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White Flowers

Chapter 3

Notes:

I'm so sorry, this is so bad and does nothing for the plot but I feel the need to post and get over it because I want to continue this story instead of dwelling on the fact it's a really bad chapter :,)

Chapter Text

For some reason, he was back at the manor. His vision flicked from the walls to the wooden floors like a rabbit stuck in a cage. It had been a week since their meeting and they hadn’t seen each other at all in that time. Draco was mostly glad. Their last interaction had been awkward, to say the least. However, a small bit of his heart yearned for his presence again, whether it be to boost his social standing or to admire Harry’s physique. Draco stomped that feeling into smithereens.

He stood at the entrance, shuffling his feet. When he got back from tea, his father viciously scolded him. When they received the letter inviting him to a promenade with the king, he flipped out again. This time, Lucius only refrained from harming his face.

The bruises on his legs felt achy. Standing hurt, but if Harry invited him, Draco couldn’t fathom declining. His clothes felt too heavy on his sore shoulders and his sleeves were scratchy against his arms.

Again, he heard footsteps approaching him. This time they weren’t aggressive or heavy, rather, they were soft.

“Hello.” Harry greeted, woefully unaware of Draco’s physical condition. He picked up a basket.

Draco nodded as a greeting, trying not to move too much lest his muscles decide they were too tired to move.

“Are you ok going on a walk today?” He was trying really hard to be pleasant. Harry had taken Draco's words to heart.

The blonde nodded again.

There was a pause as Harry finished buttoning his frock coat. Draco couldn’t help but notice that the conifer green matched his eyes.

As Harry finally looked at him, something seemed to spark between the two of them. It was green on grey, a sudden burst of confusion and need. Memories of their youth stirred beneath Harry’s eyes, but they stayed just out of reach. In his mind, Draco was just a Malfoy; he was a handsome, sharp-witted, charming man, but he was just a Malfoy. He was the man Harry accidentally jumped and stripped. He was the man who got Harry to apologize. He was just that. But then again, why was he so familiar? Why did it feel so natural to search for the stars in his grey eyes, despite it being midday? It was all too familiar.

Draco averted his gaze downwards.

Harry’s eyes tried to follow but were left behind. That was familiar too.

“Let’s get going then.”

Draco nodded again.

---

Brisk air swirled around them, reminding them of the coming season. Summer was ending so the sticky warmth of it was fading into the coolness of fall. It was a month away, but the difference was noticeable.

They stayed on the path, which wound around a clear lake. It reflected the sky, displaying a brilliant, cloudless blue. The only thing keeping it from perfectly reflecting it was the gaggle of geese lazing about on its surface. Ripples made their way all across the lake as the geese approached the two men.

Draco was sitting on a metal bench, which was weathered just enough to make it more inviting than a new and pristine one. The muscles in his back ached, but he found comfort in the sunlight warming his clothing.

Harry was standing on the edge of the path, overlooking the lake. He reached into the basket and took out a loaf of bread. Before offering Draco the rest of it, he tossed a couple of crumbs to the geese. When Draco asked for a small bit of bread, Harry broke off a chunk and approached him. As he handed the piece to him, they made eye contact again. Draco softly smiled in thanks. Their fingers brushed together for a moment and Draco couldn’t help slightly flinching away. A pit sunk in Harry’s stomach.

“It’s a beautiful day today.” His voice was more confident than the last time Draco heard it. However, it was still laced with unsaid apologies.

“A silent one too.” The blonde added. There were no people on the path they were walking. Draco assumed it was a privilege only the king experienced.

“Mhm.” He hummed in response, taking a seat next to him. There was an unaddressed space between the two of them.

There was a crunch as Draco took a small bite of the bread. It wasn’t fresh, but it tasted amazing. He hadn’t eaten most of his breakfast that morning, so it also felt wonderful as it fell into his stomach.

“Is the bread good?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Hm?” Not calling someone by their title, much less the king, was taboo. Of course, they both forgot the week prior due to odd circumstances, but Draco had his wits about him today. He couldn’t forget manners so quickly.

“Please call me Harry.”

Draco nearly began choking again. Calling the king by his first name was a huge leap. Using Potter would’ve made him feel more comfortable, but he was given permission so why not use it? “Okay, uh, Harry.”

“I’ll call you Draco then.”

It was all way too nonchalant for Draco to accept that it was real. He took a second to take in his surroundings again. The lake, sky, grass, and geese were still there. The sky was blue, the grass green, and the world spinning around the sun. It was real.

An awkward silence fell on their conversation like a wet blanket. Draco finished his bread as Harry serenely stared at the reflection in the water. A few moments passed like rusted gears grinding.

“You know, you remind me of someone I met in my youth.” A reminiscent glint twinkled in his eyes.

Draco’s brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden, offhand remark and he hummed in response, “Hm?”

“We would talk at galas and balls, but we always met in the dark of night. It felt like we were meeting in secret, but it was more like two children playing pretend. I never saw this person anywhere else but under the care of the moon. They were my first love.”

Confusion coursed through his body like a flood. A slow moment passed with Harry’s dumb smile and Draco’s mind painstakingly putting piece after piece together. “Interesting.”

“Isn’t it? In fact, you two almost have the same colour hair.”

Something started to click into place.

“Your’s is a warmer blonde, which is still pretty and quite captivating in its own right and-” He stopped himself, a little flustered, “But his was cooler. Maybe it was the lighting but-”

There was a loud snap in Draco’s head as he broke the two puzzle pieces. “He?”

Panic washed over Harry’s face. “Oh, uh, I meant to say she. I guess-”

“Harry, you stripped me. I know you’re a homosexual.”

He opened his mouth to say something but found nothing. He closed his mouth again.

Draco turned his body towards the man and gave him an interesting look. “Actually, I have a question for you.” The brunette gave him a blank stare, making Draco try and word his next statement delicately. “Do you remember that we used to talk in our youth. At galas. Under the night sky.”

“What.”

Draco had assumed Harry knew.