time that day that Harry had seen the prior-war Draco. To be honest, it was sort of relief, knowing that Draco's ridiculous amount of pride hadn't been entirely lost in the battle.

"Come on, Malfoy, don't be a sore-loser." Harry chuckled, approaching the blond.

"I'll be a sore-loser if I want to be, Potter." Draco muttered in return.

The wind had completely attacked Draco's hair, diminishing any hold that his many products had. His white blond hair had fallen onto his face, taking away his usual neat look. It made Harry consider throwing all of Draco's hair products away, for aesthetic reasons.

He clearly realised the state of his hair, for he began to comb it aside with his fingers. Though it didn't achieve much, just made it a little less wind-swept.

"I play Hermione now, right?" Ron asked, getting up from the beam he was sat on. Harry nodded in reply. He turned to give his broom to Hermione, but Draco had beaten him to it, and was stood holding his broom out for her to take.

"Thank you, Draco." She smiled, accepting it and walking to the centre of the field. Harry noticed Ron looking at Draco with a look of concern. He decided to let it go, and sat where his friends were previously seated. The beam sunk a little under his weight, and it sunk a little further when Draco sat beside him.

There were a few minutes of silence between the two. Harry was watching Draco, as his grey eyes darted over the sky, watching Hermione and Ron's attempts in catching the snitch. Occasionally, the September wind would catch his hair, simply adjusting where the strands hung. Apart from his eyes and hair, Draco was entirely still; his posture perfectly straight and his legs perfectly crossed.

Harry found himself looking at Draco's lips, they were slightly parted and looked incredibly soft.

"Alright there, Potter?" Draco asked, turning to look at Harry. The look on his face implied he was aware that Harry had been staring at him. Composing himself, Harry cleared his throat.

"Just, er, you look different from the war." Harry replied. His mind went back to the Draco from the war, the one with sadness in his eyes which had dark circles beneath them, the one with the paler, more hollow cheeks, the one with a stressed, lost aura about him.

"Oh, stop, you'll make me blush." Draco muttered, his voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. He turned back to the game, just as Hermione and Ron simultaneously rushed for the snitch, just for it to fly beneath them and out of their sight.

It seemed Hermione was struggling a little with the power of Draco's broom, having only practised on the old Hogwarts models. Still, she was doing okay.

"I mean it, you look a lot better." Harry smiled. Draco turned to him, his nose scrunched, brow furrowed and lip curled through a smirk.

"Eww, Potter's being nice to me." He teasingly whined.

"Eww, Draco can't take a compliment." Harry mimicked with the same voice and facial expression. Though he instantly realised that he'd called him by his first name and waited nervously for Draco's reaction.

However, Draco simply laughed at Harry's impression.

"Let's just say I'm not used to them coming from you." He replied with a small smile. Harry shrugged. He didn't really know if it made sense in the conversation, but he couldn't really think of much else he could say. It wasn't as if Draco would expect Harry to pay him compliments as his worst enemy.

Once more, they were in silence. Both watching Hermione and Ron.

There were so many things Harry felt like he could, or probably should, say to Draco. Yet, the sensation that he couldn't really approach Draco in that way lingered. He felt as if he should apologise; for denying his friendship, for retaliating with aggression for the past years, for not apologising sooner.