WHO: Draco and Harry WHAT: Meeting and discussing WHEN: After this. WHERE: Outside the Three Broomsticks to start, HP Door WARNINGS: Language
I don't know what's worth fighting for, or why I have to scream, But now I have some clarity to show you what I mean, I don't know how I got this way, I'll never be alright So, I'm breaking the habit,
Draco had gotten his way. He had every intention of doing so. It was unfortunate that he couldn't hex the Duke-to-be. Once inside the door, he breathed, like stepping out of a shell and into his own world. He saw the familiar sign into the pub and smiled a little bit, although his stomach tied in knots. There was so much that Potter didn't know, but he had shown up, and now here they were.
Draco was usually tight lipped out of necessity. His life had depended on it. There was a moment that had stood out to him. It was one that could have changed the course of his sixth year at Hogwarts, but it had went a different direction. That was one of those moments that had cost. He wondered idly if Potter had thought about that day. It had scarred Draco as much on the inside as it had on the outside. They had never spoken of it, not that they would have had the chance, but over their history, it was always present.
His eyes had hardened at the thought. He fumbled through his light jacket and pulled out a muggle cigarette, lighting the tip with his wand. It felt so good to just stretch out, be free, and to wait for a moment that was a long time in the making.